This song is about how we spend our time.
It was recorded at the Continental Club in Houston, Wednesday, October 24th as part of the Wicked Wednesday there.
Lyrics after the break.
My friend and the engineer for our recording session, Seph, took
a stab at remixing Boxcar, thus reminding me that he rules.
Mel’s voice steps up, and so does Dan’s guitar. My guitar playing, mercifully, sinks a bit into the background.
D the B says check it out.
Brandon took a pass at a mix of Happy Birthday, Mrs. K, and, man, does that sound good.
This song was inspired by two things: shitty relationships that I’ve had and this picture.
So. I was sitting home one night, reading the Dummies guide to the Bible. I read the story of Cain and Abel — Cain raises up and he kills his brother, Abel.
This is pretty universally read as lesson that you should not kill your brother.
This seems a little shallow to me.
I think it’s possible that Abel might have had a certain amount of hubris, being both the very first born and the favorite son of God. And, perhaps, he did not wear this hubris well.
I think what that story is about is the choices you make, and the price you pay.
I read an article a few years back about how Greyhound was cutting back its services in some areas. It mentioned that, one of the drawbacks of this is that some states put newly released prisoners on Greyhounds.
So I wrote an uptempo song about getting out of prison on a bus.
This is a mostly autobiographical song about getting out of my mid-level management job in San Francisco and moving to Austin so that, in part, I’d write more music.
I was sitting in the car, waiting for a train, when a boxcar went by. Painted on the side of this boxcar were the words: “To Carol in Portland. Miss you! Mike.” And then I went home and wrong this song.
Today, I got this from my friend Billy Steve:
Stop doing whatever you are doing right now and go to Waterloo Records and buy the new Porter Wagoner cd “Wagonmaster.” It’s the best Bruce Springsteen album in years. Trust me. You need this record. Don’t look it up or read about it, that’s just going to waste time that could be spent driving to the store to get it. Find your keys and your wallet, put your shoes on, and go…. now. Come on… move it.
billysteve
I did.
It’s a great album — in the full sense, in the sense that it’s a coherent piece of work, with a viewpoint that it wants to share with you, stories it wants to tell, and a full emotional arc. The songs are great, the production is awesome.
If you don’t dig the whole Bakersfield sound, you might not be able to get into it. But you should.
On a separate note, “Eleven cent cotton” rules. We might need to cover it.
… and maybe a picture!
Oh, Rita.
