where the water tastes like wine

In which we commuted to Prairie Sun, up in Cotati, about 45 minutes north of San Francisco in Sonoma County, to finish our record. We were still staying in the city (except for our last 3 days) and driving up and back down every day. Our van's accelerator requires an inordinate amount of quadricep strength to operate, and after a few round trips, we got tired and caved in and rented a Chevy Cobalt, whose factory stereo proved invaluable in listening to mixes. Will's aunt came up to play oboe and English horn and brought a bassoonist friend, and thus, some class to the whole thing. Tom Waits sang about Red's Recovery Room down the street, but they lost their lease last summer and now there's nowhere to drink. So we stuck to playing cards and watching every episode of Celebrity Rehab.




we got to drive thru this twice a day, which means we got to cross the Golden Gate Bridge twice a day, and did you ever realize what a badass bridge that thing is?


there was an In N Out, and it was time to eat.








told you




actual musicians!









these Minimoogs once were the property of Michael Jackson, whose keyboard player ran it through a keytar on stage. until the keytar was stolen from his car.






photos by will

Hyde Street Heyday

look, ma, no computer




Dan, after the drum machine showed up


big rods












Maria Taylor spent a day with us. they decided to sing, standing, by the corner of the piano. protocol, I guess.




there has to be a morning after


photos by will, except for the out-of-focus one of him.
all rights reserved, et cetera et cetera.

Europe Redux

For starters, we're back. The tapes and our stuff and our bodies made it back intact to the harsh reality that is real life, post-Rock N Roll Fantasy Camp. So now, while we're waiting patiently for our Major Label to decide what they think of our new record and which song they're gonna lube up and slip down the gullet of mainstream rock radio, entertain yourselves with this recently-excavated footage from the fall (as in, a few months ago), when drove ourselves around Europe, broken up into two EZ-bufferin' clips.


part 1


part 2

Cabin Fever

The last song is being mixed right now. We're in exile out here, and we spend our quote-unquote downtime playing gin rummy (what else) in this unpleasantly-lit waiting room. There was another band here from the area last week, but I'm not sure they actually recorded anything, onaccounta all the beer-shotgunning and and dry-humping in the parking lot and all. They did bring in a sax player one day though to lay down some cool SNL party sax. So that happened. There are white horses in the pasture beyond the the window, and a maroon McMansion on the gleaming green hill beyond that. A lot of this part of California can look like another planet, or at least like Scotland, and I keep half-expecting to see Teletubbies bouncing over the hill.




Today we get the brakes checked on the van and put air in the tires, and tomorrow we drive home. Friday, we start looking for jobs. Peace be with you, and also with you.