Friendship, loss, and a labour of love

The story of Go Jetter

In the spring of 1979, three young musicians – Chris Maxfield, Rob (Iggy) Morningstar, and Lloyd Peterson — moved from their home town of Niagara Falls, to London, Ontario, to start a band.

The mission was to “get outta town” to a place where they could eat, live, and breathe as full-time musicians. Fueled by friendship, and sustained by their talent and passion, they devoted themselves to expanding their boundaries and learning how to make music together.

Their sound was ambitious, drawing on contemporary rock, a hint of prog, and a restless pop energy that refused to settle into one style.

There in London in a crumbling rental house, Go Jetter truly took shape. They began writing and recording a series of demos on a basic reel-to-reel machine in their makeshift home studio. The band kept developing their adventurous sound, played live gigs, and got airplay on the local college station. But it wasn’t destined to last.

Go Jetter broke up in early 1980. Maxfield and Peterson moved to Winnipeg and formed power-pop outfit The Cheer, while Morningstar reinvented himself in Kent, Ohio, as leader of post-punk favourites The F Models.

In 1983, Iggy died by suicide at the age of 25. The tapes were boxed up, shelved, and nearly forgotten.

But not quite.

The tapes that waited

Forty-five years later, those same tapes — aged, rough, and long set aside — have been lovingly brought back to life at Paintbox Recording in Winnipeg. With the help of AI-powered audio tools, Peterson and Maxfield were able to extract the original vocals, guitars, bass, and keyboards from the fragile two-track reels.

From there, they began the painstaking process of restoration. Some tracks needed only subtle enhancement. Others required new performances based on the original playing. But throughout it all, their mission was the same: to stay true to the spirit of 1979 while making the music resonate in 2025.

The songs tell the story

When the tapes were finally played back, what stood out wasn’t just the unique quality of the songs — it was the intent behind them. The songs showed a band still figuring things out but doing it with purpose. There was range, there was energy, and there was a willingness to take risks.

It wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t need to be. The tracks captured a specific time and place — the sound of three people pushing themselves with no roadmap, and no guarantees.

Nobody expected to return to this music, let alone release it. But the songs still held something worth finishing. So that’s what they did.

Go Jetter never made it big. But they had talent and passion and made something that lasted.

And now, after 45 years of silence, their story — and their songs — are finally being heard. This project is more than a posthumous release. It’s a testament to what happens when music, memory, and technology come together to heal old wounds and bring the past into the present.

It’s not nostalgia. It’s unfinished business, completed with love.