One of my biggest regrets is never properly recording the short lived music project that was Gathering Fine Wool. Nearly 10 years ago (as of this writing, Spring 2018) I was drawn to make music with my friend Bill. We were both finishing high school and nearing that critical what-to-do-next stage in our lives but by playing together we found some kind of release.

But it was more of a gateway. The desire to make music between us grew and grew. What started as aimless summer evenings on the porch with two acoustic guitars eventually led to meeting Guerz and Steve who would fill out the sound. We became three electric guitars and one drum set. Bill suggested the name.

I think we were perhaps unmethodical in sound and haphazard in arrangement but playing together felt good. We were’t trying to copy or recreate music we had already heard; our complete openness to include any and all of our sounds was a special part of why I felt, and still feel, that we were able to make something genuine and unique.

We only played a handful of local shows so most of our time together was spent in my basement (or what was my mother’s basement to be more precise). I have nice memories of the rituals: Bill always arriving first, Guerz unpacking and arranging his pedals, Steve swapping out the Tama starter kit cymbals with his own. And then there was always the post-practice cigarette (sans me and Bill) in the driveway. We’d talk about anything, but it was often about playing more shows, recording some of our songs, and of course coordinating when the next practice would be. The moments right after playing together always felt the most refreshing to me. Ears ringing and adrenaline wearing off I would feel weary, but in that good, accomplished-and-proud sort of way.

What happened next is hard to describe without resorting to the tired cliche of “life happening”. College, jobs, girlfriends, and other music projects began to stealthily infiltrate our lives. Without ever having an official END, Gathering Fine Wool slowly dissolved with time. With no shows in the future the practices ceased. The equipment was slowly collected and the basement grew emptier and quieter.

The earth spins.

We’ve since gone our separate ways and I’ve slowly lost touch. I gave the drum set to a good friend before I left the country. The house that we used to practice in was sold.

Finding these tracks on an old hard drive was nostalgic, to say the least. In Japanese there’s a phrase called “setsunai kimochi” which translates roughly as a more bittersweet and sentimental feeling. Maybe this is closer to what I feel when I listen to these songs.

I’m almost positive some of these were recorded through my laptop’s mic. A few were recorded on something slightly better, but I can’t remember who had the insight to do it. Along with a few photos and a defunct Facebook page, this seems to be all that remains of that interesting time.

As I’m writing this I realize the situation is probably not even that remarkable. After all, how many other people have been in half-finished bands only to look back with fondness after many years? Or, for that matter any period of happiness when we were younger?

Still, isn’t it kind of great? The fact that one can feel setsunai kimochi is such a beautiful reminder of being human (not to be confused with human being). I initially wrote that I regretted never recording our songs but honestly I’m happy with the way these recordings are. Spontaneous, sloppy, and sort of dusty-sounding, they’re a pretty accurate depiction of what my memories feel like anyway.

It’s not impossible that maybe more recordings or photos will surface someday. Looking through all my hard drives I was kind of amazed that not a single picture exists of GFW in the basement. It’s not like this was before cell phones and portable cameras either – we certainly had the ability to document it if we wanted. It just turned out we were having too much fun playing music together.

I’m putting the songs here to (1) get them off my hard drive and somewhere public and (2) say thank you to Bill, Guerz, and Steve for all the wonderful times.