On the Mountain

This song exists because I was once airlifted off of a mountain by emergency helicopter. It was a mountain I’d hiked before, and I’m an experienced hiker. But that year there had been heavier snowfall that melted and overwatered the vegetation, which then took over the trail. It was so overgrown that I lost the trail several times, and I could only move at a fraction of normal speed, so the hike that was supposed to be 6 hours became 11, and night was falling. It was a strange and embarrassing feeling to need rescuing from a mountain where I’d felt, in years past, a comforting feeling of belonging. Even today, mountains are a great source of comfort, and I’d still say that I feel “found” between canyon walls. But the truth is the paradox that the same place, person, or group of people that can make you feel found, can also make you feel lost. Both things can be true at the same time, in the same location. It’s confusing and beautiful, and I’m endlessly fascinated by concepts that are double-sided like this. “How can beauty hold both the warm and cold/Both the hurt along with the hoping?”

And so, not only does the text to On The Mountain describe this phenomenon, I aimed to convey that in the music as well: a melody that feels in an old folk tradition, with a military-style snare for company; to me, this is found. The lost comes when the “way, way, oh” chorus becomes a repeating loop with more modern rhythm and harmonic texture. Like losing a trail and retracing your steps, this cloudy looped section is the feeling of lost to me, and the single soprano soloist rises above like a bird…or like a helicopter.

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