I can remember the smell of the fountain in the middle of the open atrium at what was called Eastland Mall at the time. The time was 1992. Standing on a one-foot stage riser we were looking out at a classic archetype of the 1980’s retail era of shopping malls which had evolved to become a cultural center piece for the urban sprawl of American life in lieu of a city main street which once was the through point for retail and shared cultural events. In the early 90’s the mall was the place to be and fixtures which reflected this time of plastic plenty included indoor shopping complex’s with two level waterfalls and glass elevators emanating across the tile and concrete. The chlorine of the foundation near the stage was a familiar almost comforting smell. What was not comforting or helpful was the sound of the waterfall which was clearly not being turned off. 

Standing on the one-foot riser stage we were in our white T-shirts, blue jeans and leather jackets performing our tightly rehearsed Rock N Roll medley auditioning to perform on the community stage of the Tulsa staple Mayfest Arts Festival and we had nothing but our voices and a lot of attitude. 

I can remember the trembling in my feet. It was a mix of energy, excitement and what I hardly recognized as ‘nerves’ cause I was so happy to be in that moment. I remember looking to my right and my left at my two brothers. We didn’t have to know what was going to happen tomorrow because we had the blind optimism and belief that our desire to sing and get on stage was worth the time of the audience we hoped would show up. Maybe ignorance is bliss, or maybe bliss is loving something so much you look past the fear, but not so far that you think about the things too far ahead. You live right here, on the stage, in the moment, with the challenge in front of you, and the challenge just feels like a joyful leap. One way or another, there is no trick to get you to the next show, you can’t skip the first time. 

That first time performing in front of some community volunteer judges turned out to be the start of a long journey that we are still mapping out. That little performance which I presume was just loud enough to get over the volume of the chlorinated waterfalls was an audition and we aced it. We were approved that day to be a performer on the community stage coming up in May 1992 and our job after that was to get others to come and see us. Who knows, maybe we would get another gig. 

From that May in 1992, in one form or another, each gig we did lead to another gig. Someone in the crowd would hear us sing and come up to one of our parents or one of us and ask if we were available to play the local block party, arts festival, church social…or the back deck at local food establishment.

At that point in our lives everything was the First Time. 

A few years ago, we began stacking up anniversaries. The 10th anniversary of Middle Of Nowhere, The 20th anniversary of the band. The 25th anniversary of our band. Those landmarks were worthy of celebration and we loved sharing them with you. When you start to have so much history, you can forget what it feels like to do something for the first time. 

It was 1997 and we had made a record called Middle Of Nowhere. This album was a leap of faith but we had a lot of people excited about it. Only a few months before in the summer of 1996 we had left our fifth consecutive Mayfest performance in Tulsa which now was populated by a little devoted fanbase and a merch table and a brand-new independent album called MMMBop and headed to Los Angeles to record a major label album with the support of Mercury. We had moved from doing something we had become fairly practice at (playing gigs and gaining local fans) to doing something we had never done and that was working with other professionals in a new city with a global music company behind us. That leap was not small, but it was the natural evolution we needed to happen. 

Now in the spring of 1997 as this album was prepared to be released, we were still those kids who stood on the one-foot riser with a few local fans, but we were about to be introduced to a lot more people. 

Now in NY rehearsing for our first major TV performance on David Letterman, we were excited and nervous. The song MMMBop was beginning to be pitched to radio stations and picked up a really good reaction, but we were in our own bubble, we really didn’t know if it was working or not. We were just preparing to share our music on national TV for the first time and we wanted it to be good. 

Interrupting our performance rehearsal at SIR (Studio Instrument Rental) in downtown New York the lead promotional director for the label who leads radio and he was there to let us know they had a promotion at a local mall and we needed to take a break from rehearsal to attend it. Naturally as we were preparing for a pivotal moment on national TV, we were not especially excited about departing that focus, but we were impressed upon that this was a must do. Since our origin we had a relationship with shopping malls, we knew a bit about chorine fountains and endless tile atriums and this sounded like a distraction, but it was time to go do some radio promo and, you can’t skip the first time. 

Loading up in a fifteen passenger van we were told it was in New Jersey at one of the biggest malls in the area, Paramus Park Mall, and the radio station had been promoting the appearance all week. Having barely played a gig outside of the mid-west I was actually somewhat dreading performing to a few random people at an east coast mall right when we were supposed to be getting ready for our big national TV moment, but behind the words of the radio team there was a palpable excitement and they assured us it was not going to be a small crowd. 

As we arrived at the mall it was only a few minutes before official closing but the endless parking lot was packed with nearly every space filled. We joked that there was a sale at Macy’s and we listened as our label team fielded calls from the staff at the mall directing us to a loading dock. As we arrived the flashing lights of the police were on and the few tan suited mall cops greeted us with a mix of guarded relief and what looked to me like shock. What was going on? The security team talked in the distance to our small entourage including our tour manager, our dad, and a couple other organizers and the murmur was one of excitement and concern. “There are a lot of people out there”. 

Moving from the back loading dock we walked through a long pale tile and linoleum hallway of beige toward a back entrance which apparently was the closest we could get to the stage set up for our special radio appearance. The plan was for us to do a couple acoustic songs and we only had a couple we even had rehearsed. We had MMMBop and Madeline ready to go and it was not that much different than the debut set back at Eastland mall, basically our voices and a little PA. This time there was no fountain close by, but there was a lot of noise to overcome. 
 
The security team told us the whole mall was packed, and the stage was only a one-foot riser. The closest we could get to the stage was this back door and they only had a few security guards, no barricades and at least 30 feet between our access point and the stage. You could feel the quiet thunder from the back of house. We peaked out the small door and you could see nothing but a crowd. The floor and the features of the mall seemed to disappear as every inch was packed with a person. This was happening. 

Without a real plan of attack beyond ‘let’s do this’ and the hope that nothing would go terribly wrong we put our crew in position, got at the center of a few security guards, our tour manager and our dad and the radio rep and we opened that door to push to the stage. It was like someone turned our head right into a jet engine. 

My heart rate went up and I looked to the right and left to make sure both brothers were there. Zac being significantly smaller than me at the time I was worried he would be swallowed. All around us you could see people, an endless sea of mostly young girls and the shrieking sound of 8,000 screams. The pushing in and around us as we waded into the mall headed toward the stage was like a reverse parting of the red sea. We were walking into the space and with each step it grew smaller. The feeling of the audience moving in was one I now understand, but it was in a word frightening. Within a couple minutes we were through the crowd, only to find ourselves mildly protected from the excited masses. 

We had some percussion, a few mic stands, some speakers on a stick and a one-foot stage riser. In front of us were the few mall cops, our couple team members and a crowd bursting with excitement reaching across to get a handshake or a touch of the hand in some form. I lifted my eyes to the right and saw an endless sea of faces smiling and some in duress. Potted plants had become climbing trees, benches designed for sitting were stools being stood on to look out across the mall in our direction. The features of the mall were obfuscated to a blur of faces and shoulders. This was a big different than the first mall performance.

The thing I had learned in the previous five years of performing and starting to build a fan base which had given us some experience with crowds was the best thing you can do when encountering the unknown on stage was to lean on what you do know. We smiled and waved, Isaac plugged in the acoustic guitar and we started to play music. The music was just being released but the record we had crafted the summer before was already becoming familiar as we stated into the song “about a girl named Madeline” and the room vibrated with energy. As we performed the song, we could barely hear what we were doing, but the muscle memory allowed us to get through it. We could harmonize in our sleep and we knew these songs but it was incredibly disorienting to be essentially surrounded by a sea of humanity screaming back at us while we could barely hear ourselves. 

With a short pause we concluded Madeline and then prepared for MMMBop and the screams raised in level even more. I had never heard anything like it. The hair on the back of my neck stood up and my heart raced. This song we had made in our garage and then in a quiet studio space away from anyone else was now known. It was not only known, it was being sung back to us every word by thousands of new faces in a city we had never been. We could have never predicted this. We could have never prepared for it…we just had to experience it. You can’t skip the first time. 

That performance was the start of a new era. We finished our couple songs and then had to depart the stage which felt less like the conclusion of a concert and more like the escape from a ticking timebomb which was headed toward an inevitable explosion which was without a doubt going to kill us all. Our leap into the sea of humanity was aided by a couple security guards and the short distance to the back of house at the mall felt like a mile as the audience closed in on us. As we got close to the door, Zac was pulled into the crowd as hands reached to get a piece of the three blond kids from Tulsa and out of the depths of this intense moment our tour manager reached with heroic strength and timing to scoop him back to the center of our huddle. We made it. 

Standing inside the door after the Paramus set, I looked around at the combination of ear-to-ear smiles and stunned nervous shock which was on everyone in our group. Adult men looked exhausted and everyone in our group was sharing in the feeling that we were experiencing a moment which few would understand. 

As our music reached more people that year, I remember the feeling of growing distance. We reached the goal which had been the dream, to share music with the world and to have fans who want to hear it night after night. Our connection to the music fan of our generation was different than most as we were all discovering the internet and we were getting email addresses and starting to “surf the web’. At the peak of this rise to fame with the first album, we were receiving over 2000 letters  a Day at our designated office in Tulsa Oklahoma. We were still in the time of traditional mail and the many fans we had made in this short time were sharing letters expressing their affection by the tune of thousands of letters. It was an incredible thing to observe. 

We know many people who are a part of our Hanson.net community sent us letters, shared gifts or personal messages and reached out to us through the mail, but another item growing our ability to hear from you was this new-fangled internet. Part of what I loved about the idea of the web site was the ability to actually connect with all of these fans who were clearly out there, but we clearly could not echo the reflection of enthusiasm with returned response letters. We now had a platform to communicate. During this time of new we were establishing traditions that at the time were unprecedented. 

Most all communication to a large group of people at that time was through a gatekeeper. Through radio stations, magazines, retail outlets and television shows. As an artist you felt this anxiousness that it was never possible to talk as directly to the audience as you would like (at least I felt that way) but the web site and the things like chat rooms and web pages could allow us to share thoughts and direct messages with fans without a filter of those other companies. 

Thankfully during that time, we were at such state of infancy of that technology that nobody in our industry cared to control or manage the web site and we had the chance to get to know the audience that was joining us, we had a chance to build a community. Even the term Blog was not coined yet. It did not exist. So, as we were establishing different kinds of content which would also be an extension of products like MOE Magazine -Middle Of Everywhere - which had been our first attempt to stay connected to this thriving fanbase) we had to think of ways of saying what kind of content we were going to share. 

“Could we have a place just to write messages and articles, sharing thoughts and updates for the fans”, the simple question was posed from us to our young web team. ‘Yes of course”, I suggested let’s just call it a “From Us To You”. 

Here we are, March 31st, 2026. Over two decades since the first scream of the Paramus Park Mall, over three decades since our chlorinated waterfall season in Tulsa Oklahoma and many, many, many concerts and songs shared since our first world tour. Between the cracks of all those efforts and a lot of miles its really just been one long, From Us To You. What a gift. 

Between the lines of the last few years there are many things that have been at play behind the scenes. Some things that may never be able to be explained and some which light will shine on our stories in time to better articulate the balancing act we have managed as the band crossed into its third decade and beyond. Regardless of the many stories that are hard to share there is one very important one which is most critical and that is the incredible conversation we have been able to have with you, without a filter since those early days pre-blog, that From Us To You was first coined. 

The web site turned into an online Fanclub, and the series of posts turned into many different blogs, streams, events, meet and greets and on and on. The power of the language we all speak, which is a love of music and experience and shared connection opened up a million conversations which we have been able to have directly with you through Hanson.net and beyond. 

What is wonderful about our story so far is that it is just that, only part of the story we hope to tell, but we are at a turning point of change. This change is like the necessary change we have seen in the past, just in a different format or scenario. Like the move from an era of glue and paper to send out messages to a growing fanbase which became an email list. A band hotline which turned into a podcast or a live interview or a meet and greet. A physical CD which transitioned into a digital stream and all the music living on your phone. There are some changes that are the force of time and innovation that we have the benefit and burden of participating in. We also know the changes that are inspired by change in direction, inspiration and vision and those forces are even more powerful than the wave of new platforms which I just described. 

I didn’t grow up near the ocean, but early in life I went to touch the waves of several different coasts and there is something eternally awe inspiring about the movement of the tide against the sand. Whether you are in a clam warm summer bath of the gulf of a Trinidadian island or the rough and chilling crash of a Southern Californian rip curl I have always been stunned by the inevitability of nature. Like the calm that comes with recognizing when the weather has come into your day and regardless of your plans, that day you have to adjust to accept the rain, there are some things that nature prescribes and only our hubris can argue with its power to define what comes next. 

We have the gift of inspiration which is nature and also the gift of our response. Some of the changes in the world around the band are nature calling us to create changes, and what we do about it is a question of how we respond to this natural force both beautiful and challenging. 

The idea of a communication without filter to the audience of any song or artist or product is completely un-remarkable to us now, as it is a part of our daily life. This is true of so many, many things once the newness is put in the past, but as I have waxed during this whole story so much of what we love and live with and become familiar would not be possible if we ran from the new. 

I find that the creative act is a great teacher. To create we have to leap. We have to grow and expand and we have to listen. This experience over more than three decades has made some of the most uncomfortable things actually quite familiar. The turning of the stomach on the edge of a great ravine is not something anyone would choose to experience, but the idea of the great leap into the unknown and the faith and excitement of discovery which is grounded by our experience and our vision of the future is something worthy of a bit of a stomach turn. Like one of the pivotal moments in one of my favorite films ever made, Indiana Jones And The Last Crusade. In the climactic scene Indiana (the rugged scholarly protagonist) looks across the great ravine, which is required to be passed, and every intellectual conclusion screams that certain death awaits to those who attempt to cross the cavernous space. Only through the courage which is born from the urgency of his mission to save his father’s life and complete the quest for the holy grail does he lift his heal and drop with blind faith to land on the invisible stone bridge which comes under his feet. This leap, this is where creation lives and just like his step into the abyss it would not be known the stone bridge was awaiting his leather sole (and those that followed) if he had not been driven to an impossible step. 

Some steps are more impossibly daunting than others, but the story of first times is one that I think is at the root of most of accomplishments which hold the greatest value. I love the new places we have seen, the new songs we have written, the first-time concert goers and the new inspiration which comes at times you can never expect. I love the intimacy that is born in a direct conversation with a new friend, one unfiltered 
by the knowledge of what has been.

I also am grateful for the amazing stories I now have and we have shared as a result of the leap into so many unknowns. Sometimes we get to share in a mission and drive toward it together, and other times Indiana stands at the ravine and steps out just hoping his feet find footing and a bridge is hidden to the less adventurous eye. 

Many more stories to come, and many more items in the H experience which I have no doubt we will celebrate together (who knows maybe soon on a stage near you). 

One thing I know for certain, you can’t skip the first time. 

From Me To You

TAYLOR H