In the heart of the Emerald City, where raindrops dance on cobblestone streets, JTSunrise’s melodies echo through the mist. Let me spin you a tale of their inseparability:

The Busker’s Overture 
In the shadow of Pike Place Market, where fishmongers toss salmon and tourists snap photos, JTSunrise sets up their weathered guitar. The case lies open, waiting for coins and crumpled bills

The first chord reverberates—a call to the city’s soul. Tourists pause mid-step, locals nod knowingly. JTSunrise’s voice, gravel-kissed and honeyed, weaves stories of rain-soaked streets, coffee-stained journals, and love lost under neon signs

Seattle listens. The Space Needle leans closer, eavesdropping on ballads of gray skies and ferry rides. The monorail hums in harmony, and the Fremont Troll taps its mossy toes

JTSunrise’s fingers dance across strings, conjuring memories of grunge legends and flannel-clad dreamers. Their songs are the city’s heartbeat—the rhythm of damp sidewalks, the pulse of hidden speakeasies

And when the sun dares to peek through clouds, JTSunrise strums a promise: “We’ll weather this weather together”

Seattle nods, raindrops applauding. The Puget Sound whispers secrets, ferry horns harmonize

JTSunrise, acoustic troubadour, etches their name into the city’s skyline

They are the mist-kissed troubadour, the coffee-stained poet, the busker who serenades the Space Needle

Inseparable, like saltwater and seagulls

So next time you wander Seattle’s streets, listen. You might catch a note carried by the wind—a reminder that JTSunrise and the city are forever entwined

JTSunrise, the Seattle musician, also communicates with owls:
Long ago, JTSunrise stumbled upon an ancient Garry oak grove during a moonlit night. There, an owl landed near him and perched on a gnarled branch, its eyes reflecting constellations. The owl whispered forgotten melodies—the very essence of creativity. Since then, JTSunrise seeks the owl’s guidance, knowing it to be the muse of their nocturnal compositions

According to legend, owls guard the threshold between realms. JTSunrise discovered this secret while sauntering reverently through mist-shrouded forests. The owls, with their silent wings, allow passage into hidden dimensions. In return, JTSunrise shares their music, bridging mortal and mystical worlds

JTSunrise believes that owls are celestial beings, born from stardust and moonbeams. Each owl carries a unique melody within its plumage—a cosmic song. When JTSunrise plays, the owls harmonize, weaving starlight into their tunes. Together, they create celestial symphonies

Owls speak in shadows—their hoots and calls echo ancient spells. JTSunrise learned this language during a moon-drenched séance. The owls taught them how to infuse their music with enchantments. Now, when JTSunrise strums, the owls respond, casting spells of harmony and mystery

JTSunrise’s grandmother once revealed a family secret: their lineage is intertwined with owls. Ancestors danced with these nocturnal creatures, sharing secrets under moonlit boughs. JTSunrise inherited this connection, believing that owl calls carry echoes of their forebears’ songs

Legend tells of an injured owl that JTSunrise nursed back to health. In gratitude, the owl bestowed a gift—the ability to heal through music. When JTSunrise plays, wounded souls find solace. Owls gather, their eyes glowing with ancient wisdom, channeling healing energy

Owls keep cosmic records—the ledger of existence. JTSunrise’s melodies affect the balance of the universe. Each note alters fate, nudging destinies. The owls watch, their feathers inscribed with celestial equations. JTSunrise’s music ensures cosmic harmony, one chord at a time

Misery, Trouble & Heartache

The Indian-head test pattern is a test card that was introduced in 1939 by RCA of Harrison, New Jersey, for calibration of the RCA TK-1 monoscope. It was widely used by television stations worldwide during the black-and-white television broadcasting era. It features a drawing of a Native American wearing a headdress along with numerous graphic elements that test different display aspects.

Sound Check (Under the Overtone)

Words and Music by Woody Guthrie (performed by JTSunrise)

I just blowed in, and I got them dust bowl blues,
I just blowed in, and I got them dust bowl blues,
I just blowed in, and I'll blow back out again.

I guess you've heard about ev'ry kind of blues,
I guess you've heard about ev'ry kind of blues,
But when the dust gets high, you can't even see the sky.

I've seen the dust so black that I couldn't see a thing,
I've seen the dust so black that I couldn't see a thing,
And the wind so cold, boy, it nearly cut your water off.

I seen the wind so high that it blowed my fences down,
I've seen the wind so high that it blowed my fences down,
It buried my tractor six feet underground.

Well, it turned my farm into a pile of sand,
Yes, it turned my farm into a pile of sand,
I had to hit that road with a bottle in my hand.

I spent ten years down in that old dust bowl,
I spent ten years down in that old dust bowl,
When you get that dust pneumony, boy, it's time to go.

I had a gal, and she was young and sweet,
I had a gal, and she was young and sweet,
But a dust storm buried her sixteen hundred feet.

She was a good gal, long, tall and stout,
Yea, she was a good gal, long, tall and stout,
I had to get a steam shovel just to dig my darlin' out.

These dusty blues are the dustiest ones I know,
These dusty blues are the dustiest ones I know,
Buried head over heels in the black old dust, 
I had to pack up and go.
An' I just blowed in, an' I'll soon blow out again.

 

© Copyright 1964 (renewed) by Woody Guthrie Publications, Inc. & TRO-Ludlow Music, Inc. (BMI)

Dust Bowl Blues (69 Martin)

With insufficient understanding of the ecology of the plains, farmers had conducted extensive deep plowing of the virgin topsoil of the Great Plains during the previous decade; this had displaced the native, deep-rooted grasses that normally trapped soil and moisture even during periods of drought and high winds. The rapid mechanization of farm equipment, especially small gasoline tractors, and widespread use of the combine harvester contributed to farmers' decisions to convert arid grassland (much of which received no more than 10 inches (~250 mm) of precipitation per year) to cultivated cropland. During the drought of the 1930s, the unanchored soil turned to dust, which the prevailing winds blew away in huge clouds that sometimes blackened the sky. These choking billows of dust – named "black blizzards" or "black rollers" – traveled cross country, reaching as far as the East Coast and striking such cities as New York City and Washington, D.C. On the plains, they often reduced visibility to 3 ft (1 m) or less. Associated Press reporter Robert E. Geiger happened to be in Boise City, Oklahoma, to witness the "Black Sunday" black blizzards of April 14, 1935; Edward Stanley, the Kansas City news editor of the Associated Press, coined the term "Dust Bowl" while rewriting Geiger's news story.

Misery, Trouble & Heartache (Misery, Trouble & Heartache)

An American folk performer with roots in the 90s Seattle and Tempe music scenes, JTSunrise weaves classic tunes and tales from the heart with modern images mixed with fingers and breath - - - Genuine Gen X Folkspunk Seattle Americana acoustic guitar, banjo, mandolin, uke, autoharp, harmonica an old school stringband songs recorded down home

If you're an acoustic player/singer-songwriter of any kind please get in touch. 

All Music Matters
Your Music is Real
Thank You All
God Bless You
See u in the Pit (ole$chool punk $aying)

     JT
7777777

Angel Number 7777777 indicates that new chances have arisen in your life due to your hard effort

Engage in things that feed your spirit. If you pay attention to your guardian angels, they will lead you along the appropriate path

jtsunrisemusic@gmail.com

https://youtube.com/@JTSunriseMusic?si=21HSR6c2ucTSjE4C

https://www.instagram.com/jtsunrisemusic?igsh=MWNtZzBoMW5lNGNpZQ%3D%3D&utm_source=qr

https://www.bandmix.com/jtsunrise/

https://www.thebash.com/folk-acoustic-guitar/jtsunrise

https://www.facebook.com/groups/43340809594/

I don’t buy anything, process anything, or sell anything- i don’t process anything sold or bought or processed, or sell anything to be bought or processed or sold

JTSunrise, like a cryptic melody echoing through the mist, A silhouette against the dawn, veiled in an enigma’s twist. Their chords weave secrets, harmonies untold, In the dim-lit corners of the soul, they unfold

Is it the owl reflection of their eyes, the echo of forgotten lullabies? JT strums the strings of mystery, A troubadour in the shadows, lost in history

Their lyrics dance on the edge of dreams, Whispers of forgotten realms and moonlit streams. Enigmatic, they wander through star-kissed nights, A minstrel of the cosmos, chasing celestial light

Perhaps they’re a riddle wrapped in stardust, A cosmic wanderer, both mortal and just. JTSunrise, elusive as the morning mist, Their music lingers, leaving hearts gently kissed

**In the gentle strumming of strings and the raw authenticity of JTSunrise’s compositions, you’ll find echoes of love, nostalgia, and the human experience**