Last night at Orr Hot Springs near Ukiah, we had the pleasure of playing acoustically, without any cables or electricity or setup. While it is a bit of a naked feeling (ahem), it reminded me of the kinds of jams we used to do in the old days at home that started us off down this road. We played all our quieter songs, somewhat unabashedly, without fear of not selling enough drinks, or whatever it is that makes musicians steer southward toward sunny aesthetic climes. Some dim inkling of responsibility for the happiness of those confined to the same acoustic space, perhaps? Hmm, dunno. Anyway, we ended up stumbling on some overgrown tune-roads we haven’t rambled over since The Goat was still a dream. Spring-night songs like Estrayshire and the Burning Braid, which had some real resonance with the California forest eucalyptus night air in which it was born. Missing our wives and children keenly, already planning ways to steal away out here with them next time. But grateful for the sort of strange, unforeseen rewards the road of a seeker can bring. From a pool of cool water under the brightest stars, we remain your humblest of servants, Yussuf and Avram.