A self-produced ditty that summons a Beggar's Banquet-era Mick Jagger fronting The Band covering Creedence Clearwater Revival by a group of dudes who are practiced at the art of drinking, smoking, and straight west-coasting. 

Down In Her Grave

A jaunty joint justifying the jettison of a jilted lover. 

I Don't Care

The Moon

It's hard to say exactly when Makeshift Skyline was forged into the ether of the dry, often inclement, and unforgiving bowels of the Southwestern desert. Some say it was on a night not unlike tonight, many, many years ago when childhood friends Jeremy Locarni, a bookstore manager, and Russell Schacherer, a grocery clerk, began recording haunting Dylan-esque melodies and jangly, disjointed chord structures that seemingly summoned the spirit of the still-living Tom Waits.

Soon, along came Matthew Reveles, a notorious undesirable who had a penchant for staking claim to many a living room couch, and whose own musical stylings were somewhat reminiscent of Gram Parsons or the immortal Hank Williams.

For years the godless trio wandered the deserted wastelands and barren wilderness that made up the greater Northwest valley, making fast friends with lowlifes and bands of thieves, pickpockets, and cheats alike, making rowdy and boisterous music wherever they went, and leaving a trail of empty whiskey bottles and broken hearts in their wake.

Eventually, Jeff "The Kid" Beene joined the ranks of this disparate and unlikely contingent of swashbucklers, adapting his extensive knowledge of the traditional guitar to a dusty, shabby, and lonely upright bass which had taken up residence in an isolated corner of a dark and empty bar, long forgotten by time.

Finally, Mando Calrissian, who had previously been known for his stint as a cellist with the symphony orchestra and general gun-for-hire, joined the troupe of ruffians, lending his classically trained hands to the lead and slide guitars, among other instruments. His was an otherworldly skillset, the kind no loving god would ever bestow upon a mere mortal.

At last, the amalgamation was complete. The transformation had successfully culminated in the eternal bonding of these hapless souls, whose respective talents and influences would combine to collectively change the shape of music, if only ever so slightly.

Of course, that's just one of many legends concerning the formation of the most mysterious and enigmatic, yet seminal and elemental bands of our modern time. Who's to say what really happened? 