Hope

Written after someone decided it was a good idea to arm a minor and drive them across state lines to a civil protest…. I hope it all don’t mean too much. I’m constantly bewildered by this world.

My daughter took the photo.

Summer

Oh, many an hour has been spent contemplating life on my back porch. Someone once said “seasons change and so do I”…. perhaps that’s true. The percussion on this is just my fingers tapping on the Martin. Simple is sometimes better.

Somber

Melancholy? Somber? My first real finger-picked song. Like a couple other ones in this first collection it is recorded on a USB microphone, but lo-fi and lo-tech follows a basic folk music vibe.

Another Love Song

I wrote my wife a love song…. from a guy who doesn’t like love songs to a woman who might like roses. (w/ ample guitar distortion and drums…)

Thoughts on 50

I always felt bad complaining about aches and pains to my dad. I guess it ain’t so bad, ya know, growin’ old. It’s all in your head, right?

Acoustic guitar, acoustic bass, harmonica, drums, and a cameo by Rosie in the video.

One More Open Door

I drove east and then north from San Diego to Prescott, AZ. There is a lot of flat open road… hours of flat open road. A long drive for somebody with nothing to think about. I’ll be the first to admit this is self-indulgent melancholy; but i like the lyric content.

Bernese Blues

It started when every morning at 5am I’d take Alphonse for his morning walk. In the dark, walking the neighborhood, I’d make up verses and sing to him on our mile-and-a-half loop. I’d give just about anything to be outside in the cold and dark freezing with him again.

Rosita

Well, I mean, if Alphonse got a song then his little sister Rosie had to have one too. She’s a bit older now and the sweetest girl ever. Happy for no damn good reason, Rosita.

Recorded in Knoxville, acoustic guitar, my mom’s upright piano, some wooden pots, and vocals.