Another raw track from the studio floor.

Yet another raw track from the studio floor.

Nearly finished mastering it... but might be awhile before I get that done - so, since I'm so bad at finishing what I've started, here it is.

Track seventeen from the album "Civilisation".

A cultural relic we feel fortunate to have procured.

Lyrics: We are transient, like some ambient road trip sidebar, We utilize haphazard methods to keep things interesting. We deflect attention by dressing like the locals when we go to town. And all the while we’re living underground… Down…

Lyrics: Oh, the ghost of her exists And I hold her by the hips. She’s not my type but she Vexes me, unexpectedly, Like some old voice on a static phone line. The twilight is my light But she’s receding from my sight. She walks away…

Lyrics: Later in the evening, and I heard sirens all around. Then I get up this morning, Seabrook Plant had melted down. I turned on my radio, they told me “this is not a test.” “You’ll most likely be a mutant by the morning but we wish…

Some non-guitar silliness. Every instrument is an iPod Touch app except for the drums which is friend Phil on electronic percussion.