Echo I
Colorado Stillness
Castle Rock is quiet in a way that takes a while to notice. The first winter I tried to write there, I kept waiting for something to push back. Nothing did. You play a chord on a porch at that altitude and it just leaves. It goes out over the scrub oak and it doesn’t return.
I learned to write in that gap. Not fast. There was no reason to be fast. Whatever I played, I had to be the one to answer it.
- Played on
- acoustic guitar, voice
A question, asked gently
When was the last room quiet enough that you could hear yourself think — and what did you hear?
RT60 2.80s · motion 700ms
Echo II
The Chicago Horizon
The first thing Chicago gave me was an answer. I sang in a stairwell on Wabash and the building sang back before I’d finished the line. After a decade of writing into open air, something finally came back.
That should have been a comfort. Mostly it made me careful. When the room answers that fast you find out immediately whether you meant it.
- Played on
- upright piano, acoustic guitar, voice
A question, asked gently
What did you have to say more carefully, once you moved somewhere that answered back?
RT60 0.35s · motion 260ms
Echo III
Echo III has not been recorded yet.
The room is there. She has not finished listening to it.
Tell me when the room rings.
One letter, when there is something worth saying. Not a mailing list — an invitation to hear Echo III before anyone else.