Silas Nello hails from Dallas. Like so many other people that call Dallas home, he grew up somewhere else.
Dallas can feel like a convenience. It's not as celebrated as New York or glossy as LA. (Insert the city you feel connected to.) But true feeling comes from collective emotion. In immediacy, we want to be heard, we want to be known; but if you pay attention, if you just listen - you can hear the stories of countless people wrapped in emotion and confusion - time floating dangerously slow - soaked in booze and on the lips of the person sitting next to you at the bar. Share a moment. No matter how far apart we may be.
The distance is precious, counting like lines on the highway, just wanting to get somewhere. It's important for someone to hear you now.
It's important for you to hear someone now. Silas Nello weaves the spirit of these conversations in the music. Half rock and roll, half folk - blending the domestic dialogue with frustration, the music is playing for you. He's been a server. He's been a bartender. He's been your confidant at the bar and shared a long conversation with you while you waited in line at the store.
Isn't it important that someone recalls your story when you couldn't anymore?
The music is familiar. That may be what is important. That you've heard it before. That you've shared those experiences before. Those few moments you wish you could remember after the hazy daze wears off, the song becomes the memory - it's the toll you paid. It's your history.