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There is no command Z in Unix.
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I spend about four hours a day trapped on the freeway. If I`m headed eastbound, I`m headed home.
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Five percent misunderstanding.
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Curse or not, a guitar around your neck looks way cooler than an albatross.
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To stop drunken band members from picking up and playing my guitars, I started making up some simple open tunings (this way the guitars would always sound horribly out of tune). This song was written in one of those open tunings. It`s an acoustic piece that sounds sorta Irish or Celtic in parts. But, mostly, it just sounds like something is out of tune.
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This was written on a particularly sad night when I was waiting for LaDean to get home. I was depressed because she had my wallet in her purse.
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Dino and I used to practice in a house owned by a lovely lady named Karen (she rarely protested our volume level, and we were very thankful for the practice space). As our own private dedication to her, we would play this song every time she walked into the garage to do the laundry. Many laundtry loads later, our improvised truibute became an actual song. Thanks, Karen.
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Pieces of this song have been in my head since 1995. But, it never came together as a complete arrangement until I wrote the 4th segment (the e-bow interlude) while visiting Laguna Beach in mid-2001. I was sitting on the sand with my nylon string pretending that all I had to do for the rest of my life was play guitar on beaches. I love to delude myself.
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Translates to "The Apple Of My Pie." I LOVE apple pie, man.
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There is an out of tune guitar solo on this song that`s supposed to sound like a drunk cat. That`s my excuse anyway.
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We had a brand new faucet installed by Gary (the Man Who Can Install Anything) and I, dizzy from testosterone, broke it mere hours later while trying to adjust it. Gary (the Man Who Can Also Fix Anything) had to come out the next morning to undo my mess and, rather than face him, I retreated into the bedroom and wrote this tune. Afterwards, I realized that the hot water ran cold and the cold water ran hot. I think Gary left it that way because he wanted to see if I would try fixing it myself and screw it up again. This time, I outsmarted him.
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I wanted to write something in 3/4. Oh well.
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If I told you, I`d have to kill you.
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This was originally called Curbe`s Tick Bag because I came up with the opening riff while LaDean was trying to figure out how to remove a tick from Curbe`s belly (Curbe is our springer spaniel). She hated the title "Curbe`s Tick Bag" so I changed it to "The Big Soft" (which is how she describes her favorite setting on our shower head). Hey, I never said these songs were deep.
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I always thought that the melody to this song sounded victorious - which is how I feel in the morning when I find a pair of matching socks. Don`t ask me who Jack is. Or why he`s suicidal.
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When we die, we don`t go away, we just get our wings.
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CD Information
