Only a short time ago, three midwestern brothers and one hippie got together to form a pop band. They moved into a moldy garage and called themselves Aushua. After about 7 days they got up on a stage and sang some songs. There was joy. There was mystery. There was something. Only three months into their existence, they got tired of having stuffy noses every morning from the damp, moldy garage so they spent the few bucks they had in their pockets and hauled their guitars, amps, and a fine gentleman named Elliot Richardson into a chapel on a hill to make a record.