If you’re like me, you have some childhood and early adolescent memories of listening to certain songs that gave you a magical impression of seamlessness, as if they had always existed in all their wholeness, just the way they met your ears. You may remember exactly where you were and what day it was when you first had an experience like this with music—it may very well be that these memories act as threshold moments marking your awakening to the sheer scope of music.
I know better than to say that I’m a Springsteen fan. It’s not because I don’t listen to Springsteen. I do. I have most of his catalog in my iTunes folder. Nebraska is one of my favorite albums, and thank goodness for The Rising and Devils and Dust, albums that did some justice to the experience of 9/11 and the second Gulf War. So, I’m plenty familiar with Springsteen and enjoy his music immensely.
Back in November of 2017, I had the pleasure of interviewing Andy Gullahorn about his new record, Everything As It Should Be, the craft of songwriting, the balance between boldness and humility, and what he has learned from the arc of his career. I hope you enjoy our conversation as much as I did.
Andy is currently in the middle of a Kickstarter project to fund the finishing of his new record, and he’s got twelve days to go. Click here to learn more about the project and choose how to support him.
I can’t remember the first time I met Arthur Alligood, but early on in our relationship, I nailed a catfish to his dad’s back fence.
Every summer when I was a kid I was given the amazing freedom to walk down Elm Road to the neighborhood pool about a mile away. There I spent most of my summer days practicing my dives, playing 500 with Dave the ice cream man, and frolicking barefoot with my friends.
“One. Two. Three.”
Confession: I’m a wannabe monastic. I even mowed a makeshift prayer maze into my backyard when the grass got high enough. I like to slow my days and wander through weeds; I bet my neighbor Ryman thinks I’m crazy. “Greg must be hopped up on Mountain Dew. He’s shirtless and crying in the field. Who’s he talking to anyway? Should I check on him?”
Did you watch the Wingfeather Saga animated film and feel deeply moved by the mysterious, enchanting music that helped tell the story? Did you think, “I wonder what that song is—I sure do wish I could listen to it anytime I wanted!” If you answered yes, then today is your lucky day. The soundtrack to the Wingfeather Saga animated film is now available.
We’re proud to announce that Hutchmoot 2018 will feature not one but TWO incredible events. On Thursday, October 4th, Hutchmoot will host Andrew Peterson’s Resurrection Letters live with a full band. This show is free to Hutchmoot registrants and a limited number of seats are available to the public. Read More ›
The Local Show will be four years old this fall, and we’re having more fun than ever. This spring, filmmaker Karl Sutton caught up with three artists featured at the show to talk about where they’ve come from, how they approach the creative process, and what role community plays in their work. This is “Part Three: Community.” Enjoy!
The Local Show will be four years old this fall, and we’re having more fun than ever. This spring, filmmaker Karl Sutton caught up with three artists featured at the show to talk about where they’ve come from, how they approach the creative process, and what role community plays in their work. This is “Part Two: Process.” Come back next week for the third and final part.
When we first envisioned Supper & Songs, we considered it an exercise in thinking small: cozy homes as venues, a small enough guest list that we could get to know each other throughout the night, and just two artists. We had thirty guests at our April event with Liz Vice and forty in May with Jordy Searcy.
There I stood, in front of the fireplace with my guitar strapped on and dozens of lyric sheets in my hands with songs like “This Is My Father’s World” and “Be Thou My Vision.” I turned to my left and gave the nearest student that familiar instruction to “take one and pass them back,” watching the sheets of paper make their way around the circle we had formed along the perimeter of the room. On this Wednesday morning, chapel was held not at school, but at our neighboring nursing home. In the middle of the room, couches were filled with residents, some smiling pleasantly, others vacantly, and still others giving the appearance of being annoyed at the general state of things. The smell of artificial maple syrup wafted through the air.