Four Years Ago this hour did I lay awake in the disturbing displeasure of a lonely independence. The walls moist with mold and dew that doesn't grow anywhere else so characteristic to the midwestern basement built circa 1950. The lands are so contiguously flat that the most minute fluctuations in altitude resinate in its organic life-forms, but so subtly so as to be most unforgiving to the reckless or untrained eye. There and then were the first writings articulated, potent with a potpourri of their own to supplement the melody of fungi. Four Years later, Ethos is released. It encompasses twenty years in fifty minutes, and through it may I endeavor to explain how it is that life transfiguration is possible, and reveal a window into where we are going from here. -7.5.09
My Dear Alan Andrews plays the music that expresses a time line of everything they wish they could say but can't find a way to express causing others to wonder what the message is they wish to make clear; but if you can't figure it out don't fret because if I know then you know because we're the same person buried under the same ground under a different moon confused by the only thing that separates us..
We now walk an unfamiliar pavement, precarious its construction, where the ground's erupting yet the silence is daunting. Light flickers from the basement. 'Twas the widow's husband: the tyrants unfaltering. As the Cicada travels down Arete's sleeve the buds seem to blossom meticulously. And though the thought is obstructed by rust and pulled taut, the seed combusts, whence life breathes.
My Dear Alan Andrews has been evolving since we began writing folk songs together in the summer of 2006, and have since continued to complicate our occupations through the ether of the shallow Midwestern cities between Chicago, Nigle, Normal, and Urbana. It has been almost three years, and we are now in the process of releasing "Ethos," our debut full length cd. We have been creating new music with an increasing number of musicians over the past few months, and our sound has begun to travel in whatever directions we allow to go: any cardinal unit of worldly geography will suffice; or space rock-ing chairs, hole-diggin fiddle-pluckin stomp-grass, Mark- did he actually ever get arrested? - and his Pro Americana vs. Pro human kind I don't even know what that means; or deaf-Rock for blind people; but always bringin a saddle bag Chicago workin-man's folk. There is a wild range of dynamic music that has yet to reveal itself to us, which will henceforth be shared with all who come to share the human experience, as a reincarnation of the beauty of yesteryears. See the universe in a grain of sand; it is waiting to be explored. Become what you are. Safe Travels.
-MDAA
Sorrowful Sower
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