I never had a job through high school—my parents said my job was to be a full-time student. Instead, I got a $ 40-a-week allowance to spend on whatever I wanted. So when I graduated high school and got around $2000 between graduation money and cashing out my childhood savings account, I spent like mad.

I blew through most of that sum by the fall, much of it buying up CDs from bands I had tangentially heard of. That included the legendary Mineral of course, but I must have heard of Chris Simpson’s side project The Gloria Record as well, because I listened to this CD all the time. 

Truth be told, I’ve probably always liked The Gloria Record more than Mineral. Simpson’s improved vocal control certainly contributed to that, but there’s also a marked maturity in his songwriting, and a much larger sonic variety in the production. This is more obviously true of Start Here, which is as cinematic as it is intimate.

Their self-titled debut however isn’t nearly as separated from the previous band. After recording EndSerenading in 1997, the quartet went their separate ways. Simpson and bassist Jeremy Gomez formed The Gloria Record with guitarist Brian Hubbard and drummer Matt Hammon filling out the lineup.

As the story is told, at this point Simpson didn’t consider himself to be doing something different creatively from Mineral. And in a lot of ways, this feels like a third Mineral record. His electric guitar chimes on similar arpeggios. He still extends his syllables in lilting croons. “Ode to New Grass” in particular feels like it could have easily fit on one of the two Mineral records.

But at the same time, the sonic palette is much broader than the previous project. The atmosphere is augmented by acoustic guitars, keyboards, and studio effects. The production isn’t in your face, but it’s a big difference from the rawness of Mineral. The record opens and closes with a vocal sample from a stereo setup instructional tape, and even today the sound of that sample fading into the strumming acoustic guitars and eBow of “Ozona & Sonora” feels like the peace of sleep, as this CD spent a lot of time on repeat overnight.

It’s an understated record, just barely cracking the thirty-minute mark with two instrumentals on its six-song tracklist. It might not be all that significant in the context of Simpson’s career. It doesn’t reach the same emotional peaks as Mineral, nor does it have the sonic variety or matured songwriting of Start Here. But it ranks among my favorites of his work. Call it sentimentality if you must. But this record feels to me like staying home and looking out the window at the first blanket of snow of the season.