Fives And Sixes

Fives and Sixes drifts between memory and presence, weaving guitar textures, metallic resonance, and fragments of my grandmother’s voice with recordings from my childhood — a 1995 Christmas, moments with our family dog, a quiet church service, an acoustic bookstore performance, and a final game of Yahtzee. These pieces come from unreleased work spanning years, each fragment holds a sense of nostalgia and impermanence, tracing the way dementia slowly reshapes memory. This record is an intimate homage to what remains when someone we love begins to fade — a meditation on time, memory, and the quiet beauty of what slips away. I think of it as a reflection on memory, faith, and impermanence — where childhood echoes and sacred spaces blur into something softer, more diffuse. A way of holding onto what I can, even as it changes.