The idea spawned from reading a pair of classics – “East of Eden” by Steinbeck and “100 Years of Solitude” by Garcia Marquez. I read them around the same time and I adored them both. Watching people's actions and family traits play out over multiple generations was fascinating to me. I thought about them for months afterwards. And then an idea struck me. 

What would it be like to create a family saga in the medium of records?

This was back in 2008. The original plan was to create three short releases, maybe 7 or 8 songs a piece, that each represented a generation of a family. I assumed I’d spend about three years on the project. My estimation wasn’t even close. Once I started writing, it spiraled into an 8-year, 44-song behemoth.

I began by looking up genealogy charts, dating back about 200 years, and using the gaps in information to invent stories of who these people might have been. Since you’re often left with only birth and death records -- perhaps an obituary, if you are lucky -- there's plenty of space to speculate. I also wanted to incorporate magical realism, akin to what was woven throughout “100 Years of Solitude.” I’ve always loved small bits of fantasy or surrealism in stories.

I collected all my ideas into an assemblage of a family tree, borrowing from the visual diagrams I saw in those genealogy charts. Then the visuals gave me another idea. What if there were chord charts and harmonic choices related to the various branches? What if I treated components of music like genetics, letting them evolve a bit with each new family member? This concept was really exciting to me, and it gave the project a stronger sense of cohesion.

My last piece of organization was to show time passing via production choices. To implement this, I wrote a set of rules for each album. The Roots had five main songwriting tools: voices, piano, acoustic guitar, strings and small percussion. I wanted to focus on instruments that might have been in use around the time. The Branches introduced drums sets, electric guitars, and lots of metal sounds into the mix, hinting at the industrial revolution. And The Leaves allowed for synthesizers, drum machines and samples as a nod toward the modern age.

Between 2008 and 2010, I wrote over 60 songs for the project, sans lyrics. That felt overwhelming, so I whittled it down to about 40. I divided those tracks into the three main albums, and each record had a few songs that were written during the time of recording.

The Bastards is the exception. That record became a holding pen for the songs that were eventually removed from the main three albums. But not because I was unhappy with the results. I just couldn’t find a good spot for them in the track order and I like albums to have a certain flow.

The only major change that occurred over those eight years was during the recording of The Leaves. I’d been weaving personal stories into the series from the get-go, but never directly. I’ve historically written about my life in half-truths, or by removing all personal details so that the song is reduced to a general human experience. But events surrounding my family in 2015 were so overwhelming that I didn’t know what else to talk about and I started writing about where I personally come from. I had reserved most of the lyric writing until I was in the midst of recording each album, so the music on The Leaves had largely been sketched out, but the words had not.

So the saga came to a close in a very personal way, far smaller than intended. And instead of closure, I found myself just beginning to make sense of my own family tree. A road I only recently stopped wandering down so much, over a decade later.

Or more accurately, she was sent away.

The day her abnormality was discovered by their neighbors, they woke to an angry, terrified mob on their front lawn. The locals were convinced she was some sort of demon and they demanded she be turned over. Her father convinced them to leave by reminding everyone that he was a good shot. It worked, but it was clear she could no longer stay in town.

Within a few days she was sent to live with her cousins, the Applegates.

The Applegate family owned a large house near the coast. The head of the family was also the head of the local church, and their lives completely revolved around their faith. Katelyn eventually relaxed into the structure of her new life, deeply appreciating the newfound sense of order. And through private late-night experiments, she eventually found a way to keep her reflection out of any nearby mirrors.

Katelyn eventually married and had two daughters of her own, but her paranoia about her strange bloodline had never stopped growing. By the time her youngest daughter was five, Katelyn was entirely housebound, and her prayers had taken on the texture of a compulsive, nervous tic.

This song is narrated by Katelyn's oldest daughter, Mary, chronicling the day their father finally took them to live with their Aunts.


(Click Here to read the short story that accompanies this song)

This time we are seeing through Bailey's eyes.

Bailey was never talkative. He was a poor student, but mostly because he could never keep his letters straight. They danced around on the page, unruly as mosquitos, and it took intense effort to read more than a few lines at a time. He also had trouble mixing up his syllables, so he spoke very carefully. Most people thought he was a little slow, mentally speaking, but he was very observant and had a strong memory. If he felt comfortable enough to share his thoughts, people were often startled by his philosophical outlook on life.

In this song, Bailey and Jim are fishing beside their favorite creek on a quiet Sunday morning. While watching the water, Bailey's mind turns toward the act of baptizing. He wonders aloud if perhaps we just like being held down and feeling clean.

Then he notices that Jim is in a troubled mood, and he does his best to comfort his friend.

To follow Bailey's story ... See "Rivers in the Dust" from the album The Leaves

America had just officially declared war on Germany, ending three years of US neutrality. 

Richard went against his parent's wishes by enlisting, but he had reasons he couldn't share. Richard's sexuality was crystal clear to him as soon as puberty hit. His teenage years were full of self-loathing and attempts to suppress his attraction to other men. He feigned interest in girls his age, but always begged religious if they returned his mock affections. This act worked well enough for five or six years, but when as was approaching twenty, his family grew insistent that he find a wife. He chose the war instead.

This song is about the first time he fell in love, with a fellow soldier named Joseph, whose ideas and demeanor were unlike anything Richard had ever been around.

To follow Richard's story ... See "The Ship in Port" from the album The Leaves

She met a man named Conor the year before and, much like her grandparents, didn't care what it did to her reputation. She was in love and would not be dissuaded, no matter how strict her mother and uncle became.

When Conor found work on the coast -- he was an apt fisherman -- she ran away with him. Life was good for a brief window. He was doing well with his job, and she'd found a family who needed a housekeeper. But when rumors about them living together out of wedlock got around the small, religious town, he got into a knife fight defending her name.

This song is from Conor's point of view, as he's bleeding out on their bedroom floor.

When word traveled through town that Conor had died, and why, she was let go as a housekeeper. Not that she cared very much. The man she loved was gone, along with any reason to remain in that town.

In this song Genevieve walks through the home they shared, images of that terrible day flashing through her mind, leaving a trail of petrol behind her. Then she tosses a match through the open door and walks away for good.

To follow Genevieve's story ... See "West" from this same album

The same Applegate family that took in Katelyn, from the song "Sisters."

Nathan was a soft-spoken and very inward child. He often played alone. His parents attempts to have him join in with other children from the church always fell flat. He wasn't disobedient, but he was often described as "having his head in the clouds" by people in the area.

When he began hearing voices, his mother took it very poorly. She vented more and more about how she'd never understood him. Stories of her pregnancy with him ballooned and mutated. She started to suspect that the devil was in the mix, and that's why her morning sickness had been so much worse. The more she spoke this way, the more afraid of him she became. Eventually, she couldn't handle her anxiety and she convinced her husband to have him comitted to the asylum miles up the road.

The text of this song stems from diary entries Nathan wrote while in the mental institution.

It's the body of his son, Christopher/Chase, in a makeshift coffin. The bullet wound proved fatal in the end.

Severus's gambit, seen in the video for "Holy Branches", paid off. Stone finally stopped feeling so guilty once had some space from so many reminders. He never forgot his brother, of course, but Severus had created room for new relationships.

Stone slowly became more integrated into life around town. He had a good sense of humor, and now that he wasn't always so lost in thought, he was surprisingly conversational. He was handy and didn't mind helping others with issues around their homes. 

And on an unremarkable day, sometime in the fall of his fiftieth year, the connective tissue keeping Severus bound to his mind dissolved. Severus slipped away peacefully without Stone even realizing, just the way he'd hoped.

In time, Stone even took someone into his home. An orphan boy, who reminded him of his young self, was having trouble adapting to the rules of the orphanage. Stone said he could probably set him straight, and they were more than willing to let him try. They often butt heads, but Stone didn't mind. He was well acquainted with stubbornness.

This song is from Stone's point of view, talking to his ward on their porch, urging the boy to see that while things don't always work out how we'd like, it's better to just keep on moving. You never really know how things will wind up in the end.

(Quick note: the music video has nothing to do with the story of The Family Tree)

Thought she and Conor were never wed, she considered herself a widow. Her second choice in a mate, Henry, was more practical than passionate. But she loved him in her way. He wasn't as charming as Conor, and nowhere near as bright, but he worked hard and didn't complain.

Their fates changed when word of the gold rush in San Francisco reached their town. Henry was entirely taken in by the gold rush fever, and since she wasn't ready to start a family, he suggested they sell the home and head west. Within a couple months, he'd talked Genevieve into the idea and they set off.

They never made it to California. As the road's grew more fraught, Genevieve found herself wishing for peace and stability. After being raided in the mountains of Colorado and barely escaping with their lives, they decide to stay near Denver, letting their dreams of gold and fortune go.

To follow Genevieve's story ... See "Third Family Portrait" from the album The Leaves

I wanted to revisit their relationship again, later in life, with Elsa now watching over her older sister.

But after a major disruption within my own family, I wound up writing this as a personal song to some of my loved ones.