That was also the year Dailor moved to Georgia’s capital from Massachusetts. Before that, he lived in Rochester, New York, with a friend named Bill Kelliher (adorably, Kelliher now lives just a few blocks from Dailor). They formed Mastodon with a couple of other gentlemen named Troy Sanders and Brent Hinds, and then they started doing the things that bands do—playing shows, releasing music, and so on. The crushing excellence wouldn’t come for a couple of years, and the Grammy for many more years after that, but it was a solid start. It didn’t occur to him at the time that he’d one day be able to buy a beach house with his heavy metal money, but that’s what’s on Dailor’s mind on this chilly March afternoon in Atlanta.

“I wish I was there right now,” he says.

He’s not being rude. It’s just that, while we’re standing here in his kitchen talking about dogs and beers and art, Cigar City’s annual Stoutstravaganza, Hunahpu’s Day, is about to kick off. On the plus side, easing back into what has already been a bit of a wild weekend for your narrator, we’ve just opened a Hazy IPA called Rowdy and Proud. The night before, a few miles up the road in Decatur, Three Taverns Brewery released the beer in honor of Atlanta United, the Major League Soccer team that has redefined what it means to be a sports fan in ATL. It’s a nice beer, one that helps me forget my hangover and helps Dailor forget the beach.