NightHorse by the AwesomeHots

If one was to wander beyond wide open prairies where broad fields of wheat brush the sky, across gully and foothill and glacial stream, through stands of pine in valleys green, one might find tucked amongst the shadows of the Rocky Mountains a town of most curious character.

For the town of Breathless, they say, is a town with no roots.

Forever populated by vagabonds and wanderers, nomads and drifters, explorers, adventurers, ramblers, rovers, and seekers of all stripes, the history of Breathless is one shrouded in conjecture and speculation, recounted with aplomb but heeded with uncertainty.

So little is known of the town's true past -that is to say the past not coloured by the myth and legend that flow from the mouths of vagrants- that even the etymology of its name has been the subject of heated debate.

Breathless.

One could easily attribute this moniker to the vistas that surround the town’s particular terrestrial disposition. Such idyllic scenes could vacate the lungs of even the most callous of mortal who might linger to drink them in. The unspoken legend that is most oft’ agreed upon, however, surmises that the town's name grew from a much more macabre tradition. Legend has it that the name Breathless refers to the sheer number of roving marauders and ne'er do wells who once found justice at the cruel end of a noose in this town, for Breathless is a place where the truth finds its own means and justice its own purpose.

As Breathless is not without villains, so too is it not without heroes. Where danger lurks in the dark of night, there you will also find the Nighthorse - for it is only thus that wrongs can be righted, the meting out of justice with a fiery glare. Armed with the power of righteousness, the Nighthorse keeps Breathless safe for the pure of heart.

The record herein contains tales of passage, of longing and of wanderlust. Tales of landlocked dreamers, as some would say, marooned on the prairies with visions of the sea, tasting salt on the breeze with the rolling surf seared vivid in the mind’s eye. These are, at the same time, tales of returning, of finding home, of coming back to a place of repose.

A place where the view just might take your breath away.

With a musical tea steeped in nostalgia, sweetened with a songbird voice, roughed up with a squeeze of country twang and bolstered by a jigger of Canadian whiskey, the AwesomeHots serve up a hot toddy of irreverent parlour folk.
It's a rag tag olde timey campfire singalong with dark undertones and sea feelings.