>I just made a disgusting beat. I have discovered recently this little techno-ish side of me, and I must say that I'm quite enjoying it, even though I loathe the very utterance of the word techno.

Ok, I'll spill the beans. I have begun work on the second album, and I believe that it is this album that will be the one that defines me as a musician. It will be dark when it needs to be dark, moody when it needs to be moody, light and airy when the time calls for it, heavy when the mood fits, and at all times intricately interwoven together. I am not going to disclose the subject matter for this one yet, because frankly I don't trust people to not steal the idea. However, do hope that all who listen to it acquire a deeper sense of who they are, how they interact with the people around them, their perception of God, etc.

For the most part, the influences of this record are different than for Muses. That was a much more light-hearted, acoustic driven compilation of songs, and was, for the most part, instrumental. This will have instrumental sections, too, but there will be moments when even the vocals will be just another instrument thrown into the bunch. Think the passion of Showbread's Anorexia/Nervosa. Think the production of Nine Inch Nails' The Downward Spiral. Think the intricacies of Say Anything's ...Is a Real Boy.

This musical silence is working, and to be honest, I completely recommend it to anybody who feels like they have hit a creative bock. Despite these influences, the album will still be very "me," the way any work should be. I really hate tooting my own horn, but all I'm saying is watch out guys, cause this one's gonna be hot.

Hamilton Barber

The subject of this page is an introverted writer/musician/lunatic from Chattanooga, TN who dabbles in lexical dexterity, unorthodox thoughts on prosperity, and being overwhelmingly undeserving of the privilege of waking up every day. He hopes that everybody who reads these words takes them to heart and leaps higher than he ever could. He reads, thinks, and speaks too much; he listens, works, and loves too little; and he says “I” entirely too often. The words on these pages are not his: they are the words that were given to him.