The Portland old-time inspired folk/country singer/songwriter Wesley Randolph Eader has family roots all over Tennessee, but he was born and raised in the Pacific Northwest. Primarily a solo artist and storyteller, a true songwriters-songwriter, Eader's live performances are known to invoke both laughter and tears amongst the audiences who have had the opportunity to hear him play over the past few years. He released his debut album “Of Old It Was Recorded” on Deeper Well Records in 2012. This album proved that Eader had the voice and musical skill to fit within traditional American folk music, but more importantly it showed that he had the even rarer gift of crafting songs that sounded timeless, not just recycled. In true field recording style, Eader was discovered and approached by Eric Earley (Singer/Songwriter/Producer of Blitzen Trapper & Denver) and a couple weeks later they had a tracking session in Earley’s apartment. Those 10 debut songs could have easily been sung and recorded by country/bluegrass gospel legends such as Ralph Stanley, Johnny Cash, Washington Phillips, or The Louvin Brothers. Its not an uncommon story to hear the grandparents of young listeners mistaking Eader’s music as old songs from their past, saying something like “Hey! We used to sing that song when we were your age”. 

The four year period between “Of Old It Was Recorded” and Eader’s new album “Highway Winds”,which comes out August 23rd, were filled with ups and downs and everything in between. Only days after releasing “Of Old It Was Recorded”, Eader experienced the first of two spontaneous collapsed lungs, and a few grueling months of recovery that ultimately required emergency surgery. The near death experience and the mystery of whether or not the collapsed lungs were linked to years of playing trumpet as a kid, or too many nights of intense singing, caused Eader to contemplate the fragility of life and question the purpose of the musical gifts he had been given. Despite the trials, he continued to maintain a presence around the Portland music scene, sharing stages and living rooms with all sorts of musicians; the highlights being a sold out show at the Aladdin Theatre in support of Josh Garrels, touring with Liz Vice on the Mcmenamin's Great Northwest Tour, and playing old-time standards and new tunes with Eric Earley at Al’s Den. 

"Highway Winds” represents a new arrival and a second wind for Eader. The songs give a glimpse into his wide range of classic songwriting influences, from the country ballads of Willie Nelson and Tom T. Hall, to the topical folksongs of Woody Guthrie and John Prine. It was recorded entirely on tape and mastered straight to vinyl and features a host of Portland musicians including Eric Earley, Luke Price (National Old-time Fiddle Champion and member of Dean!), Danny O'Hanlon (Studio Engineer and Producer at Bungalow 9 Studios), Rachel Dial (Singer/Guitarist for Mero and SS Bungalow) and more. All these people have helped take Eader's songs, which stand strongly by themselves, to an even higher level of interest to the listener. Nostalgic ridden Americana music lovers are sure to find "Highway Winds" a more than suitable soundtrack for the road.







Some thoughts concerning "Of Old It Was Recorded"


 “Oh lord you know, I have no friend like you

If heaven’s not my home, oh lord what would I do?

Angels beckon me to heaven’s open door

And I can’t feel at home in this world anymore”

-The Carter Family

I remember a time when a stranger walked up to me after I played a short set at a coffee shop. It was one of my first “public” performances and I think it was obvious: I didn’t really know what I was doing and I hated being in front of crowds. He came up and said “You sounded great up there, but just a little out of place”.  Lord knows what led that gentleman to make such a claim against me. It could have been my southern drawl or how I stared blankly at my fretting hand or my long blond hair and ginger beard or my sloppy guitar playing or how I played both murder ballads and gospel hymns. I don’t really remember how I responded to him and frankly I didn’t really care. I was just relieved to be out of the spotlight.  Looking back now, I know I should have said something along the lines of: “That’s probably because I am out of place, but aren’t we all my friend, aren’t we all”.

I’ve always felt a deep sense of misplacement, like there’s some other place or time that I’m supposed to be walking, talking and singing. The feeling is not the feeling that a lonely outcast would have, but the feeling that a lonely outcast among a bunch of other lonely outcasts would have. I’ve just recently discovered that’s just another trait of human nature, we all seem to hold within us a collective detachment from some original meeting place. We’re all misplaced souls, searching for the long and narrow highway that leads home: “we’re just going over Jordan, we’re just going over home”.  On this darker side of life we only catch glimpses of the other brighter side, and we take what we can get.

Hopefully “Of Old it was Recorded” is a small glimpse into that brighter side, that “golden shore” that’s been sung about a million times but still glimmers like its been recently polished.  Before writing any of the songs that make up the record I was exclusively listening to old-time blues/country gospel performers like Reverend Gary Davis, Blind Willie Johnson, Mississippi John Hurt, Buell Kazee (Kentucky banjo player/ballad singer and baptist minister who wrote a little book called “Faith is the Victory”) The Louvin Brothers, The Stanely Brothers, and The Carter Family.  I had written a decent number of songs in a couple short years since i first picked up a guitar back in 2007.  I began a sort of unintentional quest seeking the secret formula to songwriting.  I shut myself in my room and learned as many songs as I could until I got bored with other peoples words and had to write my own.  My searching finally revealed that songwriting required hard work and an irrational obsession to bring the unseen and unheard into the realm of reality:  I found at the artistic center a little thing called faith.  “Of Old” is not merely a collection of songs about faith but a holistic dealing with faith. The songs were like learning to speak again.

My parents moved out west from Tennessee and they tried everything they could to raise us kids the proper Southern way: my sisters took piano lessons, we went to church every Sunday and dressed our best, we didn’t cuss, didn’t cheat, didn’t lie, and we kept our elbows off the tables.  The only catch was we lived in the pacific Northwest, so that southern micro-culture didn’t hold up long. It was misplaced too.

I remember being ten years old and sitting cross-legged on the orange corduroy covered pews of that little country church. The old grange hall turned baptist church was filled with the typical small town crowd—mill workers, railroad workers, teachers, truck drivers, restaurant owners, the elderly, the unemployed, the kids that couldn’t sit still at school or Sunday school, recovering alcoholics, widows, ex-convicts, orphans, single-mothers, divorced dads, broken families, broken hearts. On Sundays the creaky wooden doors would bust open and a crowd of folks would flood into the building, shaking hands, sharing laughs, saying “God bless you, How’s uncle Jimmy doing?”. The women wore their dresses, the men donned their suits and ties, the big and small, rich and poor, strong and weak,  all felt the same unified joy and oneness in the Spirit. My father, the pastor, would announce: “Please stand and turn to Hymn #417, Are You Washed in the Blood of the Lamb” and the lady at the upright piano would plunk and pound away on an intro while the congregation frantically flipped through the hymnal to land on the proper page just in time for the first verse:”Have you been to Jesus for the cleansin’ pow’r'? Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb? Are you trusting fully in His grace this hour? Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?”.  As a young kid it was easy to get lost in the singing, so many voices: weary ones, happy ones, rattled ones, reluctant ones, pretty ones, southern ones, loud ones, quiet ones.  There were no demands put onto the music, no stylistic chains or impure motives, just the common sense that saints had been belting out these hymns for a hundred years.  Whatever anybody lacked in harmony, they made up for with heart.  Through those old songs any feelings of misplacement were replaced with the feeling of returning home at last.

Memories like these must have leaked out of me as I wrote the collection now known as “Of Old it was Recorded”.  The writing process was undoubtedly one of faith. It felt like I was reaching my hand into a song bag hoping there were a few more floating around that I could claim, sometimes I pulled out a pile of lint sometimes I pulled out a chorus.  The songs never felt forced, they came when they wanted to, whether I was ready or not. Maybe I should call it a clean sense of tradition, like i was starting fresh by discovering what had been there all along.  The songs seemed to come out of nowhere and at the strangest times.  I was sitting across from a friend at a restaurant when I suddenly got the chorus to “I’m Gonna Rest in Jesus”, I reached over for a napkin and wrote the words down.  Times like these I can credit to the fact that I was immersed in a community at Door of Hope, a challenging, revival-seeking, gospel-centered church.  I was hearing the gospel every week so the songs were merely overflow.

Most of the songs on “Of Old” stumbled into existence over a two month period at a place affectionately known as “The Clinton House”.  It was a predictably rainy fall in Portland and myself and four other guys had just moved into the dusty old American foursquare (I’m posed in front of it on the album cover) that was sent over by train from Chicago in the early 1900s. It was just another link in a long misplaced chain of events that led to the writing of these songs. When I played out on the porch I envisioned the old-time music that once had been played at its genesis, and the people that once shared that same humble stage.  My roommates and I decided to leave one of the bedrooms empty, set aside as a place for prayer, and the ongoing joke became: “Jesus is on the lease”.  The room was solid wood from floor to ceiling and the acoustics sounded like you were stuck inside the body of a pre-war Gibson.  We had regular prayer meetings and sometimes crammed about twenty people in that tiny room. As if the warmth from the body-heat wasn’t enough, we had candles lit throughout the night (side note: one night i accidentally caught my hair on fire on one of the candles). In between the prayers, myself and others would lead songs deep into the evening.  The walls were paper thin and the singing went out into the streets and up a few blocks.  I remember neighbors and passerbys coming to the door awestruck, wondering what was going on upstairs. The word ‘revival’ was on all our hearts and the house became known around the neighborhood as the “Jesus” house.

Needless to say, the prayer room was a true sanctuary of sound, and I spent many hours in the prayer room singing old songs and writing new songs.   I soon found that my new songs, mostly written for personal reflection, understanding, and confirmation of God’s grace, were resonating with the community around me and they wouldn’t stayed pinned down for long.  My audience shifted from myself to the people around me, and it was through their encouragement and confirmation that most of the songs were completed.

In many ways the songs on “Of Old” aren’t really anything new, the content has always been around, I merely made myself available to arrange them into new poems and songs.  The songs are topical, and they share the same old story that has been told over many generations and across many lands. These are songs of redemption, conviction, and reunion.  They present Jesus at Calvary,  the Blood of the Lamb, Saints and Sinners, “Heaven’s purest skies”.  The songs talk of the greatest misplacement in all of history: that wonderful and intentional misplacement theologians fancifully label Atonement, a pure picture of God’s grace going where it shouldn’t, to rebellious, evil-hearted sinners and God’s wrath also going where it shouldn’t, to God’s perfect, blameless and pleasing son.  They speak of that sacrifice made by Jesus and the burden he took on our behalf and the judgment rightly meant for a sinful world that could only be satisfied by the blood of Jesus.  It’s in this wonderful misplacement where humanity finds salvation and experiences grace. This is the story in which I have come to find a place to rest.  I hope that listeners can find a place in this story as well.

-Wesley Randolph Eader