About a year ago, I watched a Werner Hertzog documentary called Cave of Forgotten Dreams. Around this time, Zac, Tom and I had just played our first gig together in nearly three years. We had old songs we never recorded, and new ones we wanted to record. Over the course of the next six months, we planned for our first album and finalized the songs. Back in August, we entered the studio, and over the course of 14 sessions, walked away with an album.
Zac and I met in the Simmons Hall piano lounge during the first week of the fall 2004 semester at Penn State. We then didn't see each other again until January 2006, when I was suddenly in need of a new residence and unknowingly moved a floor above him in Beaver Hill Apartments. Over the next several months, we jammed, experimented with some original song ideas, and eventually put together a band to play a daylong frat party called "The Meatball." That was April 7, 2006. Tom--who I met because the washer and dryer were broken on his floor in Beaver Hill and he consequently was on my floor and heard me playing guitar--was on bass, and Mike (although not Mike Mahoney) was on drums. We played two sets' worth of covers, ranging from Cake's "The Distance" to Notorious B.I.G.'s "Mo Money Mo Problems." Our set culminated (or dissipated, depending upon your perspective) with an abbreviated version of Phish's "You Enjoy Myself."
That same month, we made plans to study abroad in Seville, Spain the following year. Spain was the real birthplace of Juno Day, and it was there where we experienced the magic that set our dream in motion. There are many amazing stories, incredible people, and bizarre happenings that make up that journey, but suffice to say that we came home with a sense of wonder and a mission to make Juno Day a reality. We didn't know how long it would take, of course--and we're still learning a great deal--but all these years later, I can happily say that making music with Zac and Tom--and many others who have shared part of this journey with us--has been one of the most meaningful parts of my life. I can proudly say that these tracks represent our own little cave of forgotten--and remembered--dreams, and we've painted the walls with our own story, for whomever or whoever might see it, now or at some remote point in the future.
Zac and I met in the Simmons Hall piano lounge during the first week of the fall 2004 semester at Penn State. We then didn't see each other again until January 2006, when I was suddenly in need of a new residence and unknowingly moved a floor above him in Beaver Hill Apartments. Over the next several months, we jammed, experimented with some original song ideas, and eventually put together a band to play a daylong frat party called "The Meatball." That was April 7, 2006. Tom--who I met because the washer and dryer were broken on his floor in Beaver Hill and he consequently was on my floor and heard me playing guitar--was on bass, and Mike (although not Mike Mahoney) was on drums. We played two sets' worth of covers, ranging from Cake's "The Distance" to Notorious B.I.G.'s "Mo Money Mo Problems." Our set culminated (or dissipated, depending upon your perspective) with an abbreviated version of Phish's "You Enjoy Myself."
That same month, we made plans to study abroad in Seville, Spain the following year. Spain was the real birthplace of Juno Day, and it was there where we experienced the magic that set our dream in motion. There are many amazing stories, incredible people, and bizarre happenings that make up that journey, but suffice to say that we came home with a sense of wonder and a mission to make Juno Day a reality. We didn't know how long it would take, of course--and we're still learning a great deal--but all these years later, I can happily say that making music with Zac and Tom--and many others who have shared part of this journey with us--has been one of the most meaningful parts of my life. I can proudly say that these tracks represent our own little cave of forgotten--and remembered--dreams, and we've painted the walls with our own story, for whomever or whoever might see it, now or at some remote point in the future.