A cabin. That seems to be where it starts.


Two guys from Stavanger, a guy from Oslo and a New Yorker, some cans of beer, and some old guitars.


How do we make it happen when we live so far away from each other?


When we get together we make it count.


This is the band you wish you were in.


We meet on islands. We meet on the sides of mountains, in the green laps of dreaming giants, or where the wind of the sun gleams, tattered by the strange force of the sky.


We meet at the cracks in the world where the words and the melodies are trying to get in...


Outside the little cottage, down the wooden steps, and back a few hours in time, are the glades, the confetti of puddles with all of the sky reflected, wild blueberries or tiny flowers, boots, keeping up, laughing, friends. A day to remember, a day to keep in a drawer in your mind like your grandfather’s hunting knife, oiled, safe, sharp.




Guitars, voices and the evening mix. You mustn’t look right at it.


But it’s there.


Clambering through the window, or wedged in the beams of the roof, lost in the light of stars and lamps and candles, or right there in the calluses on your fingertips.


We find it....


A song.


Gut Johnston “Hans Petter Aaserud”-vocals, guitar

Birdman Breaklove “Chris Barron”-vocals, guitar

Kidney John “Erik Norvald Røe”-vocals, guitar

Mustard Wilson “Arne Hovda”-vocals, keyboards, guitar