From the second time we all got together to make songs in the luxurious basement. Recorded by pressing the record button on the Califone, when things started happening.

A fan favorite, this thing really needs to be wrapped up into a burrito of loving lyrical sweetness. The title, although meaner than the original intent, has to remain. The New Real People need to write some words to allow this bell to truly resonate.

The third time we all got together to make stuff, the idea of band of TV Host Vampires brought out three songs. This was the second one written, the imaginary band's (The Count Floyd) imaginary intro.

Going off the rails in a late-night, Butternut-bread-wrestling-card moment, we divert our attention to staged combat and staged entertainment as Randy “Macho Man” Savage get shoved into the blender with Bruce “Pink Cadillac” Springsteen. Eight minutes on chop. Speaking of chop, we probably could have cut the first two minutes of this track off. Fast forward, if desired.

Another from a spooky evening, when we all decided that we should henceforth be known as “The Count Floyd.” In typically serendipitous fashion, after we stopped this two-and-a-half minute fanciness, Scott informed us all that it had been rumored that someone had actually died in the very basement that inspired this song.

Spooooooooky!

Take it from white kids. Only one thing to do.

Inspired by a song on the old Missias’ jukebox, the rambling self-indulgent fountain of mood will be familiar to anyone who has ever spent time in a basement. Missias’ = Messiah’s?

Fun trivia fact: The song, Jesus’s Mother, from DEMONSTRATION was born two minutes after pressing stop on the Califone.

Ghosts and religion, wrestling and death, marriage and exhastion. Need to find some songs about salad dressing to share.

A dark boogie. Instrumental, leaving room for howls later.