Life In The Den
This page isn’t here to run through the Montana checklist of hunting, fishing, skiing, hiking, and camping — that’s already assumed. Life in the Den is something different. It drops the usual polished spiel and lets the real stuff show through. The side that rarely makes it onto the website. Personal, honest, sometimes a little vulnerable. Not a pitch, not a performance — just the kind of glimpse that skips the gloss and shows the nuts and bolts behind the work. A glimpse reserved for the few who appreciate a straight shot.
Names & Corners
Call me Johnny in Three Forks, Travis in Bozeman, or whatever a tailgate tyrant yells. Different towns, different corners, same work ethic. Names are just what folks holler across a field or from the other side of a stage — they don’t carry the story. Who you are shows in your work and how you treat people along the way.
Step further in — the Den has teeth.
Fields & Cables
In the summers, you’ll find me in the fields around Three Forks, riding a hydraulic Stacker that looks like it rolled out of a post-apocalyptic action flick — tossing half-ton bales with the force of a diesel fist. Hot, dusty, loud. Feeling damn lucky to do it. But hay season waits for no one, and when that call comes, everything drops. My cable schedule moves with the weather. Some days I’m soldering at 6 a.m., other days… midnight sneaks up.
Drums & Bench
Most weekends, I’m behind the drum kit somewhere in Bozeman, Big Sky, or the Paradise Valley — chasing that same pulse I felt the first time I sat down to play. Between gigs and the summer fields, I’m at the bench — building every single cable by hand. Every wire. Every solder joint. Every decision. No team besides fam. No outsourcing. Just me and the work.
Sometimes I hit the road out of state. Once a year, I haul my gear to Pachyderm Studios near Minneapolis — joining six musicians from six different states in an intense, collaborative recording session. It’s the kind of creative fuel that pushes ideas to their limit in a short span of time, keeps my soul fed, and my fire stoked. Grateful to be part of it all — from the Rocky Mountain Pearls, 10ft Tall & 80 Proof, Hallaballoo, Tessy Lou Williams… and all the other bands that keep me playing and chasing that spark.
Family & Focus
From Bozeman to Three Forks and back again, the road always leads home — to family first. They’re the ones who keep me driven and grounded in this work-for-yourself life we chose together. They’re the reason I keep pushing when the grind gets heavy.
I run on focus and forward motion — and that doesn’t mean cutting corners. Clear-headed is where I do my best work. I’ve been down the fast lane, took what the road would give, when young blood had more sprint than sense — and left the rest in the rearview. These days, the fire comes from the work — the only fire worth chasing.
That said, when it’s real, I’ll still burn a cigar or toast the night with something strong. No judgment. Just fuel for staying sharp… and a little untamed.
Gratitude & Perspective
The past several years have been a grind for just about everyone. Costs keep climbing — rent, groceries, gas, insurance — and most folks are hustling more than one job just to keep pace.
Through it all, the work keeps moving forward — cables on the bench, songs on stage, small shops keeping the craft alive. What makes that possible is the support of people who stand behind the work, no applause required, just letting it matter. That support isn’t just a transaction; it’s the spark that keeps independents alive, hi-fi hounds chasing clarity, and families holding onto the things that matter most.
Roots & Resilience
This sister brand isn’t just about cables. It’s about roots. About hard work. About standing firm in places that don’t make it easy. Bozeman used to be a working-class town — a place where your name carried weight, not your wallet. The skyline changed, and the pace of life with it. But long-time locals dug in, took the hits, and found a way.
That strength — that resilience — matters. It belongs to everyone who refuses to fold, who leans in, shoulder to shoulder, and keeps the line unbroken.
Word of Mouth
This page? It’s my version of social media. No filters. No Facebook. No Instagram. No ads. Just word of mouth. The band-van way: play the gig, earn the trust, hand someone a cassette, and hope they pass it on. It ain’t for everyone. But if you’ve read this far — chances are, we’d get along just fine.
That’s how I see Custom Headphone Cables — built from the bench up, crafted for truth, and fueled by real conversations and honest work.
No Reviews, No Forums
You won’t find product reviews here. Why? Because all ears are different. All gear is different. I don’t need five stars or influencer quotes. Every product page cuts straight to what matters — the parts, the length, the function, the build — so you can call the shots. Skip the stars. Trust what you hear, not what they tell you to hear. Reviews are for microwaves — things you can measure and rank without emotion. Gear that speaks to the soul is different. It’s too personal, too tied to how you hear, to let someone else hand you their stars.
And no, I’m not on forums either. I’d rather dig post holes than argue with strangers. Got a real question? Something off? Don’t toss guesses into the wind — email me. I’ll answer straight — no bots, no PR. Got a beef? Bring it to my doorstep. I’ll put the coffee on. Let’s talk it through, swap some war stories, maybe even walk away laughing. Who knows — we might end up sharing a nod of respect instead of throwing rocks.
Metal Years
When I played drums in a metal band from 2002 to 2015, rivalry was everywhere in the early years. Smash Division was more than a band — it was a family, a true brotherhood. We started the 406 Crew — named for Montana’s one and only area code, uniting the fourth largest state, the bands, and the metal scene into one big family — long before “406” got stamped on daycares, roofing trucks, and every brewery rig rolling through Montana.
We headbanged and moshed like warriors raising our battle cry — vikings riding a roaring wave of metal that bound us as one. When bands rolled through our town, we threw open our doors, fired up the grill, and made damn sure they left with stories worth telling. And when we rolled through theirs, they did the same. It was infectious and downright heartwarming — wild, considering we were a bunch of tough metal heads who probably smelled like a mix of sweat, beer, and rebellion.
Every one of us fly the 406 for life — a mark you earn, not buy. Inked deep, because back then it was more real than anything else we’d ever lived. Although the band is gone, that code still runs true.
That same spirit belongs in the cable world — backing each other up, swapping ideas, building the scene. We’re better together.
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This is the Den — where I lay it all out.
The thought behind every connector. The history that shaped this work. The truth about materials, design, and what matters when you press play.
This isn’t content.
This is life.
What follows isn’t just a page — it’s the side door into the undercurrent, where stories, history, family, fans, and the crew who keep it alive are held beneath the surface for the curious few. If you’re still here, pull up a chair.