Tag: 1997


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A furious song that struggles to hold itself together, but one of my favorite to play. Written about stopping to get gas in Cuyama on the way to Santa Maria. Not sure why this evoked such an angst-filled response, but it works for me. 


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This is a fun number from “Fashion Victims”. Although the timing is off in places, it kind of captures the feeling of living in the suburbs. Enjoy.


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This song is an ode to the little group I hung out with around lunchtime in high school. Although it’s largely an instrumental, it kind of sums up what it was like. Mr. Goo was a phallic monument we made out of a banana and two apple cores on a wall. It was created sometime in October and it wasn’t cleaned up until about May, so it was all dried out by then. Towards the end I was eating a Mr. Goodbar and I cut the wrapper and taped Mr. Goo over it. The whole bowl of rice/pan of rice thing is another story.


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We come from no guitars on yesterday’s track to just guitar on this one. Taken from the 1997 album “Stolen Shoes”, this particular track was written while messing around in the band room at Arlington High School. It is 100% guitar sounds with no overdubs and about as close as I’ll ever get to emulating Tom Morello. Enjoy.


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This was a personal song that I wrote the day after prom. I think I recorded it not long after I wrote it, and it was included in the 1997 album “Stolen Shoes”. I don’t remember everything that happened that night, but there are a few memories I still have that I included in this song. We were in a big group and we all pitched in for a limo. I think I was the only non-Mormon in the group. So, after the dance, which was all loud deep house music, we went to a big house in Anaheim Hills that had a pool. Then we went back to Riverside and watched Overboard, one of my favorite movies. The girl I went with played piano for me at the house, which was pretty cool. I don’t think I ever played any of the songs I wrote about her for her. It was an innocent time back then and I had no clue what I was doing. But I got home around 7 in the morning the next day and I think I wrote this around noon when I got up again. There wasn’t any drama, and no one took dramamine, but I think the title reflects the struggle to not fall asleep while these intense future memories are occurring.