Happy New Years Baby Essay 13 May 2019

This one is about as literal as any song I've ever written. I met my wife at a place in C-ville called  "the mansion." She was a student at the college and I was a college drop out living at my Mom's. A couple blocks away from my mom's the edifice stood, a big ol' victorian structure sectioned off into apartments full of young people, or older folk looking for a new start, or drifters living out an endless Jack Kerouac novel, or something much less romantic like people who refuse to or just couldn't get their shit together.

This particular party was sometime in the 90's. Hmm, let's say 1993 (chuckle)? (If anyone is so inclined the mansion is in the Circle 9 movie THE CRACKER GETS THE CHEESE where Joe Gallagher plays a drug dealer, I play a cop, and the late Tom Wind plays a drug purchaser.) On the first floor is a big hall with a stair case opposite the main entrance and big apartments on either side. Facing the stairs, this party took place in the apartment to the right. THAT was where my future wife lived. One time I put my head through the drywall in the closet in her bedroom.

The thing about these parties is that Baltimore is a pretty gritty town - almost literally. When I was growing up you had preps and grits. Later on you had punkers too. But "grit" was a term to describe  people who were southern rock devotees. They wore Molly Hatchet baseball shirts, jeans, and workboots year round, even in July. Once a grit jumped off of the high dive in full uniform at a teen night at the pool and everybody cheered. The preps kind of morphed into punks at a certain point. The thing that brought everyone together was a common love of cannabis. So at a pretty young age everybody was mixing together REM and Black Sabbath and MDC and Lynryd Skynyrd.  Jump forwards a decade or so and these are the folks populating the party at the Mansion; students, workers, hangers ons, musicians, folks who weren't scared off of drugs simply due to illegality. Back then, during cannabis prohibition, a line of thought went "well I might as well try PCP or crack because they fucking lie about pot!"

Personally I gave up anything illegal when I turned 21 and I set on turning my liver into pate and my lungs into a burnt husk. Eventually I grew to view those addicted to alcohol and nicotene with scorn simply bcause they are the drugs sanctioned by society and therefore the laziest paths to addiction. That's a pretty assholish stance to take. It reminds me of gas stations/convenience stores. They function as one stop addiction shops for bloated and distracted Americans addicted to gasoline, nicotene, high fructose corn syrup, and gambling.

There's always a contingent in alcoholic circles of folks who fancy themselves as great artists or writers living out the romantic lifestyle of Charles Bukowski or Vincent Van Gogh. The truth is we were all just a bunch of drunks. I understand why alcohol came to prominance oh so many years ago. Simply put you needed the alcohol in your liquids to kill lethal bacterias. I oft wonder what American society would be like if the sanctioned drugs were cannabis and psylocibin instead of alcohol, nicotene, sugar, and caffiene. It sure as fuck wouldn't be nearly as fucking violent or mean. 

Like fast food. Shit, how far have we strayed from the song now? This is like one of the podcasts me and Brian make. But dig, there is no conspiracy behind all of the legal drugs (and I include fast food in this category) being the ones that make the populace stupid, lazy, and dependent. There IS, however, a willingness to use the parameters presented to acquire and maintain power. Now we're lurching into territory that can't be summmed up in an essay about a song in a never ending rock opera. Suffice to say that, what, we're all slaves to the chains society presents to us in the form of everything they make ads for during the Super Bowl? That's myoipic and too media obsessed.

In terms of THIS SONG? What matters are the relationships we make and maintain with other people. If you're clever enough you can twist anything into seeming like an addiction. The mansion is where I met the love of my life so I presume one could say that it's certainly acceptable to be addicted to love. And there you have it. It's been about Robert Palmer the whole fucking time.

notes: 

- Paul told me that adding an "s" to Happy New Year is a Baltimore thing.

- The guitar solo was played as a goof with the intention of recording a better one later but Paul and Pork liked the original one.-

I'm using Paul's effect board on all of the 1993 stuff so as to have a different sound than the SFP-Brandy stuff.

- For the back up vocals we ran a mic through the guitar pedals. I love doing that because I usually know what effects I want on the vocals and it always takes a million years to find it in the fucking computer later. Just do it live. It always goes back to the Beatles. Lennon wold have the effects on his voice when he recorded the vocals. Look, man, it's MUCH more efficient for me to record the vocal with the effect already on it.   

Happy New Years Baby

The nights go on forever dogs bark through the cold
UPS trucks rumble through holidays grown old
Grey skies hover blindly grey grass lies asleep
Grey roads rise through heaven grey breath slowly seeps

How many people died when live shrinks and melts in pride
Accomplishments are nigh happy new years baby

The fireplace burns forgiving so come in from the cold
Laughter ells and singing false stories here retold
A cat purrs in the corner the music gets a boost
The stroke of midnight passes and everyone cuts loose

Cocaine and whiskey buzz acid and shrooms a must
Heroin and crack for us happy new years baby
Sleep when the sun comes up afternoon and throwing up
See the folks and suck it up happy new years baby

It's just like what Lennon said
Years come and go and then you're dead
Winter sucks or so I've read
Happy new years baby
Can't wait 'til spring comes 'round
Krokus flowers in the ground
Now the stinking fields are brown
Happy new years baby

Dave - guitars, vocals, percussion
Paul - bass, engineering, mixing
Wil - drums
Ian - mastering

1993 Essay May 2, 2019

When I was in my twenties I decided to conduct an experiment meant to test randomness and if randomness led to any noticeable patterns. I took all of my t-shirts and threw them into a gigantic pile in the middle of the cedar closet at my Mom's house. She was gracious enough to let me stay there after I stopped going to college. Every day I would close my eyes and root around the pile of literally hundreds of shirts and that'd be my shirt for the day. Once at a party my random shirt happened to be an old hospital shirt. A friend said something along the lines of "look at Tude. Most people go to the hospital and wear a shirt out. When they get home they throw it away or use it as a rag. Tude wears it to a party." That still gives me a chuckle. 

What did I learn? Randomness is random. It led down a deconstructionist path that was essential in putting together the pieces for the never ending opera. Everything is arbitrary if you go back far enough. When I was a kid I read rock and roll biographies. Dave Marsh was my favorite. Later Lester Bangs was a god to me. Leg's McNeil writing for Spin was a golden age of magazine journalism. But I realized eventually, tracing the music I love back further and further, that rock and roll itself was a lie shouted by narcissistic Baby Boomers who had the good fortune of never having to face down an existential threat to their comfort. The 'Nam draftees  are not included in my vitriol. They faced two enemies, Ho Chi Minn and Nixon. Hah! Where was I? Rock and roll was, is, and always will be a lie. The fact of the matter is that it's the same stuff that folk musicians had been doing for millennia. It wasn't special. Nothing is special. When you are born is arbitrary. The music of your youth is not special. You are not special.

What's this got to do with the song 1993? Wouldn't YOU like to know! I'll tell you. Remember a while back when the Hubble telescope was pointed at empty space and eventually it photographed a gazillion galaxies? That's the existential angst of arbitrary randomness right there. I fixed point in time and space, unassuming, nothing special about it (just like you) and yet, focus on it for an instant and it's the most spectacular thing ever in the cosmos. Just a tiny instant of focus and that specific reality is transformed, nothing into everything. Did it lose it's tag of nothingness when the discovery of everything was made? Does the discovery define that point in space? Did it even exist before the Hubble pointed at it? Deconstruct it further. To paraphrase Sam Kinison "we've hit another vein, mine deeper." 

1993 is an arbitrary year picked at random with the specific idea of deconstructing it month by month and season by season to see what stories are told. The song birthed the concept with this'n. I wrote it for Doom Cookie. As a matter of fact the only reason this entry into the Never Ending Opera isn't under the name of Doom Cookie is that I made Brian promise that he would never let me stray from the Society Fringe Player name with future projects. He said it was smarter to be like my buddy Andrew Grimm, aka June Star, and keep the name forever whilst changing up the players.

Musically this song, through Paul's mixing, really accentuates the riff. In me pea-brain I always heard a fiddle playing the riff. I even borrowed one with the intent that I'd learn it enough to play the part when we recorded it but ALAS nyet!

I really want to hammer home the arbitrary underpinnings of all existence. It's arbitrary where you are born. It's arbitrary to what nation you owe allegiance. It's arbitrary which god was foisted upon you as a child. It's arbitrary if you dig your own gender. It's arbitrary if you get cancer. It's arbitrary if you have fun playing the guitar. Nothing is according to any plan. Keep deconstructing everything, eventually you'll get to a point of vacant nothingness and in a moment of mental anti-obliteration you'll realize that the entire everything was there the whole fucking time.

Looking at a corpse at dawn in 1993

Hit and run up the tab in 1993

Here I live in Baltimore in 1993

Born and raised wait to die in 1993

Segregate black and white in 1993

Baltimore Harbor night in 1993

It's like an alcoholic's dream

Blue collar bars and disco scenes

Poor rage and shoot up the interstate

Ain't life oh so great

Steaming crabs a baseball day in 1993

No football no subway in 1993

I'm feeling like I'm left behind in 1993

It never changes it never changes in 1993

Dave - stringed instruments and vocals

Paul, bass, recording, mixing

Pork - drums

Ian - mastering

HARD 26 April 2019

Rather unfortunately whenever we played this song live in Doom Cookie it was preceded with an erection quip. "Quip" makes it sound urbane. 

This is a Doom Cookie song. This whole fucking opera is about Doom Cookie. It's the central conceit of the concept. The protagonist is a "character" like the protagonist in Jack Kearuac's ON THE ROAD is a "character" or how Stone Cold Steve Austin is a "character." When I was younger and I read novels it appeared to me that a young writer's first novel was essentially a diary with narrative overtones grafted onto it with Borg-like efficiency - clumsy and obtrusive. So 1993 could be viewed as a debut novel. Maybe it's the passion project that an artists gets to make after a great success. HAH! Everything's a passion project to folk who fucking work. 

Doom Cookie, though. The way that 1993 works is we take a year in the life of a young man and follow him around. It was inspired by Richard Linklater's SLACKERS in terms of mood and feel. The function of this song is back story. It was written figuratively,but it works just as well literally. I like the idea of a young man floating around the rock and roll world nationally, drifting from place to place- or figuratively drifting from style to style as encapsulated by city. Here's the point I've been making my entire life. The differences in the types of music in the USA are fucking minuscule. MINISCULE I SAY! I'm not talking between grunge and metal, I'm talking between trance and bluegrass. Can I get an amen? I've always been puzzled by how regular folk approach music. Surely it's the only art form where people routinely hate, proudly, any output that doesn't correspond with a 3 year period when that person was coming of age. The arbitrariness of this prejudice is breathing insanity. Of course all prejudice is if you step back and observe it.

Deconstructing societal mores led to this long and rambling narrative I've been endeavoring to release lo this past half decade. It takes Doctor Who as it's main influence. Doctor Who can tell any story it wants, in any pop culture genre, thanks to the TARDIS. That function here is appropriated by the "song." The "song" is what unites the disparate story lines and characaters and genres of this narrative. The "song" makes this entire enterprise magical. As far as I can tell this has never been attempted. Maybe that's why it's so hard to get people to understand it. These essays are helping. They're functioning as a mental Tetris for me - much like psychedelic experiences fom my younger days. It's as if I'm stepping out of day to day existence and arranging these blocks of information in the story that they want me to tell. The blocks are the songs DUH!

This is why the trail run is so important. It helps alter consciousness so as to heal wounds dealt by the world of subsistence. It's why the human race found drugs for fuck's sake. It's funny how the absolute worst drugs are always the legal ones and how the drugs that inspire art and questioning are always demonized. Funny, right?  If you keep along the deconstructionist path eventually everything loses all meaning it once had. That's the exhilarating part of it. Which reminds me of a thought I had out on the trails yesterday. Friedrich Nietzsche may have been a profoundly different man if he listed weights and ran in the woods.  It may have given him the confidence to say the shit he only wrote about. You know what that would have made him? The Stone Cold Steve Austin of his time.

So here's to yuh!   

Wake up Monday morning and I look around

I felt bad this morning and my hair fell to the ground

She came by on Wednesday with a wedding ring

I ducked out on Thursday, baby, and hocked my wedding ring

It's hard

So I went out to Seattle to try to find a band

But nobody did want me they wouldn't let me lend a hand

So I cruised on down to LA and got a new tattoo

But nobody knew Chuck Berry songs or "Blue Suede Shoes"

It's hard

So I went on down to Athens but I played too hard

Flew to the Twin Cities but they wouldn't let me in the yard

So I hitch hiked back to Baltimore and I shot myself

Now I'm paralyzed but I have found myself

It's hard

Dave - guitars and vocals

Paul - bass, engineering, mixing

Wil - engineering, drums

Ian - mastering

WHEN CHRISTMAS COMES AGAIN 15 APRIL 2019WHEN CHRISTMAS COMES AGAIN 15 APRIL 2019

When I was a kid I voraciously tore through biographies of the Beatles instead of text books. Even then I had little faith in being educated by people whom I thought were stupid. That's a Bootstrap Theory type of thing caused by reading too many damn John Lennon interviews. Humility would hit hard later. 

One thing both Lennon and Paul McCartney would talk about was that, being songwriters, they wanted to write songs for occasions that had a chance to become standards. That's why they wrote their Christmas songs, "Happy Christmas (War Is Over)" for John and "Simply Having a Wonderful Christmas Time" for Paul. Both of them songs cut to the essence of them fellas for real. You wonder what each might have added to the other's but that's a recipe for a lifetime of WTF.

In College Park I was writing a rock opera with my buddy Joel Baily. We were in a band called Love and Hate. We changed our name to Forgotten Sons when that crap hair band Love/Hate started getting played on MTV. Joel and I wrote together all the time. We made a point of it. We wanted to be rock stars. As far as we were concerned we already WERE rock stars so we wrote us a song for the occasion of the winter solstice. 

Dig - this is pretty much the song we wrote. It stuck with me all these years. If a song sticks with me for decades I eventually record it, or try to anyway. This was around the time of "Do They Know It's Christmas" - all that pre-internet troglodytal ignorance of the cultures that aren't derived from the Anglo-Saxons. I honestly didn't know that the entire world wasn't celebrating Santa and Jesus on December 25th. Holy fucking shit how the fuck did we exist? I think a big deal was when the Cold War ended and then China started reengaging with the world. Collectively the human race began remembering that there were other parts of the globe besides where one is born, lives, and dies.  Around the time of the 9/11 terror attacks (which happens to be my fucking birthday) I added the stuff about"embrace all of the faiths that would love to kill me." You know, channelling my inner peacenik. You can add American Christians to that list as well. In general that's a spiteful and mean segment of my beloved Americans. That sentence right there hints at my own unrealized bigotry. It's a constant battle.

Chances are you've already heard this song. I release it every year in December on whatever social media site is available. I'm very proud of it.

Recording wise we did the sleigh bells and the tuned water glasses but my favorite part is at the end when the acoustic guitar doubles the mandolin riff. These things happen during recording. The way I have always operated, or tried to, is that you roll the tape and see what happens during overdubs. That's the funnest part - the spontaneity. 

I was anxious to hear how Paul melded together the everything plus the kitchen sink approach I enjoy during recording and fuck if he didn't impress the living shit out of me with this mix. That's something I learned from Brian - trust the guy mixing. HE'S the one spending all the time sorting through vague ideas and sculpting a whole.

So I hope you like this one. The arbitrariness of the release is maybe my favorite thing about this song at present. 

Quickly - I purposely avoided any talk of the origins of what for all intents and purposes is an ancient celebration based on the movements of the stars. "Ancient" means, judging by the latest discoveries in anthropology, 100,000-200,000 years old. That deficiency of knowledge outside of one's own lineage is the sticking point that unscrupulous leaders use to aquire and sustain power. It's a useful tool. I have grown profoundly dissappointed in the reaction of the free peoples of the Earth to the vast networks of interwebs. I had mostly assumed that people were generally thoughtful and reasonable where as, if this past decade is taken as a sample of the reaction of civilization to new technologies that are inherently complicated to understand and yet superlatively easy to use, most people are easily swayed and governed by predjudice and place.  I'm still astounded that the great experiment of the fouding fathers has survived this long because, clearly, as I sit here  on 16 April 2019, the idea is better than the species to which it was gifted in hopes of a better world. 

Have a great Christmas this spring!

Christmas means togetherness and love and joy

Happiness and presents for the girls and boys

Old folk come together and then reminisce

Stand beneath the mistletoe and get a kiss

Love your friends and kin

When Christmas comes again

Shout out to the homeless in America

The starving out in Asia and in Africa

Embrace all of the faiths that would love to kill me

The majority of folk through time just weren't free

Go remember them

When Christmas comes again

Make sure that you bring your love at Christmas time

People come and go but love is all the time

People they pass on but their love still exists

So let that love inside your hearts and reminisce

Love brings love, my friend

When Christmas comes again

Dave - guitars, vocals, mandolin, glasses

Paul - bass, engineering, mixing

Wil - drums

Ian -mastering

TIME FOR A CHANGE 1 APRIL 2019

Everything blends together eventually. You can call it entropy, erosion, degredation, there's a millions words through out time trying to explain decay. Maybe that's where we went wrong. Do we need to explain it? Can we just accept it? My fallback position when I get intellectualy lazy is "this is beyond human language." That's an obvious cop out.

I bring this up because I have two distinct memories of where this song was written - WAIT - they are one in the same! My timeline is off.  Phew!  I'm only still as crazy as when I woke up this morning. 

The year was 1988. I had taken a year off from school to ingest large amounts of psychedelic drugs and then returned.  I went to and lived at the University Of Maryland College Park, Cumberland Hall - a co-ed building. The previous year, 1987, was a great year for rock and roll. I spent the summer living and working (ish) in Ocean City, MD. That's also the last time I was arrested. Music-wise,  for the under(ish) ground, the Mats had released PLEASE TO MEET ME. For mainstream bros and hos GnR's APPETITE FOR DESTRCUCTION was making everyone want to try heroin. For the collegiate types U2 had THE JOSHUA TREE and REM had DOCUMENT. The good music bled into '88 and provided a youthful guitar heavy soundtrack to my life. Public Enemy and NWA were about to pop.

I played in a band in Bawmer - Kona, the next in a long line of people who refused to play my fucking songs. So I would go to school during the week and come home on the weekends to play fucking cover songs to drunks. It was a way to keep my chops sharp. I can't stress this enough. It was a constant struggle to get anyone to play my songs. They referred to them as "originals" like they were some odd alien lifeform beyond the mere talents of idiot Marylanders. My reasoning was always "somebody had to write these fucking songs we're covering - they didn't just appear!" But the poeple around me who played gyuitars were always "yeah but they're songwriters. We're just people from Baltimore." Baltimore I love you but sometimes you really suck.  So not having the resources to actually play all these fucking songs I was writing I categorized them in my own little library code - the Davey Decimal System.

That's a lot of backstory. I wrote "Time For a Change" when my best friend Made Hood was moving to Bali to study ethnomusicology. I was also moving on from my freshman year at college. It was a reset moment. Made was NOT someone who discouraged my songwriting. We actually wrote together. Two of our compositions eventually made it - part of them anyway - to THE BIG OPERA. He wrote the "slide on by" chorus in "The Orphan" and we came up with the riff to "How Do You Like That" after smoking around an ounce of weed. 

This song, obviously, works well as an opener. So whenever I needed a first song in an opera I used this'n. It's not plot specific so you can use it anywhere - any setting, any time period. The only detail is "kazoo." It just so happenned that this song found a home in 1993. It was roughly written around this time, me being a young man who didn't know anything yet but was confident enough to try to make poeple learm his songs.

Musically this was recorded at The Shed in rural Bawmer County with Paul Kelley and Wil Berry, aka "Porky." Pork was the first guy EVER who was into playing my songs as the reason for a band. I'm forever grateful. Dig - by this time I was in my mid twenties. In my mind I had lost around a decade trying to convince people that we were worthy to write. It got easier for people coming up after me. There was no stigma to creativity for them. So I wrote this during Kona and a little interim band called Pritty Hary played it and then it sat in the 1993 folder for 20 years. This arrangement is pretty much the same as when it was written and demoed on my little TASCAM 4 track. 

If you remember me you see

Think of the blood pumping through

If I remember you playing your kazoo

Please remember me

If I were you and you were me

Then just what would you see

When feeling kind of rough

Looking pretty gruff

Be remembering

It's time for a change

Look around that person

Find out what is certain

Choose the other curtain

Yeah but it might bring the worst in

Right now I feel like shit and that's it

Right now nobody's here

And then I think of you wondering what you'd do

If you see me too clear

It's tiume for a change

Dave - guitars and vocals

Paul - engineering, mixing, bass

Pork - drums

Ian - mastering

WINTERTIME ACOUSTIC 21 March 2019

During a nice hot Maryland summer a couple of years back I was helping my buddy Paul cut down a bunch of dead pine trees on the property his family has owned since somewhere back in the sepia toned days before people realized other people existed. Big suckers they were,  full of sap and sharp edges that would slice up your shins and calves if you were foolish enough to wear shorts. I was doing the grunt work for Paul and his mom's husband. They cut 'em down and chopped 'em up and I moved the big shit into a dump truck and the small shit into a succession of burn piles. My dad had recently died and Paul asked how I was doing. 

"I'm more relieved than anything else." I said.

"You aren't depressed or anything? I was when my dad died. I didn't know it until later and then it hit me."

I shrugged. I WAS relieved. I was the executor for his estate. I had carted him around to all of his doctors appointments for his COPD which he had although he never smoked. He was a doctor. He had a formality to him that, as I got older, I found endearing.  Due to some arrangement with him and my mom he never paid any child support. So although we lived in a big ol' victorian in Old Catonsville times were tight. He always bought me shit, though, and having divorced parents both buying Christmas presents was, hmm, something that happened.

So cut to a year later and my wife and I have dedicated my dad's old Jeep Grand Cherokee to Baltimore Animal Rehabilitation Center and it hit me. That was the last physical bit of my Dad's shit that was still hanging around.  So I sent ol' Paul a text message along the lines of "dude you were dead on it just hit me today my fucking dad is dead."

Paul's a musician, a bass player, and he's been a dedicated listener to all the wacky shit that Brian and I put out on the Society Fringe Podcast Podcast. Somewhere between Circle 9 and SFP, Circle 9's drummer Wilmer Earl Berry Jr (Pork) had joined Paul's band, Pearly Goats, one of my favorite fucking bands. I had all my operas lined up to record with Brian. He said he needed a break (after only 13 albums in 2 years? Crazy, right?) so I figured I'd record 1993 during the break with Paul and Pork. This being life, things happen and now I'm working on the Brian-Andy SFP concurrently with the Paul-Pork SFP.  It's still one long narrative that takes place over the course of centuries and eventually millenia. The 1993 stuff is rooted in young adult ennui devoid of romantic roadtrips and gunfights in the vast American desert and the Far East. It's a companion piece to Travelogue - happening at the same time, but rooted in realism. The main relationships are the fella, his dad, and his girlfriend. Mainly it's about him and his dad getting on each others' nerves. I didn't realize it until I returned to it when it became clear that it could actually be done. By "done" I mean recorded andreleased.

So, dig, each act is a season in the year of Bawmerhun 1993.  "Acoustic Wintertime" starts it off because musically it foreshadows a song in WINTER and we had changed the arrangement into what eventually became "Stoner Wintertime." It was important that the jarring strum patterns were heard because they get revisited in SPRING in a song actually about jarring strum patterns. I like how it starts with "ready?" and we're off. Paul's on his standup. This is a demo for Pork. I initially wanted to put the version from the original demo I recorded while Circle 9 was working on THE WAR BETWEEN THE STATES but this version came up and inserted itself into the equation. In these long narratives I take these kinds of things as signs that this is how the story wants to be told. It's fun to see patterns that you didn't know existed. It's like submerging your ego in pursuit of something "other." 

So here you go. Paul and Pork ain't as into talking about their art as Bri and Andy so I'm going to do essays for the 1993 stuff. It will save a dickton of money, relatively, because this'll just be songs without the hour long spitball session Briy and I tag onto everything. I told him we still had to do some because it's become a clearinghouse for mental shit we go through. Lucky you for getting to hear it.

The bold and ragged beauty of a winter tree

Struck Susan as quite odd as she looked to see

A table full of papers but none up to date

No chance to glimpse beauty when you're running late

-----

A far off police siren pierces through the air

But Billy doesn't notice and he doesn't care

Sirens don't man nothing in the county jail

Doing time's the fine when you can't make the bail

-----

In wintertime the sun don't shine

The ice it shines the world's unkind

-----

An accident just happened out on National Pike

Some lady ran a red light sliding through the ice

Valentine's Day candy scattered on the street

Now my car is totaled and it's raining sleet

The windows creak and moan as the wind bears down

Whipping through a tree branch lying on the ground

The screen door whistles loudly and the yard is froze

And me I write a song and I can't feel my toes

chorus

Dave - guutar and vocal

Paul - engineering, stand up bass

Ian - mastering

00 "Baby Please Don't Go" Plastic Ono Mothers Of Invention

05  This would be the song playing over the credits at the end of the movie.

10  REAL TIME LISTEN

15  Supine: Face down. Prone: Face up.

20  I don't like one uppers.

25  He's not a mean boy

30  I might, yeah, it's that new fresh feeling.

35  It wouldn't have made sense to anyone that isn't in this room.

40  This is where it slips.\

45  Schedules conflict.

50  I have to be the grounding thing.

55  We had already signed on for SPACESHIPS GUNS AND BOOBIES

Love

Love

Love

Love

Love

Dave - guitars and vocals

Brian - bass, engineering, mixing

Andy - drums and percussion

Ian - mastering

00  The Trogs "A Girl Like You"

05  Yes  been sick all fucking winter.

10  We said it last practice, though.

15  REAL TIME LISTEN

20  The riff was just too cool.

25  I had a thing of chili.

30  It's like the California Nashville.

35  He's a riff monster.

40 Dead guys or dead musicians?

45 It's always so hard to be put on the spot like that.

50  Brian will talk about anything.

I was walking down this lonesome road all by myself

By myself

I was living this lonesome life like anyone else

Anyone else

I was feeling these feelings of pain just like my brothers and sisters did

I been looking for the joys of life like anyone did

Anyone did

Yeah I feel happy well you know it's true

Cause I was lonely but then I found you

 Scratch my shoulder o that hit the spot

Makes no difference 'cause I know what I got

I was looking at my feet as they trudged along

All day long

And the people that I chance to meet to hear my song

Hear my song

I was wondering what makes birds cry what makes them sing

Oh so pretty sounds

Now I'm looking at the joys of life all around all around

chorus

I know what I got

Dave - guitars and vocals

Brian - engineering, bass, mixing

Andy - drums and percussion

Ian - mastering

00 "I'll Be Damned" - Slobberbone Barrell Chested

05  REAL TIME LISTEN

10  Sure. Why not?

15  The SFPeeniverse

20  Everything's still vague.

25  It was a punk/skate show.

30  He was like an Annie Leibowitz that nobody knew about.

35  They're just like "You did what?"

40  Stone Cold Steve Austin never been shredded.

45  When he opens his eyes he sees he's a father.

50  I saw Wickid, actually, on Broadway.

55  Good looking lady

The touch of her hand makes me feel like a man

Everything I can if I could

The warmth of her breath I can attest

Let's get undressed 'cause we should

----------

The taste of her lips goes to my hips

Sunlight dips in her wake

She is my dream you know what I mean

I'm out of steam when I wake

----------

The touch of your hand makes me feel like a man

Everything I can if I could

The warmth of your breath I can attest

Let's get undressed 'cause we should

----------The taste of your lips goesto my hips

Sunlight dips in your wake

You are my dream you know what I mean

Life's spring green when I wake

If I could if I could if I could if I could

Dave - guitars and vocals

Brian - bass, engineering, mixing

Andy - drums and percussion

Ian - mastering

00  The Replacements "Bastards Of Young" from SNL

05  * REAL TIME LISTEN *

10  What do you just eat the stuff around it?

15  I been to New Orleans we'll be fine.

20  Today on campus somebody got stabbed.

25  Because it never lasts

30 Not in Baltimore

35  If I couldn't make this work then it was all for nothing.

40  Three piece band discussion

45  Yeah that brings it up to today.

50  Third records are the bomb.

55  His new band's a three piece.

60  I'm doing an August Wilson imitation.

I don't want to stop the yacht while we got cash to burn

See young Abraham he's trying to crawl from aft to stern

Freedom ride

Sunshine on my face love has filled me by osmosis

The ocean feels me blessed consecrated by psychosis

Misery begs a choice addictive just like anything

Depression can feel good as comforting as anything

Freedom ride

Let the credits roll when the story's got a happy ending

'Cause it never lasts

Freedom ride

00  George Harrison "All Those Years Ago"

05  * CATONSVILLE: MUSIC CITY MARYLAND PREMIERE AND FESTIVAL MAY 17 AND 18 *

10  *Real Time Listen*

15  It's the right goober thing to put.

20  You'll have all three or four or five back up vocals spread out along the spectrum.

25  Now's the time to shine, to carry the weight.

30  If you win I lose and if I win you die.

35  It will be in a couple of months.

40  Pizza discussion

45 I wanted a rare steak so bad.

50  Pee break

55  Opiodal BMs

I beat you down and took your wife

But she used me to save your life

I realize she still loves you

So here is what we both shall do

Since she used me to find her man

I still love her you undrstand

I can make you stay or make you run

Your boy and my wife and my loaded shotgun

Yo di lee o di lee o o 

Yo di lee o di lee o di lee o

Here's the thing to see with glee

If you have nerve and skill like me

Your brain is mushy and luck's divine

Here's the game to play one time

So you are weak and I don't care

Just get your punk ass up from there

A heartbeat stin gs a breath is time

Relentlessly hating's abusing the shine

Yo di lee o

My request ain't jest it's for your life

You win I lose and if I win you die

I'll flip this coin mad4 from Satan's tears

And see who walks and who dies here

Either way you three are dead

I make my own luck is how I was bread

 When the tears hit the ground the pin hits the shell

It's the onoy way truly 'fore the  night be fell

Yo di lee o

The coin pierced the moment and shattered the sun

And Troubadour stroked and caressed his shotgun

The crack it then punctured the essence of fear

Johnny Redfoot had shot him confusingly clear

One golden bullet from Johnny's side arm

The lusting of angels who never knew harm

He said "saddle up we're gone with a shove

The only reason for living is love."

Yo di lee o

O di lee o

00  Concrete Blond

05  What I seen in this was just this huge expansive world.

10  Normals would never hear it.

15  That was that.

20  We got more than that.

25  Well that's something else.

30  * REAL TIME LISTEN *

35  So it will be five more.

40  They were all related.

45  Existentially that'll be something.

50  It's so worth it.

I don't know how long that I have been here

I don't know where Charlene's up and gone

Last I know she said that she was pregnant

A month ago last night I could be wrong

I sell myself for opium here nightly

My pride my self control my worth are gone

I always thought I was a stronger person

Now I know that I was always wrong

The moon seeks to touch me from a million miles away

She reaches down and holds me as my senses go away

She cradles me caresses me and pushes me away

Day and night and day and night and day and night and day

Self hatred flows through me like a virus

Send one in so I can earn my pay

This one here she seems a bit familiar

Do what you want to me and go away

Where am I I can't stand the pain please take my life

I'm wracked and vomit stained please kill me you can use my knife

Haze and pain I'm doubled over where the hell am I

I open my eyes see Charlene's face staring into mine

I eat a mango food it seems so strange to me

I'm on an island paradise I think that I can't see

Charlene takes my hand and says we need no longer run

I look into my arms and see I'm holding my new son 

00  Ween

05  The Singularity has already happened.

10  * DIG UP THE TRENCH *

15  Hogwarts House Settings

20  Those are lead Dungeons and Dragons characters.

25  DOCTOR WHO deep dive

30  Gonna be winter, spring, summer, autumn.

35  I sound like Bleeding Gums Murphy

40  New ONE SPOT snippet

45  WHITE ALBUM Outtakes

50  Lost civilizations

55  Rome never fell.