Let’s make some wishes baby win the dream in stars aligned
Play in the kismet daily drifting with the one design
We’ll take the hits so saintly learn our scales and practice lines
We’ll cure the distance, break the borders between you and I

But if you want me, just give me a sign

We'll watch the clock tick baby turn the silver key behind 
Tune in to sister stations trade our futures all so blind
We’re good with patience lately, wake the comatose inside
We let the symbols save us ride the wave of space and time

We’ll keep the presence in the band
The music helps us understand
We’ll take the air, we’ll take the land
The synchronistic happenstance coincidental luck in hand
But if you want me, give me a sign

No one will hold us under
No one here is so misunderstood as we are

Let’s make some wishes baby win the dream in stars aligned
We’ll cure the distance, break the borders between you and I

Dedicated to Tim Jenkins
Recording and mixing - Chris deVitry, Bon Accord Studio, Lancaster Pa, 2023
*Drums (Nova + Rabble) recorded at the Watermelon Room, Baltimore MD
Mastering - Saturation Acres
Special thanks to: Megan

Holly Andrew - vocals
John (Milo) Milosich  - accordion, vocals
Michael Filippo - guitar, vocals
Jon Godinez - bass
Reinaldo Ocando - drums

Camp

Sign

Nova proud burning dark into dawn,
throw your photons aside come wake me from slumber
Slowly I whisper the words of a song
soon they ring through the morn, the lark, she is humbled

Floating in golden great halos arrive 
Sending shadows behind the sliding horizon 
(quiet and gently dissolving my dreams)
Loading (fade away the dark of the night) the loneliest soundtrack of life
The narration so seamlessly timed (drowning all demons refusing to hide)
And the drone growing louder

But please leave hold your memory of sound and sight 
Of how in sorrow I cried in the night for some cosmic design
Please leave hold your memory of sound and sight
We are blinded by right, how we fight when our heart takes a tumble

Don’t lock the door, we’re outside in the night, we await your desire.
Simply shut out the light, until morning, morning
Don’t lock the door, we’re outside in the night, simply shut out the light
We will tame too this fire, it’s your warning, 

Round, round on the burning ground
Turn to the fire while the sun goes down
Burning, burning, Nova, Nova.	

Dedicated to Tim Jenkins
Recording and mixing - Chris deVitry, Bon Accord Studio, Lancaster Pa, 2023
*Drums (Nova + Rabble) recorded at the Watermelon Room, Baltimore MD
Mastering - Saturation Acres
Special thanks to: Megan

John (Milo) Milosich  - accordion, vocals
Claudia Harrison - vocals
Michael Filippo - guitar, vocals
Chris deVitry - fiddle, vocals
Greg Walker - drums
Will Galliano - bass

Nova

The Legend of the Fire Dog goes like this:

A million years ago, there was a fire dog.  Known for his speed and constant motion, he spent all of his time running and racing around.  He basically never stopped.  If it wasn’t one thing he was chasing after, it was another.  If it wasn’t one place he was in a hurry to get to, it was another.   It wasn’t his fault.  He was like us - his heart was unsettled.  He had that constant feeling, that constant need to get to the next thing, and the next thing and the next thing.  Somewhere else he needed to be, something else that he needed to have, someone else he needed to see, somehow else he needed to be.  So he ran and raced, here to there always on the move, always flashing by, never stopping, always going, always chasing.  Until one day, by accident, he wasn’t watching where he was going, and he tripped and fell into a deep well.  His head hit the bottom, and he was knocked into dream.

Dark and quiet, the firedog’s consciousness spilled into the crust of the earth.  The shadow world cracked open to reveal herself.  He lapped from the dog dish of desire, fell from the bone and vanished into the ether, rolling into the primordial, drifting into the ever-present everywhere unbeliefable time gone out for a swim, the mane and the mast cast out farther than thought could think about fetching, until he felt a tugging at his tail.

He awoke with a start, jumped to his feet, shook his face and fur, and took a good look.  Bricks and walls on high and all was where he was, down at the bottom of a well.  He began to jump, grasp and scratch at the sides, but his paws found no foothold.  He howled and barked and whined, but the well was so deep that barely a sound could escape.   Did he struggle for a year?  A century?  A millennia?  I don’t think even the Firedog knows how long it took his heart to realize that all the struggling did no good.  So, he sat.  And sat.

High above the well, a small circle of sky shone down on him.  Once a day, he might see a passing cloud or, once in a great while, the sun.  Once a night, he might see a passing star or, once in a great great while, the moon.
Or a falling leaf.  Or a speck of dust. He sat for an eternity.  Through the fear of never being found.  Through the aching loss of his former life.  Through the pain of his movement gone, the through the firedog now confined, through the boredom of an unchanging landscape of tall brick, the firedog sat through a forever.

Until one day there came a rain.  A rain that started with just a drop.  A drop that, at first he wasn’t sure that he actually felt.  Just a drop at first and so much time before the next.  But then the next, and the next, and the next, next.  Drop by drop it fell at first, but gradually, gradually it began to fall heavier and fuller and greater, and heavier and fuller and greater until it became a deluge.  A deluge so great that the well began to collect water, and that water rose, and soon the firedog had to start swimming, slowly rising up and up the well.  His legs ached.  His heart pounded.  His lungs burned.  But at last the water reached the top and spilled over onto the land he once knew.

And wet and exhausted, he breathed a deep breath of fresh, rainy air, shook off his coat, stretched his legs and saw that he was finally free.

He was just about to break into a sprint, when he stopped
and thought,
and decided,
that after all, after all he’d been through, he found that he liked 

To sit.

Dedicated to Tim Jenkins
Recording and mixing - Chris deVitry, Bon Accord Studio, Lancaster Pa, 2023
*Drums (Nova + Rabble) recorded at the Watermelon Room, Baltimore MD
Mastering - Saturation Acres
Special thanks to: Megan

John (Milo) Milosich  - voice, soprano recorder

Firedog

It’s the art of the moon to come pull at the sea
It’s the charge of the sun to come fracture the nighttime
It’s the mission received, dark and light
With the shadows beside and the seraphim sighted
Let the fisherman heave at Leviathan’s eyelid
Let the angels and thieves collide

I fight the angels come to steer me right
I burn their feathers still they guide my eyes
I try their patience though they guard my life
I’m firing curses as they time the lights

Skin and hair, blood, bone, breath married
Dedicated to Tim Jenkins
Recording and mixing - Chris deVitry, Bon Accord Studio, Lancaster Pa, 2023
Mastering - Saturation Acres
Special thanks to: Megan

John (Milo) Milosich  - acoustic guitar, vocals
Holly Andrew - vocals
Michael Filippo - guitar, vocals
Chris deVitry - fiddle
John Hursh - bass
Greg Malleus - drums

I Fight the Angels

Dedicated to Tim Jenkins
Recording and mixing - Chris deVitry, Bon Accord Studio, Lancaster Pa, 2023
Mastering - Saturation Acres
Special thanks to: Megan

John (Milo) Milosich  - voice

By Name

Tonight, the plans I make.
The things I will do, the things I will take.
You have the quill, you have the power to say
to let the truth be told, to let the pendulum sway
to know the queen will never win this game and I will be revealed 
by name

Oh Brothers Grim with the golden tales you spin
Filling up the dreams of women, children and men
but if you knew what it meant, would you do it again?
You watched our 1, 2, 3 nights of alchemy
you watched her trade it all in for silken sheets
For a golden wish she sold, you watched, she sold my child
for gold.

Pretty young thing catch the eye of the king, 
now to show him something special for that wedding ring
She and daddy made a story spinning gold from hay, 
Now it’s time to make good on the promises made
Now she’s Holding my heart, yeah, I’m a magic man, 
she’s begging “Please, my love, would you do what you can”
So I cast the spell, made her wish come true, 
Now she’s running straight for that shining spoon 
of gold. 

But we had shared more than just a promise that night
We combined our bodies, transmuted new life
And with a baby coming on, we’ve got a future to make
now the king bounces in and takes the woman away
Now there’s the broken-hearted, there’s the rich and the poor, 
there she’s shining in the light and I’m forgotten and torn
there’s a queen in a castle, there’s a lie to my son
made a prince kept hidden from his father
for gold. 

But the time has come, I’m bringing trouble for you
trouble for the man and the mansion too
You see I’ve packed the shot, I’ve cocked back the hammer
I’m gonna bring it down hard on all you mamma jammas
You can turn out the lights, lock the windows and doors
I’ll be comin through the walls and the ceilings and floors

Rumplestiltskin. 


Dedicated to Tim Jenkins
Recording and mixing - Chris deVitry, Bon Accord Studio, Lancaster Pa, 2023
Mastering - Saturation Acres
Special thanks to: Megan

John (Milo) Milosich  - accordion, vocals
Holly Andrew - vocals
Michael Filippo - guitar, vocals
Chris deVitry - fiddle, vocals
John Hursh - bass
Greg Malleus - drums, vocals

Rumplestiltskin

You’ve lost hold of your thoughts again 
gone missing from the sound and the sight of the maze
Forgotten the cost and spend 
the seconds and the minutes and the hours and the days
Trapped and in traction, reaction, don’t forget dissatisfaction
Time after time one currency of life we trade

Ever find your thoughts on repeat
when a day, week, month or a year has beat you
got you searching for service from verses and your mercury surging
all burning with burdens and girdled with nerves, you turn like a dervish
Captive and wrapped up and tragic, locked in a Labrynth learning  

about two kinds of gravity, two kinds of release we can seek, 
two ways we’re either caught or we’re free
of the hold on our thoughts and our bodies one keeps
the earth at our feet
keeps everything we touch and we breathe and we deem that we see
But great is the weight and the grip of the killer 
crippling our hearts and our minds of the prisoner

You told me. We’ve got a moment in the light.  
Will you own or throw the fight?  
Can you hold and grow with insight?
‘Cuz here comes the night.  
Every dawn is sewn in twilight.  
We are soldiers in the right. 
Be bold.  Be golden.  Be holy.  Be known.  
Be chosen.  Behold and be hope.  

But with a method we can break loose
with a vision and a ray of the truth, there’s a way we can be
Cut from the noose, 
from the ever-loop one-way talk-self-talk-self
though the work is not easy, the path is uphill
there’s a map in the grasp of the act with resolution and will.

So sit down, breathe in, breathe out, align your intent
Focus the moment, turn down the voice in your head
Attend to sensation, hold your ocean from motion see
Allow emotion to load and slowly grow into potency

Malaise will talk and test, complain of tension and doubt
Your mind will balk, object, call into question, give up, give out
But lean in, be vigilant, hold your heart, hold your gaze
For great is the beacon and the heat of the blaze.  
Steal the fire.  Torch the maze.

When we’re angry with someone, it can seem impossible to get our minds right.  We get caught having the same imaginary conversations, picturing the same scenes repeating themselves over and over in our mind’s eye.  We comfort ourselves with the same justifications, decide again and again on the same resolutions, unaware that we’ve actually lost the ability to direct our own thoughts and feelings.  Trapped in a mental maze.   But in every Labrynth, there’s an opportunity to change the path and grow.  If we sit and concentrate long enough on the feeling, hold tight and steady on the sensations we experience in the unrest, allowing them to grow and swell, then something miraculous happens.  The maze begins to catch fire.  And if we focus the light of our awareness right and long enough, the flames will grow and spread.  The whole illusion can burn down to nothing, and we can finally walk away from it, free to think and feel what we want.  

Dedicated to Tim Jenkins
Recording and mixing - Chris deVitry, Bon Accord Studio, Lancaster Pa, 2023
Mastering - Saturation Acres
Special thanks to: Megan

John (Milo) Milosich  - accordion, ukulele, vocals
Holly Andrew - vocals
Chris deVitry - fiddle, vocals
John Hursh - bass
Reinaldo Ocando - drums

Alchemy

In ancient Macedonia, before the possibly erroneous assassination of the final czar, the people would partake in a sacred week-long celebration called the Festival of Chins.  Every 17 ½ years, on the eve of the last cradle moon there would begin a marathon jubilee which played host to a number of symbolically significant events including but not limited to double-elimination pig-cart races, group mud-pit wrestling, forbidden talent showcases, eves-dropping and retribution competitions, the flaming acid briar patch jump, pessimist banishments, elderly steel cage matches and the always short-lived vorpal blade stunt demonstrations.  But for all its celebrated transformation, rebirth and injury, the entire occasion was for nothing without one single element - The Rhapsodic Dirge of Universal Lamentation.  Although it was severely taboo to tap, hum or even THINK of singing the Rhapsodic Dirge at any other time ever, the fate of the kingdom depended on its dutiful and passionate execution to close out the Festival of Chins, for you see it was said that all those who joined wholeheartedly in singing the Rhapsodic Dirge, no matter how sour or melodious their voices, were to be blessed, until the next Festival of Chins, with happy, healthy, adventurous love-making.  That's right, 17 ½ years of great sex, guaranteed.  But, BUT, those hesitant, those who refrained, those who did not lift their voices, and more importantly their hearts, in song were to be CURSED with the opposite.   I don't wish to alarm anyone listening, but today, this very day, just happens to be the eve of the last 17 ½ year cradle moon.  We're going to teach you the Rhapsodic Dirge, and then, for the good of us all, elicit your voices in a rousing chorus to bless us all with 17 ½ years of joy, prosperity, happiness, health, adventure, and most importantly, great sex.  Now again, it does not need to be beautifully sung.  In fact, just the opposite.  The more fully WORSE you sing the song, the better the 17 ½ year blessing. We'll sing it for you once, then it’ll be your turn to join in, a little bit louder and a little bit worse, a little bit slower with every verse, until we've reached the heavens and blessed us all with the wish of all wishes.  Are you ready to learn?  It goes like this…

Dedicated to Tim Jenkins
Recording and mixing - Chris deVitry, Bon Accord Studio, Lancaster Pa, 2023
Mastering - Saturation Acres
Special thanks to: Megan

John (Milo) Milosich  - accordion, vocals
Holly Andrew - vocals
Michael Filippo - vocals
Chris deVitry - vocals
John Hursh - bass
Greg Malleus - vocals
Greg Walker - drums

Rabble

Dedicated to Tim Jenkins
Recording and mixing - Chris deVitry, Bon Accord Studio, Lancaster Pa, 2023
Mastering - Saturation Acres
Special thanks to: Megan

John (Milo) Milosich  - flute
Michael Filippo - acoustic guitar

Remembering

You play violin I slowly spin
You sing high I sing low the band comes in
Arranging notes and pages all in hands entirely too small 
to hold and eyes too dim to see
Continuing to play the song if for too long 
and after modulating to the minor key

Now it’s been so long, it’s been so long
Though it’s been so long for so long now

You ask why I say why I don’t know
You remain unfazed by friend or foe
Eating apples red and green you throw away the peels 
but feed upon the stems and seeds and leaves
Citing all the pings and pongs, the offs and ons 
the rights and wrongs then some preparatory means

Now it’s so long, now it’s so long
Though it’s been so long for so long now
We’re been reckless divided, bold and misguided
now bearing the weight of the world 
now each robbed of our shoulders 					
For so long now, so so long now, so so long.

Now we belong.


Dedicated to Tim Jenkins
Recording and mixing - Chris deVitry, Bon Accord Studio, Lancaster Pa, 2023
Mastering - Saturation Acres
Special thanks to: Megan

Holly Andrew - vocals
John (Milo) Milosich  - accordion, vocals
Michael Filippo - guitar, vocals
Chris deVitry - fiddle, vocals
John Hursh - bass
Greg Malleus - drums, vocals

So Long

Welcome to Camp.  Grab a drum, grab a drink, grab a friend, untie, unthink.  Sing, sway, dance, play.  Wonder, ponder, listen, stay.  Stories deep, trees tall, embers rise, shadows fall.  Round the center burning right, air and wood for heat and light.  Open hearted, all we know, Holding space spirits grow.  Empty, fill, share, delight. Together here, one us, one night.

Dedicated to Tim Jenkins
Recording and mixing - Chris deVitry, Bon Accord Studio, Lancaster Pa, 2023
*Drums (Nova + Rabble) recorded at the Watermelon Room, Baltimore MD
Mastering - Saturation Acres
Special thanks to: Megan

John (Milo) Milosich  - accordion, vocals
Holly Andrew - vocals
Chris deVitry - vocals
Greg Malleus - vocals
Reinaldo Ocando - percussion

Campfire

Accordion-powered romp-rock; groove, grit and rhapsody.

Special thanks to our families, whose support allowed this music to be made.   

John “Milo” Milosich – lead vocals, accordion, acoustic guitar, kalimba
Tom Doorly – bass, vocals
Tim Jenkins – percussion, vocals
Jim Munster – electric guitar, vocals, acoustic guitar on Woven
Claudia Harrison – violin on Hiding in Love

One Precious Life was recorded by Bret Alexander at Saturation Acres Studio in Dupont, Pa in the winter of 2018.  
Produced by Tim Jenkins
Cover photo by Denisse Leon

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