The concept of ownership has such a weird place in our culture. Too much of the time, ownership is talked about in relation to "owning up" to something--which is usually admitting a mistake or stepping up to a lie. Meanwhile, getting "owned" is generally tantamount to having your ass handed to you, which is almost never a good thing. In bygone eras, ownership was often a term used only in relation to the buying of land (which almost no one can afford to do these days) or, in some cases, the "taking" of a wife (yikes). These days, a generation raised on after-school specials and healthy doses of therapy-speak recognize that ownership is often about control--as in, taking control of one’s own messy, crazy life, or assuming ownership over one’s problems (because they are usually your own damned fault). So what does it mean to be ownerless? If you are a band from Los Angeles called Everest, being ownerless represents a kind of creative freedom the likes of which you have never known before, a feeling that propels you to create some of the finest rock music of your career. You feel this sublime sense of liberation so strongly that you decide to call your excellent new album Ownerless.