6am Repeat is a recurring feature here at Folk Hive in which we stream the latest track that plays incessantly in the earbuds when we awake at that hour and imbibe massive amounts of coffee and cigarettes in preparation for the advancing day. Consider it your jam of the day — a sweet, sweet gift from me to you. I love you, dude.
The following scenario happens a lot: I click play, that little sideways triangle button, and awesomeness fills my ears. There is a mandolin or there is a banjo but no words yet. It’s beautiful and I love it. And then I find myself praying, “Dammit, please don’t start to suck. PLEASE DON’T START TO BLOW ASS, SONG.”
It’s a sad fact but quite frequently just that very thing happens. The vocals or the lyrics just don’t fit or are just plain shit. And because I love a good tune so much, especially the discovery of that good tune, it breaks off a little piece of my heart and that piece flies up to Music Heaven, to reside there forevermore with like, Dave Matthews latest album.
But this is not a note about that kind of music. When the first track of Light Pilot’s Lenore set in, there was so much hope. It was gorgeous and against the odds, it stayed that way. Throughout the entire 5 songs given to us, it stayed.
This morning it’s Lenore and coffee. That will probably be the case tomorrow morning, too. Only 5 songs and yet it’s still likely I’m going to wear a shirt today that reads “Long Live Light Pilot!”.
Pick up this set of jams. Name your price. Put on that t-shirt.