Tripecac - Where's My Muse

People's reaction to The Hermit had been mixed. They said they liked the music, but thought the lyrics were too geeky, dark, and/or introverted. In reaction, I decided to "sell out" and try to make a universally likeable album.

So, while "Millions of Monkeys" kicked off The Hermit with a punk feel, "SPCA" announces my intention to make something more poppy and dancy.

My first stab was this peppy/poppy song about a puppy. I felt I needed to write about something other than myself. And what is more universally likeable than a puppy?

This particular pup is in the SPCA. He's eager for someone to adopt him. He's worried that if no one picks him, he'll get put to sleep and then cremated.

Yeah, it's a little gloomy and "lonely guy"-ish, not helped by the subdued vocals. However, I think my life was actually going great at the time. I don't know why it sounds so glum.

Musically, this was an attempt to sound like New Order and Depeche Mode. Although it's dancy, it's also gentle and sad, miles away from the punk 'tude of The Hermit.

The lyrics are about a break-up. The girl dumps the guy. She tries to comfort him, saying the sky is "solid blue". Blue horizons meant unlimited opportunities and therefore optimism.

The guy is cynical of the girl's attempts at comforting him. He refuses to be cheered up. He turns her "sky is blue" idea into the more pessimistic-sounding "the sky is empty" (which it would be if it were blue).

In case you're wonding, no, the lyrics weren't autobiographical. Everything was groovy for me at the time. I was just trying to write about something other than myself. My heart wasn't really in this song, and it ends up sounding sappy, which is rare for Tripecac.

This was my third straight "dance" song. I didn't really like "SPCA" or "Solid Blue", and hoped this one would be the charm. Musically, it's pretty peppy, a definitely improvement. The vocals are also more engaging (though cruder). Lyrically, though, well...

I had started writing a song about an ex-girlfriend from a town named Surry. She used to tell me how peaceful is was where she lived.

After writing a couple verses, I decided to abort the idea. I was dating a different girl at the time, and didn't want to upset things by singing about an ex-girlfriend in a song. I changed the town name (from "Surry" to "Shelley") and then mangled the rest of the song into an exaggerated drama.

The lyrics were turning nasty again, like something you're hear in The Hermit. I think this was because I was disgusted with the cheesy romantic vocals on "Solid Blue".

The "Stop Playing the Blues" excerpt at the end was probably accidental (since I was recording onto the same 4-track tape). I left it in because it gives a clue as to the identity of the ex-girlfriend, since Jon liked her too.

For some reason, I didn't think the dance theme was working. So what did I do instead? I recorded a weird piano-based jam, and then threw on some silly lyrics. There's definitely a huge contrast between this and the first three ("dance") songs.

Lyrically and musically, this makes fun of the post-Jon Anchovies practices. I mimicked the remaining bandmates (Allen, Anand, Luke, and myself); great voice work, huh? :)

The practices weren't actually this bad. We didn't get hostile or insulting. Instead, I think the other guys just got bored.

The music was a cheesy attempt at an "epic" medley. I lost interest in finishing or polishing it, and recorded it (along with the mostly improvised vocals) to get it off my keyboard and 4-track.

I've added back the weird climactic ending ("there's conflict in...") which I had omitted from the first CD version.

By the time I recorded this, my audience had dwindled to my family and girlfriend. Feedback from them was lukewarm. I felt like the new album wasn't living up to its predecessor, The Hermit. "SPCA" was trivial, "Solid Blue" was sappy, "The Trap" was mean, and "Another Anchovies Practice" was an aimless mess.

So I decided to write a song about my musical decline.

The lyrics express my frustration. They're introverted again, like on the The Hermit. The music is peppy, and my vocal energy was high (though a little juvenile). I actually liked it a lot, enough to name the album after it.

Soon after I finished it, however, I moved off campus and got a TV. My musical productivity plummeted even further.

It had been several months since my last song ("Where's My Muse"). Thanks to TV and the fact that my keyboard wasn't in a convenient location, I made very little music.

This was the most finished song idea I had at the time. It was a sparse, jazzy dance groove. I happened to record it on the same part of the 4-track tape as the last two songs on The Hermit. Most of the vocals were from "Amateur Night" and the "Interview" from The Hermit. I sang a few chanted a few new lines in response to the excerpts.

I called it "Return to Duckville" because the excerpts have Beth in them; a "theme song" of ours was "Little Ducky". Also, the clav part sounds like quacking in some parts.

I've added back the "Super Studs" excerpts at the end. It sounds horrible, but is consistent with the album's increasingly nostalgic tone.

It had now been over a year since my last song. I was ready to record a "real" song ("I Don't Do Hills") but needed to free up space on my keyboard. This was the most complete song idea I had on there at the time, so I recorded it quickly, as-is. I didn't bother to add vocals to it.

The title is a reference to how long it had been since I had finished a song.

I recorded this simple and gentle jazz/rock ditty for my mom on Mother's Day 1996. It's about her reluctance to bike up big hills. She actually used to say, "I don't do hills". The lyrics are repetitive (cyclical - get it?).

The bicycle noises are my spinning a bike tire and pedals. The wind noises are completely fake!

This was my first guitar-only song since I had gotten my SY55. It was two tracks of acoustic guitar which I played along to my drum machine (which is very faint).

I hated this song for years, but kind of like it now; it's mellow and relaxing. Maybe after listening to all those Trex recordings my ears are getting used to Tripecac guitar!

The title is a pun on "A for effort". An "A flat" is a note that's pretty hard to hit on a guitar. At least for me.

What you hear now is much longer than the excerpt included on the first version of the CD. This is the restored original. It's a little more annoying musically, but I think it does a better job of capturing my mellow mood at the time.

I was making fun of my guitar playing on "A Flat for Effort". The music in the background is "Stop Playing the Blues" (from The hermit), which was a musical pun; I thought my guitar sounded bluesy. Get it?

This rhythm-heavy jam is actually a lot closer stylistically to recent Tripecac than to the other songs on the album. At the time, I considered it a throwaway, mere filler for the end of side 1 of the tape.

The faint talking at 2:53 is from the same recording that I used on "Acid on Hoboes".

In 2000 I let my musician friend Andy listen to Where's My Muse, which was the only Tripecac album I had on mp3 at that point. This song was his favorite. I don't know why. Maybe he liked the hyper drums?

I felt that "Been Too Long" was too mechanical and sterile. I decided to try something "looser" and ended up creating this sound collage my first "epic jam" as Tripecac.

I decided to slow it down (to half-speed) and re-record it. On top of it I improvised reverb-laden keyboard solos.

There are three parts to the song:

Part 1 (0:00 - 2:26) is mostly residue from previous recordings. Tracks 1+2 are musical leftovers from "SPCA" and "Been Too Long", and then some improvised keyboard percussion. Track 3 starts off with talking from the "Interview" at the end of The Hermit, and then turns into guitar. Track 4 is a distant-sounding keyboard solo, recorded live.

Part 2 (2:27 - 13:18) is the main chunk. Tracks 1+2 are "Been Too Long" played at half speed. Track 3 is guitar. Track 4 is the keyboard solo, switching between warbly synth sounds and a crisper EP sound. There's lots of reverb and distortion to give it a "live" feel.

Part 3 (13:19 - end) is short and sweet. It's a musical excerpt from "I Don't Do Hills".

I never finished this song, and always considered it a throwaway. Dad liked it, however, and asked me to put it on Dad's Picks.

The vocals were adlibbed, and mostly inaudible.

This fully restored version includes the stupid "oh yeah" vocal and the musical variation at the end. It also ends with "i hate bugs", which seques nicely into the next song ("Roach Attack").

My apartment (in Alexandria, VA) had tons of roaches! They were a big a source of stress for me. This short instrumental was my "ode" to them. Ugh...

I don't know what a swinging synth groove has to do with roaches. This is probably one of the worst titles I've picked!

Thing starts off soothing. You can picture me in my apartment, relaxing. Ahhh...

Then a martial theme comes in at 0:42. It's supposed to represent the roach army. Here they come!

The battle starts at 1:20. Chaos ensues. Body parts and bad notes fly all over the place. It isn't pretty.

Finally, things quiet back down. But the initial, comfortable groove is lost. The mood is still broken, still twitchy. A jarring guitar thrashing in the background hints at more bad things to come.

It finally ends with some "psycho" music.

This is a much longer version than the one on the 2000 CD. There's more bad notes, but more good notes too! Lots more notes! And more is better, right?

Well, at least we get to hear the story more completely. Before, the song just had the relaxing beginning part; now it has the comfrontational bits too.

This is a very short excerpt of guitar strumming. Return of the "roaches", perhaps?

This is a short instrumental snippet that doesn't really go anywhere. It may have been planned as an intro for something. However, it's awfully busy for an intro. So I guess it was just an aborted song idea.

This is a short excerpt of some of the music for "First Thing in the Morning". I think I recorded it as a test, and then forgot to erase it from the tape. So it serves as a kind of intro (or reprise).

I wrote and recorded the first version of this on piano in California on 1996-11-03. When I got back to Alexandria, I recorded it with my Yamaha SY55.

The lyrics are a more pessimistic and whiny sequel to "I Don't Wanna" (1993). However, instead of complaining about having to work (which I didn't mind), I'm complaining about having to deal with boring people.

The talking during the bridge is from an "audio tour" I made of an apartment I was house-sitting in Alexandria before I went to California. The full version is captured in "Alexandria Chat" (on Trex's NoVaSoCa).

My family took a vacation to Vieques (near Puerto Rico) in December 1996. On a deserted beach we found an old, abandoned boat, half submerged in the sand and with "God Is Love" written on the hull. Dad and I decided to see if we could get it to float. With Jess's help, we spent about an hour scooping sand out of it and pushing it towards the water. I took pictures while Dad and Jess pushed it the last few inches into the water and got inside it. It sank almost immediately. I used a picture of the boat for the cover to Sunday Sampler.

This song tells the story. The music was specifically design to be "family-oriented", so it's catchy and simple. The vocals are gentle.

This is really boring! I was reading an essay I had written in California.

You can also hear bits of "First Thing in the Morning". Don't ask me why. Not much quality control on this song.

There's also a quote from "Anchovy Rock". And some acoustic guitar. A little bit of everything.

This sounds like Frank Zappa after too many coffees. Not much structure. Not much value, actually.

This was originally called "(H)oboes on Acid" because it has an instrument that sounds kinda like an oboe. The talking is a reading of an essay I wrote in 1995.

It's a little distorted in bits. There's also a burst of background music which sounds like IPECAC.

Funny title, but dull song. I was still reading the same letter or journal entry from "Hoboes on Acid". The last part is about a bad sunburn.

The lyrics are from a letter I wrote to an ex-girlfriend while I was in California in 1996. They are "interlaced"; the left and right voices take turns reading sentences from different bits of the letter. I never sent the letter.

The mellow background music is intended to be "wistful".

There's a longer version of this song on South or Southeast. I had to stick with a shorter version on the Where's My Muse CD due to time constraints. I don't think any of the other songs on Where's My Muse are shorter; just this one.

This is driving and insightful. It's the last big song on the album, and exudes both humor and power. I love the lyrics!

This has a brain-dead drum part, and semi-funky bass, clav, and EP parts. It was so unsubtle that I gave up on it. I recorded it to tape to get it off the keyboard.

I think its name refers to lost potential. Kinda appropriate.

This is a backwards version of something; I'm not sure what. The title is ironic, since the music is looking back rather than forward.