U.S. Christmas / USX

When one lives close to the present, Christmas seems always near. This is a fresh find and these creations drive my nose to run. It is probably unwise to label these sounds, but soulful meditative rock feels appropriate. The flow grew strong while listening to “The Valley Path”. This is shoulder dropping for me and any tension formerly unaware of is noticed dropping away.  That warm flow of contentment rises to the crown and the eyes and nose begin to blush as to cleanse and heal. This burns good.  Music and art can be such a beautiful distraction, but it is possible for music to help drive us inwardly, towards home. Literally in some cases, but some secrets do lovers keep, and a love affair with US Christmas has begun here this morning.

Just read this from their homepage and Nate’s words leave me smiling.

There is a hazy place in my mind where I can see the music in our future. And when I look back on our past, it is clear that our music was always there. Some things are supposed to happen, and this world has a way of manifesting its will. I do not know what will happen, I only know part of what is possible. As always, there are no guarantees. Neil Young once said: Rock and roll and security have no place together.

He was right about that.

USX has always been a willing dive into the unknown. Things happen without our control, and even in the most powerful and united moments, there is something at work that none of us fully understand. We are always on the edge of collapsing into chaos, and I think that is the only real way to create music. However, maybe all I really know about guitar is this: When I hit it just right, the energy travels out from me and never stops. Like all true things, it finds a circular path forever. Relate this to your own life how you will, all I know is my life: My experience, my loves and hates, my dreams and their songs. I am part of a band whose members live apart from me the majority of the time. They have their own lives to live, and I often wonder how we keep such a strong connection – the mind-meld that we all feel without ever speaking of it. Somehow, it works. It always has.

The blessings of this life are mysterious. This nebulous channel has always come to meet us, inspire us, use us and live within us. May you all feel the power of your own connection, for we all live within this sprawling miracle.

Nate – USX
November, 2013

I’ve got nothing to add to that. Here are some links


Album “Salt the Wound”


Article from Indyweek 2010.


The first video shared is 40 minutes long. The good of that is time takes a back seat with this tune. The bad is not having 40 straight quiet minutes to listen to it. Once I entered into this tune time grew irrelevant. The second tune is a bit more “traditional” but is full of raw emotion to me. The last is the first heard by me from U.S. Christmas.

The preacher raised a finger.  He plunged it into the Bible, his eyes roving the benches.  When the text was spread before him on the printed page he looked to see what the Lord had chosen.  He began to read.  I knew then where his mouth was in the beard growth.

“‘The sea saw it and fled:  Jordan was driven back.  The mountains skipped like rams, and the little hills like lambs.  Tremble, thou earth…’ ”

He snapped the book to.  He leaned over the pulpit.

“I was borned in a ridge-pocket,” he said.  “I never seed the sun-ball withouten heisting my chin.  My eyes were sot upon the hills from the beginning.  Till I come on the Word in this good Book, I used to think a mountain was the standingest object in the sight o’ God.  Hit says here they go skipping and hopping like sheep, a-rising and a-falling.  These hills are jist dirt waves, washing through eternity.  My brethren, they hain’t a valley so low but what hit’ll rise agin.  They hain’t a hill standing so proud but hit’ll sink to the low ground o’sorrow.  Oh, my children, where are we going on this mighty river of earth, a-borning, begetting, and a-dying – the living and the dead riding the waters?  Where air it sweeping us?” An excerpt from James Still’s “River of Earth”








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