The Twilight Hours

A beautiful name, The Twilight Hours. And the music is ravishing.

But who are these two men from Minneapolis? Can the hearts of John Munson and Matt Wilson be as pure as these songs we hear?

No. These are two practical and desperate gentlemen who have scrubbed around in the underbrush of music long enough to have touched glory and to have been gored by humiliation. Imagine the most moldy dressing room inside the loneliest bar. Now imagine two middle-aged men on a vinyl couch, crying in their underwear. There have been some sad moments.

Three decades ago, like proud and powerful young rodents, Munson and Wilson set about digging at the roots of a golden shrubbery called Music. They scratched the dirt for money and glory they thought might be buried underneath. Meanwhile, as they gouged their holes, time and wind killed the plant. Now, decades later, they raise their brown heads to see that the bush is dead! And there is no treasure! What else can the two rodents do, but return to their digging? They are The Twilight Hours.