"Live a Little" was born alongside "Peace," "Prisoner," and several other songs that emerged after a long break from writing. Rooted in the blues, it began as a daydream — a planned trip to Mexico, rod in hand, sun on the water. But somewhere between imagination and melody, the fishing excursion drifted into something deeper, taking on the feeling of a spiritual journey I hadn't set out to take. Recording this song with our newfound friends in Anguilla was a gift — a chance to capture what the song has grown into over the years. Live a little, indeed. Woven into the bridge is Witchi Tai To, the beloved song by Jim Pepper — a nod to my dance band days and my enduring love for reimagining the music of others. The sea breeze, the nights of music spilling onto the beach, the quiet thoughtfulness of the studio — all of it has found a permanent place in my heart.

From the EP "Songs From Anguilla 2026," Cary Morin This collection of songs was recorded in Anguilla, British West Indies, in February 2026, following four months of preparation. The project was conceived as a collaborative effort between a U.S.-based artist and Anguillan musicians, serving as a model for future partnerships at AMA Recording Studio while helping promote the nonprofit AMA Center on the island.

The result is a diverse collection: two Americana tracks infused with reggae rhythms, a traditional reggae piece, and a dance reinterpretation of a song originally written in the 1990s. For years, I’ve been passionate about blending Caribbean rhythmic sensibilities with blues influences, and this project marks the first time I’ve fully realized that vision in collaboration with Caribbean artists.

This experience was both creatively and culturally enriching. It offered an opportunity to learn a distinct production style and bring that knowledge back to my own work. The songs reflect my perspective on current social and cultural dynamics in the United States within a broader global context. As a Native artist, I often draw parallels between my own heritage—rooted in a not-so-distant nomadic past—and the deeply rooted cultural traditions of others.

Recording in an island environment added a unique dimension to the project, echoing the spirit of many recordings that have long inspired me. I hope this collaboration is the beginning of an ongoing creative exchange rather than a one-time experience.

This song wades into buyer's remorse and the strange sensation of watching our own lives play out like a reality show. With the current state of things in this country, I've slowed my restless movement — fewer miles, more intention. Celeste and I have put down roots in Colorado in a way we never quite managed over the past few decades.

The songs are shifting too. What started as simple blues ideas are opening up into something with more to say — social commentary creeping in at the edges. The more time I spend building songscapes, the more directions I feel pulled. I want to paint something you can place yourself inside, something that speaks to where you are and what surrounds you. To do that well, I need to understand you better. That's the work.

The feel of this one reaches back to Sade — her music had taken up permanent residence in my head during production and simply refused to leave. The lyrics came out fast, almost frantic, then got rethought entirely once the track was laid down. I gave the song room to breathe after that, let it sit and settle, and that patience paid off. Melodies emerged from the quiet — guitar lines and other elements that only revealed themselves once I stopped forcing it.