Our Music

---

We recorded three versions - one for Andrew, one for Rick and one somewhere in between the two.  We thought they were all were pretty hilarious.   

Country for the Weekend

Billy stole his uncle’s truck from the Exxon by the levee said the keys were in it anyway, so morally it’s blurry

We piled in with a jug of tea and half a loaf of Bunny Bread and  Eli brought a tambourine because “the South requires percussion” 

Andrew had a flannel shirt he bought to look authentic and Rick kept slapping dashboard time like he was late for judgment day 

And I was in the backseat trying to rhyme “existential” with “accidental” while the cows looked on like union men on break  

We went country for the weekend just to see if it would stick like straw hats, cheap beer, and burs caught in your socks 

Singing sad songs about tractors though none of us could drive one straight 

Just five college boys in borrowed twang making fools of God’s green acreage  

Out behind the watermelon stand past Highway 49 and Dave said, “This here’s where legends start,” which sounded pretty stupid 

Then he climbed up on a hay bale like some paperback messiah and played three chords so loud it scared a horse into a ditch 

Rick was banging on a hubcap with a tire iron from the glove box and Andrew swore the groove was close to something Gram Parsons might’ve done 

Eli said, “That’s blasphemy,” then played a little organ line that sounded like a funeral held inside a Pizza Hut  

We went country for the weekend just to see if it would stick like straw hats, cheap beer, and burs caught in your socks 

Singing sad songs about tractors though none of us could drive one straight 

Just five college boys in borrowed twang making fools of God’s green acreage  

Now we know you know we know this ain’t the real thing and that’s the whole thing, friend 

A joke with steel strings and fake drawls but if you laugh and clap in rhythm well that only proves the theorem:  

Truth gets stranger when you drag it through the weeds  

By sundown we were filthy as theology professors arguing if Hank Williams would’ve hated us on sight 

The truck got stuck in mud so deep it felt symbolic and Dave said that’s exactly why symbolism’s overrated 

We walked home by the railroad tracks in moonlight and sosquitoes singing something half-remembered, half-invented, all out of tune 

and somewhere in the dark a dog kept howling like a critic which, to be fair, 

was probably justified 

This is the one that we worked on the most - lots of layered guitars, and some lyrics that I thought were really clever at the time. We did several takes - this was my favorite.  (Let us know if you want to hear the alternate versions.)  We really thought this one would get us there.  It didn't - but we love it anyway.

Roll Call

Everybody’s laughing in the kitchen

Coffee on and sunlight through the screen

Someone says remember when we were younger 

Like that means what it used to mean  

Tom went first and Annie followed after

Paul can’t hear and David’s losing names 

Mary’s got that look like she’s still fighting 

But everybody’s smiling just the same  

One by one, one by one

Like the summer turning over in the sun

Wave goodbye, count them gone

Funny how the roll call just keeps rolling on  

Jimmy’s knees gave out last winter

Carol’s heart blew up in the spring 

Bobby swears he’s fine but shakes at dinner 

Drops his glass and laughs at everything  

Used to think we’d all outlast each other 

Through the years something went awry 

Now time gathers round us like a gang 

Dark as noon and taking names away 

One by one, one by one 

Like the summer turning over in the sun 

Wave goodbye, count them gone 

Funny how the roll call keeps rolling on  

Handclaps, paper plates, and birthday cakes 

Kids out running barefoot in the yard 

Someone’s gone inside to lie down for a minute 

Someone says it’s taking way too long  

Jenny moved to California years ago now 

Sends a Christmas card but never writes her name 

Eddie took a train and never circled back here 

Guess to him leaving felt a lot like change  

Sarah said she had to save herself from drowning 

Packed her things and disappeared by June 

Funny how the ones who leave you breathing 

Still can hollow out a room  

One by one, one by one 

Like the summer turning over in the sun 

Wave goodbye, count them gone 

Funny how the roll call keeps rolling on  

And that time keeps pouring through the windows like it doesn’t know a thing is wrong 

And we keep singing louder at the table trying to make it feel like one more song  

One by one, one by one 

Like the summer turning over in the sun 

Wave goodbye, count them gone 

Funny how the roll call keeps rolling on 

 Count them gone, gone

One by one

Count them gone

Of all the great stuff we recorded, it's hard to believe that this is the one that B97 would play.  It was cool to hear us on the radio, but this song is just .... stupid.  What's it mean?  We have no idea, and never did.

This Song Has Not Title But If It Did It Would Be Called "Wishing Wire"

 Wishing wire above the avenue

Chiming sound in the blue-blue afternoon 

Paper cups and pennies in your hand 

Throw them up and see them land, are they everywhere?  

You on the line with your sideways stare 

Wind  blown wild through your yellow hair 

Buzzing static make radio songs 

Swinging, singing on the wishing wire  

Wishing wire carries us through the noise and static sea 

Wishing wire lifts us up til the sky can hear

High, high, higher, higher higher  high 

Take us high, wishing wire  

Say it twice and mean it real 

Write it in the ground and seal 

Shining glass beneath your feet

Spitting sparks that help us fly

Wishing wire, wishing wire 

Higher, higher, fire, wire 

Birds and rockets and planes and shattered sky 

Wishing wire 

Higher higher higher higher high 

Our attempt at a love song.  Sentimental but still weird.

Spare Key

Found your spare key in my jacket from the night you said don’t lose it which felt like either trust or laziness, I still can’t say which

It fell out in the laundromat with some quarters and a gift card and an allen wrench and for a second there I held it like some rare and ancient artifact.

The dryer shook the walls like thunder and a kid was eating cereal from a box and a dude was folding shirts like he was building a dam in Holland

And there I was with your brass permission in my hand thinking how strange it is the smallest things can destroy your entire day.

Your place smelled like coffee and rain and whatever it was you left in the sink from last night's dinner, there was something with too much onion, which made me laugh because you hate root vegetables

There was a note stuck on the fridge said “milk, bread, batteries,” and I thought "that's pretty generic" but I stood there like I’d been handed state secrets or given a command.

I watered your dying plant like I was proving something to it and I fed your cat who looked at me like this was temporary

Sat on the floor and read the backs of all your books trying not to act like being there meant more than just being there.

It’s just a spare key, just a way to get inside,

not a promise, not a signal, not a place to hang my pride

But it turned smooth and easy in the lock,

and really that's better than I probably thought.

You came home early with your hair all wet and groceries on your hip, said “oh good, you found it” like I’d solved some ancient mystery

And I wanted to say I found more than that but that’s a dangerous sentence the kind that makes a room go still and changes all the daylight

So I said your cat hates me and your plant’s still on probation and you laughed and dropped the paper sack on the counter and we looked at each other for a long minute wondering what we wouldn't say.

Maybe love’s not lightning, maybe it’s the dumb little proof,

showing up, feeding cats, watering roots.

A brass key in your pocket, your names on envelopes,

And all the small things you don’t think twice about that keep somebody close 

It’s just a spare key, just a thing you hand someone when you’re tired or running late or trust them not to steal your stuff

But it turns like luck, and the whole room comes alive and for the first time in a while I feel like I might survive.

Take a breath

And turn the key

Planned for our second demo, which never saw the light of day, until now.

The Superball Incident

On Saturday we'd bounce by Breaux Mart and I'd spend my last dime

In a little red machine by the front doors

Those Super Balls bounced like they'd signed some backroom deal with gravity.

I'd back up, brace myself, blast that bright blue blur as hard as my shoulder would send it,

Then spend the next five minutes chasing whatever bad decision it made for me.

Sometimes it'd skip beneath a Buick, bang through a hedge, bounce beyond the levee, or disappear halfway down Vets and into somebody else's afternoon

And honestly that was half the fun because you never really knew what counted as winning.

One blazing afternoon the little sucker skipped once, sprang twice, sailed straight through the sunshine,

And sailed smack through the sunroof of a black pickup baring enough LSU stickers to qualify as state property.

I figured I'd just stand there a second because surely the fellow would smile, scoop it up, and send it sailing back

So I could give the poor thing another proper launch into the parking lot.

Instead the driver's door slammed open like I'd insulted his bloodline, borrowed his boat, backed over his barbecue, and rooted for Alabama.

He came stomping straight toward me with the kind of determination reserved for

Free pizza, hurricanes, tax collectors, and people who don't return your power tools.

I remember just standing there blinking because I honestly didn't know somebody could get so blistered over one bouncing rubber ball

And by the time my brain finally caught up with the situation my legs had already taken the rest of me back into the grocery store.

I disappeared behind the potato chips, peeking past the pretzels every five seconds asking Andrew,

"Is he still out there?"

While everybody else was bent double laughing so hard they couldn't breathe, which got me laughing too.

It's surprisingly difficult to stay scared when your best friends are wheezing over in Aisle Seven, and every time I'd peek around the corner

Somebody else would start laughing all over again because 

Apparently anger looks pretty funny when it's carrying a ten-cent Super Ball.

Looking back I don't really remember feeling scared as much as I remember feeling surprised

Because I honestly hadn't known anger could outrun a Super Ball

Although now that I say it out loud I guess that explains a few things.

Andrew still says the lesson is don't throw rubber balls toward pickup trucks, which is probably pretty good advice

But I still think the better lesson is not to carry around enough anger to chase somebody over something that fits comfortably in the palm of your hand.

Maybe I've just always figured people are better than they remember

And maybe that's why the world still catches me completely off guard every now and again.

Maybe that's why I keep pitching pieces of myself out into grocery store parking lots just to see where they'll bounce

And maybe that's a reason to keep dropping dimes into that little red machine.

Come to think of it, that dude owes me a dime

Or actually...

Maybe I owe him another Super Ball.

We found out by accident that earnest ballads sell cassettes, so we sat down and cranked this out.

It's not all that weird, but we like it anyway.

No Big Thing

I don't need the room to quiet down

I don't need the heavens opening

I don't need a choir in the kitchen

Or a sign from anything

I just like the way you ask me questions

Like you've got all afternoon

And I like how I stop pretending

When I'm sitting next to you

It's no big thing

That's what I keep telling myself

Just your hand on the table

My coat on the chair

Your laugh from the hallway

Like I was already there

It's no big thing

But it follows me around

Like a song I almost understand

Then finally write down

I have made a mess of wanting

I have dressed it up as plans

I have called it fate and timing

I have blamed it on the band

But you came in plain as morning

With your keys and coffee cup

And somehow all my explanations

Didn't matter quite as much

It's no big thing

That's what I keep telling myself

Just your keys by the doorway

Your book by the bed

You saying, "Drive careful,"

Like something worth keeping instead

It's no big thing

But it's changing everything

The quiet little moments

Turn into the biggest things

I don't know if people get wiser

Or if love just gets tired

Of having every little feeling

Stand up straight and testify

I know our love's done with thunder

I know it's done with proof

We don't need the world to answer

We're already coming home as two

It's no big thing

That's what I used to tell myself

Just your hand finding mine

Without either of us trying

Like we'd finally stopped expecting

Every day to prove itself

It's no big thing

That's what I know now 

A thousand little moments

Became the life we're living

Our second album needed an instrumental.

Blazing harmonica/guitar duets from Eli and Dave.

And something wonderfully strange from Rick.

July 2026:  We're remastering our second album.  Here are a few tracks we're working on.