This track needed some drums. Nothing from my usual percussion sound palette fit. Nothing from my sample library worked in the all-acoustic world I had created. I labored over it for days. I scratched my head. I pondered. I worried. It…

Now here, boys and girls, is the reason why I am not a hip-hop artist.

There is more than one sort of flush, you know.

When I wrote this my girlfriend at the time had two shelter rescue cats who happened to be kittens at the time.

My first foray into tropicals happened about this time. I was keeping neon tetras. Unfortunately I could not keep them for very long. Now (2013) I have a tank full of long-finned zebra-striped danios; they keep much better. The danios are…

Dedicated to Mr. Lynch. No, not David Lynch the filmmaker. No, not Dave Lynch the Sacramento fusion guitarist, either. I mean that other Mr. Lynch--the one who wrote that fine tune "Celestial Soda Pop." Thanks, Ray. :)

This is my absolute best boy-Enya impression. Sorry I couldn't do better.

This song is about a REAL homeless man who used to stand out in front of the local Safeway asking for change. Once I saw him inside the store sipping a grande Starbucks and he pretended he was not the same man I had seen out front for months…

One melody line from each section of this piece uses hand-drawn waveforms based around triangles, squares, hexagons, and octagons.

This track features the voice talents of my two sons, one of whom is rather reluctant to embrace the idea of the bathroom as a vocal both.

I believe microbes may have caused me to write this one.

The dream of the African is not long to be achieve, too see beyond the colours of the eyes to be accepted and treated equally among the human race.

It seems Elle has finally gotten to Evan. It's too bad, really, but it's a fun use of a SCI SixTrak.