The whole of this story started in the year of our Yak two thousand and six, when a band of misfits gathered at the table of misery to find empathy. What flowed from there was a hazy mix of ale, strong drink and music. Pay no heed to the boasts that came from their lips, for all men full of the drink are rabid liars. Yet the music somehow brought these animals some ease, even I dare say satisfaction. Even to this day lords and vassals of music have a hard time assessing these chaotic beasts. “What are they doing?”, they cry and bemoan; only to be tempted by the movement of air these lumbering gypsy have imparted. Frolicking and trickery are their Nom de Plum, wandering and story telling their character. Be thou inclined to join this rabble, be warned, they are an intent hoi polloi on traveling far and wide. They seek quarter where ever a crease in the door is offered. They eat like the ravenous animals you behold. These Gypsy Lumberjacks play music for the love of life and the people that are entwined in being full. Delving into the world of sound can be full of hate, love, anger, joy and the multitude of emotions that people feel everyday. It is this time when the husk is removed and one can join their fellow human without paranoia.