No Retreat. No Silence.
Musical Soldier
I'm the designated driver on the road back from hell.
The driver
There's no stairway out. There's a road. I've been down enough of it to recognize somebody walking, so I pull over.
I'm not a therapist, a preacher, or a judge. I can give you part of the ride: a song, a story, an hour of listening.
No name on this record
No name on this record. I'm not going to tell you my name. The name is the only thing I'm keeping, and I'm keeping it on purpose: the second you know it, this becomes a story about one man, and it isn't one. You don't need it to ride.
Who rides
You don't have to have worn a uniform. You have to know what it costs to keep walking.
The mother who never served. The kid who's never left his zip code. The woman on year six of the wrong marriage. None of them are veterans. All of them know this road.
The creed
The stairway to Heaven doesn’t mean anything, it's the road back from Hell that leads a man from death back to life....and music is the vehicle.
The silence
Between the halves, the night the album doesn’t narrate.
Some things don't resolve. The car still gets where it's going.
The new album
Chapter One: The Long Way Home
Twenty-five songs, written over about fifteen years. Part I, From War, goes down. Part II, To Peace, is the drive back. The music is the engine, not the address.
The songs
The songs are breadcrumbs on the road back from hell.
There will be more, and the next ones belong to the people I pick up.
If you're trying to get back to life, there's a seat for you.