Songs of Yesterday

Music has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. I started playing guitar in my sophomore year of high school as I was expanding my musical awareness and influences. I didn't really know what I was doing, but I had a guitar-chord poster on my wall and kept trying to practice different open chord shapes.

At the time, I was drawn to musicians who were also songwriters — artists like John Mayer and Dispatch. But my dad's favorites were Billy Joel and Huey Lewis and the News. Those historical songwriters, blended with the music of my generation, really inspired me to want to be an artist too.

This was back when downloading music was easy through Napster, and I was exposed to so much more than what was on the radio or played in the house. I think musical tastes are really interesting — your culture shapes them — but for me it was always about the words, the way the music made me feel, and the story it told. Listening to each one, it felt like I was personally connecting with the artist through their storytelling.

I thought about each artist — their current life and their previous one — and how they used all of it to shape the music they shared with the world. That was encouraging and exciting. When I started stringing together a couple of chords and singing — even if it was just mumbles — I was hooked. For a few years I was probably playing an untuned guitar with an off-key voice, but once I could play and create music, I realized it was a way to express what was in my heart.

I played acoustic guitar on and off for about 15 years before I met my wife. Right before I met her, I was living on my own, so I had a lot of time and could write a number of songs. Writing them was exciting but also nerve-wracking — when I played them back over my headphones, I realized what was in my heart wasn't fully coming out in my voice.

Many years passed, but I always went back to those songs I wrote on my guitar. They felt comfortable, easy to remember, and relatable. I played the riffs over and over, tried to sing them, and at some point even shared the music — but candidly, I didn't feel comfortable singing publicly.

There's something special about creating music about your own life. Everybody has a story to tell, and music lets you bring someone through that story and experience it alongside you. That's what I loved about the artists and songs I listened to — I always felt like I got a little picture into their world. This album is that for me: my history, my family, my mind, and my heart.

When you start a record and let it play all the way through, there's always a story being told by the artist. That's why I structured this album the way I did — it's a walk through my life, and through the songs I've created to represent it.

Using AI to help bring that to life was a hard decision. I know some artists and musicians might think I'm taking the easy way out — that what you hear isn't really me, but a fake representation of myself. But I want to tell you clearly: I wouldn't share this publicly if I felt that way. I've spent many nights playing these songs, writing these words, and thinking about how they would impact the lives around me, including my own. In the end, I felt called to share them with the world.

This is my first album (well, officially my second — but that's a story for another day). Over the next tracks, you'll hear and learn more about me, and I'm so glad you're here to listen. I believe this album is one thing that will live in my family's history for a long time — someday my kids will share it with their kids and say, "My dad wrote this song." My prayer is that when they hear it, they hear me. When you hear it, I hope you hear me too. We all have a story to tell, and this is mine.

Thank you for pressing play and coming along for the ride. It means more than you know.

With gratitude, Andrew

This was the second song I officially wrote from start to finish, and I wrote it before I met my wife — I believe about two weeks before I met her, and at the time it was just the first verse. I always loved the John Mayer song "Love Song for No One" and its lyrics: "I could have met you in a sandbox, I could have crossed you on the sidewalk." That was the inspiration for this song. My vision at the time was that it would capture the various chapters of a relationship — the story of two lives coming together.

When I wrote it, it was very much relevant to the chapter I was in with Nicki. She was my girlfriend and it was early in our relationship. I had never seen anyone so beautiful in my entire life, and I knew we were going to be together forever. I wrote this song before I even proposed to her — probably within two months of dating her. I recall sharing it with her for the first time, so excited that I'd written a song for somebody I cared about.

In the second verse there's a line I wrote: "You make me read between the lines." That was about the non-verbal communication between us that couldn't be put into words — the way she looked at me, the way she texted or called me in the perfect moment, the way we woke up together to start the day. The feeling doesn't have words to explain it.

The chorus ends, "We'll fly across the sky. We'll write another chapter of our lives." That was a lyric I wanted to bring to life. Later, when I thought about proposing to Nicki, I asked myself, "How can I fly across the sky with her?" — and that gave me the idea to propose in a hot air balloon.

This song just brings me back to that time when I was young and in love with the girl of my dreams, when I had never experienced anything like it. I wrote and completed it in 2014. I wanted to share how in love I was with the world, and at the time Facebook was very popular as a way people connected and expressed themselves — so I posted the song and shared it with my friends. It was the first time I was public with my guitar playing and singing.

This song will forever be the one that captures what it was like to fall in love with my wife.

This was officially the first song I ever wrote. I believe it was a couple of years after college, and I was living on my own. I had started to play my guitar more independently — covering different songs, learning different riffs — but I found myself really frustrated because I couldn't play a song from start to finish. And I was playing everybody else's songs, even though my heart was pulling me to create my own.

I pursued guitar lessons and had the opportunity to learn from another teacher named Andrew. He was very encouraging and taught me a lot of the basics, but he also challenged me based on what I was trying to accomplish. He shared with me a book he had used in his own songwriting — "Method Song Writing" by Buddy Kaye. It encouraged and pushed me to learn how to write songs and understand their structure, and it really got me started. As a teacher he challenged me to think about what was relevant in my life and what would make a really good song, and to think about song structure and how a song tells a story. At the time, I was thinking of my sister.

I wrote this song for her, recalling a phone call she made to me while I was at college. That was the moment she showed me she was no longer a little sister, but a young woman.

I wrote the lyrics that night and memorized the chord progressions. The next day I went to my guitar lesson, pulled out my piece of paper, and played it while trying to sing over the top. My teacher said it was the best first song he'd ever heard anyone write. He might have said it just to encourage me — which it did — but it gave me the confidence that I could keep writing songs.

I shared this song with my sister and my family, and I recall that she really appreciated it. I don't know if she remembers that today, but I do. This song was written about my nephew Hunter when he was just a few weeks old. He's now 18 and getting ready for college.

My grandmother passed away when I was in my mid-20s. Back in high school, especially around my senior year, I recall seeking to spend more time with her. There were a few reasons: she was a widow, and I had a car and she lived close to my work, so I was able to visit her often. I'd randomly drive into Boscawen, NH, stop by her apartment, and just talk. I enjoyed those talks a lot, and I learned a lot from them.

One of the routines I loved was going out to breakfast with her at the American Legion and then going to church with her. That was influential in my exposure to God. I would watch her go faithfully and be filled with joy and peace — something that made me want to learn more. Faith was not a prominent topic in my house growing up, but it was one I was always interested in, and my grandmother played a pivotal role in that. During those breakfasts at the Legion, I was often the youngest one there, and my grandmother was so proud to introduce me and bring me into conversations with her friends. I would mostly just listen and observe, but what I learned during that time was the importance of respecting and taking care of your elders.

When I was playing guitar, there was a chord progression I wrote early on that I loved. I said to myself, "If I ever get the chance to write lyrics to these chords, this will be her song." I played it with no lyrics, humming the melody on and off, for about 10 years.

My grandmother was such an amazing woman. She had so many friends, and I always knew she was someone everyone enjoyed being around. I attribute some of my own personality to her and how she carried herself. I tried to write this song as a reflection of her life and legacy — specific details about what it was like to go to her house and spend time with her, but also things I heard from my Dad about his childhood. I wanted to capture one of her greatest qualities, and to reflect that she is in heaven with the Lord. That's why I wrote the song about her Grace.

Growing up in NH my entire life, I've always loved how unique our state is. Where I grew up in the Lakes Region, we always said we were one hour from the city, one hour from the mountains, and one hour from the ocean. Of all those, the mountains always felt a little different. I was in high school — I believe my junior year — when the news broke that the Old Man of the Mountain had fallen and collapsed. It was a real event here. That rock formation was the image of our state within the country, and I always felt it represented the kind of people who live here: hard-working, with sharp edges and a strong, stable structure. When it fell, the legacy of the image never really left. I can remember as a kid taking the ride through the Notch, looking out the window and reminiscing. As an adult, that legacy and symbol always intrigued me, and I always thought it would be a really cool concept to write a song about the Old Man of the Mountain.

As I sat with the idea, I tried to come up with a chorus that really captured NH culture. As the concept progressed, I was also thinking about writing a song for my Dad — and I realized I could use the Old Man of the Mountain as an analogy for my father's legacy and the impact he had on my life.

As I wrote the lyrics, I wanted to capture some memories of my Dad that I'll always remember: how hard he worked for his family, and the many nights he came home sharing his day at work. So many cribbage games, both in person and during Covid. He often shared his past — how some of his upbringing was tough, but he made it through and worked hard. There were life events that set him back, but he always worked hard to get through them.

There was one line in the song my wife helped me with, about a unique personal trait of my Dad. He was always positive and engaging and could strike up a conversation with anyone — but when winter came around, we always joked that he was the Grinch. He hated the winter, the holidays, and the cold. "Always a heart on your sleeve, worn through the winter breeze." We laughed about that, but in the songwriting it was one of the best lines I felt I wrote.

This song came together, and I cried the first time I heard it. Listening to it, I could feel the NH legacy and foundation that made me who I am — but I also really felt like it captured the love I had for my Dad.

This story is about the first time I met my wife. I placed it at this specific point in the album because I wanted a fun, upbeat song, but I also wanted to make sure I captured this special time and place in my life.

I was at a point where I was dating but felt like I wasn't finding anyone who could really challenge me. At the time, online dating was growing, and it seemed like that was where people were meeting and connecting. I was on Match.com and had a few bad experiences, but I recall one night, very late, I went on and saw a girl who was online and just sent a simple "hey." That turned into a quick conversation about being bored at night and sharing music. That first night I was actually coming home from playing guitar alone in my apartment, working on a few songs and trying to become a solo songwriter — "Chapter of Our Lives" and "Little Sister" were songs I was writing and singing at the time. Nicki and I really hit it off and agreed to meet up for a "few drinks after work." I was working in Merrimack but lived in Concord, so I found a place in the middle so I could drive home — not knowing that the girl walking into that bar would one day be my wife, the mother of my children, and my best friend.

I don't know why, it just worked out — I sat on one corner of the bar at Margarita's and grabbed a beer. She walked in and sat at the adjacent corner. That let us look at each other and connect face to face for a conversation.

The song captures those first dates — mini golf, and the first time I had her over to my apartment and made her a home-cooked meal. The beginning of our relationship was bliss, and there was a feeling that this girl was different. Margarita's became more than just the spot we met. There's a lyric — "Flyin' high, you and me, heart racin' above the trees, your hand locked safe in my hand, orange, yellow, autumn green, golden promise on that new ring" — that recalls the day after I proposed, when we were in a hot air balloon. My original plan was to propose in the air over the New England sky, but the weather had different plans, so I returned to where it all started and proposed to her at Margarita's. The end of the song flips the point of view: instead of seeing the woman of my dreams walk into the bar in her yellow sundress (which was actually a blouse), I'm recalling her walking down the aisle in a white dress.

Even to this day we still return to the "corner of the bar" — but now it's to reminisce and tell the story to our boys. All of this was on July 21st, 2012 — the same day of the year I officially released this album into the world.

This is an interesting song because it's fully instrumental. I was playing a lot back then, and I used to record myself over an acoustic rhythm pattern and then try to solo or add small riffs — my way of adding "lyrics" to a song without actually singing, while working on my scales. When I first recorded this one, I accidentally recorded it only on the left side of the headphones — I must have clicked mono. That gave me the idea: it would be cool to have two guitar solos panning back and forth, left to right, as if they were changing lanes. Sometimes music can feel like it has lyrics even when it doesn't, and that was the idea behind this song.

When I was putting the album together, I was thinking about how to break up the different songs. I always loved when an album had a small interlude or a distinct change you could feel — like Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon. So I thought I'd place an instrumental in the middle of the album to essentially change lanes — from the songs I'd historically recorded and written, to the ones I'd worked on more recently.

I chose this placement because, at this point in the record, I was shifting from songs I had saved for years to newer material.

This song is about my step-son, Ethan. I wrote it for him because he has been such an important part of my life. I met Ethan when he was four years old. As a young boy, I didn't get to meet him face to face for a while as I was dating his Mom, but I could already see how amazing he was in the light he brought. The first time I met him is a moment I'll always remember. It was a last-minute decision for me to come over and visit — a few months into our dating, Nicki asked if I wanted to meet her son. I came over, opened the door, and he welcomed me and asked to play with his Thomas the Tank Engine trains. We played on the floor until bedtime while Nicki just watched. I wanted to make sure I captured that scene in the song.

As Ethan grew, he struggled with different environments — something we later got professional help and guidance with.

As I was finishing this album, we were also reaching the end of his school journey, and he graduated high school. It wasn't an easy road, but he fought through and persevered. What Ethan brings is his humor and his ability to balance complex things with ease. He can be deep in an intense game on his phone and still recall, word for word, a conversation happening in the next room. He has a unique ability to be authentic and real — sometimes that comes with a need for correction, but his emotions are always honest. He is very kind, and he has a gift for aligning with and advocating for those in need, with a level of integrity, when it matters, that is unmatched.

As I put this album together, there was an old recording I'd made — a simple guitar chord progression with audio clips of Ethan when he was very young. We actually played that song at our wedding for him, and I debated whether to add it to the album, but it didn't capture his older years and him growing up in the world.

As I was closing out the album, this song was the missing puzzle piece. When I said that out loud to myself, I realized this was going to be the final song I wrote. It's about his struggles, but also about our journey supporting him as his parents through them, and watching him succeed.

He is going to do amazing things in this world, and I look forward to watching him face difficult challenges, overcome them, and prove that he can do anything.

My favorite animal (other than my pets) is the deer. I've always found them so majestic, and where we live in New England they're very present without being overpopulated to the point of becoming annoying or disruptive. Anytime I'm driving, walking, or hiking and I see a deer — or a group of them from a distance — I pause and appreciate it. At the same time, I've always been interested in learning what it would be like to hunt. I often picture what it would be like to provide for your family and survive in a time when there weren't grocery stores or restaurants. Humanity made it through harsh winters and weather because of the ability to use the land, to hunt and gather. This has always been a bonding experience I wanted with my boys, and something I never had the chance to do.

This song is for my two young boys, Bishop and Bennett, and as I am often told they look and act like me. As I think about being their father, I think about the lessons I'm imprinting on their lives as they look up at me — the way I provide, protect, and love them and their mother. In scripture there's a vision of shooting your arrow into the world so it can fly straight, on a guided path. I've thought of my boys as my arrows, and this song reflects that.

This song is probably one of my personal favorites on the album. I would say that I am not a passionate country music fan, but I really appreciate how country music tells very vivid stories with lyrics. When writing these lyrics, I was envisioning a country singer sing it. One little hint at my lyrical creativity is that the song is a full circle moment with the son becoming a man, but there are multiple references of the son kneeling.

I actually wrote this in the middle of producing the entire album. I found myself inspired to write a song that captured the whole record — the different seasons of my life, whether that was being single and dating, or working through the hardship of a lost loved one, but also the seasons within a year. In New England we have the pleasure of experiencing all four seasons, and each one is very unique and has different qualities.

I did some quick research to see whether other songs had been built to capture a season in each verse. The idea would be that the song is tailored to the truth that life has many seasons — and that's what inspired it.

I thought about which season to start in, and spring felt right, because that was the season we were heading into. I captured a real line — “sun shines through the glass, morning birds exchange and pass” — referring to the sun coming through our window in the morning and the birds outside. The first verse captures my morning routine and how I get ready for the day, and it felt very relevant to reflect that.

As the song moves into the second verse, I wanted to capture the change in the season — including the change in the baseball season (this was a common theme I had in the album, as the love for baseball has been in the family for four generations), and where we were with our boys as they were growing up. There have been a few times I've had to carry Bennett or Bishop up the stairs to tuck them in, and I recall the last time I did it, they were a lot heavier than they used to be. It made me reflect on those precious moments you have with your child when they're so young and dependent on you.

I was also able to capture my favorite season in this song with the 4th of July. I'll probably write a whole song about the 4th of July someday, though it'll be hard — Stephen Kellogg, one of my favorite artists, has an amazing song called “4th of July,” where he shares his vision for his life at that time of writing the song. Our nation's birthday is my favorite holiday, especially the fireworks. As an adult, fireworks really catch your eye, but as a child I remember them so vividly in Andover, NH, and I also feel like this holiday is the true start to the summer season.

The third verse goes into fall — a great season in New England, because it's the start of football season, but also because the weather changes and things start to get colder. New England is known for its foliage, and living here we don't always take in the beauty of it: the change of colors as something dies from a previous blossom. I captured that in the third verse, and I thought it was a really nice way to hold the season. The final verse, winter, ends the song and also slows it down. I did this purposely, because I do feel that as the season comes to a close, things in life do slow down — but you have time to reflect, appreciate, and learn from them.

This was another song I wrote while producing the album. I was reflecting on a lot of the previous work I'd done, and thinking about how, at 42, music was much different from what inspired me growing up. I started playing guitar in high school, and truth be told, I played an untuned guitar for many years before I ever went for a lesson. I thought it was so cool to be able to strum along to the songs of my childhood — songs I still sing today.

While I was writing this one, I was thinking about what it was like when I was first introduced to music: mixtapes, Napster, and online downloading. I wanted to capture the essence of a mixtape, because my kids don't really know or understand that this was a big part of my high school and childhood. So the song captures the idea of building a mixtape through the lyrics — and within the lyrics, you can build a copy of a mixtape of the songs that I would have within my CD player. It's a reflective song for me personally, because every lyric, song title, and artist brings me back to a time when music was curated and shared as a customized playlist.

It was fun to think about how the spirit of this song was shared, while also expanding the meaning by giving you a glimpse into my musical influences and favorite songs.

This is my second instrumental song on the album, and one I've wrestled with over whether to give it lyrics — but I haven't gotten to the place of what I really want to say in them. The song is captured from a jam session I had by myself, with a very easy track and some soloing on top. This was very early in my guitar playing, and I remember vividly recording it and listening back, feeling like I had some real skill — and real enjoyment for that skill.

There's a moment in the song with a three-chord progression that's actually similar to "Melissa" by the Allman Brothers — you can hear it faintly. That was a song I practiced before I met my wife, and probably one of the first I learned from start to finish. Just knowing I could play it and sing along, in the spirit of that song, I really loved it.

As I recorded this and listened back, it made me think of my brother, because of the era of music it lives in. There's a lot more freedom in it, and because I thought of him while making it, I felt like this song was for my brother.

I had a song for my sister and a song for my parents, but I didn't have one for my brother — and he's played a significant role in my life. As he continues to get older and find his identity, he continues to play a big role, even though he may not know it. Naturally, I'm an extrovert and can talk to anybody about anything, but my brother — who is really my stepbrother — is the complete opposite. He's very reserved, an introvert, but once you get to know him, he has a great personality and an old soul.

I thought about bringing lyrics to the song, but after thinking about who my brother is, I don't think he needs words. That's why I decided to keep it instrumental — but as you listen, just imagine the older brother, a Deadhead who loves great music.

This song is specifically about my mom. As I thought about writing a song for her, I wanted to choose something that would represent her. My mom loves family, but one thing I'll always distinctly remember is that my mom always crocheted, and she loved sharing her crocheting. So I thought it would be creative to write a song about crocheting. Sometimes as a songwriter you know what your heart is pointing to, but bringing that vision to life is sometimes hard with lyrics. My mom's favorite crochet style is granny squares — for as long as I've known her, she's crocheted that way — and I thought that would be a really cool concept for a song.

The song walks through her life as a young person. It's the viewpoint of an orphan living in a home that wasn't good. My mom often talked about her childhood and how it impacted her later in life, and I think it took a long time for her to overcome that. There is a subtle easter egg in the name of the character in the song, a girl named Nancy. My mom loves Nancy Drew books and always talked about them. I thought it would be a creative way to bring her into the story.

The song progresses through different phases of her life, from specific memories my mom shared about her childhood, her teenage years, and her progression into becoming a mom herself. That's where the song turns — where she, as a mom, has a hard time — and the end of the song reflects where she is now, as a grandmother. She still crochets granny squares today for her grandchildren, and it brings her so much joy. I had the chance to share this song with her, and she was very moved — a blessing for me, to be able to bring my heart to life through a song for my mom.

This was one of the last songs I wrote for the album — I put it together at the end of May 2026, on a gray Saturday afternoon while I was still mastering some of the other tracks. The weather wasn't great and everyone was just relaxing, and you know how a day like that sets the mood: a sunny day gets you moving, but a slow, rainy one makes everybody quiet. I was playing guitar, found the rhythm, and decided to write straight from that moment — the present tense, just reflecting on the environment I was sitting in.

For the chorus I wanted a New England saying, and I landed on "April showers bring May flowers" — literally true, because I was writing it in May. Shadow of an Old Man is the album's one real New Hampshire nod, but I love where we live and haven't heard many songs put this place in the lyrics, so this became its quiet second chance.

It's the only true duet on the record — the second time a female voice comes in. My favorite lines are in the second verse: "I've worn these chord shapes for a few good years, same old woodgrain through the joys and tears." That's really about the time I've put into the guitar and the way I keep coming back to it. There's also a small nod to Stephen Kellogg, who I love — he's talked about how naming the exact time in a song lands with people, so I noted the moment like I was journaling it in my notebook.

And the title's a play on words: "Rain Delay" is a baseball thing, and it caught the slowness of the day — the spring New England rain setting the whole scene.

This song is probably one of my favorites on the album, because of the structure I built it in, and because it was inspired by an artist my dad introduced me to and played often when I was growing up: Billy Joel. Even to this day I'll find myself playing old Billy Joel songs and thinking about the first time I heard them. He is, in my mind, one of the greatest storytellers and artists — his ability to bring you through a story is inspirational.

One thing in my life I wanted to share was a concept that's been true to my heart for a while: the idea of writing letters, or journaling, for the next generation. There's a personal journal that Nicki and I have shared since the day I proposed to her — one we exchange back and forth, and have for over 15 years. There are specific moments in that journal that will live on forever because we've written them down.

This song is about that journal — a place where we each wrote letters, so we can share them not only with each other but also with our kids in the future. It moves from the first time I sat down and wrote her a letter about the life I wanted to build with her, to the letter I wrote the day before I married her. This song is from a husband to a wife, appropriately titled "Letters," in the style of Billy Joel.

This is the last song on the album, and I thought it was such a cool way to end the record. As these songs came together, I realized they were the songs of yesterday — not the future, not today. Even though some of them came together during the making of the album, it was really an opportunity to share songs I'd written before.

I loved the idea that the final song of an album can fully encapsulate everything that came before it. So what's interesting about this one is that lyrics from the previous songs are intertwined throughout it. I wrote it to be reflective — a closing to this first chapter of writing my first album.

Songs of yesterday aren't just songs; they're my life, yesterday. And I know the life ahead of me will hold more songs to come. I wanted this one to end looking forward — that the next phase, or the next album, would be the next phase of my life. I capture that in the lyrics: the path ahead for me, guided by my destiny, "the long road to home," which is going to be my spiritual walk.