I was born in 1962. Am I getting old? I don’t feel old, not yet anyway, but I have been around for awhile. Among my earliest memories was in the Summer of 1967. It was the “The Summer of Love”. I began to listen intently to songs on the radio. It was fun to classify the songs as part of the “old”, or “new”...or the posers that were trying to be new, but hadn’t quite made it to an acid test. Of course, I didn’t know why the music had changed or anything about acid tests, but change it was...clear and unmistakable...even for a five year old.

I got a guitar when I was twelve. My first songbooks were Neil Young’s “Harvest” and Cat Stevens’ “Tea for the Tillerman”. I got both those albums too and learned every song. I still love those songs! But it was the Moody Blues that really moved me emotionally and spiritually. I listened to “Thinking is the Best Way to Travel” with headphones, at night, in the backyard, under the stars and imagined myself deep in space. “In Search of the Lost Chord” is among my all time favorite albums, for sure.

During high school I backtracked and explored musical icons, like The Beatles, The Doors, Jimi Hendrix, Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, Lynryd Skynyrd and Emerson, Lake & Palmer. But there were others like Mike Oldfield’s Tubular Bells that I really dug. I remember taking mental note of Brian Eno. I can’t recall why, but his name seemed to pop up unexpectedly in intriguing places. Much like Zoroaster. I feel a palpable, yet somewhat irrational, connection to both of them.

Entry January 19, 2010

My guitar got rusty through high school. I didn't even pack it for college, but my roommate, Bruce, had one and I started playing again. Shortly thereafter I was asked by the folks at Quattelbaum music if I could teach guitar lessons. I learned more than my students including a fair amount of music theory. It became pretty philosophical for me...humans making instruments to snatch sounds/frequencies/vibrations out of the realm of unlimited possibilities. YES!

Music theory is such an elegant language. The relational mathematical patterns opened my mind to what felt like a "meta-organization" not really dependent on what it is organizing per se. What I mean is the PATTERN is more instructive than the specific key or chord, etc. There is potentially alot to talk about here, but I'm going to move on for now.

I credit Bruce, and his brother Bill, (my college roommate in case you skipped that part), for introducing me to The Grateful Dead. I was only dimly aware of the Dead, having heard Truckin', Casey Jones and probably at least, Sugar Magnolia, but the amount of music by The Dead that just wasn't on the radio was the real revelation. It struck a chord with me that had begun back in The Summer of Love. Their improvisational style punctuated by songs played with varying energies was very engaging (to put it mildly).

Entry April 2, 2010

I've had the most amazing transformation since I wrote last. Beginning in February, I was planning to spend the month cloistered with The Brothers Burn Mountain, recording their 3rd album but, like hitting a rail with a ball pin hammer, something amazing happened. I should stop right here for a moment to commemorate my grandmother, Lorain Birdie Bettenhausen, who died on the 1st day of February at the age of 93. She lived lightly and bore much love. She is missed. Her death signaled that I would take leave of the recording process with The Brothers. In the incredibly creative days to follow, a new clarity developed which has defined my relationship with Ryan and Jesse (The Brothers Burn Mountain) at a different level. It was clear that I found melodies out of noise and chaos, they found melodies out of silence. In honor and respect, I did not return to record with The Brothers after the funeral, but redoubled my efforts to promote them and their music.

In sharing a little of my history with you, I haven't yet properly introduced you to Ryan and Jesse Dermody, who are The Brothers Burn Mountain. I would like to do that now. You may already know that host live music at Terrapin Station, named after a Grateful Dead album and poem by Robert Hunter. We had over 40 shows in 2009, but when I first heard The Brothers Burn Mountain, I knew they were something special. I had only listened to the songs on their myspace page and knew they could not duplicate the layers and tones from their recorded work in a live show. So at their opening chords when our arms raised in a spontaneous "hallelujah", it was like we'd discovered a "pearl of great value."

We didn't want their show to end and kept encouraging another song, but end it did. That night was rainy. We offered our home for the night, but they refused...wary...preferring the wet, dark woods. Their music was so inspiring, powerful and uplifting that I felt compelled to offer my assistance in any way I could. My firm belief is that they needed to be able to write and record as much as possible before they died. It may sound a bit odd, but it's just how I felt...it was, and remains, that important to me.

Brother Brian