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BONEYARD. Desolate. Grim. Lifeless. Haunting. Yet to others – spiritual, ceremonial, full of history and blood stained to the roots. There is meaning on those grounds. It’s a place we go for our ancestry,  to commune with our legacies and remind ourselves of our purpose in the world. The boneyard is both frightening and necessary. A part of life we can’t escape and one that we should never forget. It’s medicine.

Music is a constant. Something that melts everything away and builds power from nothing. Fear is replaced with security… no, invincibility.  Emotionally, it’s a necessary companion. To have the ability to tell a story musically is a blessing. And the reward is compounded as a performer. Truly a healing power.

-John Randolph

CRIER: A town officer who makes public proclamations. Every community needs one. A boisterous alarm. All harken the calls from every corner of tradition and heed the collective voices of yesteryear. Unafraid and honored with this responsibility as bearer of weighted messages to be laid across the land, a Crier is fearless and with a driving need to inform the unassuming public. The city. The neighborhood. The masses should be so lucky.

We should never, ever, ever forget our past. Music is that lifeline. I had no idea that most the songs I grew to love and admire were actually built and inspired almost 50 years prior. From a generation of not musicians, but farmers, slaves, vagabonds, alcoholics and oppressed individuals came the stories I’d eventually cover with my own bands. It wasn’t until I met these throwbacks, my bandmates who loved old music that I learned where they came from. It brings so much more to the song.

– Mercy Baron

Boneyard Criers stumbled upon each other through a series of mishaps and unpredictable magic. Remarkably they have found a way to make something out of almost nothing. Literally nothing. Individually they are writers, players, performers, poets, artists, technicians and most of all complete misfits. Rejected, outcasted, mocked, fired – motivated. Thirty seconds into a performance and it’s clear that none of them really give a damn. Comfortably they reside in the shadow casted by mainstream pop music and ‘love songs’ simply aren’t part of their lineup. Yet one thing ties these characters all together as a band – the love of raw, unfiltered story telling in the traditional old world style. All they want to do is keep it alive, on the record books and in your head. Welcome to Boneyard Criers.


– Doc Schoenblum