It has been a few years since we last heard anything from Avon Wallace. All he'll say, if you really press him, is that one night he went to sleep in a tent on a beach in Mexico. He woke up dirty, bruised, and bleeding in the forest of the Canadian Rockies with no recollection of how much time had passed or what had happened to him. He stayed at my apartment in Bushwick during the month of February where Wolf was composed, recorded, and mixed. If you want any answers, you'll have to start looking in there. He may have to as well.