Jake Ingamar at Front Street Taproom

Under the canopy of the Dakotan sky––an expanse so unsettlingly symmetrical to the blanket of land beneath as to muddle most horizon-gazers’ sense of depth and distance––there exists a pervasive and unique brand of lonesomeness. It wheezes in the sighing, dusted lungs of the farmer and flits in the flickering lashes of the gray-eyed truck stop waitress.

Whether one witnesses his craft in crystallized recording or live in the flesh, to hear him––to truly listen to him––is to trace with one’s fingers the silver linings of those yawning clouds of the high prairie. To hear him is to lift the weighty gauze of lonesomeness we all carry.
– S. Anderson