so from the house of loneliness, we slept, we ate, we dreamed of nothing, played music ceaselessly for 8 1/2 years climbing up a hill, still in a warm cloudy sleep we awoke, all numb fingers and dumb lips. the river fled, the medow opened, the mountain woke, coloured light strewn from city to city, under the trees, under the traveling moon we played and slept. so much has happened and things are changing so fast that looking over the debris and tarnished medals it seems like so many years. the dim lights, loud music, getting lost in the van, watching for UFO's, arguing, watching butch vig microwave bacon, bugg, peopple actually coming to see us play, more arguing, lollapalooza, more music, endless boring hours listening to guitar "tones" with alan, doom, harmony strings, flood with the classic saying, "we're in the trenches with our tin hats on", songs, releasing a double cd under the jaundiced eye of business acumen and winking hipsters, relief, elation, tragedy, then reticence...at the end of this you flip back to the beginning or maybe open it up somewhere in the middle and you always find the same thing: music. so that's what you might take away from this--and all this from an empty room. cheers, ta! -james, summer '96