Grantham Road

 
 
 
0:00 / ???
  1. 1
    In cart Not available Out of stock
    0:00 / 3:37
  2. 2
    In cart Not available Out of stock
    0:00 / 3:04
  3. 3
    In cart Not available Out of stock
    0:00 / 4:13
  4. 4
    GRK 4:07
    In cart Not available Out of stock
    0:00 / 4:07
  5. 5
    In cart Not available Out of stock
    0:00 / 3:33
  6. 6
    In cart Not available Out of stock
    0:00 / 3:40
  7. 7
    In cart Not available Out of stock
    0:00 / 3:47
  8. 8
    In cart Not available Out of stock
    0:00 / 4:25
  9. 9
    In cart Not available Out of stock
    0:00 / 3:40
  10. 10
    In cart Not available Out of stock
    0:00 / 3:43
  11. 11
    In cart Not available Out of stock
    0:00 / 4:08

It was 2006 when Steve Geyer, Jason Shaffer and I released the final Grantham Road album, Parade.  Soon after that project, the band broke up.  Steve and I continued to play live shows together and we tracked a few songs that we hoped to release but, ultimately, never did.  Looking back, it was probably more to prove a point, or to prove to ourselves, that recording could actually be fun.   Up until then it was all about everyone else, not about art or capturing a moment.  I began to see recordings as a snapshot or a photograph when I started working on solo projects a few years later.  It’s like when you had that bowl haircut and that shirt that you thought was so damn cool you wore it for three years in a row for school picture day but now know that the bowl cut was really just your mom’s way of saving money and that shirt is now a defunct company that sold out years ago.  You have to ask yourself, “Is it okay to remember that moment for what it was?  Or do I have to view it through today’s lens?”   I am comfortable (and stubborn) enough to say, presently, that it is all right to find the same connection to it now, as we did then.  This viewpoint allows me to see my previous recordings as exactly what they were: a snapshot of a specific moment in my history. 

I went on to record and release six solo EP’s and projects but remained close to Steve even though we didn’t record together from then on.  I began traveling up and down the East Coast playing in any small bar that would have me.  Many nights Steve was there beside me playing drums but we didn’t keep much documentation of it.  I finally got the shits of chasing the dream.  More accurately, I got tired of email, websites, Facebook, downloads, mp3’s, getting home at 5am, sleeping on floors and in rest stops, drunks not able to tell the difference between solid state and tube and that it’s all just pay-to-play and the rich kid wins anyway.  I called it quits at age 37.  I just wanted to be a dad.  I wanted to focus on homeschooling and riding my bike.  I wanted to enjoy music for the simple reason I got into it at age 15, as an outlet and a way to express my opinions.   I deleted my online presence and embraced life renewed.  But I had some loose ends that needed tying and couldn’t quite be done.

It was spring of 2017 when Steve and I loaded my van with a reed organ, a Wurlitzer, a few guitars, a 1950’s Gibson amp and a full drum kit with a couple extras thrown in and left Pennsylvania for Canton, NC for a few days of tracking at Lumen Audio with my dear friend Ryan Earnhardt.  Honestly, at the time, we didn’t know it was going to be this project.  We had a few songs and I thought maybe we would just fill in the rest with some old shit I had not released yet.  But along the way, among the hours in the van, the all night recording sessions, the walks to the liquor store or the drives to the Taco Bell, the vision grew into something deeper, something that felt like closure. 

This project begins with Tie a Man Down and ends with Heartbreak and Hellfire, two songs that mean the world to me.   Tie a Man Down features Ryan, Steve, my friend Jake Hunter and his wife Shannon Stepp.  Heartbreak and Hellfire brings together the voices of my wife, Jana, and our daughter Scarlet.  I can’t begin to explain the depth of emotion and significance that both songs hold.  To have my three best friends, Steve Geyer, Ryan Earnhardt and Jake Hunter in the same room, laughing, drinking and hanging out was not something I thought I’d see happen.  They each live in a different state, each one is a part of my life for different reasons and none of them know each other outside of my connection.  It was a surreal moment in time to all be together.  To end the album with the voices of my family brings closure with nothing left to prove or accomplish.  It feels perfectly finished.

This documentation of eleven songs is dedicated to my friend Steve Geyer.  Where do I even start with trying to convey the level of friendship with Steve?  Do I start with the sentimental stories of him not turning his back on me when I was feeling completely alone?  Or how he freely split a huge recording debt that the bank had only one name on; mine? Or do I tell the stories of Steve pulling off the side of the road while driving to and from hundreds of shows because the laughter produced tears that he couldn’t see through?  Maybe I should try to explain the way he was so dedicated to his family and dedicated to commitments that he made.  Steve was my friend when I wasn’t much of a friend.  Steve believed in my songs and my abilities beyond what I believed.  Steve saw me grow up, fail, try again and encouraged me all the same.  Steve bought me too many beers, too much bourbon, listened to my jokes, endured my band meetings, kept the faith when I was faithless and delivered me safely home each and every time.  Steve has always considered me family and welcomed me into his own, anytime, like I was blood relation.  I hope this project, through the memories of the journey and the realness of the moment, provide an honest snapshot of a friend that I don’t deserve.