Jeffrey
Silverstein

Jeffrey Silverstein is home. His third full-length album, Doggone, is evidence of that long-journeyed fact.

Meeting at the intersection of the loner-folk, cosmic country and kraut-laden choogle, from Doggone's opening pulse of rhythms to its closing cascade of synths, listeners encounter a musician fully rooted in the creative community around him and firmly held by the life he's built over the last decade.

Where his past several releases saw the New Jersey native settling into life in the Pacific Northwest — observing, appreciating, getting the lay of the land — and finding his footing in the alt-Americana sphere into which he unexpectedly fell, with Doggone, he's immovable, intentional, and most of all, at peace.

"Not only do I have community, but I feel it all around me," the artist shares of his life now, in Portland, Oregon, "and I'm able to reap the benefits of having that community."

That initial realization left him feeling a little awestruck, ultimately lending to the name of his new work. While the expression "doggone" exists on a spectrum — the declaration can signal anything from pulse-hammering irritation to cloud-climbing pleasure — Silverstein's latest project falls squarely in the middle, at that amorphous place where "doggone" becomes a proclamation of pleasant surprise.

Committed to nurturing his local circle, he called upon a faithful group of Portland-based collaborators — producer-composer Ryan Oxford (Y La Bamba, Rose City Band), bassist Alex Chapman, and drummer Dana Buoy (Akron/Family) — gathering at the Center for Sound, Light and Color Therapy to record Doggone, mastered by Amy Dragon (Big Thief, Nathaniel Rateliff, Moon Duo). Pedal steel savant Rick Pedrosa, freak folk hero Devendra Banhart, and Portland's own Merle Law also appear on the collection.

Together, they gave shape to that formless feeling of winding up exactly where you're meant to be. Nine tracks backlight life, love, and purpose — exploring community, aging, carving out your own version of success, and the impact of place on creative work.

An educator and journalist by day, Silverstein has learned to navigate the push and pull of work and art with intention driving every note. After time making music with Baltimore-based collective Secret Mountains and as Brooklyn-based duo Nassau, he made his way to the Pacific Northwest. Today, his drummer lives just down the road. "I've just been chasing that high this entire time," he says. Now that he's finally caught up to it, doggone is truly the only word that seems fit.