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After a virtual songwriting session with my Operation Encore friends, I received an email from Guy Jaquier, one of our boardmembers and a fellow songwriter, regarding a song he'd been working on. He'd just finished reading the book "Grim Journey" and was traveling through the area of the Donner Pass as he penned the lyrics to a song called "This Journey Never Ends" and wondered if I might be interested in working on it with him. 

After listening to a simple sketch of the song, I got my hands dirty and tried to put my stink on it a little. The song took a darker turn, and became almost an epic funeral dirge. As we bounced the song off of Adam Rossi at AR Audio, he suggested a slightly more upbeat tempo, with a good old-fashioned jam at the end. Along with Vincente Rodriguez, Kevin White and James Deprato, Adam and the dudes put together a tune that blew me away the first time that I listened. My very first thought: "I can't wait to play that live!" 
I'm incredibly proud of this tune, and the work that Guy and I put into it, the magic that Adam, Kevin, James and Vincente created, and the way that it all came together to create this kickass song. I hope you'll dig it. Ladies and Gents, I give you "This Journey Never Ends" by Guy Jaquier and Steve Wilson.

(photo by Parisa Moradi)

Day 3 

Saturday, AR Audio/Presidio Yacht Club 

After a 0330 bedtime, morning came with its own challenges on Saturday. 

I looked gratefully at the empty cereal bowl on the nightstand beside me.  Granola and vanilla coffee creamer was a good drunken, pre-slumber meal choice.  I knew I’d be feeling a lot worse having gone to bed on an empty stomach.  Keeping up with musicians and fighter pilots can be hazardous to your health. 

Despite hearing some stirring downstairs, when I arrived in the kitchen, it was empty so I proceeded to make the all-important morning coffee, then, in a sweatshirt, sat outside on another NorCal morning just enjoying the sun. 

A bit later in the morning, I tagged along with Rob, Andrew and Rachel to AR Studios once again.  I must admit, I may have had some ulterior shopping motives in SF, but I was incredibly happy to have made the decision to come along.  Rachel had some vocals to finish up for some awesome songs you’ll be hearing soon, and Andrew took the opportunity to record a chill-inducing, acoustic tune called “White Mache’”.  

As everyone was finishing up, and we were listening to playback in the control room, I looked down on Adam’s desk and saw a cassette tape labeled “Counting Crows 1991 DEMO”.  

I asked “Is that no-shit what it says?” to which he replied “Yep” and proceeded to tell me the story of his old friend that used to drum for them.  Sadly, he’d passed away and his mother asked Adam to transfer some music from cassette to CD for her.  Among the tapes in the trash bag he was handed, sat this gem.  
Then Adam said “I have a tape player around here somewhere…wanna hear it?”  

Um.  F*ck Yes.  Please. Let’s. 

I sat with goosebumps, and teary-eyes listening to Adam Duritz’ unmistakable voice, singing the familiar lines of “Mr. Jones” along an unfamiliar piano line.  It was incredible.  Probably the highlight of the entire trip, and we hadn’t even celebrated Guy’s birthday yet. 

Post-studio, we stopped by Guy’s place, watched Washington lose to Oregon on a missed field goal, elating Tom Abbott and pissing off the entire Jaquier household.  Then it was back to the house, shower, change of clothes and forward to the Presidio Yacht Club.  Sitting on one of the most beautiful scenic spots on the entire coastline, we were treated to an amazing view of the bay, as we rocked the entire previous evening’s sets, along with a few extra tunes thrown in for good measure.  Despite whatever crud I picked up starting to affect my voice, my shortcomings were more than overcome by Rob, Paul, Darrin, Adam, Tom and Rob…If it can be done, I would take these guys on the road in a heartbeat. 

In honor of my studio surprise, I decided to forego “Cold Steel Rain” that evening and threw down a little impromptu “Mr. Jones”. 

Honoring the amazing gentleman that was instrumental in making the weekend happen, we did our best to celebrate Guy and the incredible dude he is.  Additionally, we were fortunate to meet some of Guy’s great friends, Operation Encore supporters and contributors.   It was a pretty fantastic night, and a great end to the festivities.  Despite feeling like rock stars, we couldn’t muster the energy for a party afterparty, so it was home to bed that night.  With musicians leaving as early as 0730 the following morning, it would be a hectic Sunday for some.  
You could feel the change in atmosphere, moving from quiet excitement to a kind of post-elation, exhaustion.  There is nothing comparable to “the comedown” and all I could think about was doing it again.  I have a sneaking feeling the others felt the same way.

Friday, October 12 

Showtime:

We sat in the Green room, with the air filled with the smell of fresh pizza. 

I felt obligated to crack the seal on the bourbon to settle the nerves, and we awaited curtain call with Andrew leading the way.  There was a great audio feed from the mixing board to a speaker up near the ceiling and it was awesome to hear what the crowd was hearing.

Needless to say, Andrew blew them away with his real life stories and songwriting genius.  Donors and friends would swing back and forth through the Green Room and the lobby.  It just so happened that the Mill Valley Film Festival was running that weekend as well, so we had some walkby traffic, and curious parties stopping in.  

Stephen Covell took the stage after Andrew, and did what he does best.  Captivating the audience with songs like "Sand Hills to Sandals", he had them exactly where he wanted them until his last word.  Then it was my turn...

With a gracious introduction by our founder Erik Brine, I took the stage.

When a performance doesn't go well, there are multiple memories and regrets.  Detail after detail bogs down the mind with "I wish I would'ves". 
Great performances, on the other hand,  go so well, they seem to fly by and they're over long before you'd like them to be.  From the moment the band and I went in to "Coming Back To Texas", followed by "Cold Steel Rain", everything just felt like it was meant to be.  It was serendipity.  

My final song was "The Words" and I don't think it's ever felt more perfect.  The audience was just ready.  I watched their faces light up, and at the final note of Tom Abbott's guitar, they took to their feet in an standing ovation.  It was a beautiful, humbling moment and all the glory goes to God.  I was blessed with the most incredible night, friends, audience, and opportunity, and I felt more alive than I'd ever felt in my life. 

Following my performance, there was a 10 minute intermission where we were able to meet some of the fans in the lobby.  It was a pretty proud moment, but as you'll find with most veterans/military folks, we don't do so well with flattery and praise.  I think my face was a nice bright red for the next few hours.

Over the next hour and a half, the crowd was treated to incredible sets by Rachel Harvey Hill, and her silky smooth voice, Tom Abbott taking time out from providing guitar brilliance to every other musician on the bill to share "In Tent City", and Jerry Maniscalco finishing them off with his Dave Matthews-esque, captivating set culminating with every artist on the stage providing background vocals to "We Are". 

The show ended at 11.  The afterparty ended at 0330.  
It was a night I will never forget, and I'm grateful to Guy Jaquier and Operation Encore for making it happen.  And God for blessing me with something to share with the world.  I hope you will keep listening.  Afterall, it feels so good when we sing the words.

SDW
 

...Thursday 10/11/18

That night, we made our way across the bridge and into the city to AR Audio.

It was there where most of us met Adam Rossi for the first time.  He gave us a tour of his studio, and my first impression was exactly what I'd expected after our multiple phone conversations...an absolutely genuine dude.  

Our fellow musicians trickled in and we met Rob Hooper, who would man the drum throne, Paul Olguin on bass guitar, and Darrin Fox spicing things up on lead/rhythm guitar. Starting with Andrew Wiscombe, Stephen Covell and I went through our sets and then called it an early night.  

Friday, October 12th 

I woke up in our Airbnb house under a ginormous Sherpa blanket with the California air blowing through open windows.  It was absolutely beautiful.  At the huge table on the backyard patio, I sat having coffee in a sweater, breathing in the air coming off of the Pacific and looked at the beautiful hills surrounding Mill Valley. 

Around noon we headed up to The Throckmorton Theater to begin setting up for the evening.  After we loaded in our merchandise and guitars, we were given a tour of the facility, shown the green room, and proceeded to figure out lunch.  I mention it, because it was my first Punjabi Burrito.  The blackened chicken to be specific, from a kick ass Indian place down the street called Avatar's.  So..to tally:  Mexican food x 1, Indian/Mexican food x1.  I'm not sure I am making good gastrointestinal choices at this juncture, however some things must be tried.

Later in the afternoon, we had a bit of free time, so I decided to Quality Control Check the hot tub.  While the temperature offered sweet relief to my "Airborne Back" and knees (from my Lance Armstrong/Stretch Armstrong impression the day prior), I could not decipher the code to engage the jets.  Coupled with the fact that my music speaker shit the bed about three songs in, I decided to unass the tub, and chill for a bit before our 6 pm bus call.

During the downtime, many of us just sat around playing music to each other and bullshitting.  It was glorious. At one moment, you'd hear Rachel Harvey Hill in the living room rehearsing something and her beautiful voice would carry through the house...minutes later, Andrew Wiscombe would be singing one of his signature stories about real life, making you question your own abilities as a songwriter.  

I was never more ready to take the stage....

To Be continued.

I woke at the indecent hour of 3:30 am, to the groans of Rocky begging to go out, and the urgency of a 46 year old bladder that insists that I need a mid-sleep bathroom break every night, so as to ensure the constant denial of a full-night's sleep.

Despite arriving at Love Field early, the expert, self-appointed Guardians of American Safety (AKA The TSA) managed to fuck over everyone, allowing only three people to move through security over a span of 20 minutes.  I guess the x-ray monitors must be running a contest for Slowest Self-Important Dipshit of the Year.  Thankfully, although I was the final passenger aboard the aircraft to SFO, I still scored room for my guitar in the overhead, and an aisle seat. Woohoo!

As I was on the earliest flight of the day, and going back in time like Marty McFly, I arrived on the west coast at 7:15 am.  It was time for an adventure!

I worked my way through SFO to the International Terminal where BART is located, find a ticket kiosk, and soon I was on my way downtown with the Thursday-morning commuters.  

I arrived in the financial district with a mission to find some breakfast, spied a Peet's.  After a couple of cupcake-size quiches and some joe, I attempted to plan my next move.  It was suggested that I make my way down to the Pier to catch the ferry to Sausalito.  With a guitar on my back, and my carry-on, I made my way over to a rack of rental bicycles, selected one with a sturdy basket, and proceeded to channel my inner-PeeWee Herman.  I was zipping through the streets of San Francisco like I knew what I was doing.

I ALMOST managed to escape unscathed, however about 30 yards away from the Ferry Building, I got a little cocky, rode over the train track, and did my best Superman impression.  Supine, and about 4 feet off the ground, I executed the world's worst dismount, losing my luggage, skinning my knees and slapping the ground with a tremendous belly-flop.  That shit hurt like a mother.  
Standing up, collecting my dignity and my luggage, I righted my bicycle, swung my leg over the seat like Roy Rogers, and proceeded across the street, carefully looking around to see how many people witnessed my spill.  It would appear that I am not the first to suffer the consequences of "rubber meets train track", and I'm not sure anyone noticed.

I'd missed the first ferry across the Bay, but I managed to get on the next, had a damn drink to recover, and made it to Sausalito.  

Guy Jacquier (Birthday boy, my cowriter on This Journey Never Ends and Operation Encore board member) scooped me up on the other side, and we made our way to some lunch.  

After a tour of The Throckmorton Theater where we would be playing the following night, we made our way to the Airbnb house which would serve as our headquarters for the remainder of the weekend.  

Slowly, as my fellow Operation Encore artists arrived, it was reminiscent of a family reunion.  That's one of the best parts of playing with OE, in my opinion.  Every show is a reunion of good friends.   When we'd reached a quorum, we took to the task of outfitting the house with the important items like Beer, Captain Morgan and Bulleit Whiskey.  

That evening we made our way to AR Audio to meet Adam Rossi, and the rest of the guys that would be our band for both the Throckmorton and party shows.   I was especially excited to meet Adam in person, as he was the Producer on both This Journey Never Ends and Coming Back to Texas, and despite multiple phone calls, we had never met in person.
Meeting Adam, and my experience at AR Audio would be one of my life's most memorable moments....

(to be continued)