I remember staring down at the people on a particularly dreary day in Philadelphia, watching each one pass underneath the window and trying to write a back-story for a select few as they walked by to ease the boredom of the rain, when my daydreaming started to turn the population, and the city itself, back a century, and I started imagining the stories of those now forgotten individuals. While doing so, the music of Satie was playing in the back of my mind.The haunting beauty of the Gymnopédies and Gnossiennes, with their mysterious themes and ambiguous titles, created the perfect soundtrack to the antiquated urban scene that I was fantasizing about, and upon returning home to Massachusetts, I set out to make a record of these works that captured in sound what I had envisioned in the city.In doing so, I intentionally sought to record the often-neglected Seventh Gnossienne, which was originally written as part of Satie’s “Le Fils des étoiles”, and used again in “Trois Morceaux en forme de poire”. While not part of the more traditional Six Gnosiennes, the style and form of this work is undoubtedly related, and I wanted to give it a proper home alongside the others.All ten pieces fit together effortlessly, and illustrate a variety of scenes to each listener, but to me, they will always be the music of everyday people going about their business, whether in the rain and shadows of skyscrapers or within a cozy cottage in the countryside of New England.