It was dreadfully cold in a New Hampshire cabin when I lit my first fire and began dabbling with some of my new song ideas for a new album. It was December 2008. I stared into the fireplace as my eyes became fixed on the warming flesh of the now flowing orange logs burning and crackling. The process of songwriting is different almost every time, but there is an ebb and flow that still remains consistent. I am able to determine quite quickly whether a song feels like it is heading in the right direction or whether it needs a whole lot of work. When a song feels right, I get a tingling sensation on my neck and there is a small sense of euphoria that percolates in my brain. When a song feels difficult and strenuous, my mouth becomes very dry. It’s a very odd and visceral reaction, but yet a comforting one, in that my body and brain seem linked together in ways that both reward me and warn me depending on the song.
The new album was a two and half year project that took me from an office day-job and then between Oregon, New York, and New Hampshire to write. I wanted to make an album that started organically and didn’t feel hurried. I wanted the songs to truly connect with those who listened. Like the flow of writing music, the album too, needed to be a series of proverbial peaks and valleys, both sonically and emotionally. The album that was born is called This Revolution. It is a cyclical record that encompasses a feeling of internal revolutions and struggles we all face to be happy in our lives. As in life, the album is heavy in some moments, lighter in others, but the overall ethos is that we as humans will be fine. We love, we lose, we gain, we strive and we hope to rise within our own revolutions when we have them.