Snowball Effect Please

Things are moving. Alyosha is a healthy baby. There was a little jaundice issue but we got it cleared up before leaving the hospital. We couldn’t be prouder parents. We’re beaming.

But work doesn’t slow down for the DIY hybridized artist/entrepreneur crowd, and we’re doing our best to keep up the momentum. We shot this video with friends Ricky Olmos and Joel Worshim last time I visited Michigan. “Birth Control” was one of the first songs I wrote for Alyosha. It became a big crazy monster on the record, but this is the way it sounded when I wrote it.

It’s really refreshing to get feedback on this thing finally. Other people besides me are finally talking about it. What have they said, you ask? I’ll show you.

We got a 5-star review in Lemonade Magazine (from Washington) that said, “The psychedelic folk group finally found that unique voice that everyone craves, but rarely attains,” and “Alyosha is the needed uppercut to the humdrum folk world. It is a wakeup call that screams there is so much more to the genre than a singer sitting on a stool with an acoustic guitar.” You can read that here, and our interview with them here.

Tuned Up calls it “organic and deliberate,” as read here. The Herald Bulletin in our own little Anderson wrote this article and honed in on the fact that our new album is super weird. They also taped me doing a few songs from the new disc.

My favorite interview was with Profound Distractions because he got more in depth than I’ve been in most interviews. That’s a deep cut read for sure. And my favorite review came from Justin Wesley over at Denim on Wax. You can read that here, where he writes of Alyosha, “the record should defy many assumptions of what to expect from a folk-based songwriter and musician from the Hoosier state who has been flying under the radar from town to town and is now primed to make his deserved blip.”

Also got a writeup in my ol’ Alma Mater’s school newspaper. They called it “generic’ and “vaguely sleepy,” which is okay. I didn’t expect everyone to like this thing.

I got to play on the DoIt Indy Radio Hour and the show will be playing again at 5pm tonight (Wednesday 11/4) and tomorrow (Thursday 11/5) at 8pm. I was also on The Scene on Indiana Public Radio, the show that gets recorded in Muncie, but I have no idea how to link to that.

I’m still working on stuff: PR, booking, writing. If you have any leads for press-type stuff, I appreciate the tips–this is a new world for me.

Thanks for sticking with us. The record is out now on iTunes and Amazon and Spotify. You can get the vinyl at a show, or order it from our store link.

See you on the road.

From the Lip of the Cave

52 backers warms my heart in 52 real ways. Thank you for believing in me and this band and these songs. Here’s a preview of one of them to say thank you along the way. And for those of you interested, join our other friends and champion our campaign on Kickstarter.

I wrote this song at a worn kitchen in a cramped little apartment in Anderson where my brother and sister Aaron and Lauren Wells put me up for three or four weary weeks between Midwestern shows. I slept in on an air mattress while they went to work and school around me, and I spent summer afternoons out looking for trails I didn’t know of, or hammocking trees in which to make my roost and commune with Berry and Kerouac and Burroughs (the lattermost of whom scared me to psychedelic death.)

Evenings, the Wells and I would cook dinner for each other and invariably stay up late, talking over the hum of the wall unit air conditioner. Lauren would cash in and Aaron and I would drink beers on the stoop of 7th St as he tried to win me over on this or that country song. It was a refreshment of spirit for me as I geared up for my isolated month in Appalachia where I would spend a lot of time writing and practicing the arts of building fires, writing letters, and not speaking. But that month with my Indiana family was silence all afternoon and laughter all evening.

The Cave of Clouds is a spelunking expedition somewhere outside of Denver that some friends and I went out looking for and could never find. The hippie theologian Richard Foster writes about loneliness versus solitude, the dark night of the soul, and the silence in which we can hear God if we’re still enough. Stillness comes naturally to us introverted folk, but my soul has certainly seen its string of dark nights, and I’m on intimate terms with the Lonely One from Bradbury’s vernal bildungsroman novels.

Loneliness and solitude are nose to nose on a line thinner than razors, and I don’t know if I’ll ever find the zen in between. I never found the Cave of Clouds.