The idea spawned from reading a pair of classics – “East of Eden” by Steinbeck and “100 Years of Solitude” by Marquez. I read them around the same time and I adored them both. Watching decisions 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 thought I’d spend about three years total 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 250 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 on what their lives might have been like. 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. 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 tracks that were written during the time of recording.

The Bastards is the exception. That record is a holding pen for the songs that were eventually removed from the main 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’d reserved most of the lyric writing until I was in the midst of recording each album, so while the music on The Leaves had largely been sketched out, the words had not.

So the saga came to a close in a very personal way, and 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.

This one is directly connected to the following song, "A pound of Flesh."

After suffering a slew of insults at a small summer festival, Judah swore that he'd get back at the offender. He didn't intend to kill him, but during their confrontation the man laughed in his face. Judah's temper got the best of him and before he knew it, the man was bleeding out in front of him, his left lung punctured by Judah's pocket knife.

Judah is now on the run from the murdered man's family, and the law in general. This song follows him returning home, one final time. 

To follow Judah's story ... See "Ghost Towns" from this same album

All songs in the Family Tree series stem from this one. 

Narrated by William Northcote, "Family Portrait" tells the tale of his mother dying in childbirth, his father's breakdown and eventual demise, and the motherly role that his older sister, Victoria, stepped into at a young age.

William, like his father, was hot-headed and known for making rash, emotional decisions. He was charismatic and charming, quick to make friends and enemies alike. This theme continues throughout his family line.

Victoria, far too intelligent and peculiar for a woman of her time, was met with suspicion by those around her. She was quiet, pensive and unflappable. Many thought her some kind of witch, or someone not entirely of our world. As it happens, their suspicions were correct. Her bloodline is full of fantastic and seemingly impossible traits.
 

To follow William's story ... see "Black Eyes" from this same album

To follow Victoria's bloodline ... see "Severus and Stone" from this same album

The song enters with him waking up from a blackout. He's still very drunk when he realizes he's alone. The house is empty. He's consumed with rage when he realizes that his wife stole away in the middle of the night, their children in tow, a large bruise forming under her right eye from where he'd struck her earlier in the day.

At this point in his life, he's traded charisma and good looks for alcoholism and a black temper, and most of the townsfolk keep their distance - a mirror image of the father he so despised.

This song follows William as he storms around town, lit by nothing but a full moon, in an attempt to find his wife and set her straight.

To follow William's sons Robert and Kyle ... See "Always Gold" from this same album
To follow William's unborn son, Virgil ... See "Kin" from this same album
To follow William's daughter ... See the "All Is Well" pair of songs from the album The Bastards

Victoria Northcote the older sister in "Family Portrait" had three children, all out of wedlock. The father is unknown; a blank space on all of their birth certificates. Vicoria never spoke of him, even to her children. She lived much of her life on the outskirts of town, near an enormous patch of woodland. She made her living as a seamstress.

Many considered her a witch, despite her friendly demeanor. People from the village often whispered that there never was a father, that her children had spawned from some unholy process. Many who perpetuated those rumors also donned her garments with a perverse sense of pride. 

She first had twin boys, named Severus and Stone, when she was twenty-three years old. Years later she had a daughter named Abigail. Again, the father is unknown.

This particular song is narrated by Stone, where he recounts the story of his twin brother's passing during a particularly difficult winter.
 

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

To follow Stone's story ... see "Holy Branches" on The Branches

Tom was a man of few words, as observant as he was private.

He grew up in the same town as Victoria, and he'd attended school with her and her brother, William. He was thirteen years old when he fell in love with her, but he never once told her, or anyone else, how he felt. Those that knew him were confused when he chose to build his home on the outskirts of town, but for him it was simple. He wanted to be close to Victoria.

The only evidence of his feelings lie hidden in the pages of a diary, that he tied to a rock and sunk to the bottom of a lake on the day she passed.

The lyrics of this song are from one of his lost diary entries.

To follow Tom's story ... See "The Dead Waltz" from this same album

The family of the man he killed was out for revenge. They were much more connected than The Northcote's, and his father's reputation as a mean drunk didn't help matters. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree" was often thrown around whenever Judah was mentioned.

In order to keep his loved ones safe, Judah lived the majority of his life on the run. He changed his name often, worked in places where they didn't ask questions, and was so terrified of lasting connections that he often reminisced about where he came from in his quiet moments.

This song follows him as a young man, hopping trains and choking on regret.

To follow Judah's bloodline ... See "Reminders" from The Branches

Virgil never met his father. 

The reason his mother ran during the song "Black Eyes" was because she was pregnant. She hadn't told him yet. William's drinking was out of control and he was having trouble holding jobs. She didn't see a way they could afford another child, and he was growing increasingly violent as it was. She was afraid she'd lose the child if things kept escalating.

When Virgil was a teenager, he had a terrible accident while working on his uncle's farm. The doctor was able to save most of his hand, but the bleeding was considerable. He proposed a blood transfusion. The procedure was considered very experimental at the time, but Virgil would certainly die without it.

Stone, of the song "Severus and Stone", offered to be the donor seeing as he was the healthiest nearby relative. The transfusion was a success, to everyone's delight, but it had unintended consequences. 

Since he was one of Victoria's children, Stone's blood was abnormal. Within a month of his recovery, Virgil began having what he called "auditory hallucinations." He was hearing his dead relatives all around him, sometimes clearly, sometimes not. He was tortured by the phenomena, but no amount of therapy or medicine ever made the voices stop. 

This trait was eventually passed along to his offspring.

To follow Virgil's bloodline ... See "The Crooked Kind" from the album The Branches

Their home was a roughly-hewn, three-room cabin on the shore of a lake. It was otherwise surrounded by woods.

When Abigail first started sleepwalking, around age six, she was always discovered outside. Victoria wasn't concerned at first. But on the fifth time it occurred, she found Abigail out on the lake, casually walking along the surface of the water, left arm extended as though she was holding someone's hand. Victoria rushed into the water and scooped up her daughter, both amazed and terrified. But her terror was pragmatic. She knew exactly what people would do to her if they caught wind of this.

Victoria spent the next day contemplating how to handle this discovery. Then she realized she had a genuine friend nearby whom she could trust. Tom Carson, the neighbor.

Tom believed her, and to Victoria's immense relief, he was not disturbed. He even helped her form a plan. Each night, before bed, Victoria would tie a bell to Abigail's ankle. Since the path to the lake went right past Tom's house, he would bring Abigail home if he ever heard the strange chime.

This song is narrated by Tom on the night when Abigail was found dancing on the lake. And he finally saw who, or what, she was out there with.

To follow Tom's story ... See "The Mute" from the album The Branches
To follow Abigail's bloodline ... See "Southern Snow" from the album The Branches

They were two of the children whisked away in the song "Black Eyes". William never saw his wife and kids again. He lived out the rest of his days alone, bitter and rarely sober.

The children were taken to live with their uncle, on their mother's side. He owned a farm and was glad for the extra hands. And more importantly for their mother, William was afraid of him. 

But their father disappearing from their lives affected the Robert and Kyle in drastically different ways. Robert, the younger of the two, attached to his uncle. In time, he saw him as a father figure and credited him for his disposition. Kyle never did. Kyle had his father's temper, and he never forgave his mother for taking them away.

This song is narrated by Robert, as an adult. He grew to be a steady, kind and uncomplicated man. But his older brother remained rash and reckless, and Robert typically only saw him when he'd made a few too many mistakes. 

But even knowing it was a lopsided relationship, Robert never complained. He loved his brother, flaws and all.

To follow Robert's bloodline ... See "Mountains" from this same album
To follow Kyle's story ... See "Chains" from the album The Branches