We are finally home after notching over 200 concerts this year – and it’s been an incredible ride!

It’s also been slightly exhausting, so now we’re winding down to spend the holiday season with friends and family. This year has taken us to the four corners of the United States, put 35,000 miles on the ole van, and brought drastic haircuts to Jonathan and Tyler (to support breast cancer awareness – check out the videos).

Although we will cherish this season with our families, we can’t wait to see what amazing things are waiting down the road in the new year. Until then, get your Kris Kringle on by visiting our store for some great holiday specials. Use the coupon below to get 40% off all official Tin Cup Gypsy Merchandise.

Thanks again for a wonderful year – we’ll see you in 2012!

Click here to claim your coupon to get 40% off.

See, I’ve had this little battle in my mind for the past several years. It seems like in today’s music industry there’s a line in the sand. Are you an emotional artist or will you craft your music the way a fine violin maker labors over his creations? It doesn’t seem like there is much crossover between categories – you create well-crafted music and people will think its shallow, you create emotional music and people will forgive poor musicianship as being “deep”.

In recent memory, one of the few (but exciting) exceptions is Adele, with her recent release “21,” a musically pure record that outsold Lady Gaga by almost a million copies. Musicianship, song writing, and vocal performances are top notch, and I think one would be hard pressed to find anyone who doubts the emotion packed into the material.

Confession time. I have a degree in classical violin performance. I know what you’re thinking, “you? NO!” But alas, it’s true. So, as a classically trained musician, I spend a good deal of time listening to the likes of Beethoven, Brahms, Debussey, Stravinsky (mostly romantic), and it has struck me that a good deal of my favorite classical music was both intensely emotional AND that generation’s version of Pop Music. At what point in our musical heritage did we begin deconstructing the craft of music in favor of emotional abstraction?

When did we stop caring enough about our music to be satisfied with poor execution? Would Beethoven have dumbed down his creative vision because a vocalist or instrumentalist could not get the part? No. In fact, when rehearsing for the opening night of the 9th Symphony, one of the female vocalists asked Mr. Beethoven to re-write a section that was slightly outside of her range. He replied with, “Practice. The note will come.”

Maybe I’m naive, but I want to believe that an artist can spin an emotion or experience into a masterpiece of execution – knowing that every little detail the listener hears is intentional and designed to elevate the mood.

– Jonathan

Who needs a map when love’s the guide?
Who needs a bed when the road is wide?
Who needs a fire when the moon is high?
We’ll find our way by the headlight in the sky

It’s bright enough, the moon’s waxed up like a new paint job
Stars awake, like the metal flakes in a deep black Cadillac
So put those high beams out, moonshine in, hang on for the ride

They say that love is blind, but I guess I wanna find out for myself
So honey put that halo on, cause I can’t see a single wrong
With the chance to break your spell

I’m not saying you’re untrue
But you gotta way of changing from what you say to what you do

It’s time that someone called you out
Cause you weave your words like Shakespeare
But when you’re done I have my doubts

You said you’d take me to Paris
You’d buy me that skirt
You’d call the repairman when the heater stopped working
Promises are all I get

Wa-Wa-Wa-Wa-Wa-Wa Words
Wa-Wa-Wa-Wa-Wa-Wa Words
Darling when you say you love me
All those things just seem absurd
And I’m back to hanging on your Words

I’d sure like to help you out
Cause you must be tired of walking with that foot stuck in your mouth

So baby back up and think how to back up those lines
You’ll be back in my arms every time
Cause promises mean more when they’re not

So darling close your lips and kiss me
Conversation’s for the birds
How I feel means so much more than

Oh my love! How can this be?
That you have left me for the sea
And now my heart sinks like a stone
Cause I must sail this world alone

To the sea, to the sea
Where my true love waits for me
We must drift a world apart
Until the sea reclaims my heart

In my mind you’ll ever be
Young, eternal, wild, and free
In our time you filled me up
Like the ocean fills a cup

Like the tides that ebb and flow
True love comes and it must go
We will all run out of sand
Just like water through our hands

She’s got a knack for forgetting
She’s pretty smart for her dumb luck
She can’t hold on to her car keys
But she knows just how to open me up

She thinks the world is out to get her
But she’s got that world on a string
She’s got me wrapped around her finger
She’s all that I will ever need

She just is the caffeine in my coffee
She just is the skip that’s in my step
All you fellas ask me why
But I cannot specify all the reasons she is mine
She just is

We’ve shared our share of nasty weather
And we’ve taken broken roads alone
But she’s still the star that I can follow
She’s still the reason I come home

She just is the yellow in my sunshine
She just is my fireworks on the fourth
All you fellas ask me why
But I cannot specify all the reasons she is mine
She just is

I’m not too tired
And I’m not too old
But I’m headed west to try and catch
The last drop in a sea of gold

My feet are fire
And my legs are lead
And I’m racing shadows, trying to stay
One step ahead

And I am gonna chase the sun (twilight’s just begun)
Like an outlaw on the run
I’m gonna chase the sun

Time is more
Than heavy hands
Whirling planets and trading tides and
Slipping sand

And time can take
Your life away
Before you know the shadows fall
And gold fades to grey

Slingshots, baseball cards
When no one needed walls to separate their yards
Pig tails, sunday dress
We’d dig for buried treasure and then come home a mess
They can’t make me act my age

Hold my, hold my, hold my, hold my hand
Like when you were Lois Lane and I was Superman
Oh my! Oh how everything was new
Back when we had time to kill
Back when we were Jack & Jill

Cell phones, business cards
And cubicles to keep the kiddies working’ hard
Hair back, pencil skirt
The last thing on your mind is getting in the dirt
Follow me, we’re playing hooky

Like summertime when we were young
Noses kissed by golden sun
On the edge and looking down
We held our breath and closed our eyes
Leaped into the deep blue skies
And plunged into the great unknown