In the winter of 2014, heartbroken and still recovering from a bar brawl that left him with a fractured skull, Gilmore holed himself up in an Airstream in the wilderness of the Texas Hill Country. Here, he began recording experimental songs of despair he thought no one would ever hear — except for his loyal dog Wolfgang Amadeus.
Upon completing Gilmore’s debut album, Kramer had this to say about it: "Completely original. Sounds like a mashup of Smithsonian Folkways, early Eno, and some Alien Brothel Just Before Dawn. As supremely strange and beautiful as anything I’ve ever been involved with."
Today, Gilmore continues his very strange trip down life's long and lonesome highway — writing songs and producing indie musicians along the way.