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Lincoln Highway catalog page at Curious Automata
“Good album, by the way.”
I was playing songs from a parallel world in a Wyoming field when it hit me: I needed to make this album, about a road’s ghost. The High Plains are haunted by many lost paths. Historic trails like the Overland, Oregon, and Pony Express. Abandoned rail lines. And two-lane roads now decaying next to federal highways.
My Grandma Betty was born in Wyoming in 1926―the same year the transcontinental Lincoln Highway became just “Highway 30.” She insisted that it was the true Great American Road―Route 66 was just asphalt with a catchy jingle. And Otho Bishop, my great-grandfather, told stories about the highway’s dedication in 1913. Tales of how connected he felt, standing on 4th Street in the tiny town of Burns, knowing he could follow that road west all the way to Lincoln Park in San Francisco, or east to New York’s Times Square.