Atmospheres is the album that almost wasn’t an album.

Let me explain.

This album is actually entirely demos recorded on my phone.

With some production of course.

For a long time, I’ve been a fan of acoustic fingerstyle artists. Albums like Beyond Nature by Phil Keaggy, Joyland by Andy McKee, Missile Bell by Trace Bundy, and The Mystery by Tommy Emmanuel. Even the simple lofi beauty of acoustic guitarists who sing, such as Nick Drake and John Smith and Tony Rice. There’s something beautiful and primal and simple about the music these artist make.

I love the simplicity of a single acoustic guitar player doing their thing, developing complex melodies and chords. For years, I’ve sat in my house and tried to replicate the sounds I heard on these albums. And then I’ll inevitably start wandering off into other genres, because everything I hear I want to play. But acoustic music is always in the rotation.

The other day, I found an old sketch that I did in college of the headstock of my Ibanez Artwood AW-100 dreadnought (a guitar that I had for many year until just recently, when I sold it to a friend). It got me thinking about how it would be fun to put together a collection of acoustic sketches and use this image as the cover art.

And then I started listening back to my phone recordings, and realized just how many complete improvised pieces that I had compiled over the years. Originally, I probably had close to 20, but I whittled it down to the 9 that are going on the album, both because of the audio quality and the completeness of the ideas.

The more I thought about it, the more I really wanted to share these songs with the world. Some of these songs are 4-5 years old. Most of them are pieces that were recorded in a moment, and while I could try to reproduce them, there’s magic in them, at least to my ears.

When I listen to the songs, I hear myself reaching for something that I didn’t know if I could actually do, making sounds and then responding to them, and just flowing with whatever comes. It’s a pretty liberating feeling for someone who is an overthinker, and takes months to produce a single song. Sometimes there’s freedom in creating something spontaneously in the moment and letting it be what it is.

Of course I couldn’t release them completely raw: they definitely deserved a bit of care and production, but I’m leaving them with their beauty marks and flaws, because there’s something uniquely lofi in them. Like the way, I can hear my dogs quietly walking across the floor in the background. Or some of the finger squeaks, and my breathing. In fact, to enhance some of that organic feel, I’ve added a bit of extra ambience via some subtle nature sounds, to add to the warmth and breath of the album.

In today's hyper-produced world (not knocking it, I love high-production), I find the authenticity and low-fidelity nature of acoustic guitar in a room extremely compelling.

So because of this, I’m happy to present to you the album that almost never was.

It’s called Atmospheres: A collection of acoustic sketches

I hope you like it.

—

Mourning Dove was written the day after my grandmother passed away, and is dedicated to her memory.