Norman Schilt was a husband, a father, a musician, and, to me - his son-in-law - a relentless pain in the ass. He never missed an opportunity to urge me to manage his audio recordings, convinced my distant familiarity with the internet would pave the way to his ultimate stardom. After he passed away, and his daughter and I split up, I somehow became the caretaker of his legacy: a dusty duffle bag stuffed with nearly fifty cassette tapes. The contents of these tapes are as eclectic as Norman himself, collectively showcasing a wide spectrum of unique elements, from music demos to random recordings of broadcasts from his time in radio. To say it's a lot is an understatement.

Though I'm no longer part of the family in the traditional sense, I still feel a deep responsibility to honor his memory, and as such have made it my task to convert these lost analog artifacts into found digital treasures, creating something his children can easily explore at their liesure. This project is my gift to the family - to his children, his grandchildren, and to Norman himself. I'm finally getting it done properly, buddy.

This site is a digital archive of hours upon hours of meticulously extracted, though utterly uncurated, audio. If it was on a cassette in that bag, it's here (or will be - I think I'm up to 17 tapes at the time of this writing, both sides each for all but two that were completely unsalvageable). I've captured high-resolution images of the cassette housings, preserved every snippet of audio I could recover, attempted to improve the sound quality of each track (and implemented bass and treble controls on the site in case anyone listening would like to fine-tune the audio further), and organized it in a way that I hope allows those who loved him to rediscover something resembling the essence of the man captured on these recordings. The idea is simple: to give his family the opportunity to sift through this mountain of cassettes and uncover the moments Norman left behind for them.

Admittedly, this gift isn't just for them. The process of converting these tapes required me to listen to every second of the audio you can hear on this site. As I worked, I felt Norman's presence - as if he were in the room, hovering over my shoulder to make sure I got it just right, driving me up the wall the entire time. It was maddening, yes, but also strangely comforting. It is not hyperbole when I state that it was nice to feel him so close to me again.

My hope is that when his children listen to these recordings, they'll feel his presence too - his humor, his passion, his "picaddilos" - and be reminded of the man who left them this wildly imperfect, but also entirely priceless, legacy.

– Josh