Last month, I was visiting my father in central Florida. The temperature approached 100 degrees; the humidity felt like it exceeded 100%. As wonderful as my Glampmobile campervan was, the air conditioning unit simply could not keep up. We drove around in search of a place we could sit and talk (and breathe). I briefly considered a nearly completely abandoned shopping mall, but there was a little too much Dawn of the Dead vibe (even for central Florida). Then some nugget stored in the back of my brain inserted itself into my consciousness – “find a public library.”

As I approach the last round of remixes for the Birdsong At Morning Annals of My Glass House set, I realize that I am about to face that most terrifying object – the blank page. Most of the time, the challenge I face is how to balance all the things I have in motion – music, teaching, fitness, etc. But every once and a while, all that activity becomes dramatically less active, and in those moments, I grapple with a different question – what to do now.

As I have spent much time in recent weeks revisiting the early Birdsong At Morning catalog, and with Halloween fast approaching as I write, I’ve been feeling a little like Dr. Frankenstein digging up the bones of the past in order to reanimate them.

Reworking Bound, and now Heavens, was prompted by the desire to create immersive mixes that would stand alongside the later catalog releases, all available in surround sound. A pleasant by-product of the surround mixing process is that new stereo versions are created en route to the immersive experience.

For almost two decades now, I’ve been making music – writing, practicing, recording – in workspaces outside of my home. For several years before that, I had always figured out ways to construct music spaces in various apartments. It’s no small thing to find environments that are friendly to sound – rooms that support and enhance musical tones, walls and floors that isolate sonic activity from neighbors’ sleeping areas, etc. Working outside the home has provided solutions, or at least reducing some of the dilemmas outlined above.

Birdsong At Morning began as an attempt to resurrect the musical impulse that each member had relegated to the past. The first tentative moments gained focus and momentum as songs began to emerge from my subconscious after a dozen silent years. Gradually, Greg, Darleen, and I reclaimed our musical selves while exploring new avenues of expression. Feeling over the hill in my early 40s, the songs I wrote reflected my more adult, world weary existence, with tempos slowed and dynamics geared more to the whisper than the scream.

Knots and Crosses was a major part of my musical life - my first total commitment to a band, first record production credit, first (and last) brush with fame. And yet, the music we made vanished before the advent of internet streaming. I am pleased to say we have finally entered the 21st century.

Occasionally in conversation, I reveal myself to be a film buff. Inevitably, someone asks, “What’s your favorite movie?” And while I usually manage a long, slow, “uhhh….,” I never end up coming up with one. But in the process of reviewing the vast rolodex of my film-viewing life (probably what will flash before my eyes in that infinite final moment), I do come up with several that at least for a time would earn the title of My Favorite Film. Some of us are well-read (it’s very well-known), but I have only a passing familiarity with much of the great literature. On the other hand, I’ve seen and read about ALL the great works of film history. And a whole bunch of not-so-great works as well, almost in equal measure to my pop music fixation.

As with so many encounters with art and culture, what was the bees’ knees for 12-year-old me no longer holds sway over 59-year-old me, though at any given moment in time, one film or another really, REALLY resonates with my world. And I proudly retain ownership of that resonance even if the luster has worn off the movie. So, here’s a look at my life and the films that helped to shape it.

Other musicians inspired me to play, to sing, and eventually to write songs. At first, recordings served as textbooks – “hey, I think I stumbled on the keyboard part to ‘Lucy in the Sky’.” Or perhaps learning concepts of theme and variation not from Beethoven, but from Pete Townshend. Chromatic harmony from Stevie Wonder, etc.

In honor of the birthday of the nation, here is a playlist with highlights from my 12 favorite Americana albums.

A few years ago, Ben Wittman nominated me in some silly Facebook thing about posting your top ten albums – no words, just the covers. I dutifully took him up on it (can’t say no to Ben), though I couldn’t contain myself to just 10, went to 15 instead. Horrible at following the rules, I simply could not let the album cover speak for itself – I had to write a few sentences to explain my choices. Trying to bend rather than break the rules, I kept these thoughts brief and broad. But the responses I got in the comments prompted me to go further. I found myself wondering why these records meant so much to me. So, I’ve decided to update and expand for this website as my first “musing.”