I sit here in Columbia, MO during history's worst tornado month. As the clouds churn and swirl, so have my thoughts and musical inspirations. This has been a time of incredible creation and change, and the weather seems to reflect that. Just three days ago the Hilary Scott Band had an amazing and experimental experience, getting forty or so of our friends and fans into a studio and recording an entire live set complete with audience noise and our own on-the-spot inspirations. Although I'm sure this is done by others, it's not a FREQUENT occurrence, because it is fraught with possible problems and can be a logistical nightmare. But we managed to find an excellent engineer in a very resonably priced studio, and we were musically ready. Add on top of that the fact that our fans are respectful and excited, and you have a "you should have been there moment." I am so happy with the results, and thrilled that, in a way, we proved ourselves. We've always known that our live shows are where we shine, but the proof was in this pudding. I can't wait to release the CD. Anyhow, directly after the last of the audience members left, a tornado watch went into effect, complete with sirens, and we hustled into the basement. We all agreed if we were to die, at least we were doing what we love. Now that we've had a tornado warning every day this week, the fear that started as sharp and poignant is now of a dull sort, like I've been here one too many times. But as my percussionist Michael mentioned to me, there may not be any real mountains in Missouri, but those changing, looming clouds are moutainous, awe-inspiring, and impressive. We will be moving to Chicago soon, but we won't forget these incredible storms. There's nothing quite like a thunderstorm in Missouri. Someday I'm sure one of those storms will blast its way into a song.