Since I last posted I’ve been hanging and working at the farm, playing music, mourning a dead dog, and young pig, drinking good ale, spending time with Ma, loving and questioning life--its machinery, mechanisms. 

I’ve been studying broken things, dreams, causes, outcomes and modern being. The more modern it is the more stuck I am. The more stuck I am...the more modern it gets. It moves regardless, yet can’t move without me to process it. All I know is when I’m dead I’ll exist in the  memories of those who know me and when they die so will I.

I’ve never been in time. Maybe once. I don’t know. Perhaps in my 20s--rowdy as hell, ringing-and-a dinging, head slinging, long headed, limping into my 30s. 

We recently recorded at County Line Studios. For this session, we brought in Brandon Turner on guitar, Brad Durden on keyboards, Don McGraw on bass, and Kevin Heuer on drums. Check out some video and photos of the session that were featured on CarolinaMixer.com.

I met Matthew Knights about 15 years ago in Spartanburg, SC. Of course, he was playing a guitar and singing a Hank Williams song to people who cared and didn't care. He didn’t care. He looked like he didn’t care. He reminded me of a crow, not bigger’n’ nothin' beneath a shock of gleaming, jet black hair-wailing, wailing wailing.

Like all the cool people, he had a way with a cigarette, puffing and nodding, trying to keep the smoke from his eyes-a bean pole, communicating in, and with, monosyllabic grunts and a guitar. It was as if my vinyl heroes had gathered in one man, and here he was--Keith Richards, Hank, Waylon, Matthew. I began this interview by asking him about this period in his life.

When we met he didn’t say much, he didn’t have to, he never did, which, is why his candor in this piece is so beautiful and special. He speaks, digs for the truth and bares his soul. It is in these moments you know why you love him, the person, the man who walks in his shoes.

Rattlesnakes was my first serious band, with serious players who knew how to play their instruments. We were young, like minded, and fully aware of our situation. According to all the signs, as far as I was concerned, my dream was right on schedule.

After a few rehearsals and gigs we began looking for a place to record our “originals,” as we used to call them. Luck was on our side. With financial support from David Bradley’s Uncle Charlie, we packed up our songs and headed to Nashville’s Eleven-Eleven Sound. We also recorded at Van Atkins’ Weaverville, NC studio.