My Story

Before college, before the road, before any of it — there was Uncle Mumford. My high school band in Covington, Georgia, early 1988. I played keyboards — a Roland D-50, a Yamaha DX7, and a Yamaha DX21. Bass and guitar hadn't entered the picture yet. There aren't many photos from those early days, but years later I re-discovered an old scrapbook with band pictures from 1988 to 1994, and it all came flooding back — Uncle Mumford, Bach's Turtle, Happy Cactus, Linch Pyn, 540 West, and New Found Daze. Old school.

That high school band planted the seed. Playing keyboards in front of a room full of people, getting the live music bug — that was the start. The summer between high school and college, everything was about to change.

In the fall of 1988, I started my freshman year at Georgia College in Milledgeville and almost immediately joined a band at the Pi Kappa Phi house called 540 West — drums, guitar, vocals, and me on keyboards. We played a lot of fraternity parties, most Thursday nights for months. The front room of the Pi Kapp house was a constant — gear set up all week long, somebody always picking at a guitar, somebody always banging on a cymbal.

But I had my eye on something else. I'd never played guitar or bass, and I was determined to teach myself both during those first months of college. I bought a bass — an amazing 1980 Rickenbacker 4001 in black and white Jetglo — and a Fender Redondo acoustic guitar, on the same day. The Rickenbacker was what Geddy Lee played, and that was enough reason for me.

I spent hours and hours on that Rickenbacker, rewinding and hitting play on the CD player hundreds of times, using Rush's Chronicles double album as my textbook. Geddy Lee was my teacher. After a few weeks of non-stop woodshedding, I stopped bringing the keyboards to shows and became a bass player — certainly not a good one, but one that would eventually get a little better over the next three decades.

What followed was a revolving cast of the same Milledgeville musicians finding each other in different combinations. Linch Pyn was my first real road experience — piling into a van, driving to another college town, loading in, playing, loading out, driving home. That band played the student cafeteria at Georgia College, the Pi Kapp house, shows in Valdosta, wherever anyone would have us. 540 West carried on in parallel; we even cut a cassette called Tie Dye on Display. Happy Cactus was in there somewhere. And Bach's Turtle was never really a band — just a loose jam project. Jeff and I were in that crew along with a bunch of other guys — long afternoons of improv, six-packs of beer. We never played a single show. But Jeff and I would go on from those jams to start New Found Daze. Some of the other Bach's Turtle guys would scatter into Gypsy Train, which had a great run before disbanding in the '90s, and Mount Pilot, which is still playing to this day.

It was after one of those Bach's Turtle jams that Chris Moorman came in raving about an album called Ride the Bee by a band called Allgood. He wouldn't stop talking about it. So I went and got the CD. That record stayed in heavy rotation for years, and from '91 to about '95 I caught as many Allgood shows as I could. I had no idea the band would be woven through so much of the rest of my life.

Around this time, I got the opportunity to work with legendary record producer and keyboardist Paul Hornsby at his Muscadine Recording Studio in Macon. Paul had played keys with Gregg and Duane Allman in Hour Glass before the Allman Brothers formed, and then became a producer at Capricorn Records, producing records by Charlie Daniels Band, Marshall Tucker Band, Wet Willie, and countless other bands on that incredible roster. He was inducted into the Alabama Music Hall of Fame in 2010. I was 19 years old, and even with all those gold records lining the hallway outside the main studio room, I didn't fully appreciate the gravity of the guy on the other side of the glass.

A year later, I spent every Wednesday for three months in Paul's studio working on a second record. Somehow we even got Paul to play piano on two or three songs. He could have been working with anyone. I'm still not sure why he let a bunch of broke college kids invade his incredible studio. Those sessions in Macon, surrounded by the history of Capricorn and the Allman Brothers, left a mark that would echo through the next thirty years. There's a video from around 1991 of 540 West at Georgia College with a cameo of Paul Hornsby in it — the 20-year-old version of me, very thick southern accent and all.

A few months later, we started New Found Daze. By 1992 the lineup had crystallized: Timmy Barrett on vocals, Byron Dillard on guitar and vocals, me on bass and vocals, and Jeff Cummings on drums. Jeff was a fraternity brother and had been the drummer in all the college bands — Linch Pyn, 540 West, all of it. Senior year, I intentionally didn't take any Friday classes so we could hit the road Thursday afternoons and play the weekend. I graduated in 1993 and we moved the whole band to Macon. For the next couple of years, all four of us lived together and played shows all over the Southeast. My bass for New Found Daze was a red Epiphone 4-string — I still have it today.

And we played constantly. Well over 200 shows from 1992 to 1994, no exaggeration. We won the 1993 Georgia College Battle of the Bands — would have loved to open for Hootie & the Blowfish, but they were already touring with their own support act, a guy named Edwin McCain. We recorded at Black Box Studios in Athens and spent time at Capricorn Sound Studios in Macon — that magical place where so much incredible music had been created within those walls.

The circuit was relentless: Bubba's at Georgia Southern in Statesboro, around 15 shows there, including multi-night runs, where the best part was the boxing ring out back where guys would get completely hammered and then beat the hell out of each other. Rockafellas in Columbia. Clubs all through Florida, Georgia, and the Carolinas. A club flyer from Rockafellas tells the whole story of that era — New Found Daze listed on the 27th, and on the 16th of the same month, a small band called The Dave Matthews Band.

Rivalry's on Cherry Street in Macon — which shortly after became Elizabeth Reed's Music Hall — was our de facto home base. We played that room so many times it was practically a second address. And one specific night there in 1992 stuck with me forever. The day after a Friday show at Rivalry's, Timmy Barrett and I went back to pick up the check. Jupiter Coyote was running their soundcheck for their show that Saturday evening. By that point, my copy of Jupiter Coyote's 1991 debut CD, Cemeteries & Junkyards, was well worn in and I knew every song on it. We stood in the back of the room and watched these guys completely rip through their soundcheck. Timmy knew a few of the guys, and when they finished, we walked up to the stage to say hello. I met and chatted briefly with Matt Mayes — Jupiter Coyote's songwriter, vocalist, guitarist, and guijo player. We were booked in another city that night and had to get on the road. At the time, it didn't feel like anything important. Thirty years later, it would turn out to be one of the most important moments of my whole musical life.

Gypsy Train was the most awesome band playing anywhere in the Southeast in those days. Their bass player, Trey McCampbell, was a monster. Their percussionist, Rob Sumowski, would book New Found Daze onto shows together. Rob and I became friends — and three decades later, we'd still be sharing stages.

On July 30, 1993, New Found Daze played a show in Macon with a band called Memory Dean opening. My close childhood friend from Covington, Melinda Greer Bailey, drove down from Oglethorpe University with a group of friends and brought her roommate along to the show.

And just like that, my life was forever changed for the better. Her roommate was the most gorgeous, intelligent, funny, and amazing girl, and her name was Allison. We got married three and a half years later in 1996. We've built an incredible life together — and it all started at a New Found Daze show. Everything good in my life traces back to being in a band in Macon, Georgia. I don't take that for granted, not for a second.

Around 1993, in possibly the worst gear trade in the history of bad gear trades, the 22-year-old version of me traded away — gave away — that 1980 Rickenbacker 4001 for a Yamaha fretless bass I kept for maybe three months. Terrible, awful deal. Over the 27 years that followed, I played and owned dozens of other basses, and I'd always talk about trying to find another 1980 Rickenbacker — the one that got away.

By June 1994, the road had burned me out. I left New Found Daze to “cut my hair and get a real job.” The boys kept it going for a few more years. I moved from Macon to Atlanta to be with Allison. The van gave way to flights for work. For the next 13 years, I traded the hundreds of New Found Daze shows for an office cubicle.

In 1995, I went back to Macon to see New Found Daze — without me — open for Allgood at Elizabeth Reed's Music Hall. I caught up with old bandmates and briefly met the Allgood guys backstage. Quick, nothing memorable. Not long after, Allgood broke up. I figured that might be the last time I'd ever see them.

Through those quiet years, I'd still play in a few loose bands — Kilgore Trout, Portico, The Druthers — but nothing serious. One or two local shows a year at backyard parties, maybe. The records stayed in heavy rotation, though: Allgood, Freddy Jones Band, Jupiter Coyote, all the bands from that H.O.R.D.E. era. I'd keep buying every new Jupiter Coyote CD as it was released and play them nonstop, catching their shows when I could. I knew their entire catalog. Those songs stayed part of the fabric of my life even as I was barely playing any music of my own.

Allison and I bought our first house in Decatur. We had our son Benjamin. Work travel picked up, year over year. By 2007, my travel schedule got so busy that it was impossible to commit to being in a band at all. I was missing rehearsals for months at a time. I left the last band I was in. For four or five months, I didn't even pick up a bass. I thought I might be done with music. I'll repeat that: I thought I was done with music.

Running parallel to all of it — from college through those quiet years and beyond — was a love for The Allman Brothers Band that went deeper than any other music in my life.

Every March, the Allman Brothers set up at the Beacon Theatre in NYC for 20-plus shows. From 1989 to 2014, they played 238 consecutive sold-out shows at The Beacon. For over a dozen straight years, I was lucky enough to make it up for at least one show a year during the annual March run — sometimes more than one. Those nights in New York were pure magic, every single time. I'd get the tickets, and the excitement was always the same — whether it was the third year or the twelfth. I'd make the trip, walk into that room, and every time it felt like something sacred.

Along the way, I got the chance to meet Gregg Allman in person — one of my all-time music heroes. I will always be grateful for that night.

But I still had that nagging itch to play music. In early 2008, the stars aligned. Casually, I opened the “musician seeking band” page on Craigslist, and the very first listing was a new band in Decatur looking for a drummer and a bass player — right down the street from my house. I auditioned. I got the gig. That band became The Bitteroots.

At the time, it was supposed to be nothing more than a once-a-week hang — play some covers, split a six-pack, call it a night. We didn't think past the next Thursday practice. Beers afterward at The Universal Joint. Adam Nimorwicz and Lisa Prodigo-Nimorwicz gave us our first real stage — a backyard in Decatur, before we even had a lead singer. One early rehearsal in Oakhurst, someone said, “Maybe one day we'll be able to play Eddie's Attic.” That felt like a stretch goal.

The Bitteroots would go on to play for the next 15 years, release seven albums, and do a few hundred shows throughout the Southeast. But more importantly, that band got me on stages I never imagined — phenomenal, sold-out rooms with Grammy winners and Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inductees, including Kool & The Gang, Butch Trucks of the Allman Brothers, Everclear, Mavis Staples, Jeff Tweedy of Wilco, Mother's Finest, and more. That band also got me sharing stages with some of my all-time favorite bands — Allgood, Freddy Jones Band, Jupiter Coyote. And I was a super fan of every one of those bands well before I ever met them. I knew their catalogs inside and out.

By 2010, things started to shift. The Bitteroots had started playing Eddie's Attic, which became our home base — we'd eventually play well over 40 shows in that room, the vast majority sold out. Around that same time came one of the most pivotal moments of my career.

The Freddy Jones Band had been in rotation alongside Allgood for me since college — In a Daydream, Texas Skies, Waitress, Take the Time. In 2010, they played Eddie's Attic, right down the street from our house in Decatur. I grabbed a front-row table and brought some of the Bitteroots guys. After the show, we met the band — Wayne Healy, Jim Bonaccorsi, Simon Horrocks, the whole crew. Super nice guys. Jim and I exchanged numbers and said we'd stay in touch. It felt like a cool moment. Nothing more.

In 2011, they came back through Atlanta for the Virginia Highland Summerfest. I went again, worked my way backstage, and reconnected with Wayne. We talked for a while. Then I threw it out there: next time you play Eddie's Attic, The Bitteroots should open. And while I was at it — I asked if I could sit in on a couple of songs. I didn't think anything would come of it.

A few weeks later, Wayne called. They had a date — and The Bitteroots were opening, and I was sitting in.

Show day felt like Christmas morning. We loaded in during soundcheck, and Wayne called me up to run a couple of songs — The Puppet and In a Daydream. Looking back, that was clearly an audition. Up to that point, Wayne had never heard me or The Bitteroots play a single note. We passed.

The room was completely packed — sold out, oversold, people everywhere. The Bitteroots played our set. Then, about an hour into the Freddy Jones Band's performance, Wayne called me back up: “Young William.” That nickname would stick for over a decade.

We played The Puppet and In a Daydream. The crowd went nuts. For the encore, Wayne asked, “Do you know Dixie Dynamite?” I did.

Wayne and I became good friends after that, and we talked for years about starting a band together. Over the stretch from 2010 through about 2017, I shared stages with Freddy Jones Band a handful more times — including one weekend in September 2014 where I played three shows with three different bands in three nights, 13 stellar musicians, 58 songs: The Bitteroots, Freddy Jones Band, and Sydney Rhame. Awesome weekend. Wayne also sat in with The Bitteroots at our 8th anniversary show at Eddie's Attic in April 2016, alongside Sydney Rhame, who would go on to be a contestant on The Voice.

Woven all through The Bitteroots years — and especially busy from the early 2010s on — was a parallel life as a fill-in bass player and session guy for a bunch of incredible Atlanta musicians.

Mike Killeen has been one of the longest-running of those relationships. I've played bass with Mike Killeen and The Dregs, and with Mike's own band, more times than I can count — Decatur Concerts on the Square, Smith's Olde Bar, Twain's, Eddie's Attic, the 2012 Poverty Is Real benefit at Eddie's, and The Basement in Nashville in March 2019 with Mike Davis on drums, Mark Evers on guitar, Nathan Beaver, and Kristen Englenz. Mike and I would end up in Wolves, Lower together years later.

Kristen Englenz — I played bass for her at The Red Light on a bill with Sleuth Hound and The Atlanta Blues Project, and I got to record her demo. She sat in with The Bitteroots at Eddie's Attic in December 2012 and sang backing vocals on the 2021 Amplify My Community Rolling Stones show at Eddie's alongside Beth Kelhoffer.

Sydney Rhame — before she ever got to The Voice, I played bass at her CD release show at Eddie's Attic on March 30, 2017. Years later, when she landed on NBC, I couldn't resist saying, “Remember that time I played bass for Sydney Rhame at Eddie's Attic?”

Other stops along the way: The Dammages at the 2010 Venetian Luau in Decatur. Soulhound at the Inman Park Festival in April 2022 with Oliver Nichols and Rob Roth. Last Waltz Ensemble at Smith's Olde Bar in November 2021, sitting in on a few with my old friend Scott Baston from Moonshine Still and Kris Gloer — Kris had been in the original Atlanta Jelly Roll back in the day and now plays in Last Waltz Ensemble. Astro Dawg at Smith's Olde Bar in August 2022 — a Widespread Panic afterparty with members of Jupiter Coyote and Last Waltz Ensemble. Every one of those rooms added another little chapter, another handful of friends.

In 2013, I saw that Allgood Music Company was playing at Smith's Olde Bar — a venue where my friend Sean McPherson, the talent buyer, had already given The Bitteroots their first real break. I called Sean and asked if there was an opener. There wasn't. I asked if The Bitteroots could do it. He said yes.

Just another gig. Or so it seemed.

That night, I reconnected with Clay Fuller. I met Neal Lucas, who would later become part of the world of Tribute: A Celebration of The Allman Brothers Band. I got to know the rest of the guys. Over the next eight or nine years, The Bitteroots and Allgood shared the stage more than a dozen times. Somewhere along the way, I started helping manage a few shows — which turned into more shows, which turned into runs, which turned into managing the band.

Around that same era, on an entirely separate night, I got to share a stage with Col. Bruce Hampton — whose Aquarium Rescue Unit was one of the cornerstones of the H.O.R.D.E. sound. Bruce was one of those one-of-a-kind forces in Southern music, and getting that chance — even just once — felt like a gift.

My last Allman Brothers show was March 19, 2014. That turned out to be the last show of the run — Gregg got sick the next day and they canceled the rest of the March dates. They came back later that October for a handful of shows to finish out the band. I regret not going back for one of those final shows. But I was fortunate enough to have made it up for 12 consecutive years of those fabled nights at The Beacon, and I'll carry those with me the rest of my life.

In 2016, The Bitteroots got booked to share a bill with Butch Trucks of The Allman Brothers Band at Smith's Olde Bar in Atlanta. For a lifelong Allman Brothers fan, this was hard to process. Before the show, my post said it all: “Been a huge Allman Brothers fan my entire life, and now playing a show with Butch Trucks! It does not get much better than that!”

I got to chat with Butch backstage before the show. Met his band — keys player Bruce Katz, drummer Tad Isch, son and guitarist Vaylor Trucks, and bassist Berry Duane Oakley. I'd never seen so much gear on stage at Smith's Olde Bar: three drum sets, five guitar amps, two bass amps, three keyboards, and about fourteen musicians. The Bitteroots played our set standing on the subwoofer boxes at the front of the stage just to make room.

I didn't know it then, but that show with one of my musical heroes was planting a seed. Eight years later, I'd be out on the road myself, spreading that Allman Brothers gospel all over the Southeast with Tribute.

Butch Trucks passed away in January 2017. The news hit hard. I'm so fortunate to have met him and shared a stage with him. I had recorded a video of the band playing “Dreams” from side stage that night, but I've always wished I had captured more of that evening.

That same year, Col. Bruce Hampton collapsed onstage during his 70th birthday concert at the Fox Theatre and passed. I was there that night — at the last show Col. Bruce ever played. And then Gregg Allman, later that same year. The losses piled up. Three of the people who had most shaped the sound of Southern rock, gone within months of each other.

But 2017 was also the year The Core came together. I'd been talking separately with Clay Fuller from Allgood and Wayne Healy from the Freddy Jones Band about starting a side project. They didn't really know each other — even though both of their bands had played the H.O.R.D.E. Festival back in the early '90s.

So I took a shot. I told Clay that Wayne was already in. I told Wayne that Clay was all in. At that moment, neither of them actually knew that.

A week later, we sat down for dinner in Atlanta — and just like that, we had a band. I called some of the best players I had met while playing and sharing stages with The Bitteroots. Wayne Healy from Freddy Jones Band. Clay Fuller from Allgood. Chris Queen — at the time playing with Dreams So Real and in Phil Keaggy's band (Chris would later join Allgood for a few runs). My old buddy from way back in Macon, Rob Sumowski, who had played with Gypsy Train, Shawn Mullins, Billy Pilgrim, Kevn Kinney, and about a thousand other incredible bands. Incredibly and a little shockingly, they all said yes. It wasn't until we added Kevin Leahy — BoDeans, Shawn Mullins, Sugarland, Zac Brown — that things really fell into place. The lineup also grew to include Josh Carson and Bo Hembree from Dreams So Real, and we brought in Keisha Jackson on backing vocals — a powerhouse who has sung with OutKast and Yacht Rock Revue. Harmonica master David Fisch, of the Urban Shakedancers and the Atlanta-based Jelly Roll (the original Atlanta Jelly Roll, around here for decades long before the newer national act of the same name), also routinely plays with us.

The first iteration of The Core was focused on the catalog of Eric Clapton. Our first show was Cinco de Mayo at Smith's Olde Bar — a sold-out room, right out of the gate. We played quite a few Clapton shows before the pandemic — the residency was taking shape. Then Covid hit and split the band's focus in half. The long layoff gave us time to rethink things, and on the other side of Covid, we added a second focus: the H.O.R.D.E. Tour. Who better to bring back to life the sounds of the 1990s H.O.R.D.E. than people who actually played on it? Wayne had been on the tour in 1994 with Freddy Jones Band. Clay had played it with Allgood in 1993. Together we play favorites from Widespread Panic, Dave Matthews Band, Phish, Blues Traveler, Col. Bruce Hampton & The Aquarium Rescue Unit, Big Head Todd, The Black Crowes, Allgood, Freddy Jones Band, and of course, The Allman Brothers. The band that was born from a bluff over dinner became a residency at Napoleon's in Decatur, then shows at Society Garden in Macon, From the Earth in Roswell, and sold-out rooms all over the Southeast.

It's a strange thing to say out loud, but some of the biggest shows of my life came right before the pandemic. By early 2018, The Bitteroots were doing incredible shows around the Southeast and sharing stages with legendary bands. The shows kept getting bigger. 2019 became the year — and I recognized it even as it was happening. I wrote a year-in-review at the end of it naming the acts we had shared stages with: Drivin N Cryin. Col. Bruce Hampton's family and friends celebrating his legacy. Everclear. Kool & The Gang. Mavis Staples. Each one of those shows, I was grateful to even be in the room.

Drivin N Cryin was a special thread through my life in particular — I saw them 30 or 40 times back in college, and got to share the stage with them a handful of times with The Bitteroots. Kevn Kinney is one of those artists whose songs just live in your head for decades. In January 2026, I spotted Kevn in the crowd at our Wolves, Lower show in Athens and got to catch up with him briefly. Full-circle moments keep showing up.

In early 2019, The Bitteroots got the call to share a stage with Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inductee and multiple Grammy winner Kool & The Gang for a summer outdoor show at The Frederick Brown Jr. Amphitheater in Peachtree City, Georgia. We had to sit on the news for months, waiting for the formal announcement before we could say anything.

The night before, a Friday, we played a sold-out show at our home base of Eddie's Attic in Decatur, riding high into Saturday. Around noon on show day, we met at our practice space off North Avenue in midtown Atlanta, loaded the van and trailer, and started the drive down to Peachtree City. As we backed the trailer into the loading dock, we could hear Kool & The Gang running through their soundcheck, and they sounded incredible. We expected to see some of the “old guys” on stage — instead, we saw about a dozen young guys in their 20s absolutely burning through the soundcheck. These guys were incredible. The four original members wouldn't show up until about an hour before showtime.

After The Bitteroots' set, the originals arrived. We chatted with some of the guys, including original member and drummer George “Funky” Brown. Then we all pulled up chairs on the side of the stage, popped a few beers, kicked back, and watched Kool & The Gang play hit after hit — Celebration, Jungle Boogie, Get Down On It, Ladies' Night, Fresh, Cherish — for 90 minutes. Every single person in that audience was up and dancing the entire show. That was a we belong here moment.

A couple of months later came the biggest crowd yet. The Bitteroots shared the stage with Everclear at the Woodstock Amphitheatre. A literal sea of folding camping chairs — people had set up days before the show. We unloaded the trailer and walked to the side stage, where Everclear was already ripping through their soundcheck. The Bitteroots' sax player, Derron Nuhfer, had actually played sax on Everclear's 2x-platinum record, So Much for the Afterglow, so he had some history with Art Alexakis and the guys.

The details of actually playing the show remain a little fuzzy, but the sheer volume of the applause from over 10,000 people was deafening and completely awesome at the end of each song. And I remember looking over into the wings and seeing Art and the rest of Everclear watching our set, heads nodding. We finished, got our gear off the stage, headed backstage — and the Everclear guys were in the hallway waiting to start their set. We all high-fived, and they told us they enjoyed it. Once again, the nicest guys. We finished the night watching Everclear's set from side stage with some cold beers and big smiles.

That same era brought other milestones. Loading gear into a cave at Cumberland Caverns in McMinnville, Tennessee — we'd been working closely with Joel Grubb and Stephen Moore at RCS Productions, who had been programming talent at the caverns. On the list of bands that needed support was Mother's Finest, and when I saw that, the decision was immediate.

The morning of the show, we loaded out from our practice space off North Avenue and started the trek to the middle of nowhere, Tennessee. Somewhere between Chattanooga and Nashville, we left the interstate for two-lane roads, then gravel roads, and at the end of the last gravel road, there was an opening in the side of a mountain. A converted Jeep with a lowered windshield and a flatbed trailer were waiting to transport our gear to the stage. Once inside the cave, about a quarter-mile walk down a winding path, at one point the clearance under a massive rock formation was maybe four and a half feet high — that's why the Jeep was lowered. There was only one way in and one way out.

At the end of that path, everything opened up — a huge underground cavern called The Volcano Room, 333 feet below the surface. The venue held about 800 people and the show had been sold out for a while. At showtime, 59 degrees and 99% humidity. After only a few minutes of playing, we were all sweating like it was 110 degrees, and by the third or fourth song, we were soaked. None of us had towels on stage — it was 59 degrees, we didn't think we'd need them. I spent most of the show with one eye closed trying to keep the sweat out. Standing ovation at the end. Then Mother's Finest spent the next 90 minutes absolutely ripping and crushing their set while we watched from the back of the cavern, passing Derron's whiskey flask. One of the tour guides asked if we wanted to explore — we climbed up over the stage and into some of the 27 miles of branching caves, still hearing the music in all directions.

When we got back to the cave entrance, we were met with bright afternoon sunlight. We'd been underground for several hours, but it felt like it must be the middle of the night.

SweetWater 420 Fest, sunny skies giving way to sideways torrential rain by song four — no stopping, just kept playing. And Amplify Decatur — playing in our own backyard, sharing the day with Kevn Kinney, Drivin N Cryin, Julien Baker, Jeff Tweedy, and Mavis Staples — and standing there with the band, realizing we weren't chasing it anymore. We were part of it.

Backstage at a 2019 festival in Dalton — The Core, Jupiter Coyote, Allgood, and Band of Heathens all on the same bill — I reconnected with Matt Mayes. We struck up a conversation in the backstage trailer, talked about booking a few Jupiter Coyote / Bitteroots shows, and as I was headed to the stage, I casually mentioned, “If you ever need a fill-in bass player, give me a call.” We booked a show in Athens for the spring of 2020, but then Covid wiped out music for over a year.

Just before the pandemic shut everything down, in March 2020, I was at Madison Square Garden with my son Benjamin to see The Brothers pay tribute to 50 years of the Allman Brothers Band. That show was on another level — insane. It turned out to be my last concert before the world stopped.

During that same stretch, I found myself casually browsing Reverb. As I rolled the birthday odometer from 49 to 50, I searched one more time for another 1980 Rickenbacker. The only ones popping up were either completely beat up, overpriced, the wrong color, or not all original. So as a half-century gift to myself, I went with Plan B and ordered a brand-new 2020 Rickenbacker 4003 — hand-built to order, not expected until late November or December.

Then, BOOM — there on Reverb was a pristine 1980 black and white Jetglo, all original condition, Rickenbacker 4001 from a music store owner's personal collection. I didn't hesitate. Just like my very first bass from 32 years ago. I won't be letting this one get away.

Timmy Barrett — vocalist, songwriter, and the heart of New Found Daze — passed away suddenly on March 10, 2021. For over two years we had all lived together in Macon and played shows all over the Southeast. Timmy was a brilliant songwriter and such a sweet soul. The music we made together will always matter.

In early 2022, Matt Mayes and I reconnected. Jupiter Coyote had a run of shows coming up that their incredible bass player, Sanders Brightwell, couldn't make. Matt asked if I would step in and play a few shows. He sent me the song list to work up — well over 75 songs on it — but I already knew the bulk of them. I'd been buying every Jupiter Coyote CD as it came out and playing them nonstop since the early '90s. These songs had been an integral part of my life's soundtrack for three decades.

Before the first full band show, Matt hosted a Macon acoustic night in early March 2022 — just Matt, John Meyer, and me — at Clay Gledhill's place. That setlist had been part of my soundtrack for 30 years, and it was an absolute thrill to get to play those amazing songs. A warmup show in Bluffton, SC at The Roasting Room on May 21 got me on stage with part of the band. Then the first full-band show came in Raleigh on June 3, 2022. Matt had sent a 59-song list ahead of time, and I was cramming for the test the whole drive up. The band threw a few curveballs at me during the show just for fun. That first show in Raleigh playing those great songs with that large crowd was incredible.

Jupiter Coyote self-describes their sound as “Mountain Rock — a sweet mixture of Southern Appalachian boogie and bluegrass-infused funk-rock,” which honestly nails it. The full lineup is Matthew Mayes (vocals, guitar, guijo), John Meyer (guitar), Steve “Tris” Trisman (fiddle), Noel Felty, Gene Bass (drums), and Sanders Brightwell on bass — I'm just the guy that fills in when Sanders can't. Getting welcomed into the JCFU “cool kids” fan club along the way was its own kind of honor.

In addition to playing full band shows through 2022 and 2023, I also started playing as part of the Jupiter Coyote Trio, and sometimes Quartet. One of the songs we played frequently was called “Flowers.” Matt had written and recorded it previously for one of his solo records. I connected with that song immediately. I mentioned that if he ever decided to recut it, I'd love to play bass on it. A few months later, Matt decided to re-record it. In 2023, I cut the bass in my home studio in March and sent the parts over. John Meyer added lead guitar, Tris added fiddle, Gene added drums, and Matt added additional guitars and harmony vocals. Matt sent the final mix in early July — I hadn't heard the song since I recorded the bass parts back in March, and I was blown away.

After “Flowers,” I recorded bass on “Balance” — a laid-back, country-tinged track with a Grateful Dead-meets-The Band vibe. Matt sent over the scratch vocal and acoustic guitar part with no drums, fiddle, or other instruments, and I worked up several different bass lines. The first takes didn't quite get to what Matt was envisioning. He said, “Try it like a simple country song.” It's probably the most “country song” I've ever played on — but sometimes simple is the way to go.

Then “Time Won't Wait” — Matt sent the demo in August of 2023 and I recorded the bass parts in September. And then a batch of unreleased singles beyond those. In January 2026, I sat in with Jupiter Coyote at Eddie's Attic — two sold-out shows — playing a few songs I had recorded a couple of years ago that had never been played live before. The Bitteroots' kick drum head still hangs proudly in Eddie's “World's Smallest Green Room.”

The Bitteroots wrapped up our 15-year run in January 2023. From those early days in Oakhurst in 2008 when we didn't give much thought beyond the following Thursday night's practice — scrapping for our first couple of shows with nothing but a dozen covers — all the way to writing and recording seven albums and playing huge shows in front of thousands of people and sharing stages with our musical heroes.

The week leading up to the final show, I wrote about the people who made it happen: Mike Davis, Daniel Shockley, and Michael Koetter for getting the whole thing started. Adam and Lisa Nimorwicz for the backyard stage. Joel Grubb and Stephen Moore at RCS Productions for always taking a chance with the band and putting us on stages where we were certainly punching above our weight class. Sean McPherson and Dan Nolan at Smith's Olde Bar for bringing us onto that legendary stage well over two dozen times. Andrew Hingley and the entire team at Eddie's Attic for giving us our home base way back in 2010. And the real rock star, Allison, for supporting my music for close to 30 years. I don't take any of them for granted.

The final show was at Eddie's Attic — our 40th-plus at that venue. 200-plus shows total, seven albums, and lifelong friendships forged from a Craigslist ad. Derron Nuhfer, PJ Poellnitz, Laura Dees, Michael Paul Beavers, Rob Sumowski, Kyle Bryant, and Greg Sims were all there for the last night. Looking out in the audience and seeing so many familiar faces with smiles directed right back at us. It was special.

The path to Tribute was decades in the making, but the specific connection traced back to those RCS Productions shows. Throughout The Bitteroots years, Joel Grubb at RCS had been instrumental in getting so many of those big shows on the calendar — Kool & The Gang, Everclear, Cumberland Caverns, and more. Joel and I had dinner at least once a quarter — we called them MoMs, Meeting of the Minds dinners. At one of those MoMs dinners in 2018 or 2019, Joel brought along a guy named Rod Gunther. Rod had started Tribute: A Celebration of The Allman Brothers Band, along with Harvest Moon and Tattoo You.

In 2021, Rod called me to fill in for some Tribute shows. I filled in again in 2022. And then in January 2023, the announcement went out: “I am thrilled to announce that I've joined the incredible band, Tribute — a celebration of The Allman Brothers Band, as their full-time bass player. The music of The Allman Brothers Band has been the soundtrack of my life and I couldn't be more stoked to be playing this music with such an exceptional group of musicians.”

A lifetime of Allman Brothers fandom. Twelve years of Beacon runs in New York. Meeting Gregg Allman in person. Sharing a stage with Butch Trucks. The connections through Allgood and The Core that put me in orbit with Neal Lucas and the musicians who would become bandmates. A MoMs dinner where Joel introduced me to Rod. Fill-in shows in 2021 and 2022 that proved the fit. All of it converging.

My first full-time show was January 14 at the Visulite Theatre in Charlotte, NC. My first Atlanta show was January 28 at the Variety Playhouse in Little Five Points — my first time playing that iconic Atlanta venue, looking out to see a whole bunch of friends in the crowd.

Since then, Tribute has become the main act — sold-out shows at MadLife Stage & Studios in Woodstock, runs through the Carolinas, hometown reunion shows in Covington, theatre stages across the Southeast. Playing Jessica, In Memory of Elizabeth Reed, Whipping Post — songs from Gregg Allman and Dickey Betts that have been so prevalent in the soundtrack of my life. Every show, I'm spreading the gospel of the band that changed everything for me. I also fill in from time to time with Harvest Moon, Rod's Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young celebration.

The Bitteroots guys didn't scatter — we just reformed. With my other favorite band being R.E.M., the idea for Wolves, Lower came naturally: the same chemistry, a new catalog. Greg Sims and Kyle Bryant from The Bitteroots on guitars, mandolin, and lap steel; Michael Paul Beavers on drums; Mike Killeen on vocals; and me holding down those Mike Mills bass lines. Four shows over three nights in January 2026 — sold-out early and late shows at Eddie's Attic, and a packed house at Hendershot's in Athens — with old friends showing up from every era.

My old college bandmate Jeff Cummings — fraternity brother and drummer in all the college bands, New Found Daze, Linch Pyn, 540 West — made it out to Athens for Wolves, Lower at Hendershot's. So great to have him there. Thirty-plus years of music, and the people are still the same.

Threaded through all of it is Amplify My Community — an organization I've supported since the very early days. The Bitteroots played the very first Amplify show back in 2011, and over the years since, I've had the personal opportunity to play a couple of dozen Amplify shows: the 2021 Rolling Stones tribute at Eddie's Attic with Scott Baston, Michael Paul Beavers, Rod Gunther, Derron Nuhfer, PJ Poellnitz, and Kristen Englenz and Beth Kelhoffer on backing vocals; the Beatles vs. Stones shows; the Three Perfect Holiday Songs nights; the Rare Whiskey Sales at Decatur Package; and The Core headlining the Amplify Decatur Music Festival at the Avon Theater. Every dollar raised stays in our community.

In December 2024, I accepted an invitation to join the Amplify My Community board. Over the years, Amplify has helped raise hundreds of thousands of dollars to help alleviate poverty and homelessness right here in our local community. The mission is simple and powerful: leverage the universal love of music to fight poverty at the local level by generating funds and awareness for community nonprofits that are making a difference every day. Getting to be part of that at the board level — after starting out just as the bass player in the opener of their very first show — is something I'm incredibly grateful for.

Somewhere along the way, helping manage a few Allgood shows turned into B. Taylor Artist Management — a new chapter where I get to work on the business side of the music I care about. In 2026, we announced the Allgood Music Company Spring run for the 35th Anniversary of Ride the Bee: Augusta during Masters Week, Savannah, Roswell, Dalton, and Macon. The same album Chris Moorman was raving about after a Bach's Turtle jam in 1991 is now the center of a 35th-anniversary tour I'm helping put on. That kind of full-circle is not lost on me.

Every year, the show counts keep growing. 2021, 2022, 2023, 2024, 2025 — each year more shows than the last, across Tribute, The Core, Jupiter Coyote, Wolves, Lower, and the ongoing fill-in work. More miles, more stages, more rooms, more nights looking out from behind a bass and seeing familiar faces. I am lucky I get to keep doing this, and I do not take a single show for granted.

From Uncle Mumford in a Covington garage in 1988 to sold-out theatres across the Southeast, it's been 35-plus years of live music. Three active projects, each one rooted in a different part of the same story. Tribute carries the Allman Brothers gospel. The Core revives the H.O.R.D.E. spirit with the people who actually lived it. Wolves, Lower honors the other half of a lifetime of fandom. Jupiter Coyote runs parallel to all of it — they have their own incredible bass player in Sanders Brightwell, and I fill in only when Sanders can't make a show, with the occasional studio work mixed in — but that full-circle journey from a Macon soundcheck in 1992 still runs through everything. Amplify My Community and B. Taylor Artist Management put me on the organizing side of the same music world. And the old Bitteroots friendships — from a Craigslist ad to hundreds of shows — remain woven through all of it.

A New Found Daze sticker, stuck to the window at Ingleside Village Pizza in Macon over 30 years ago, is somehow still there. The red Epiphone bass from New Found Daze is still in the house. Old club flyers surface with New Found Daze listed right next to Dave Matthews Band. Every few months, a scrapbook or a VHS tape or a DAT recording from the early '90s turns up, and for a moment, the whole thing rewinds.

None of it was planned. Every major turn — the Craigslist ad, the Freddy Jones Band sit-in, the Allgood opener, the dinner that started The Core, the call from Jupiter Coyote, the MoMs dinner that led to Tribute, the invitation to join the Amplify board — started as just another conversation, just another gig, just another night on stage.

I'm lucky I've been able to do this for 35-plus years, and I do not take it for granted.