Back in 1974, a young Lakota guy with a big black hat came into my studio. He was a singer and wanted to record an album. I suggested that the first thing he should do was come in on Wednesday, in the morning, and we would lay down a scratch track of all the songs that he wanted to do. He protested that morning was a really bad idea. I said, yeah, but – your voice will be really good then. So that’s how it happened. That Wednesday Buddy came in with his Martin, and big mug filled with orange juice. We recorded 10 songs that day – straight through – no second takes – just a scratch track. But as I listened to it over the years, I came to believe that this was maybe the best that Buddy ever sounded. He was clean, straight, sober, and his voice was true. He sang the songs that he had written and they were really fine. This is one of those songs. I hope you like it as much as I do.

Buddy never recorded that album. He went on to perform all over world, and recorded several other albums. We did his first 45 – “Indian Love Song” and later did an hour long documentary on his life. We released it on the first anniversary of his death. He died when he was 44. He and I were the same age, and we were both adopted. He grew up on the rez and I didn’t. Somehow his demons got the best of him, and he died of Cirrhosis of the liver. I’ve never seen a person in as much suffering as Buddy was when he went on. The only thing I suppose is that his music is still with us.