Another rock song. We managed to put together a little musical junket for your listening pleasure.

A song for anyone who's spent any time at all with a human toddler.

We tried to convey the feeling you get when you're trying for the high ground, but become mired in a quickly setting pool of regret and "if only", that's threatening to make you merely a sad sculpture.

This started as what I thought was a pretty nifty riff. Then, it got a title, and some years later Christine wrote the lyrics and melody.

A bit of acoustic fun. I guess you could call it prog folk.

You had me at, "Of All the gin joints in all the towns in all the world..." Kind of a tribute to the movies. The ending evokes in me the wrenching from dreamcraft to lifecast when the final credits roll.

A song meant as inspiration for anyone who has ever felt stuck before they've even started. Don't let the fear of failure hold you back. Always remember you can begin again.

A fun ditty about a magician.

An act of desperation.

I always feel an undercurrent of creativity smoldering just below the surface. It takes some upheaval to dislodge a spark, though. Sometimes that disturbance kicks out a big enough spark to kindle a sputtering flame. That flicker is what gives…

Listen, and we'll tell you a story about two people with a shared past crossing paths on public transit. It's bluegrass instrumentation with the addition of a harmonium and a drum kit.

Electronical music stuff.

The vocalist has been very busy with stuff, so you're stuck with this straight on rock instrumental thingy. Two guitars, bass, drums, and organ. The title is about... well, use your imagination. It really is just a sound.

There are times when you KNOW something's coming. You see the signs, and against all your good sense and smarts, you head off toward it. In the end, you find yourself stuck, staked, trussed, and waiting for it all to wash over you.

An act of contrition. Also, I'm gonna tell yo' mama. Featuring Christine Gambrell and the Riley Steiner All Girl Glee Gala.

Until the fog lifts, you never know what's down there.

This is what my brain hears when I suddenly wake up at 1:30AM.

Good clean fun. A sort of retelling of what rehearsals were like for the band I was in while I was in music school.

When I wrote this, I felt as if some havoc was looming nearby. There was an itching, crawling impression that at any moment I could become yet another casualty of the omnipresent "SMITE" button. Perhaps I wrote this as sort of a musical talisman…