Oh, those verdant, dreaming days of youth, fumbling through life's bouquet of encounters with naive passion, mildly aware of consequences, both grave and fickle. My antennae quivering in the breeze, sensing endless potential while my heart dreamed of romance and my mind wielded its barely-earned sense of nostalgia like a gilded cudgel. These years spread out in my memory like a single ribbon of endless Michigan summer. Inhaling the rich tones of E.L.O., the Beach Boys, and the Zombies, I exhaled sweetly seasoned pop songs, dense with orchestrations, hidden details, and shimmering falsetto harmonies. I was dogged and purposeful, cloaked in my vintage leather coat of many colors, conjuring from the chaos of my mid-20s a brief, but shining musical memoir. Unfettered by future cynicism, righteous in my artistic affirmation, influences worn proudly on sleeves. 
Created alongside what would later become Great Lakes Myth Society's debut, Summer Cherry Ghosts was sourced from a well of self-mythology and wanderlust, extracting its robust flavor profile from my growing menu of life experience. Still under the spell of New York (city and state), the album's initial sessions began in the bucolic Finger Lakes hamlet of Hammondsport with the wonderful Benjamin Ridley Jr. engineering and playing drums. Back home in Michigan, my mentor, Geoff Michael, and a crew of collaborators helped shepherd it to fulfillment at Big Sky Recording, just down the road from the Ann Arbor violin shop where I worked by day. A scholarly devotion to crate-digging had led me to drop out of college and work at a record store. I'd been studying the masters since childhood. Summer Cherry Ghosts was what I thought a first album was supposed to be. A tale begun with an exclamation point. A tribute to what came before. A celebration of the self. An exaltation of all the rock narratives I'd studied thus far and would continue to hold dear for years to come. - TM