I heard a rumor about an outrageous party that spilled over to the beach and got pretty wild. The party wound down in the wee hours of the morning, and the participants found their clothes and what was left of their dignity and started making their way through the sand dunes to relative safety. Through a convergence of forces totally beyond his comprehension, one of the participants lost his way. He had to walk only one hundred yards, but he lost his way. He spent the remainder of the night walking through backyards, climbing over fences, battling lawn furniture, dodging guard dogs, and tripping over sprinklers. When he could no longer continue, he laid down his bruised, battered, and bleeding body in a lawn chair in some stranger’s backyard. Did I mention that this odyssey began about one hundred yards from his house? When he finally came to, the first thing he saw was a tiki statue. Since he felt so bad, he naturally assumed that he had died and gone to hell. When he realized that he was not dead, he promised himself that he would never, ever, drink and party again. To this very day, to my knowledge, this righteous man, has, through every week of his life, always failed to keep this promise. Makes you feel good, doesn’t it.
I want to thank everyone involved with getting my new studio up and running: Gary Harvey, Rich Jasinski and everyone at DB Sound for their technical expertise and all the time they spent crawling into cramped spaces; Glen Spires for helping me build the soundproof room; Sharon for cleaning, decorating and understanding why I neglected everything around our house for a couple of months; Max and Mango for doing without the early morning walk.
Thanks again to all the folks who show up and make it a pleasure to play.
Burnt Store Marina