Liner Notes: Our appreciation and special thanks go to the entire Mercantile staff, Nolan Farmer, Musical Director, and Divide Satellite Systems. But most of all, our heartfelt thanks and love go to the people of Jamestown, whose patronage and support make all this possible. - Love, Joe and Susie Howlett All songs © their respective artists, except for: Shine Like the Sun written by Mark Lincoln Linda Lou written by Peter Wilde He Was a Friend is Traditional Recorded by PME Records on location at The Mercantile Café in Jamestown, CO. Mixed at PME Studios, Studio A. Mastered by The Colorado Mastering Group. This sound recording © 1999 PME Records, Denver CO USA. Unauthorized duplication is a violation of applicable law, and will be subject to severe civil and criminal penalties.

Liner Notes: Special thanks to all who gave love and support through the completion of this album: Kelly Gray, Calire Zavalani, Craig Patterson, Herb & Marilyn Schreiber, Jerry & Joey Winter, Raymond & Thelma Waggitt, Pete Keim, and Shawn Coullahan. Our thoughts are with Eric Weaver who created the artwork for this album during the last days of his life. Stuff. All songs © 1993, Blue Toy Songs, Pop Culture Songs, and Saturated Songs. Michael Blue - Vocals, Bass and Guitars Dean Hutchinson - Drums Thad keim - Guitars and Bass David Winter - Keyboards and Vocals Additional Musicians: Gina Garcia - Percussion on tracks 1, 4, 6, and 11 Sylvester Henderson - Backing Vocals on track 4 Miari - Backing Vocals on track 1 Frank Reina - Drums on tracks 1, 2, and 4 Matt Taylor - Harmonica on Track 9 Wilhemina Watts - Backing Vocals on tracks 1, 2, 4, & 5 Recorded at Jeff "Penguin" Taylor's igloo in Monte Sereno, CA by Craig Patterson with PER Mobile Recording Mixed at Sideways Recording in Santa Ana, CA by Craig Patterson, Jim Hahn, and Moe Jackson Mastered by Dave Merullo at RJR Digital, Bonita, CA

Liner Notes: Craig Patterson played all instruments except for the guitar on "Millennium Rain," which was played by "Bill," last name unknown. As soon as we find out his last name, we will give him proper credit. All songs written and produced by Craig Patterson with the exception of "Millennium Rain," which was written with Bill. Recorded at Avalon Studios, Colorado Mastered at Different Fur, San Francisco, by Howard Johnston Graphic Design and Art Direction by W. Brooks Cole, WBC, San Francisco. Photography by Greg Schlack, Boulder Colorado. Mr. Patterson would like to extend special thanks to Bill porter, Doug Jackson, Gary Dunn, and Art Martinez for their unending help and support, but especially to his parents, without whom this project would never have been possible, and to his father in particular, who was unable to see the completion of this project. "Millennium Rain" was mixed on analog tape and has aged. It is, therefore, damaged, but the production staff elected to include the track anyway based on its artistic merit.

Liner Notes: Recorded and mixed at PME Studios and Morningwood Studios. Mastered by The Colorado Mastering Group. This sound recording © 1999 PME Records, Denver CO USA. Unauthorized duplication is a violation of applicable law, and will be subject to severe civil and criminal penalties. Don’t make us get off this couch.

Liner Notes: An odyssey through the Earth using Binaural Beats. Designed for use ONLY with headphones! Welcome to a journey through the Earth. This disc is set up as two tracks, but we strongly encourage you to simply play the entire disc as one song. The trip lasts exactly one hour, and will take you through two journeys simultaneously. The first trip begins outside in the daytime. We can hear birds singing and children playing. As time goes on, day turns to night, and we hear the voices of the forest and jungle. During this time, a thunderstorm begins. As the water comes faster and faster, we're brought into a waterfall, and then down a stream from that waterfall to the seashore. We explore the surf for a time, and gradually venture into the water and beneath the surface. Once we head through the entire seabed, we make our way into the earth itself, traveling through ancient civilizations, hearing their music and their voices, as well as percussion sounds. Eventually we ascend back through the sea, experiencing our awakening by surfacing near a lakeshore. As day breaks, we leave the lakeshore and come back into town, hearing the sounds of the modern countryside. Our journey is complete. We've traveled through eons of time, and all in just one hour. The second journey occurs simultaneously, but is less obvious. While we're listening to music and the sounds of the Earth, Binaural Beats are altering our meditative state. You'll be able to hear them easily in the headphones, but your brain will ignore them after a short time. The theory and operation of binaural beats is actually rather simple. One frequency appears in one ear, and a different but similar frequency in the other ear. One frequency is, say 100 cycles per second. The other is nearby, starting at, say 130 cycles per second. When these tones combine in your brain (using a process called heterodyning), they produce a difference frequency that your subconscious mind tunes into. In the above example, the difference frequency is 30 cycles per second, which translates into an alert, awake state. This frequency that is produced is much like the EEG your brain produces, and that's what makes the process work. If we change the difference frequency over time, our minds will automatically alter our brain waves in a process called Brainwave Entrainment. This just means that the brain will tend to follow those frequencies which are fed to it. Sound alone doesn't have to be used – a flashing light at the same frequency can be used also, but that method may present health problems to certain people. When the brain's EEG is between about 14 cycles and 30 cycles, that's known as the Beta state, and that's when we're wide awake, alert, and focused. Between about 8 cycles and 14 cycles, we're relaxed, but still alert. This is known as the Alpha state. The Theta state, one of relaxation approaching sleep, lies between 4 cycles and 8 cycles. Below that is the deeply meditative Delta state, from .5 cycles to 4 cycles. The binaural journey on this disc will take you from Beta, down through all the states, and let you deeply meditate and relax in the Delta state. You will then be brought back up through the states, finally ending very alert and ready to handle the world. It is for that reason that we recommend you listen uninterrupted to the ENTIRE disc. Your mental state wil be unfocused if you do not listen all the way through. You'll need to wear headphones, and please remember to listen in the privacy of your own home. DO NOT listen in your car! We invite you to search the internet for valuable resources on Binaural Beats and Brainwave Entrainment, because the subject is really too vast to be covered here. Take everything you read with a grain of salt, including this disc, and draw your own conclusions. Have a wonderful journey!

Liner Notes: GIVE ME A SONG Sometimes it feels a million miles to California, moving west into the sunlight again; and I'm not sure where I came from, but it feels like Arizona, and there's no place like Nevada to remind you of your pain. There's a thin line between solitude and loneliness like the cracks that open up here in the ground; one side is inspiration and the other is religion and in the middle is the faith I haven't found. I want to sing like I'm giving birth to thunder, like the way the desert smells after the rain; I want to live like the earth splitting asunder, like I'm never gonna live this life again. Give me a song as a reminder of the places I have wandered, and the times that I have cried, and times that I have wondered, if life is like a lover why must I ever leave her? and if I read the books of lies, how come I still believe in her? It's seven o'clock in the morning or the evening, I rub my eyes and seek up to the sky; I check my breath and like the sky it's like a feeling and I know that I can get there if I try. I said I want to sing like I'm giving birth to thunder, like the way the desert smells after the rain; I want to live like the earth splitting asunder, like I'm never gonna live this life again. Give me a song as a reminder of the places I have wandered, and the times that I have cried, and the days that I have wondered, if life is like a lover why must I ever leave her? and if I read the books of lies how come I still believe in her? guitar, lead vocal, mandolin, shakers: David Gilligan harmony vocals: Kreg Viesselman THIS GREAT LAND Oh Colorado left me like indigo with no place to dye. I drive into the bright and spend another night restless beneath the stars on the fly. Thinking about that mountain where it meets the great plains and all the places I've seen. To go far is to return home and to come a long way is a different poem if you know what I mean. Ray Charles on the radio says the mountain is where I want to go as I look out on the hill; but where's my dark-eyed country woman to put the fiddle to my strummin’ and take away my ills? She's got the feeling she's in the right place at the right time doing the right thing; and she smiles from the inside to the outside and I start to sing. This great land made me what I am. We are like water shaped by one another as drops of rain kiss the sand; we are like water colored by each other as we lay down with the land. This great land made me what I am. guitar & lead vocal: David Gilligan harmonica & harmony vocal: Kreg Viesselman violin & harmony vocal: Jennie Duberstein THE OPEN END I'm out here standing on the open end trying to sketch out a plan again, and the sun, it feels like a faithful friend, burning up my skin and my sense. The world beneath my feet is spinning like the stars above my head and I'm swimming in time like the days, like my skin, it keeps changing, got to lay down on this earth just to keep from falling. (Got to lay down on this earth...) To believe in darkness and light, and to feel the consequences of life. The sand of this desert feels like a million miles from home, and the heat feels like memories of summers long gone; when I stand I'll be walking and singing alone to shelter my body and bury my bones. (Won't you shelter me, help me...) To believe in darkness and light, and feel the consequences of life. guitar, lead vocal, harmonica, mandolin: David Gilligan violin: Jennie Duberstein harmony vocals: Kreg Viesselman THE GOLD IN CALIFORNIA I have heard in the bones of the mountains there's a shine light sunlight upon me; and I do believe that it lacks not luster, but sparkles like the stars all above me. I have seen and now I'm going to California to find my future in the ground; I do believe in the gold that lies in the mountainsides, it can be found. The directions lie between the land and the sky as I throw my life out on the wind; and I've said goodbye because I don't think I'll be coming this way again. If the words that I have heard prove only to be lies like dark and shifty eyes, like a love that always dies, I'll sit and watch the sunlight on the mountainside and there will always be some gold left in my eyes. I have seen and now I'm going to California to find my future in the ground; I do believe in the gold that lies in the mountainsides, it can be found. The directions lie between the land and the sky as I throw my life out on the wind; and I've said goodbye because I don't think I'll be coming this way again. guitar, lead vocal, harmonica: David Gilligan harmony vocals: Kreg Viesselman & Jennie Duberstein THIRTY YEARS AFTER He came west from Jersey where the ships would roll in; he'd been working in the harbor 'till they found him with a bottle of gin; he fought just like a hero for a reason he didn't know why in a war that's now thirty years over for you and I. He still wears the coat of a soldier, but the shoes of a bum; there's a roar in his voice like a lion, but his eyes are those of a lamb; he says "I wish I'd been Achilles and died that day so I could dance with the angels and maybe rise again.“ Now let's have another drink at the bar where these memories won't haunt me anymore and I can find an end to this war that's been killing me o'er and o'er. The tunes he hums are like concertinas from down in Mexico; and the books he carries are of faces and places afar and ago; and if you ask him why he can't get back on his feet again he'll say it's because he can't make amends with the children who died by his hate, he can ask for forgiveness but God knows it's too late. Now let's have another drink at the bar where these memories won't haunt me anymore and I can find an end to this war that's been killing me o'er and o'er; and these beers won't do it any longer, I need some whiskey or a god or something stronger that will make me feel a bit younger, yes and might help me get some sleep-- it's been years since I had a good dream... So let me rest my head on the floor, I don't want to be awake anymore. guitar & lead vocal: David Gilligan violin: Jennie Duberstein piano: Craig Patterson harmony vocal: Kreg Viesselman THE ROAD TO MARBLE CANYON The road to Marble Canyon is littered with sand and stones-- the stones are the color of the hair of the women I've known, and the sands are the number of days apart we have grown. The road to Marble Canyon is covered with black velvet and stars-- the stars are the eyes of the daughters of kings from afar, and the velvet the feeling of falling asleep in their arms. The canyon cuts into the world like a permanent scar-- a reminder of how deep we dug, how long, and how far; but as I wander inside of these walls I can't find where you are. I took the road to Marble Canyon, it lingers like a feeling of home, of leaving, the softened light of evening. guitar & lead vocals: David Gilligan slide guitar: Gary Dunn harmony vocals: Jennie Duberstein HELL GOT BRIGHT They came from over the big water hole to save my conscience, save my soul; wooden crosses in a wild land, and paper books held in their hands. They set up farms and grain they gave, "come work for us and you'll be saved"; called us savages and made us slaves as we walked the path to God they paved. We listened to the tales they'd tell that threatened we'd all burn in hell lest we follow them into the light, but next to their black robes even hell got bright. We took to the hills with our lives, but lost our children, lost our lives, lost our chance to be redeemed by a god who wanted slaves it seemed. I sneak back to the fence sometimes to see my people, try to change their minds; I look into eyes in empty heads, where the soul is saved but the spirit's dead. guitar, lead vocal, djembe: David Gilligan I AM A PATRIOT (words and music by Steve Van Zandt) guitar & lead vocal: David Gilligan harmony vocals: Kreg Viesselman & Jennie Duberstein BIGFOOT'S DAUGHTERS My name comes from MacGiolligan and the Irish lands of old, my people came three fathers ago, or so I'm told; we landed on the eastern shore, but our journey'd just begun, and we manifested our destiny until the west was won. But last night I had the strangest dream as I lay across my bed, two Indian women came to me and crept inside my head; from Bigfoot the Lakota chief who died at Wounded Knee, his daughters came as messengers, and this they spoke to me... They said "we come from Bigfoot's seed which is older than the old, more ancient than the fertile soils of the lands you bought and sold; though our voices are but whispers, they once were loud and bold, and though our spirits lie in Bigfoot's grave, still our story must be told. We lived upon our fruited plains like your Adam and your Eve, and ran with greater herds of buffalo than you could now believe; ours was that same promised land of which you preachers tell, until we passed beneath your shadow and your fiery gates of hell. It started as the trappers through the mountains they would roam, then came the settlers who called our land their home, then came the soldiers, you remember what they said, 'the only good Indian is one that's dead'. They cut the legs and tongues of the buffalo and left them there to die, and they cut the life from under us with every single lie; and in the name of Jesus they crucified out kin, except at Little Bighorn where Custer died for your sins. Remember Little Bighorn where Custer died for your sins. Then they gathered all the starving wives and daughter and the sons of the men who lay there dying beneath the crimson sun; and they pent us up as refugees, fed us meat riddled with worms, and warmed us with their smallpox blankets infected with their germs. When it seemed all hope had left us we danced both day and night to resurrect our ancestors and set all things aright; but our deaths were written on the steel of the union soldier's gun, and though our spirits lie in Bigfoot's grave, our anger's just begun. So sing this to your senators and your congressmen as well, and tell this to your president of the United States of Hell; tell this to your people now in case they all forgot, the people of America, the race they left to rot. And the spirit of our Crazy Horse that you shot from behind is coming back to haunt you in the future you will find; remember all the broken treaties and all the lands you won, because the sins of the fathers will visit upon the sons. The sins of all you fathers will visit upon the sons.“ My name comes from MacGiolligan and the Irish lands of old, my people came three fathers ago, or so I'm told; we landed on the eastern shore, but our journey'd just begun, and we manifested out destiny until the west was won. guitar, lead vocal, harmonica: David Gilligan COMING HOME AGAIN Coming home again after so long I near forgot what it feels like to belong; and this place, like a song of a holy light set in a world gone wrong. And these log walls are arms around me, and this fire inspires memories of the friends who shared this place with me, and the days we spent planting seeds. There's many roads I've been down with the sun in my eyes, always westward bound; and the one thing I've found... there's nothing like being homeward bound. And when relationships get tired or fail, and my friends, they all up and bail, and there's nothing but bills in the mail, and my body grows tired and frail, I'll pull off the hat from my head, and lay down across my own bed, and sleep the sweet sleep of the dead then wake up and keep living instead. There's many roads I've been down with the sun in my eyes, always westward bound; and the one thing I have found... there's nothing like being homeward bound. guitar, harmonica, duet vocal: David Gilligan duet vocal: Kreg Viesselman violin: Jennie Duberstein organ: Craig Patterson Produced by David S.. Gilligan Engineered and Mixed by Craig Patterson All Songs published Sisyphus Syndrome Music, BMI 2000 except I Am a Patriot, published by Almo Music (Blue Midnight Music) © 2000 David S. Gilligan © 2000 PME Records Recorded at Morningwood Studios, Jamestown CO Mixed at PME Studios, Denver CO Mastered by The Colorado Mastering Group Manufactured by PME Records, Denver CO USA Unauthorized duplication is a violation of applicable law

Liner Notes: Don't Say You're Down (Eugene, Oregon - March and November 1999) Don't say you're down, don't say you're down 'Til you're off your feet And you're on the ground Ground into nothing now Don't say you're down Don't say you're low, don't say you're low 'Til you're tired and spent From spending your soul And giving it to those who don't treat it like gold Don't say you're low For a tender heart isn't legal tender To be tossed around by a thoughtless spender Oh please, don't trade my heart! I can't barter my heart Like wares from a tinker's cart Please don't trade my heart I'm sure that I've paid my dues In truck stops With rough cops Through my trunk they always peruse But it's easy to give When you've got nothing to lose You see, I've always preferred being out on my own Far from home All alone And it works out, 'cause being with you Is like being alone Don't say you're hurt, don't say you're hurt 'Til you've made peace With the folks That you've treated like dirt And all the people you've touched for better or worse I'm worse for touching you I'm worse for touching you Yes, I'm worse, I'm worse, it's true! It's true! I'm a harder man from dealing with you! Longfellow's Chair (The lyrics were inspired by a brief meeting with Hobo Billy after a show in Longfellow's Square in Portland, Maine) Well there's evangelists out on Congress Street They're screaming like hell for the Lord Yet they found him behind the civic center With no shoes on his feet And his body as stiff as a board If I couldn't count all of the money I made I'd spend it on buying this town And evict all those living Up on the promenade That keep passing me by with the crowd CHORUS I drink like a priest that's been lonely too long Like the pink sinking sun in the West Well there's green in the thoughts Of my childhood songs And there's blue in the heart in my chest And to you who adorn your bodies in gold And weigh worth by material gain Don't forget that I flow In the blood that I sold That runs in your daughter's veins And I'm no stranger to the charity pool hall On the corner of Free Street and Brown And I'm no stranger to the quaint Equestrian cops Who harass me for hanging around CHORUS So we circle the street like anonymous crows No wealth, no friends, and no name Well I entered the world As naked as snow And I'm fixin' on leavin' the same CHORUS ...and there's blue in the heart in my chest ...and there's blue in the heart in my chest Postcard From Lompoc (On a picnic table north of Ft. Bragg - August 1999) Mary, Mary, quite contrary Your face is long And your legs are hairy Head so strong, you know it's kind of scary You don't appreciate the blessings you own So you took up running with some Cuban gal With a navel ring and a parrot named Hal Well you don't miss home now But I think you shall Your parents are worried sick you're gone But in some Lompoc wayside rest one night She pinched your guitar and she slipped out of sight And you couldn't find her trail in the morning light Oh, try as you might So you thumbed a ride from this guy named Stan With a desert air-brushed on the side of his van But giving you a ride Was only half of his plan You see, Stan's in the mood for love So when Stan slowed down when the light turned red You gave him a karate-chop to the side of the head And you ran down the street With no idea where it led But I know you're better off that way From queen of the throne to thrown to the sharks Well, you hitch hiked to town and you slept in the park 'Cause all the people go home when it starts to turn dark And that's when the lights dim So you think of all the fun you had Just trying to make your parents mad By smokin' dope And smellin' bad What went wrong? And you live off frozen 'tater-tots And sell hackey-sacks out in parking lots But oh, freedom! Man, It still plagues your thoughts Well, it's time to move along And the way you search yourself these days You'll make yourself crazy Or you'll make it okay But the world will keep spinnin' Either way Whether you take yourself out Or decide you'll stay Maybe you won't But maybe you may Still it's safer to rust Than to burn away My, my, hey, hey Medicine Bow (Driving across southern Wyoming, October' ' ' 1999) Oh Medicine Bow Where does she go? Can you whisk me away Where nobody knows? And I feel me troubles, they fade Oh, the farther she flows You can't hold her down I once knew a brave Oh, he lived on the hill And the looks that he gave They trouble me still And when I visit his grave Oh, it brings me a chill Even dying couldn't hold him down When the Wyoming sun Oh, it tie-dyes the clouds And the nights hide the mountains Like burial shrouds Oh, it reminds me How I've never liked crowds You can't hold me down Mercantile Complaint is for the Jamestownians Musicians Kreg Viesselman - Vocals, guitar, harmonica, Jew's harp Jennie Duberstein - Fiddle, background vocals Nolan Farmer - Dobro Dave Gilligan - Mandolin, hand-clapping, hootin' and hollerin', general rowdiness Kevin Roper - Piano, background vocals Gary Dunn - Background vocals, beer bottle smashing All songs written by Kreg Viesselman Photography by Jennie Duberstein Thanks Craig Patterson for donuts and off-colored humor; Jennie Duberstein for being the best pal a guy could hope for; Gary Dunn, Nolan and Nancy Farmer for a ton of help; Dave and Kevin for many years of friendship and music - thanks also to the Viesselmans, Rochelle, Alani and Samuel, the Eugene Kiwis, Crockett the token Aussie and Dave Wright, the Russell clan, Janie and Matt Helt, Terry "spell check offers no suggestion for my last name" Grunzke, Will Leggett (thanks for the "surfing Cali" guide), Kris, Neil, and Zelda, the Du ma house, Marsh Commons Co-housing in Arcata, Wildflower and Ruth, Traci Wright, Melissa Cooper, Monica Augustine, Lauren Augusta, Charles Haymes, Tim Schindler, Steph Gifford, Patrick and the Butterfly Ranch. Thanks also to Taj Mahal, Ellis Paul, Mike Miclon, Raycharles LaMontagne, John Booker, Rich Nolen, Mike Beelner, David Jacob-Strain, the San Onofre Morning Surf Club, the Kane Reunion, the Cal-wood ensemble, Elizabeth Ousley, Radio-Free Ned, Amadeus Music and the Rose Cottage in Portland, Maine, Ore-Ida, and especially, Opal Viesselman. Here's to Mickey, the Conch, Billy, Jimbo the Hobo, and the all the others... maybe we'll meet again All songs published by Sisyphus Syndrome Music, BMI Recorded at Morningwood Studios, Jamestown, CO Mixed at PME Studios, Denver, CO Bonus live tracks recorded at the Willamette Valley Folk Festival on May 21, 2000, Eugene, Oregon. Manufactured by PME Records, Denver, CO Copyright 2000 Kreg Viesselman

Liner Notes: 1. DIDN'T MATTER THAT 3:04 WRITTEN BY MIKAL BLUE PUBLISHED BY OPIUM FOR THE PEOPLE MUSIC (ASCAP) PRODUCED BY CRAIG PATTERSON VOCAL PRODUCER: GARY DUNN RECORDED AT THE FUNHOUSE, DENVER, CO STRINGS RECORDED AT BULGARIAN NATIONAL RADIO STUDIO, SOFIA, BULGARIA CHOIR RECORDED AT GRACE CHAPEL, ENGLEWOOD, CO RECORDED IN THE USA BY CRAIG PATTERSON RECORDED IN BULGARIA BY GERGI TRENEV AND PAVEL BOLIARSKI BULGARIAN RECORDING MUSIC PRODUCER: STEFKA MAZDRAKOVA MIXED AT PME RECORDS BY CRAIG PATTERSON 2. WHATEVER'S WRITTEN IN YOUR HEART 5:09 WRITTEN BY GERRY RAFFERTY PUBLISHED BY STAGE THREE MUSIC (BMI) PRODUCED BY CRAIG PATTERSON VOCAL PRODUCER: GARY DUNN RECORDED AT THE FUNHOUSE, DENVER, CO STRINGS RECORDED AT BULGARIAN NATIONAL RADIO STUDIO, SOFIA, BULGARIA CHOIR RECORDED AT GRACE CHAPEL, ENGLEWOOD, CO RECORDED IN THE USA BY CRAIG PATTERSON RECORDED IN BULGARIA BY GERGI TRENEV AND PAVEL BOLIARSKI BULGARIAN RECORDING MUSIC PRODUCER: STEFKA MAZDRAKOVA MIXED AT PME RECORDS BY CRAIG PATTERSON PIANO: GREG MATHIESON MASTERED BY HERB POWERS, JR. AT PM ENTERTAINMENT STRINGS: PHILHARMONIKA BULGARIA CONDUCTOR - CHRISTO PAVLOV CONCERTMASTER GALINA KOICHEVA VIOLINS GALINA KOYTCHEVA DORA KEHAYOVA DORIAN MOLHOV VILIANA VRANGOVA GERGANA DELIYSKA OGNYAN VALTCHEV DOROTEYA SZIVKOVA PRESLAV GANEV IRINA DIMITROVA ROSSEN KAZANDJIEV MARIA MADOLEVA MARIA KUNCHEVA DIANA KOLEVA GALINA ATANASOVA VIOLAS ANI SEYKOVA ALBENA HRISTOVA KIRIL HRISTOV ILIANA KOLEVA CELLOS NIKOLA DAMYANOV EMIL DIMITROV ELENA DYAKOVA SOFIA SEMOVA BASSES BOYAN BONEV ROUMYANA PENCHEVA CHOIR: CHOIRMASTER: NATHAN STUART MEMBERS SARAH HOOKS STACIE JOSLIN INGER ANDRESS CURTIS SCHROEDER COLETTE PALMER TERI JONES BRAD BYLSMA LISA HOLSTEEN FROM THE UPCOMING RELEASE “ONE” WWW.SARAHBURGESSMUSIC.COM WWW.PMERECORDS.COM © 2007 PME RECORDS ALL RIGHTS RESERVED