The story, so far
No sign of dry land
Andy wrote songs in Nashville until the songs stopped sounding like him. He traded the commercial machine for love, pine, and the slow meandering path. The Andes is what drifted back: retro rock with a crooked compass. Sunny on the surface, weather moving in.
Time signatures that don't sit still. Classic rock bones, experimental wiring. Lyrics about the halfway where you haven't yet arrived but there's no turning back. The songs don't tie a bow on anything, because most things don't.
It's not about getting somewhere. It's about the longing for it.
If any of that sounds familiar, there's plenty of room at this table. Come down when you're able.
