On February 3rd, 1959, a handsome, young man was found dead alongside two of his close friends on field in North Central Iowa. In his wallet was $193 and a recently of-age I.D. indicating his name to be that of Charles Hardin Holley, or as most of the world had come to know him, quite simply as 'Buddy'. A lot has happened in that part of the world since then. Well, at least a little. If nothing else, a handful of friends phoenixed from the ashes of American Pie, some twenty miles and forty-odd years down the dirt road. Two guys and a gal, to be exact. And summoned out of the wreckage with hardly an of-age I.D. between the three of 'em, Giving Up gasped and barked its first breath of life into an un-air-conditioned corner of the world. This was Mikie's mother's house. This was the summer of 2006.

Shacked up over a series of living-room recording sessions throughout the following years, longtime like-minds Jenny Rose, Sean Roth, and Mikie Poland stuck their heads down deep in a three-box inheritance of Grandma's country western records, held hands, and inhaled. Suddenly, Ernest Tubb and Hank Snow shook hands with the Ben Weasel within. With little more than a few guitars, a small reed organ, a harmonica, a boom-box tape recorder, the trio wrote and recorded a string of arguably listenable demo tapes which would soon lead the way to a number of full-length records and split tapes.

With all that said and done, the breeze still blows. Giving Up is still as charmingly raw as it was in its challengingly lo-fi stages of inception. The three friends are still friends, driving their Chevy to the levy and puking their proverbial guts out. And though, for many still, after all these years, the music may have died on that snowy field back '59, the time is now for Iowa not to grow up, but to stay young, shining down on its darkest of basements, giving up its reservations if only to finally give back for what it may have once taken.