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Here's another head scratcher. I was staring at the screen and just about to bail on the track when Jeff agreed. "We can always just move on and come back to it," he said.

"No," I replied, saying I'll give it another hour. "I like the discomfort of what's being asked." Which was that we had the type of riff that bridges the gap between what I used to do circa 1991-1995 and what psedo-optimists like Howard need to hear as they jog.

The riff? A little thing. Major 7th's dancing around chords. You've heard me do it before, but never like this.

So I said to heck with guessing, and laid down a Coral Sitar guitar loop; over which was played a quick counter melody my new-old Crumar Bit-One rack keyboard. Schmantzy! My impetus to finally START making the album. "We've got to commit," I reminded Jeff, "or we'll just keep spinning around intellectually."

And with a bit of a vibe going I was able to manage to find a vocal melody that implied something more regal than the folk-song bs I had. Not that it was bad, my folkie hokey. It just wasn't I-T. The new melody line being enough to make me think I was on the edge of some greater territory, but (and it's a large issue) that can also mean you're just ultimately going to end up staring into a different canyon with no way out. The best songs, somehow, manage to hold a lot of light, and so that's when you 'know-know'.

9 PLANET ROCK, a horrible title if there ever was one (and it won't last), came to life once I put a guitar riff over the sitar riff that was slightly, and I do mean, slightly different. Suddenly I saw lighters in the air; in my mind, of course. Which does't mean anything except that that subtle shift I found: same idea, almost same tempo (a bit slower), made me excited. Because for the first time I could *feel the album we're hinting at.

"That's it," I pointed out to Jeff. "That's the difference." Translation: all the other frills are cool, but it's gonna be the guitar here that brings things to boil. And not just any guitar stuff, but those riffs that in their microcosm touch the macro of cosmos, and yearning, etc. Which is really f'n funny considering the style as it were is the same style I hatched in my bedroom: oh, about 1983. What my dad used to call 'going all Hendrix…"

So here's to Jimmy and that 3rd Stone From the Sun.

Oh, and P.S. SPANIARDS is out, and back to b-sidesLand.


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