Overland - Whiskey Brown Leather Guitar Strap
Overland - Whiskey Brown Leather Guitar Strap
Overland - Whiskey Brown Leather Guitar Strap
Overland - Whiskey Brown Leather Guitar Strap
Nick Swimley of Dead Winter Carpenters

Overland - Whiskey Brown Leather Guitar Strap

Sale price$ 149.00
In stock


I’m glad the folks manning the cubicles are there. God bless ‘em. They keep the trains running on time.

I just can’t join ‘em.

The equation doesn’t add up for my balance sheet. How could I maximize the potential of my imaginative horizons pounding the same meager square footage of pavement day in and out? Given all the ground under that great sky, the concepts of romance and destiny wouldn’t have much heft if confined to the girl next door. Yes, time is the only absolute boundary in this world, and with so little sand in the hourglass next to so much world, I need to spend my time ever moving.

Granted, it’s not a discovery shared by many, but the greatest thing I’ve found is the desire to never stop searching. Art, like life, is momentum. Whether a brush on a canvas or the vibrations of a string pushing molecules through the air, it’s all movement; energy collected and released.

Most people are taught to think in terms of inspiration coming to them, but without a journey there is nothing for the page or the stage. You have to go to the inspiration as sure as the earth revolves around the sun. After all, writing a song isn’t what happens in a room somewhere. That’s just the transcribing, the unpacking of what a broken heart or triumphant struggle collected out there.

Even before I fully grasped that immutable law of nature there was always a restless energy stirring in me, an inner metronome I couldn’t shut off. People tend to harbor hostility for the wanderer, for all the wayward sons and dreamers like myself, but they forget how much human progress has hinged on explorers and their unquenchable yearning to seek. Comfort and routine have their place, sure, but not in the pantheon of mortal achievement (sorry, inventor of the Snuggie) — and most definitely not in terms of pushing boundaries and leaving a lasting mark on music.

That’s why there’s never been anything aimless about my aimless wandering. I can hold a job. I’ve held more than most, in fact. I just don’t believe in holding one long enough to let it hold me. And you can rest assured, when all my wandering time is up, I won’t have regrets about where I didn’t go, what I didn’t do, what I didn’t see, taste, hear, and feel. My songs will all have been lived as well as written.

And, with a little wayward luck, they may even be sung long after my journey takes me from this world to the next.