Somehow, we tripped to the pine…
…and it must’ve been a good thing. I’d imagine two boys and a baseball field where one kid’s on the pitcher’s mound and one is in the batter’s box. He throws, He hits it- right over the fence and they rejoice. Fun. No?
Maybe not. No, this would get hairy. In the sense that they were seeing ghosts. Prophets and the like would rattle their doors at 2 a.m. asking stupid questions like,”Have you seen the sun, lately?”
And I’d answer, “No, No, I haven’t”
And hell would poke it’s pointed finger at me and whisper, “so haven’t we.”
Then, I’d go to super wall mart and have a hamburger at McD’s and feel SO normal and healthy. Under the bright lights, steel trusswork, concrete. Within the confines of security. We leave together or none, too much, at all, of course. Giant steps. T-Rex was misunderstood. We need to shake things up a little, but with our hearts and minds and souls. Recycle everything we can. And slowly rebuild. Our earth may be dying. CMB’09
T.T.P. Production Notes
Karina was born on Thanksgiving day. “Trip” was written on Christmas day. My mind was very wrapped up in how I had been an inadequate father to my first daughter, Isabel, in my younger and more careless days, and how such painful knowledge of one’s own shortcomings can serve as a lesson so that the future generation will benefit. It’s commonly referred to as time and growth. And guilt.
Then, Tim called and started making wet myself with laughter every 30 seconds, and it was on! It’s almost like we can slip into our childhood selves and just have fun, just “BE” a band. I know Tim’s the band, but as a part-time artist, I do very much enjoy saying that I AM actually part of some creative procees , if NOT ACTUALLY IN a “band”. But it sounds a lot better!
After I heard TTP I was in shock. Words can look so small. Ideas can seem so small and useless. Tim has worked very hard on this album and on many albums and I will always be amazed by him and thankful to him for incorporating some of my lyrics into his music.
…is about two people who must work together with everything their lives have ever stood for and their children’s futures, on the line. Only, there’s about thirty gazillion invisible “I”‘s in the word “TEAM”.
3) O.K. This one is from a conversation where I wet my pants about three times while doing standing crunches to my brother’s jokery.
3) It’s called, I think, “Pelacone”. I like it.
4)Oh yeahh, “Sunglass”
…may be my favorite. Written while playing Airsoft in the woods (probably during an ambush!) About what happens when we turn off emotional receivers, raise invisible barriers, and eventually, regret it. It’s probably about the things we might have missed. Tim treated this one with a lot of control, I thought. I just love the guitar in this song!
…really was a left hook to my jaw. My original production notes (trying to keep it simple.) Of course, Tim was once the editor of our high school newspaper, I do believe. (This is true, he interprets ideas to music, also.)
7)” ” ?
I very seldom write from the logical side of my brain-This is one of the times that I could not really help it. Tim did some nice work on this job. For me, this wrote itself. That’s why I can’t find much to say about it’s origins-those are too obvious to us. And if my gas bill comes to 20.01, I always pull the gas pump trigger one more time…
9)Starless Sky (Under One)
…is about a lost man. A man who chases love, but who can’t capture it. A hopeless man. He enters love’s chamber and is transformed. He eventually marries Her, this takes all of two months, They have two daughters, He realizes she is his Sun. He realized that Newton was wrong, gravity doesn’t pull you, but rather, Einstein was right, space is pushing inward, and, actually, He was the sun…
the center, of the sky.
10)I was like ,”what did I forget?” Oh yeah, “My Telescope”.
O.K…A carpenter, rain, good music (SRV) (The Sky is Crying).=My telescope. Freedom to write. We, any of us, could pick up a pencil and write down our thoughts, we are all equal in this-why do we hold back? See if Tim doesn’t make a song of this.
This project started, for me, as a joke. It ended as a mystery.
What better way to spend a lifetime? No, there’s no better way. For me, it’s usually into darkness or into a false light. Night and day, what could be more simple or more pleasant? Turmoil all around.
This was a serious mystery, our past, Tim and me. We shared a long history together. All of it, usually, all out. Like the time we visited the raccoon in the pond, half-frozen in the nearby pond, his other half all-dead. We skateboarded around it for several hours in our ice skates and mittens.
Or the time Tim and I threw a corncob festival, in the barn in Aurora, Iowa, where Liz, our beautiful, “Red Irish” sister somehow got caught up in the fray and there was some explaining to do, but since our parents were lovers and saints, not fighters, our scolding was light and our high spirits would remain somewhat intact. (Liz is our sister and has no faults–instead of trying to boss her around, we should have been listening.) On this fruitless day, our corncob fight, two flights up, turned to disaster when Liz tumbled down the ladder and didn’t break anything. Almost disaster.
Then there’s this time, and that time, and a rich love grew. Now we hold our love deep in our hearts, as most families do, I guess.
(Really, that’s a different story altogether. For today’s story, I can find no explanation.)
Now we’re about thirty years advanced and about ten years behind, but, somehow, still keeping up with the ’80’s. Forever young, I guess.
So, Tim became the musical mastermind and I provided some raw material.
I do hope you enjoy… CMB09.
So, I thank…
Tim, for his patience,
My Mom, for hers,
My brothers, Pip and Dev (they’ve always inspired me),
To Liz and my Laura, Liam, and Bro’ in law Bill–thanks for holding it all together.
These songs especially go out to all of the Dads and Step-Dads around the world–it’s not easy.
Thank you Cheryl, could this be easy?
Thank you, Esmeralda Griselda Rios (Birchard), you, who truly gave me hope (and my precious Isabel and Kari).
These last two somehow remind me of two little boys…