When we laid down the basic tracks for the 5 song EP, "Out of The Wilderness", I was in a room with several musicians whose names nearly everyone in the music industry knows, and certainly everyone in Nashville knows. Steve Brewster, Gary Lunn, and Jerry Kimbrough have played with just about anyone and everyone who can call themselves "somebody." Kenny Vaughan, another guitarist who graces my song People On A Train with his signature electric guitar, also plays on Mindy Smith's most famous tracks, Come to Jesus, Fighting for it All, and the remake of Dolly Parton's Jolene that gave her her first real breakthrough into the industry. While the city of Nashville may be considered somewhat small, the music created there throws a stone far and wide, the ripples of which can be felt around the world.

After the basic tracks were recorded, I felt something akin to the excitement of Christmas morning when I was still young enough to believe in Santa Claus. Before I actually saw what was under the tree, or opened a single gift, the morning was ripe with possibility. The future lay before me. With the basic tracks of "Out of the Wilderness" in our hands, Matt Wilder, Steve Gardner and I had a canvas already containing a few beautiful brushstrokes, the suggestion of a complex form, but with plenty left to be filled in, a virtual expanse of possibilities. And as our ideas developed, I was amazed at the process I was learning so much about. Hours would be spent on a single guitar part, picking the perfect track, the note played just so, a particular feeling captured.

Perhaps most exciting was the vocal track recording, for it was my chance to truly shine. I had laid down some guitar and keyboard, but it was the opportunity to re-sing my own songs which had been re-rendered in colorful, new detail, that gave me a thrill. I thought often of one of my favorite artists, Sarah McLachlan, who often showcases her ability to transform one song in several different ways, taking you to a different emotional place with each rendition, even if the words and essential melody/chord changes remain the same. Perhaps the best example is her song Hold On which on her album "Fumbling Towards Ecstasy" is a trance-pop mover, while the piano/vocal only version on "The Freedom Sessions" album truly, in my opinion, expresses the deeply wrenching pain of losing a loved one to death. In fact, since she released the version on "Fumbling Towards Ecstasy" FIRST, I was unaware of, for several years, how amazing that song was. Its meaning nearly escaped me until I heard the piano/vocal version later. Since I am motivated more by meaning than movement, it seemed the later version (which was really only a phase the song had gone through on its original journey to being recorded) gave the lyrics more space to express themselves, and more room for her voice to pull you in.

This is how I felt about My Friend which I wasn't even sure I wanted to include on the 5-song EP when we first began discussions about which of my songs to choose. It didn't yet feel just right, but the version of it that now exists on "Out of The Wilderness" is, I think, inspiring, beautiful, and fitting. Other highlights from the album for me are Steve Brewster's amazing drum roll intro and driving percussion on People on a Train, and Matt's amazing production work on Brave New World.

I hardly listened to the words, but I felt them, and I especially felt the colors, and I especially felt the pain, a heart hanging out and the chill summation of dread and longing and especially of lost love. Not the love of a lover but of something much deeper than that. Rose. Red, pink, white. Gold, silver. And the pale fade to black.

I want to tell you how I fell in love with this song, and so later with this album, but it's not an experience that can be told easily. It needs the heart and the spirit of a poet and of a magician, one who can let loose the bonds of reason in service of that which can't be said. Better than that, it needs only for you to hear the song, as I heard it. Having heard it, it grew within me and would not loose its grip. I heard it day and night, at work and while relaxing. This song took me to a place I have rarely been.

I went back and read the words later, much later, trying to find the door, the latch that would let me open a window to that place in my soul that vibrates like a plucked wire to this song of pain and longing and love and anger and behind all of that, of joy.

It progressed like this: I heard this song and something stirred but did not move. I heard it again, and again it stirred and began to move, but did not open. Finally after hearing this song again, it moved and it opened and it lifted me from my feet and I gasped with delight and with pain and with remembrance: I too have lost something precious and lost it in ways I had refused to know and this song spoke to me: you too love. You too have lost. You too have felt, and feel the joy of having that kind of love. "Some walk through this world without a brother". I have walked this world for most of my life without my sister.

So this song not only awoke something in me, more than a memory, something inexpressible and which I had refused to face. It awoke a memory of love and of longing and it reminds me yet that I am human and I am connected, and I miss her, and that it's all right to miss her.

More than anything I want to tell you that despite (or because of) the pain this song awoke in me, it also released tight knots of joy I had hardly known existed within me. It gave me permission. The deep intimacy, the deep connection of one human to another, even to a stranger, that makes this song so powerful and so real. And the best I can say is that it makes me shiver, every time I hear it, and it makes me feel real and alive. Very few songs have allowed me to cry with joy. It is, for me, a song of healing.

Something speaks darkly without words deep voiced and haunting perfectly spaced between rising and falling - the buttressed arches of Italian architecture and soaring Spanish guitar lines - the grottos of Venice, the caverns of Avignon - the voice of a child burdened with early wisdom borne of winged maturity, the privilege and burden of womanhood emerging in perfectly paced phrases like the steps of an abbess across ancient courtyard tiles, stopping, moving, between alternating towers of darkness and light. A sun burns too brightly at midnight, the senses burn with cold and dread. "We all struggle under the passing year's weight". Ancient lore, and ancient love expressed with the resonance of cathedrals, heart and mind given a spaciousness against which not even death or despair's grip can hold.

Such is the power of young and unbridled emotion shaped by calm and mature intellect. My advice, for what its worth: listen to "Fade to Black". Listen to Hypothermia. Over and over if you are inclined. If your heart feels bound tight, if you have moments when a note, a word, a glance, an image, turns your soul and you must sigh or shed a single tear, this song and this album may loosen it for all time, and you may breathe freely once again, with the breath and promise of innocence regained.

Nelson Audio did an outstanding job on the sound and light show, and only charged out-of-pocket expense in bringing in over $500,000 worth of equipment. Hilary, the band and I raised the money, and thank you again to the Orland Park Illinois Police Department, the Crossing Church, Belltown Records, Inc., and the individuals that helped with the production costs. The quality of the sound, the light show, and even the fog effects were stunning.

In all, we raised $3,075 for the Officer Down Fund through ticket sales, donations and $1 per CD donation from CDs sold that night and all last month on Hilary's website. All money went directly to Officer Corey Bowden and the Thomas family. There were so many highlights to the night, I would like to share a few with you.

There was an enlarged photo of wounded Officer Curtis Brown mounted on foam core poster board for the show. After the concert, Hilary and the entire band signed it, and it was so deeply gratifying to see the huge smile on his face as he showed it to everyone as he left.

I was able to see the Columbia Chief of Police, his wife, the CPD Foundation Co-Chairs, Curtis Brown and other officers from my seat. When they arrived, there was a sense of trepidation evident as they had been through so much, and were not sure if the concert would be a sad affair. Once the show started, several times I looked over and saw them smiling and nodding to the music, and after the show they were all laughing and just looked so relaxed. It was so amazing and almost overwhelming to see them have a much-needed break, and a night of celebrating a hero's life.

For me, there is one moment that stands out above all. There was quite a line to visit with, meet and get Hilary's autograph. Molly Bowden's family, including her mom and dad, waited until most everyone had left. When they came up to Hilary, she asked, "Can I have a hug?" She hugged Molly's dad, and then her mom. When she hugged Molly's mom, they both started to cry. It was the most moving, beautiful event I have ever seen. To try to classify the "type" of tears far exceeds my capacity for words, other than to say it was just beautiful and will always be with me. It was as though the goodness of Hilary's soul was visible during the embrace.

On one last performance note, Hilary's introduction and rendition of "Hallelujah" was the most breathtaking live song I have ever heard. Several members of the audience were moved to tears and openly weeping by the end of the song. If you have never heard her perform it, you are in for a treat the next time she does. The standing ovation she and the Band received was as heartfelt a sign of gratitude towards a band that I have ever seen.

On Tuesday, April 26th, Hilary heads to Nashville for an ASCAP-sponsored showcase at the club 3rd and Lindsley, 9 PM. Tell people who live in and around Nashville, or take a road trip!