Though most musicians discredit early undertakings, after recording twice and playing 30+ shows in and around greater L.A.'s myriad foxholes and private residences, culminating with a scattershot summer odyssey on which Anchors 1.0 subjected middle America to an often too esoteric but occasionally devastating cacophony for a month straight, I still second-guess having jumped ship about midway through the band's existence in the name of now-defunct East Coast collegiate pursuits. It was tough seeing a band I was once a part of playing so well in my absence, yet one can't deny Anchors' progress; whereas circa '03, our set (at its most indulgent) often ran upwards of 40 minutes, it now clocks in at roughly half that. H. Andrew Jeffords remains one of my favorite guitarists—in any context—and the entire band these days stops audiences in their tracks, killing it with authority while defying easy categorization. Upon first joining forces to write songs with Andrew in the winter of '01—over mutual disregard for musical "chops" and inclination towards faceless indie rock, junk food, and overly ambitious songwriting for what eventually became Anchors for Architects, I certainly hadn't envisioned writing its eulogy roughly six years later. But it's hardly unmerited; partners in crime will concur that born of the cumbersomely monikered musical juggernaut's multiple personnel and stylistic shifts have been innumerable friendships and awesome times.
–Charlie Z.