THE LONG BRIDGE HOME
An Essay About Music, Place, and the Quiet Work of Becoming
If you had asked the younger version of me who I was meant to be, I would have said something confident, rehearsed, and completely wrong.
I was a Boulder kid who went to Boston to major in music — the kind of student who imagined himself under stage lights, whatever success was supposed to look like back then. I believed, without ever articulating it, that real art lived in big cities, in big scenes, in places with reputations.
THE FOUR VOICES THAT BUILT ME
A Philosophical Reflection on a Life Lived Through Truth, Observation, Courage, and Conscience
There are people who build their worldview through institutions, academies, sermons, and systems.
And then there are people who build theirs through voices — not the kind that shout from stages,
but the kind that slip through the cracks of the world and say,
“Look closer.”
Fear and Fire at Ten: Ryan Bingham’s Rose Hill Drive Era
Ryan Bingham has always sounded older than his years. From the moment his whiskey-and-dust voice carried The Weary Kind through Crazy Heart, listeners pegged him as a songwriter built for lonesome highways and smoke-stained barrooms. But there was a moment — a brief, combustible stretch — when Bingham’s music became something bigger, louder, and less predictable. That moment was Fear and Saturday Night, released ten years ago, and the spark came from two Boulder musicians: guitarist Daniel Sproul and drummer Nate Barnes of Rose Hill Drive.