Strange territory. An excellent road to escape that leads from one pasture to another, that’s how we began. One mandolin, one banjo, a left-handed Epiphone and a shared love for grassroots music in the fall of 2006. Playing our first open-mic and thinking we were gods because they picked us to headline the next week. Shows in Montana coffeehouses and a burgeoning freak scene. Finding Ms. Joyce over Russian cigarettes at a good-bye party that never happened.
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Strange territory. An excellent road to escape that leads from one pasture to another, that’s how we began. One mandolin, one banjo, a left-handed Epiphone and a shared love for grassroots music in the fall of 2006. Playing our first open-mic and thinking we were gods because they picked us to headline the next week. Shows in Montana coffeehouses and a burgeoning freak scene. Finding Ms. Joyce over Russian cigarettes at a good-bye party that never happened. Snatching Ms. Brown and Mr. Netzloff at a potluck, Mr. McCain at a Wolf show, Mr. Knapp between sips of cheap red wine in the spring of 2008. Opening for Bill Callahan and buying him a shot of Tequilla that Thor drank. Getting lifted to the heavens with Califone, having Dylan’s snare finally crack the two towers. Three-hour practices for a month before a break at SnowGhost studios. Playing a backyard garden party, a motorcycle rally, and finally our CD release party packed to the brim with the Boys and Girls of America, all Roman Candles and cult-fiction enthusiasts. This is where we are now.
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…shrink me down again
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