I remember the day I first saw the band, Dish. I was visiting the nearby town of Deland for a music festival. I was feeling jaded and not in the mood to be entertained. I remember leaning against a wall and being propelled upright when two guys threw me for a loop. One was beating the hell out of pots, pans, and trash, the other singing and playing guitar with such passion you'd think it was to a crowd of thousands.

Dish consisted of two brothers, Roberto and Nathaniel Aguilar; sometimes they'd have guest horn players, a banjo, lap steel - but at the heart of it it was always the two.

On April 15, 2009 the band's long-awaited full-length record was released. That same night it was announced that Nathaniel, the drummer, was moving back to his hometown in Maryland. The brothers were (musically) parting ways.

"Dear Dish," is a melodic grieving process; a bittersweet letter of love and hope to two people whom I now consider friends. It's a letter of acceptance to the brother who left, and one of hope and encouragement to the one who's staying and trying to figure out the best way to keep his music alive - both brothers working to create lives that will give them joy.  

Dish's story is by no means over, but this chapter is.

I remember the day I first saw the band, Dish. I was visiting the nearby town of Deland for a music festival. I was feeling jaded and not in the mood to be entertained. I remember leaning against a wall and being propelled upright when two guys threw me for a loop. One was beating the hell out of pots, pans, and trash, the other singing and playing guitar with such passion you'd think it was to a crowd of thousands.

Dish consisted of two brothers, Roberto and Nathaniel Aguilar; sometimes they'd have guest horn players, a banjo, lap steel - but at the heart of it it was always the two.

On April 15, 2009 the band's long-awaited full-length record was released. That same night it was announced that Nathaniel, the drummer, was moving back to his hometown in Maryland. The brothers were (musically) parting ways.

"Dear Dish," is a melodic grieving process; a bittersweet letter of love and hope to two people whom I now consider friends. It's a letter of acceptance to the brother who left, and one of hope and encouragement to the one who's staying and trying to figure out the best way to keep his music alive - both brothers working to create lives that will give them joy.  

Dish's story is by no means over, but this chapter is.