This picture somehow says it- the guy is sitting at the end of the pier calling out across the ocean, into space, for his love to come come his way. And then there's this wave that's coming too- it's gonna be a lot, you know, when it comes, but he still wants it. And so that's how the illustration came about. The tune is the cry of the wolf into the the void, really. It can also be, like, you're waiting for your lover to come back and you're at the bar, and they said they're just going away for a minute. But come along, you know, make it soon before I'm gone. I mean, not that you'd leave your love, but it also has it has a lot of life and death. Like a big call for big romance. It was recorded at Cory's studio up in up in Vancouver, and it was a really unexpected recording date. The idea for it happened a couple nights before, I gotta say, to be honest, a super stony night and and on a next level. And so it seemed like a cosmically good idea somehow to say yes, when very high, at like one in the morning, he said there was a cancellation the day after tomorrow. And we may not be, like, in shape or anything, but just do you wanna come in and record a song? And so Taylor and I have a few tunes worked up and because we've just played the other night. So this is an honest snapshot of the beginning of a kind of a duet. And the way these tunes were recorded were as if some bar bar owner might understand in some little town down in the wild woods of California or something. It's so good to see what we're trying to say.

This is based on a song called Tam Lin, a very old song that a lot of the greats have done, and this was released in support of when Anais Mitchell and Jefferson Hamer collaborated on a record, and it won the BBC folk award, folk record of the year. And it is it tells how a woman's lover gets kidnapped by the fairies, and they turn him into all kinds of terrifying things. And she has to keep holding on to him through all these transformations. It's pretty good metaphor for romance, I gotta admit. I tried to make it perfect but there’s something about the way it’s uniquely off register that makes the eye dance. It’s on an oddly heavy, extra toothy paper.

This was the first thing Gillian asked me to do, and it was based on that song, “Dear Someone”. I had the vision for it while listening to her play the song at the Fillmore in San Francisco, and then she came off stage, and she walked right up to me and said, “Pete, I wanna ask you to do some artwork” And I said, great, I have the idea already. I was moving to New York the next month, and my first thing I did in New York was go find the coolest silk screen printer in Brooklyn to crank it out. And it became a hot merch item for them on on tour. This is in 2006. I had to re redo it later using the concepts, but this is the very original from which many things have come. And it's signed in pencil. And it is it's signed Signed by the artist. It is one of the only things I'm still proud of from back then.

As a cyclist, I have a million things to plug in that all need charging. That was definitely the reason I wanted to make one of these, because I wanted one central location where everything was right in the mix and bright green so you couldn’t lose any of it. It’s a plywood base with a bunch of USB charger things fixed to the top and a tremendous amount of Great Stuff and airbrush paint decorating.

When I make something, I kinda fall in love with it—that’s a problem I have. I make things thinking I’m gonna sell them, then just wanna keep them. I made these during the pandemic; they’re scenes from working from home. This one’s very real estate: lots of money, Perrier, a comfy chair, making deals, booking appointments, some coffee. I have no association with the sofa fabric; I actually like that it’s nondescript, feels like a hotel lobby where I’m waiting for everybody to come downstairs.

This is a hand-carved leather merchandise sign. I try to make one for every tour; I haven’t managed every time, but I’m always happy when I do. This one was pretty limited. I had three things to sell: whoopee-cushions, songbooks and vinyl- but I snuck in some real estate by adding a magnifying glass zooming in on the Sydney Opera House lawn with a “sold” sign. People wanted to buy it at every Australian show, but I couldn’t let it go. I love these signs and have a few; they look great collected, yet I’m not going to sell just these items again, so someone else could have this, I guess.

This is a representational piece, like my landscape work, but more about a representation of an exploration of something—I'm not even sure what. I didn’t know what to do with it until my friend Michael Nau asked if I had art he could use for his new record. An idea came up to combine elements of this piece and parts of another painting. My wife, Melissa Castellano, art-directed it all from there and laid it out beautifully for Mike's new full-length album “Accompany”.

I've done a few art jobs for Mike over the years, making posters when we go on tour, shirt designs and also album art. This painting was used to create the cover art for his newest full-length, “Accompany” which came out about two years ago. He asked if I had anything that might work, so I showed him this piece, and my wife and I combined parts of it with another painting to design all the artwork for the album. The piece uses gouache, a bit of acrylic, and paper on wood. There are some surfers catching a party wave, the recurring double-eyed dog, and people kneepaddling through the cloudy section.

This is a hand-drawn cover for my solo album Under the Ghost, recorded in a trailer up on the Central Coast in 2009. We ran power across a stream through some trees, and the whole thing was a two-week process. A bunch of Central Coast friends are on the record. I’ve done different drawings like this for almost every vinyl copy of the album, so each one is unique and one-of-a-kind. I just buy old records, find empty sleeves, recycle them, turn them inside out, and draw on them to make my album art; this one used to be Jim Nabors’ Kiss Me Goodbye.

This is a tape cassette recording of my cover of “O My Stars” by Michael Hurley. I learned the song for a Michael Hurley tribute show which I did a few weeks back at this great venue in LA called Scribble. And yeah, I absolutely love this jam.

This is the mix reel from the 2017 session that I did with Steve Albini at Electrical Audio in Chicago. It was a little bit of a trade from doing his charity called Letters to Santa that does a twenty four hour show every year. And I did the show and he offered some studio time as a little reward. And I happily accepted. He put contact mics on my guitar. We recorded four songs: 1. So Sea Came to Shore 2. Shuffling Stoned 3. August. 4. Little Lost, which is an Arthur Russell cover. All of the the top three came out, but Little Lost I haven't released. These were alternate versions, but the songs came out on my record “August”.

This is a set list from my first time playing in Ireland on 04/26/2023, and I played at the Cobblestone in Dublin. And it was a significant show for me. I'm incredibly Irish and just to play there felt so correct. And I had done an Anne Briggs cover with my friend Devra Hoff, and I got to sing it there. It was just the best. That's a lot of songs, Europe likes you to play. I think that was probably that was maybe like an hour, hour and hour and ten. I think the longest set I ever did in Europe was 30 songs in a church in France. They're so patient there.

This is my very first UK work permit for the first DJ gig I ever did in London. It was for Warp Records Nesh rave parties. I didn’t know it until Soundcheck, but I was sharing the stage with Aphex Twin. He came to Soundcheck and asked me how to plug in his laptop into my mixer, so I helped him do that Later that night I danced next to Björk on the side of the stage watching Aphex play through my scratch mixer 

This is the first volume in a three part series. Vol. 1 was my first attempt at making a "scratch record" back in the day. I had a modest sampler, an Akai S2000, but a huge record collection. It was challenging to choose the right records to sample for this. I took into consideration the myriad of breaks that were sampled over and over. I wanted this record to be different from the other scratch records out there so I dug deep and intentionally used less obvious samples. I was also playing a lot of instruments around this time so some of them are my own sounds. I had a few big djs back in the day get a hold of these and compliment the choice. I remember one of them saying "it's listenable as a stand alone record" because most of the break and scratch records were not in that time. I recorded it in my apartment in Cincinnati, Ohio deep into my record collecting days. Cincinnati is a Mecca for jazz and funk records due to it being a hot sport back in the 70s for recording funk and jazz. The average collection to a Cincinnati resident in the 70s was what the most insane collectors would die over today. I don't think I ever spent over $10 on a record around that time but so many of those today would be worth hundreds. "Doo-doo" was used as a compliment around that time for some odd reason. "Yo, that beat is doo doo" simultaneously meant good and bad. It was all how it was delivered. The album art is by the graffiti artist, Devious aka Chris Gliebe.

This is a promotional 45 of my track Dos and Don’ts from the album Blue Eyed in the Red Room. I received a box of these from the label when the album came out. This song was a favorite among buyers and so the rest sold while I toured across Europe. I happen to come across my personal copy of it and noticed I had one extra. So this is the extra and I’m reluctantly letting it go. I’ve numbered and signed it for extra authenticity. Gruff and I made this song when I first moved to Los Angeles in 2002. I moved into an apartment off of Melrose Avenue in West Hollywood. I didn’t know Los Angeles at all and realized I had moved in the center of an area where almost everyone around me were aspiring actors, models or very young. Gruff arrived and slept on my sofa for three days while recording this song in a small bedroom inside my apartment. When we finished, we celebrated at a Thai restaurant who had a staff of transgender servers who were so fun and got us wasted. The next day Gruff went off and back on tour.

I just made the tape with Cory - plus some improv piano in the background by Nathan Moore, Sport Fishing USA, Dean the dog. Don’t miss it, don’t sleep on it. This is the only version of this you can hear. It’s unreleased and officially unnamed. You can also get the lyrics on Ghostnote with some doodles.

These are lyrics to a song I wrote in a bunker in the Alvord Desert, I didn't have a tuner, so I just had tuned the guitar by ear, and I didn't know the tuning until the next day. But I don't know. It has a bunch of doodles. I kinda like to doodle on the on the lyric stuff after it's over or while I'm working on it you know, changing it up. “Anyways”, I think is what it's called.

My friend Charles, a tattoo artist and good homie, made this poster for a show we did with our New Orleans friend Thomas Dollbaum. He blew up a photo of me riding a horse during a music video and actually burned the edges. I love it. It’s for the Lollipop Shop show last summer, May 31, 2024. The horse is named Catch—and in the back that’s J.D. on Chicken. That’s about it.

This is #5 of 6 in an alternate artwork mini-series of silkscreened black LP jackets for the test-pressings of my last Carcrashlander record “A Plan to Tell the Future” The official release was white silk-screen on white jacket; and we did this small run silk-screened on black for fun and you can actually see the design better. The other version also had a photo on the front—on this one it’s tucked inside. Rob Jones silk-screened it at the Jealous Butcher Records headquarters, we used images from Book of Symbols and Paul Laffoley art as inspiration. The record features some of my favorite players from that era: Brian Wright, Adam Selzer, Cliff Hayes, Sabrina Velasquez, Ryan Stively, Matt Berger, Sarah Johane, Jacy McIntosh, Kelsey Crawford, Todd Corbett, and Damien Cohn. Though it didn’t come out until 2014, we recorded it around 2011-2012 at the old Scenic Burrows in Goose Hollow, Portland, while I was living in an old dentist office above the studio where I worked.

This is a hand painted and silkscreened show poster by artist Sam Farrell onto which I penciled notation for a few of the melodies on the record.

This is a sound/sculpture collaboration I did with ceramicist Nicky Kriara from our installation “Sandness: Between Land and Sea”. It was a week long artist residency at the Sou’Wester Lodge in Seaview, WA where I composed pieces that lived inside each ceramic piece, as well as a soundscape that played during the installation. The exhibit was based on inspiration from looking at grains of sand through a microscope. Included is a mini media player loaded with the compositions. (Headphones not included.)

Our 2015 demo had too many songs for one record, so we made two—10 copies each, high-quality black vinyl, hand-doodled, numbered, labeled by Kristian.

Our 2015 demos. We had too many songs for one record, so we split then into two. Only ten of each exist worldwide—high-quality black vinyl. Hand numbered, doodled, and labeled by Kristian.

Our 2015 demos. We had so many songs we split them into two hand-numbered, Kristian-doodled records, 10 each, on high-quality black vinyl.

This is an annotated set list from my February 21st 2025 Tractor Tavern performance in Ballard, Seattle. I shared some background from that night—what went down and how I felt about the show. The band that night was Sera Cahoone on drums, Rebecca Young on bass, Charles Wicklander on keys, Jeremy Ferrara on guitar, and Forrest VanTuyl on guitar.

So here we have a cassette recording of me singing and playing the song Bottom of the World written by Tom Waits and Kathleen Brennan. I just love a husband wife songwriting duo. It's really a wonderful way to attribute work correctly. Just out in the open, addressing all the contributions upfront. I love to see that. I think Tom Waits always makes me think of coffee. And usually at night, like, in a late night diner. And so I drew a coffee mug and a waning moon on there. And this was recorded here in Vancouver, Washington at Scenic Burrows by Cory. It's on a beautiful clear Maxell cassette. I used to listen to cassettes in the van with my mom. She played Art Garfunkel. Not Paul Simon, just Garfunkel.

Here I am at Scenic Burrows. Cory Gray is my engineer du jour, as is John Askew, both du jour. I'm in this photo with my 1966 Epiphone Cortez, the US-made model before production moved overseas. I got the guitar in June during my last tour, when we were playing Bottom Of The Hill in San Francisco—yes, in San Francisco. I'm wearing my white poplin summer dress, compliments of Revivall in Bozeman, Montana.

This was one of the first collages I ever made. I bought a giant stack of Life magazines from a thrift store in Portland and spent the winter of 2024 cutting them up and being sad and listening to Miles Davis records, mostly Bitches Brew and Miles in the Sky. This room might be in Office Building 9 on Planet Sneth.

This is a collage that I made out of old sixties Life magazines and eighties National Geographics.

This is the painting I used for the cover of my solo record “Eeli” It is a trippy watercolor of an eel in squares. Eeli was my nickname until I moved to Portland and shed that title, which now I'm admitting existed, which is probably a bad idea. “You’re screwed now” said Cory.

This is an original pencil drawing of the sweet old souls that we used as the artwork for our album, and it was made by a really dear friend, Emma Allen. This drawing that was from a photograph that was taken of me and James when we were playing one of our early gigs as the sweet old souls.

This is a wood-fired sake or whiskey cup—large sake, small whiskey. It has cool patterns from wood ash and stamping. James and I, sweet old souls, love antique things and collect old beach glass on our trips, so this piece is stamped with those antique shards we’ve gathered from shops and the shore.

We just stopped by the studio to get some sandwiches and hang out with our buddy Cory. We had all our instruments because we were on our way home from a gig on the coast. We got offered to make a tape, so we decided to play one of our favorite songs, “The Waltz of the Wind,” which is really special to us. It’s a Hank Williams song—a really special old song that was recommended to us by Michael Hurley’s first wife, Pasta, whom we just met at his memorial a couple weeks ago—very special connection, special song, special opportunity. The B-side is called “I’m Growing Fonder,” and it’s Fats Waller, who we consider one of our patron saints. We love Fats Waller so much. I like to bring those old songs that are completely buried, like the B-sides no one’s heard before that are so special. We like to bring those back and bring them into the modern times.

I think it's important to do a self-portrait every so often. This is my original idea for an album cover, even more original than the coyote, but I don't know why it didn't work for the cover. Works pretty good for a painting. Mostly acrylic and gouache with some watercolor pencil. 12x12.

This was one of the first the ideas for my album cover. There are a lot of Coyote sounds on the record. And I grew up losing cats to coyotes and hearing them around our little one room shack something something. I think it's acrylic and gouache. 12x12

This is an homage to my great aunt Jean’s quilted afghan. She had an old chair with dark wood at her house on the coast in Cloverdale. I don’t think I matched every color exactly, but I remember the black, the quilted squares, and the neon green and orange—really bright, secondary colors. My great aunt had all kinds of quirky things because she lived at the beach. The bathroom was full of shells, and her dad built the house himself after checking out books from the library, so everything was a little off—low ceilings, strange wiring, and tricky stairs. There were lots of old books, blankets, tchotchkes, and an old piano. Out of everything, the afghan was the most vivid and stood out the most.

Corey invited me over—said you were doing a little thing this weekend and might record. The cassette-tape doodle: That’s my best drawing of a cup of coffee. We recorded a song I wrote this past week, still kinda working on it. It’s called “Night Café,” just acoustic guitar and singing. I’ve been playing a fair amount: solo shows around town and some busking. I started busking about a year ago. Seemed like a good way to get a different type of practice in—really get comfortable, learn to hold down a longer set, and maybe make some pocket change. I just treat it like practice. Since I started busking I’m writing a song or two a week. A lot end up in the trash, but the keepers pile up. Might be interesting to throw them all on a cassette—one-on-one takes—and just put them out. I’ve been thinking about how I want to do that; we’ll see.

This is a map my friend Yoichi drew for me on the first day of our tour in Japan. We had separated and were supposed to meet back up to take the train into the city for the show. I was carrying a lot of stuff, including a guitar case crammed full of T-shirts and records. It was very heavy. I followed the map, or at least I thought I did, until I found myself walking out of town. I had missed the spot where I was supposed to turn off. It was crazy hot that day and I walked for maybe an hour and then had to turn around and walk back. When I finally got to the meeting place, Yoichi looked at me very seriously and said “Didn’t you follow the map?”

This sign hung above the door at the Ranch, a punk house in Portland from around 2000 to 2018. Many bands practiced there, and I lived there at one point. My band members also lived there. After the sign had been up for a while, someone added 'chicken fingers' to it. Bands like Divers, Drunken Boat, Coldbringer, Talk is Poison, and Creeping Meatball played there. The Ranch was in Northeast Portland, near Alberta.

I brought the Omnichord today. The recorded song has live drums, synthesizers, and guitars, but this Omnichord version is something I’ve been working out for live solo shows. It’s really exciting to capture it in the studio because I never planned on that. I like the way the song sits on the Omnichord—it’s similar, but it’s super different at the same time, which is fun. I tracked some additional vocals and did a quick drum pass on the tape—just Omnichord, vocals, and drum. Cory added a little snappy piano. For the arts-and-crafts project, it started as a cleaner design, and then the green pen exploded onto it. I pivoted, embraced whatever this is, and kept adding colors. Sometimes making a song feels the same—you keep throwing stuff on to see where it goes. I can’t say it looks pretty, but I like it. There’s only one. “Before the Sun” is sort of an anti capitalist song. It’s about being sad when you have a job that makes you wake up before the sun comes up and how unnatural that feels, especially if you’re also living a double life as an artist or musician. Being a working-class musician can mean very little sleep. The song is about the pretending you have to do in that world and the feeling of being kinda trapped.

This collage, which I created many years ago, has undergone several phases. It was once destroyed and torn into pieces by someone in a fit of passion. I later reassembled it, making it a collage of a collage.

This is a hand written note with a little drawing on the title page of my poetry book. The poems focus on memory, family, inherited identity, and place.

We recorded two songs today, an A-side and a B-side. I only came prepared with one song, which references my friend Athena. But when I found out I could do two, I remembered I had another about her, and it felt meant to be. Athena named the second song “Whiskey Courage.” The first song I call “Bazan,” but the full title would be “Put on Bazan”. Hope he doesn’t mind. Recording these songs with Cory was amazing, I’ve only ever recorded harmonies here at Scenic Burrows with Cory before.

Plankton Wat - That’s my friend Dewey’s band. He had a shop called Mothership Music when I first moved to Portland eight or nine years ago. He was one of my first musical pals. I was really excited to finally play a show with him years later. He made this flyer, and I cut the bird out, colored it in, and taped a copy on top. I meant to make more of these, but, you know, it never happened.

This is a test print for our first T shirts. It's been rolling around in the back of my van for a couple years now. My friend Maliki from Small Million helped me buy a font and stretch it out in Photoshop to the shape we wanted and do little tweaks here and there, but it’s pretty stock. We thought it would be funny to use a super hard font, but it definitely also pays homage to the harder music scene in Portland,OR that initially embraced us. It's funny that we got lumped into a harder crowd right out of the gate when I never would have thought to put us there. That’s just who was asking us to play shows, and supporting us. So we leaned into the people that accepted us, and then they of course influenced us. We love the grunge side of the Grunge-Country.

This is the draft set list from the first show we played in 2025, in connection with the release of our seventh album, Budos Band VII. You can see tons of notes, cross-outs and scribbles; we hammered it out in rehearsals leading up to our Yonkers, New York set at Yonkers Brewing Co. The sheet mixes brand-new songs with classic Budos cuts. We later turned this mess into the concise, cleaned-up version for use onstage, but this page is the working copy we wrote in advance of the show.

This is a test pressing of The Budos Band VII, our seventh album on Diamond West Records. Vinyl Ceremony pressed it, and we pulled a handful of test pressings to hand-draw or paint original art on the white labels. This piece, by our drummer Brian Profilio, features one of our signature sigils—you’ve probably seen these in our record covers and posters.

This is a test pressing of the Budos Band VII, our seventh album, which will be released on our own Diamond West Records. Our friends at Vinyl Ceremony pressed the record, and we grabbed a few test pressings from the run and made some hand-drawn or painted labels for a select few. This one was done by our drummer Brian Profilio and features a sigil you might recognize from the record cover and other artwork on our releases.

Polygrom was shredding the day he was born. Soon he'll lose his tail, get fat legs, and watch chicks from the shore.

The only thing Toadhead ever wanted to do was surf, but he lived in the flat dusty valley far from the ocean . Then to his astonishment Kelly Slater built a wave pool right near his back yard! Now Toadhead rides perfect waves, is stoked for days and sleeps in the shade.

The froghog comes out of nowhere just when you think you're in the clear and have a nice one to yourself in the golden glow of a late afternoon set. Seeming to drop from the air, he gives you fright with his lazy smile, then it becomes clear you're the grasshopper about to be eaten.

Here's my sketch for the single art of 'Laid to Rest' featuring the four horseman. Leroy From The North logo sits in the top corner. I drew a red horseman with crown and bow, one with a sword, a black horseman holding scales of justice, and a pale horseman representing death—just some easy topic. It’ll likely serve as the album cover, set against a moody landscape. The record itself feels moodier than my others—more indie, less polished. It’s finished and ready to go.

Meet my Hummingbird: it's been dropped, glued, and sun-bleached, but it still rocks harder than ever. From Bozeman to the big stage, this guitar's got stories to tell!

This kick ass phaser was used on the first Dorothy tour and was a staple on my pedal board when we first opened for Greta Van Fleet. It has its own sound that’s different than the phase 90, 45 or 100. Plus it’s like green and has the silver button, which I hear is a thing.

I launched Daytrotter on this heavy white 2007 Apple laptop. For about five years every band email, 4,000 essays, and all behind-the-scenes work in Rock Island came from it. It’s now dead, but its worn keys, crumbs, and coffee stains mark a unique piece of Daytrotter history—I always run laptops until they die, and there’s only one of these.

I kept this empty Hennessy bottle from Naughty by Nature’s Daytrotter session. I’d never bought Hennessy and still don’t know its taste. I flew the legendary group in for a pre-Christmas charity show at Rock Island Brewing Company to fund winter beds and coats for in need area families. They only asked for flights and hotels and played for free, which still amazes me. They brought this bottle to the Sunday recording session—maybe it started full, maybe not. Vinny, a die-hard Giants fan, got visibly upset during the game over his Giants on the field performance and might’ve polished it off because of that. It wasn’t me. Now I’ve got the intact bottle and cap as a souvenir.

This painting hung in the control room at the original Daytrotter studio for the longest time. It just kind of showed up; I can’t remember when or how we got it, though we know who gave it to us. It became one of the only things hanging in that tiny space. Anytime a band came in to hear playback and decide if that take was the take—no editing, no mixing—they had to accept it as is or start again from the top. We’d sit on our little booth bench while Mike, Pat, or Brad hit the playback button, listening with the painting staring back at us. Other than tapes and a few odds and ends, that was the whole room. This was an old radio-station control room, very small, and the painting felt like our company. The image looks like a troll goblin eating small balloons—maybe Christmas lights or flowers. There’s a flag that resembles a red taco anteater with music notes, and an albino Grover and a regular Grover holding hands, just afloat at sea. For years it watched every take.

This is the original artwork I made for the cover of the second No Ones record, a band that Peter Buck and I have with two friends from Norway, Frode and Arne. We put this record together during the pandemic, so it was long distance. I had a concept for the record about all the music and musicians we love and how they affected my life. There's a clock radio, just like the one I had as a kid, which I used to fall asleep to and listen to music every night. The record is called "My Best Evil Friend" because music is my best friend, but it also messed me up in many ways. The songs were written about musicians and music I loved. Many people are represented in the collage I made with paint, markers, and cut-up photographs. Musicians on the record include Debbie Peterson, me, and Peter, Ben Gibbard and Norman Blake. George Harrison isn't on the record, but I wrote a song about him. Frode and Arne are on there too. It includes obscure people and friends like Jenny Lewis and Morgan Nagler, each with a song about them. Pamela Polland had a song about her; she was a singer-songwriter in the early seventies. Nick Lowe is a constant influence. I was really proud of it and think it's cool.

The space dudes. Oh my god. This is really funny. Better stop looking at or I will probably keep it. It says on the top, 10/31/1973, Rolling Stone, page 31. Apparently, I made this ad for a crazy new group called The Space Dudes. I think I invented the Coneheads before Saturday Night Live. They owe me for that. "Capital Records presents the debut album of a sensational new band, including their smash hit 'Armpit Love'" -- produced by Todd Rundgren and David Bowie. I think maybe I thought that Glam was kind of funny at the time, which is weird because I know I loved Todd Rundgren already at that point. I might not have been totally into David Bowie yet because I was all about Poco and country rock at the time. Well, and Yes and Genesis somehow. So who knows? That guy, Computosound, must be part-human early sampler. And a Moog and a Mellotron blended into one thing somehow. I want that. It's drawn on the back of a list of classes at West Valley Junior College where I was a student. I was probably 19 when I made this, in Saratoga, California, where I 'grew up'. There you go.

This was a poster I made for the Minus Five "The Therapy Sessions", which was a weekly residency at the Laurelthirsti n Portland in April 2018. That was five or six months after I had a stroke. We had a happy hour every Wednesday that month. The idea was to get me in front of people, trying to play again, and see if I could remember songs. I had lyric sheets because I couldn't remember any lyrics at that point. I pretty much just played The Beatles, Neil Young and my own songs because they were the most engrained in my DNA. It got my mind working and helped a lot. It was a great happening because people came out and cheered us on. It was really beautiful. We made these posters and gave them out to people at the shows. This one is signed by Peter Buck, Kurt Bloch, me, Casey Neill, and Lewi Longmire. Those must have been people who played one week.