Eric Agner--upright, fretted and fretless electric bass
Russ Arlotta--lead guitar (track 8)
Graham Connah--piano (10, 13)
Lee Connah--lead vocals, guitar, harmonica; drums (8, 13)
Gary Hendricks--trumpet
Jake Hoag--lead vocal and guitar (4)
Steve Kerst--lap steel guitar
Mindy McWilliams--fiddle, backing vocals
Eric Nielsen--lead vocal and guitar (11), lead guitar (6), banjo
Rodney Parks--drums, percussion
Sina Sepehri--lead guitar (5)
Karen Taylor--backing vocals
Tim Train--piano (8)
Eric Voboril--backing vocal (2, 5)
Jeff Vogelgesang--mandolin

Folk Hero Sandwich Liner Notes:

In the morning it's what you spread between the pages while you enjoy the first coffee, wonder what life in red states is really like, look furtively for that human interest story to make your day, try to remember where you put that copy of Home Power magazine, and wait for your heart to start beating again.

Lee Connah has bobbed and weaved in and out of my life like an existential prize fighter for just over a decade now. And through that time we've shared music, opinions, food, technology, and tales of trials and tribulations in the modern age. His guitar playing and songwriting skills have gone from "beginning" to "profound" and his commitment to a creative life hath not wavered. In Folk Hero Sandwich, the right combination of time, musicianship, and bongwater has reached a perky, comfortable ripeness and comes at you like a streaker in the night.

In the afternoon it's that little itch that makes you wonder if biodiesel really makes sense, if you could learn to play guitar if you really practiced, and how much all the tea in China is worth, anyway. I mean, so what if I go to Walmart, or K-Mart, or whatever the fuck mart it is. I mean, can that many million Americans be that wrong?

Vision is a tricky thing - when that 'aha' comes and makes you think you've got something, it's usually followed by the realization that you've only taken the first real step. Nothing more, nothing less. Lee's vision has evolved, from the nub of yesterday's burrito into today's tacos al pastor, something even a brother could love.

In the evening it's a dream of venison stew, square dancing with that cute red hair/black leather girl, a night on the town in a black el camino, and a to-do list that's been weighing on your mind. Did I turn off the stove? Should I call my mother? What if this really is End-Time?

What I like about these songs are the scenic qualities that at first blush sound like sentimental folk homilies but then explode on the tongue into little novellas, with real characters doing what they do and singing their stories, and all you have to do is listen, because Nashville won't, but you can. Music is free!