Lost Disciples
Band Story
They say in rock and roll there’s nothing quite like packing up your gear and hitting the road. What they don’t always tell you is how much a tour can take from you—and how much more it can give back. That’s exactly what happened to us in September 2001, when we—Lost Disciples—set off on a whirlwind run through the American Southwest. We were chasing gigs, chasing dreams... and ended up finding something bigger than all of that.
Then came 9/11. The world shifted.
Not long after the towers fell, our bus broke down in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Just died on us. We had no money, no backup plan, and nowhere to go. And to top it off, we were stuck in a repair shop that couldn’t give us the time of day—understandably, since the whole country was still in shock, trying to process the horror and grief that had just unfolded.
For a full week, we were stranded in that desert city—four guys, each with their own baggage, stuck together with no distractions, no escape. But something happened in that heat. We laughed. We fought. We broke down. And through it all, we wrote. Songs poured out of us—real ones, honest ones. Music that didn’t try to fit a mold. Just raw, emotional, and human. That week bonded us in a way I don’t think any of us expected.
The last night there, we found ourselves in a hole-in-the-wall bar, singing karaoke alongside an 80-year-old woman, with CNN flickering on the screen behind us. It was surreal. And kind of perfect. That night—and that week—became something we’d carry forever.
When we finally got back on the road, something had changed. We weren’t just a band anymore. We were brothers. We’d seen each other stripped bare—no egos, no personas—and we’d come out the other side stronger for it.
Musically, that chapter shaped everything. The album The Journey Home grew from those roots. It’s a hard rock record, yeah—fist-pumping drums, ripping bass, hooks that hit like a freight train. But underneath all that, there’s a heart, a soul, a message. You might hear it as a personal spiritual journey. You might catch the emotional aftershocks of 9/11 woven through the lyrics. However it lands with you, it’s meant to mean something.
We’ve been humbled by the response to our pre-release singles. “Seed” hit number one on Broadjam in six categories—rock, male vocals, even number one in California. Music critic Dylan Roberts called it refreshing to hear a deep male voice in rock again, something he felt had gone missing since the days of early counterculture rock. That meant something to us—because it meant we were doing more than just playing loud. We were connecting.
We’re four very different guys—different tastes, different minds, different ways of seeing the world. But when we come together, something just clicks. That’s the magic. That’s Lost Disciples.
Awards, airplay, critical praise—it’s all appreciated. But what really matters is the message, the music, and the bond we’ve built. This band was forged in the fire of a moment the world will never forget. And sometimes, it still feels like we’re just beginning.
Sometimes a journey gives you far more than you ever expected.
That was ours. We’re still on it.
Then came 9/11. The world shifted.
Not long after the towers fell, our bus broke down in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Just died on us. We had no money, no backup plan, and nowhere to go. And to top it off, we were stuck in a repair shop that couldn’t give us the time of day—understandably, since the whole country was still in shock, trying to process the horror and grief that had just unfolded.
For a full week, we were stranded in that desert city—four guys, each with their own baggage, stuck together with no distractions, no escape. But something happened in that heat. We laughed. We fought. We broke down. And through it all, we wrote. Songs poured out of us—real ones, honest ones. Music that didn’t try to fit a mold. Just raw, emotional, and human. That week bonded us in a way I don’t think any of us expected.
The last night there, we found ourselves in a hole-in-the-wall bar, singing karaoke alongside an 80-year-old woman, with CNN flickering on the screen behind us. It was surreal. And kind of perfect. That night—and that week—became something we’d carry forever.
When we finally got back on the road, something had changed. We weren’t just a band anymore. We were brothers. We’d seen each other stripped bare—no egos, no personas—and we’d come out the other side stronger for it.
Musically, that chapter shaped everything. The album The Journey Home grew from those roots. It’s a hard rock record, yeah—fist-pumping drums, ripping bass, hooks that hit like a freight train. But underneath all that, there’s a heart, a soul, a message. You might hear it as a personal spiritual journey. You might catch the emotional aftershocks of 9/11 woven through the lyrics. However it lands with you, it’s meant to mean something.
We’ve been humbled by the response to our pre-release singles. “Seed” hit number one on Broadjam in six categories—rock, male vocals, even number one in California. Music critic Dylan Roberts called it refreshing to hear a deep male voice in rock again, something he felt had gone missing since the days of early counterculture rock. That meant something to us—because it meant we were doing more than just playing loud. We were connecting.
We’re four very different guys—different tastes, different minds, different ways of seeing the world. But when we come together, something just clicks. That’s the magic. That’s Lost Disciples.
Awards, airplay, critical praise—it’s all appreciated. But what really matters is the message, the music, and the bond we’ve built. This band was forged in the fire of a moment the world will never forget. And sometimes, it still feels like we’re just beginning.
Sometimes a journey gives you far more than you ever expected.
That was ours. We’re still on it.
Band Members
Donovan McGlynn: Lead Guitars//Backing Vocals Eddie Bielma: Drums//Percussion Bobby Cherry: Bass//Backing Vocals Jason B: Lead Vocals//Acoustic Guitar
Donovan McGlynn: Lead Guitars//Backing Vocals Eddie Bielma: Drums//Percussion Bobby Cherry: Bass//Backing Vocals Jason B: Lead Vocals//Acoustic Guitar
Location: AMERICA NORTH: USA: California (CA)
Genre: Rock