A bicycle crash left a young Sweeney with his jaw wired shut for six weeks, and in recovering, his sustenance was on an acoustic guitar. What was he chasing? Perhaps something in a progression that led to seclusion in empty piano rooms on the campus of UC Berkeley, the acquisition of a Yamaha MT-50 4-track recorder, and cassette release parties hosted inside his co-op; all while logging enough California-psych gold on tape to get a good stretch of Highway 1 named for him.