When I moved to New York I brought with me a corncob pipe. Carl wore a cowboy hat and rolled his own cigarettes. We two sat outside on the 8th floor fire-escape, musing and humming along as the city moved on with apathetic glances.

Harmony always grabs me by my oft-sleeping soul and forces me to consider the real things in life.

Folks music is often the only thing I have to keep me balanced. Without Patty, Dolly, and Emmylou I’m not exactly sure where I would end up. Probably leaping off of fire-escapes for one.