Production work began at Stink Dog Studios in November, 2003. I never wanted this, my first album, to be over-produced to the point that it wasn’t even my music anymore. I remember being fiercely protective of the idea of the album being a grass-roots organic effort. A friend of mine, singer/songwriter Bill Hunter had just added a recording studio as an addition to his home. It had been a dream of his to own a studio and was chomping at the proverbial bit to get to work. My dream had been to find a place to record my album with someone who would share my ideology. Thus, our dreams collided and Gallery of Dreams began.

Having never spent any real time in a recording studio, this was to become a series of “lessons learned”. I remember recording several takes of a song, only to learn something new on his mixer that would inspire us to scrap everything and start over. It was the most miserable time that I have ever had while having fun.

For months, we worked on the project when we could – in between performances and various other musical pursuits and side-projects. Finally, in June of 2004, I decided that enough time had passed and it was time to finish.

Bill Hunter, a man of infinite patience, finally gave me the keys to the studio. I still remember the night that I grabbed the ventiest Starbucks Venti that I have ever seen, lugged in my gear along with a sleeping bag and pillow and shut the door to open the windows to what would become what I would eventually call the finished product – Gallery of Dreams.

It was during the wee hours of these last few mornings that the bulk of the album was developed and recorded. Not being a man of many instruments besides my trusty guitar, and being on a VERY limited budget, I made due with whatever I could find to make noise with and hence – turn into backing tracks.

I remember specifically looking for a sound to provide slight percussion in the background on Feeling Blue. While listening to the guitar track, I picked up a drum stick that was buried underneath a pizza box and began banging on the biggest Webster’s Dictionary that I have ever seen. I loaded a track just for fun, added some reverb… the rest, as they say, is history.

Speaking of percussion, Wes Hagen – wine maker, percussionist, and friend – provided the tasty beats that you hear on several of the tunes. With djembe in hand, Wes worked tirelessly to help me remember to enjoy the journey. This album would not be what it is without his input, support, and of course, our countless hours performing together.

One amusing aspect of the album that still grates on my nerves (in a good chafing sort of way) is on the song “Aren’t We”. I left plenty of room for this groovy little lead hook that I had written to accompany the melancholy rhythm riff. I was so incredibly exhausted by the end of the evening that I completely forgot to go back and record said hook. The next day, feeling certain that the song was finished, I didn’t bother to go back and listen to it one last time, just to make sure that all was as it should be. In fact, I didn’t listen to it again until after the final mixdown was completed. What exists now is a fraction of what I had in mind. To be honest, it’s one of my favorite tunes on the album because of that. I like the idea of something being unfinished.

My favorite song on the whole album is the one that took me the least amount of time to complete. The very last track, “Joke” is a song that I wrote many years ago late at night after way too many cups of coffee with friends. I’ve always held a special place in my heart for that song, largely because of my memory of that night.

I decided that this was a special song and should embody what I felt that this album should be: A beginning; unfinished in a sense. I decided that I was going to simply setup a couple of microphones and do one take. Whatever happened out of that take was what was going to end up on the album. What you hear is that take.

I love this album. I love the memory of this album. I love it for its flaws and for the haunting beauty that the flaws illustrate. It reminds me that, like music – none of us are ever finished. We are all works of progress. At the end of the life, all we have really given or all that we truly receive are memories.

My thanks to all who took part in this project – I could never name all of you without forgetting someone. However, I do want to specifically thank Bill Hunter for helping my dream to become a reality; Craig Costigan, of Garage Majal Studios who sat in his studio with me for 12 long…inebriated…hours to mix and master the final project; Finally, to Chuck and Michelle Kossuth for feeding my body and spirit during this time.