I made music under the name "Lazy Blazers" for ten years, but it never really sat right with me. It has a certain ring to it, for sure, but it sounds like the name of a band, or, alternatively, a marijuana dispensary. So before I finally released the pile of recordings I've made since 2016's Asphalt Ghosts, I wanted something new to call myself. I tried "Wolf Music" for awhile, but it never really felt right.
As I was finishing up the Fire and Rain sessions, it occurred to me how often ghost- and haunting-related imagery show up in my songs. This isn't on purpose in any grand sense: I tend to write songs in isolation from each other, with no overarching theme in mind. Even the album title Asphalt Ghosts came from a random line in the song "California" that I liked a lot but didn't think much about at first beyond that immediate reaction.
Upon further reflection, though, I admit that I often feel like a ghost: haunting scenes rather than being a part of them, fading into the background in situations where everyone else seems to understand implicitly how to be in the foreground. And I feel like when I do come forward, it tends to be scary for everyone involved.
Enter pinus sabiniana. Known colloquially as the gray pine, the foothill pine, the nut pine, or, if you live in southern Oregon or northern California, the ghost pine. In a landscape carpeted by beautiful, verdant pine forests, the ghost pine...fades into the background. It's scraggly and weird-looking, and it's endemic to this strange, high-altitude desert I've called home for almost a decade now. Dare I say that every time I see one I sense a kindred...spirit?
So, I'll be releasing all of my new music this year as The Ghost Pines. I think it'll be the last name change for awhile because, for better and for worse, it feels like me. A ghost in the forest, a wilderness amen.
Thanks for reading.