We were all working hard on the trail when dark, smoldering clouds converged somewhere's out on the great big empty and told us to start playing a new sound in the silver-lined hills of Park City. Karri Dell was the first to unsaddle her old-timey fixin's and get to playing with some extra metal induced sounds. Jack was always there to hit the down and low as his songwriting was beginning to take a front seat with the viper switch. And Mr. Viar was just laughing like his hyena animal spirit all the way down to the groove corral. Cole was in from the git' go when he realized he could keep his hands a pickin' that vintage avocado Gretsch on a regular basis. His bends for that lonesome blue sound are just too close to his sweet, sentimental heart. It was Elaine who pulled the team together and into the barn with her smokey, sorrowful and tender call. Lash LaRue was born with the spirit of the west in its mournful heart and the whip in its seductive hand and that is where we will hang our black, sultry hats till the herds are driven to higher pastures.