Jabberwock - Southland
0000-00-00

Lyrics

KNIFE Push came to shove And now I’m not alone Drums made of skin Sticks made of bone I was hibernating I dreamt I was awake I was reaching for the apple But instead I found the snake Waiting for the Knife I put on a blue gown Every time I drive As I sail through the cross streets I cover up my eyes c 1994 by Wishnefsky, Dave Rodgers, and Todd Jameson Todd – backing vocals, mantra Wishnefsky – vocals, electric guitar, feedback guitar, synthesizer, tapes COMMENTS I wrote this song in the dead of night. I started by putting down the guitar part over recordings of voices and singing made on my video cam in Saint Petersburg, Russia, in 1991. The singing and some of the voices are from a Russian Orthodox wedding in a run down old church. I added the melody and lyrics a few nights later. A wedding is a new beginning, of course, so it was only appropriate that this song open our first CD Southland. However, this song has nothing to do with marriage; rather, it concerns the feeling I had driving on the empty 110 freeway through South Central LA during the riots. We only played this song live a few times. It opened the set for the first Jabberwock gig ever in 1994. We rehearsed an extended version with drums for a while around 1997, but never played it live. Wishnefsky
Jabberwock - Southland
0000-00-00

Lyrics

OBLIVIOUS I was born and raised Los Angeles, California Where the heavenly bodies graze and the mountains meet the sea We never have to wait for the next excellent swell Because life is perfect here – can’t you tell? There’s no cause to be alarmed My chauffeur is quite well armed Oblivious Couldn’t call it justice when the taggers hit your offramp Someone’s getting carjacked late night in Van Nuys No one likes a bum sleeping on their doorstep Where’s the glamour when another gangbanger dies? Ain’t no problems in Beverly Hills Living under the spell of Valentine pills Oblivious What in the world am I supposed to say when this becomes reality? Where in the world am I supposed to go when this is all I know I heard a rumor about these Vietnamese gangs in Garden Grove They’re almost as violent as the skinheads in Glendale Someone told me about the emergency in County Hospital Someone told me they had died and gone to Hell Why worry when it only exist on cable And LaLaLand is a televised fable Oblivious Don’t be a dumbshit, try to imagine it Peace on earth ain’t a matter of interment in the cold dark ground Listen to the sound of uzis in the their carriages That’s just the way it is I’ll tell you this, that there’s murder in the marriage of the church and state to the corporate dollar Heaven and Hell bent on the slaughter of innocents That’s what I meant We’re drowning in the ocean Dipping in the sea A total lack of emotion Is coming over me Oblivious I was born and raised Born and raised c 1994 by Wishnefsky, Dave Rodgers, and Todd Jameson Dave – drums, vibraslap mc100 – backing vocals, rap Wishnefsky – vocals, bass, electric guitars, synthesizer Stephen Bock – guest backing vocals COMMENTS This song was played on the radio more than any of our other songs. Like Knife, it was inspired by the LA riots. I was tired of the complex, pompous songs I was writing. I wanted to pen a direct, straight ahead rock song with some bite in the lyrics. It is one of the simplest songs I’ve ever written. When Bob Ezrin heard this song, he thought I stole the chords from an old Alice Cooper song. No, that was his ego talking. You can find D-A-E in a million rock songs. But, I don’t think you’ll find my lyrics or melody line or Todd’s hysterical rap anywhere else. This song was usually our set closer and for some reason used to make me want to jump round and thrash about like a complete idiot. Our producer Michael James said he didn’t really understand the song until I started bouncing off the walls when we were listening to a rough mix. In case you haven’t noticed, the Southland CD concerns the deterioration of Los Angeles during the early 1990s. We were right in the middle of it, yet totally removed. I am very fortunate. I’ve never been hungry. I’ve always lived in very nice places. It’s not like Donald Trump is my dad, but my family does well. So, it would be ridiculous for me to pretend that I know what it’s like to live in hardship. But, I do know what it’s like to suffer psychologically because no one is immune from the mysterious workings of their own brain, regardless of their status in life and sometimes because of their status in life. And I can see and listen and feel. I think Southland makes a statement about the psychological fallout in these post-modern times. Wishnefsky.
Jabberwock - Southland
0000-00-00

Lyrics

THIS STRANGE We’re all at home now Tell us what we’ve seen ‘Cause we’re all at home now We’re watching again We’re all at home, we’re all at home, We’re all at home where the buffalo roam We’re all at home now Tell us what we’ve seen ‘Cause we’re all at home now We’re one with the screen We’re all at home, we’re all at home, We’re all at home where the buffalo roam This strange, this strange, this strange Welfare of the State We’re all at home now Tell us who we’ve been ‘Cause we’re all alone now We’re wondering again We’re all at home, we’re all at home, We’re all at home where the buffalo roam Can’t take this mess of politics heaped upon my plate Broken strings of promises slapped across my face Can’t take the smell of heretics burning at the stake Can’t take this mess of politics steaming on my plate c 1994 by Dave Rodgers, Todd Jameson, and Wishnefsky Dave – drums, mister egg, fish Todd – vocals Wishnefsky – vocals, bass, electric guitars, feedback guitar, synthesizer, samples Michael James – guest subliminal producer yelps COMMENTS This was the first song that Michael James finished with us. It sounded so much better than the mixes we had done on our own. Mike really pushed the quality up a few notches. For that, I am eternally grateful and in his debt. It’s amazing to put your heart and soul into something and then watch someone with a lot of talent make it better than you ever could on your own. See if you can hear his guest subliminal producer yelps. Hint: they’re during the chorus. Todd sings lead on most of this song and does a wonderful job. I oversang, I mean, sang the lead on the bridge. Todd and Dave are mostly responsible for writing this song, which came together one night over a dramatically slowed down sample of a funkish groove. I really like Todd’s melody. Dave came up with the chords and put in a great twist on the chorus that I would never have thought of in a million years. I wish I could tell you what Todd’s lyrics are about. I have some ideas, but you’re just going to have read them for yourself and conjure up your own interpretation. I think I may have written the first line or two in the bridge. I honestly don’t remember. It may have been Todd trying to imitate my lyric style. I’m not smart enough to imitate his lyric style. He definitely wrote the line about the smell of heretics burning at the stake. I generally avoid writing about odors. It’s just one of those things. Todd must be braver than me. Which reminds me of a story. When Rod was still in the band, for a short stretch of time we served as the backing band for a lovely and talented lady named Denise Cronin (her ex-husband was Kevin Cronin of REO Speedwagon fame). Mike played guitar with this particular ensemble. Two young ladies, whose names I cannot recall, were the obligatory back up singers. We rehearsed at Jabberwock Headquarters, better known as Dev’s garage at his home in Van Nuys. One night, we finished rehearsing and everyone left except for me, Todd, and another member of the band who shall remain nameless. Mr. Nameless had been suffering from horrific gas that evening and, to his credit, managed to hold it all inside his painfully ballooning lower digestive tract throughout the evening so as not to offend the sensibilities of the ladies present. Now, with the ladies having made their exit, Mr. Nameless unleashed a flurry of flatulence that would have stunned a warthog at twenty paces and, doubtlessly, sounded the death knell of Mr. Nameless’s undergarments. At which time, Denise, to our surprise, walked back in the studio, having forgotten something or another. Looking as if she were about to loss consciousness, she exclaimed, “Whew! Is this what we smell like?” Somehow, we managed to keep a straight face until she left again, whereupon the three of us collapsed in convulsive fits of laughter. Yes, that was what we smelled like. So, I avoid the topic of aromas in my lyrics. Just one of those things. I digress. I always really enjoyed playing This Strange live. We extended the ending, which built up into a powerful climax. Well, not that type of climax. But you get the picture. Wishnefsky
Jabberwock - Southland
0000-00-00

Lyrics

YEAR OF THE RAT What’s all the fuss, what’s all the racket? What do all these letters mean stitched upon your jacket? What about this gentlemen who can hardly even move? What’s with the smartass, getting off in his groove? What about the flames licking up the side? What’s with the bombers, all wingspan and pride? What about the noise screaming through the air? What about the presents you’ve been giving down there? Fire and blood In Cadillac tanks Dayglo messengers Running through the ranks Pray or be preyed upon And get into that The lord shows no mercy In the year of the rat What’s the commotion, what’s all the flak? What’s with the news lady distorting the facts? Cofee and tequila spinning someone’s head Laugh while you still can to cover up the dread Fire and blood In Cadillac tanks Dayglo messengers Running through the ranks Pray or be preyed upon And grapple with that The lord shows no mercy In the year of the rat What about the plastics, what about the knives? What about the cardboard coffins swallowing up lives? What about the madmen climbing up that hill Driving us to madness, to kill for the thrill What’s with the Buddha? What about Christ? What about Heaven? What a game show door prize Pray or be preyed upon By a bloodthirsty cat No one keeps their promises In the year of the rat c 1994 by Wishnefsky, Dave Rodgers, and Todd Jameson, and Rod Clark Dave – drums, baritone backing vocals, small plastic table Todd – synthesizer Wishnefsky – vocals, bass, electric guitar, synthesizer Michael James – guest backing vocals, guest phase shifter Irina Irvine – guest backing vocals COMMENTS Rod came up with the basic groove for this song; hence the well deserved writing credit. We did simplify the groove a bit when I recorded the bass part, but that was mostly because I could not play Rod’s part. Producer extraordinaire Michael James and his lovely bride Irina assisted by screaming “year of the rat” on the chorus along with the rest of us. The voice in the beginning is one of many video cam recordings I made in Russia in 1991. Dave accomplished the 16th note rapping percussion during the verses by playing a small plastic table in the studio that was originally in my parents’ living room. Mike tweaked a phase shifter effects pedal while I played electric guitar over the instrumental break, a cheap cinematic trick he conjured up in order to remediate my inability to play anything that sounded remotely interesting. Mike knows how to fiddle with knobs. Not that type of knob, you pervert. Well, as far as I know. I was never happy with this song live and I started to become less than enthralled with the recorded version, (although it became a minor hit on a few college radio stations). So we banished this song from the set. At one point, I tried to rewrite it, but the spirit of the song had already traveled to distant, unreachable parts. Sometimes you have to let go of songs and they never come back. Wishnefsky
Jabberwock - Southland
0000-00-00

Lyrics

THIEVES She stands like Venus Di Milo While I mix her drink She comes from a family of cool-headed safecrackers I have to stop and think She’s gonna find some stooges and henchmen I might fit the bill A well-oiled team of mafia beauty queens Some big shoes to fill Oh, there are thieves in this world She walks like a loaded slingshot while I lower the lights She talks in a different tongue As she reads me my rights She cries like a wounded seagull When I close the door She knows what to do with the pantyhose She’s done it before Oh, there are thieves in this world I hereby offer you my heart to burgle As if I had a choice A man needs an obstacle or two to hurdle A woman needs her toys Oh, there are thieves in this world c 1994 by Wishnefsky, Dave Rodgers, and Todd Jameson Dave – drums Todd – backing vocals Wishnefsky – vocals, acoustic guitar, electric guitars Michael James – guest phase shifter COMMENTS As if your heart has never been stolen? I wrote this lyric in the late 80s to a completely different song. That particular song never thrilled me, but the lyrics begged to be relocated to more hospitable aural surroundings. So, one late night when I needed to be very quiet, I started lightly strumming my faithful acoustic guitar and constructed a new home for my restless words. I put down the guitar and a rough vocal down on tape. That became the foundation of the final recording. Dave did a brilliant job of playing the drums to my uneven sense of tempo. Michael James again demonstrated his prodigious virtuosity at knob twiddling, thereby bringing the instrumental section to life. Thieves evolved as we played it live. Todd came up with some really nice vocal counterpoints. The chorus evolved into something more melodic and dramatic. During the instrumental, our guest guitarist extraordinaire Stephen Bock came up with a gorgeous, melodic solo that always made me want to waltz with my Takamine. In 1995, we played an acoustic version of this song on a cable access TV talk show. The producer of the show was a friend of Mike’s and she never sent us a tape of the show like she promised. So that performance is lost forever. I do recall that the talk show host asked us some very silly questions, to which, like idiots, we gave perfectly honest and serious answers. We generally gave pretty lousy interviews – the kind that later on make you want to stick your head in a giant vat of brake fluid. The pen is mightier than the sword, and, in our case, mightier than trying to talk without inserting a few feet in our collective mouths. But it does make for a good laugh now. Wishnefsky
Jabberwock - Southland
0000-00-00

Lyrics

BIG GREEN W This is the last thing you want to see This is the last thing you’ll ever see It’s the threat of death That makes us feel alive This is the big green W This is the monogram of truth It’s the threat of death That makes us feel alive c 1994 by Wishnefsky, Dave Rodgers, and Todd Jameson Dave – drums Todd – backing vocals, windchimes Wishnefsky – vocals, fuzz bass, electric guitar, synthesizer, samples Ken Korg – guest synthesizer COMMENTS This is one of my favorite Jabberwock songs. I know you think the surprise ending was carefully scripted and expertly performed. I hate to burst your bubble, but it happened like that because the tape ran out at that exact point. I played the lead synth part on my old vintage duo-phonic Maxi-Korg (also known as K. Korg). Not to brag or anything, but my performance was especially challenging given that K. Korg was missing a G courtesy of an inadvertent misstep by my old friend Alan and one of the Ds hung precariously in place courtesy of some old duct tape. Michael James did a masterful job mixing this song. When he started working on the mix, Dave, Todd, and I were being such utter pains in the ass that Michael banished us from the studio and told us not to enter for a few hours. So, we went and got some falafels. When we came back, Michael had mutated into a mad scientist, hair disheveled, pupils dilated, fingers twitching, and cords and pedals strewn everywhere. "Listen to this," he cackled demonically. Pure magic wafted from the speakers as Mike rode the faders like a desperate aviator trying not to crash land his smoking, bullet hole ridden bi-plane on the burning French farmland. Genius is not always pretty. Lyrically, this may be the only pop song ever written about a flyswatter. We kept the Big Green W (which stands for Woolworth, the store from which I purchased the Big Green W) at home and in active service terminating various species of pests for over a decade. Finally, years of vicious swatting overcame the expertly designed plastic swatting surface and we had to put the faithful destroyer of bugs into retirement. It would have made a nice memento, or, at least, I thought so. Alas, my wife, as it were, did not share my sentimental feelings for the poor green insect eradicator. She threw it out. There was no way we could have pulled off this song live in a way that satisfied us. Thus, we only played this song live once; it was simply Todd and I singing while I strummed the chords. This was at the infamous Sunset Club one-off gig during which we played Southland in its entirety in order from start to finish. In 1994, we did a radio appearance on the Mr. KFI show and he loved this song. He used it as bumper music for a long time. We ended up on his show, by the way, because my mother was his biggest fan. After she found out that he had gone to the same high school Dave and I did, she sent him Southland and he was instantly smitten. The appearance was absolutely hysterical. We played a few acoustic songs and then hung out for an hour and answered questions from the callers. My father-in-law called in and didn’t turn his radio down – so Mr. KFI hung up on him. That brightened my day considerably. For some reason, we weren’t able to get a hold of our guest guitarist and good buddy Stephen Bock, so he didn’t come along. However, he did manage to call in and give the radio listeners the distinct impression that there was an enormous rift in the band. Mr. KFI milked it of course. I recall Huell Howser calling in, as his show was up next, and we had some pleasant on-air banter with him. Todd was so nervous that he wasn’t his usual self at all. During one break we decided that Todd would sing a song after we went back on air. Literally five seconds before the light went on, Todd completely freaked out and had a full fledged panic attack. So, I started singing the first song I could think of, which was an old tune called Cold Blue River that we never even came close to playing in Jabberwock. We forgave Todd, of course, because we just as nervous and probably twice as stupid. My mom was so proud. Wishnefsky
Jabberwock - Southland
0000-00-00

Lyrics

THIS AIN'T NO WEAPON, IT'S A GOLF CLUB If you are what you eat Then you must be A swine and best An unborn embryo A Peking, a Peking, a Peking A Peking, A Peking, a Peking, Duck c 1994 by Wishnefsky, Dave Rodgers, and Todd Jameson Dave – talking drum, Snapple bottle (half-empty), floor crash, mister egg Todd – talking drum manipulation, Snapple (half-full) Wishnefsky – fuzz vocal, bass, alien guitar COMMENTS The title of this unusual piece of music is a verbatim quote from the lips a surly, tattooed gangbanger being interviewed on the nightly news. Having been arrested for brandishing a dangerous weapon, he eloquently defended his right to carry a seven iron on the streets of Los Angeles, miles from the nearest golfing facility. The abject stupidity displayed by this young thug became a running joke among my friends and me for quite some time. As far as I am concerned, the only weapon anyone should ever be allowed to carry is their sense of humor. I sang the vocals through a children’s toy. We hid that toy in a special place in the studio in case we ever wanted to recreate the sound. Exercising remarkable foresight, it turned out that we needed that silly little toy when we played this song live at the Sunset Club Southland one-off show. It actually sounded great and I really enjoyed performing it. Nonetheless, the reaction of the audience, essentially one of perplexed fear and wide-eyed confusion, convinced us to omit the song from subsequent set lists. When we wrote and recorded this song, we sought to create a unique aural experience for the listener. If you don’t know what to think, then, clearly, we accomplished our goal. Wishnefsky
Jabberwock - Southland
0000-00-00

Lyrics

FREEZING Freezing in the land of sunshine Waiting in the land of no time Begging in the state of money Starving in the land of honey Breathing in the air of pipe dreams Living in the sleep of morphine Moving through the tar of highways Working for a hotel ashtray Chillin’ out for the big freeze Swimming in the sea of distress Saving in the town of excess Crumbling in a state of repair Pulling out chunks of my hair Chillin’ out for the big freeze Freezing in the land of sunshine Waiting in the land of no time Begging in the state of money Starving in the land of honey Chillin’ out for the big freeze Chillin’ I’m freezing c 1994 by Wishnefsky, Dave Rodgers, and Todd Jameson Dave – drums, extra crashes Wishnefsky – vocals, bass, electric guitars, acoustic guitar COMMENTS Okay, I can come clean now. This was a no frills attempt to graduate from the Midnight Oil school of songwriting. Todd wrote the second stanza of the first verse, which is, by far, my favorite part of the lyric. If I hadn’t been such an egotistical, controlling, megalomaniac, I would have asked Todd to rewrite the rest of the words. Shortly after I wrote this song, I purchased a sunburst Yamaha electric guitar with humbucker pick ups, affectionately known as “The Beast,” from our genius producer Michael James. Played through my vintage Vox AC-10 amplifier, it produced the sweet, warm, fuzzy, British tone of which I had dreamt for years. With the right amount of gain and the correct pick up configuration, I morphed into Pete Townsend’s lost American cousin. The Beast brought Freezing, and many other songs, to life. We played this song live a lot at our Southland shows. We typically dropped it from the set list for the Letterbomb shows. There was no particular reason for doing that other than we felt that the song had somewhat outlived its usefulness and we felt more strongly about our newer material. So we put the freeze on Freezing. This song got some airplay on KLOS and college radio. Mr. KFI liked this song too and used it for bumper music. We hope you like it too. Wishnesky
Jabberwock - Southland
0000-00-00

Lyrics

FIRE HAS SPARKS (SOUTHLAND, PART TWO) Fire has sparks Fire has sparks A bad breeze is blowing in Like the lizard’s breath A tidal wave of greed and corruption Has got me contemplating (my own death) Fire has sparks Fire has sparks It’s coming over you Like a bomber with anelic wings It’s flying over you Like a belly bursting at the seams Fire has sparks Fire has sparks It’s coming over you It’s flying over you Fire has sparks Fire has sparks c 1994 by Wishnefsky, Dave Rodgers, and Todd Jameson Dave - drums Wishnefsky – vocals, bass, electric guitars, feedback guitars, synthesizer, samples COMMENTS I didn’t know what to think of this song when I wrote it. Then Dave and I did a quick demo that had this strangely powerful energy. At a certain point, we realized that the song fit in very well with the songs that ended up on Southland. The intensity of the music and bite of the lyrics captured what we wanted to convey. The final version of the song was difficult to record. We had a clear vision of what we wanted: essentially a better recorded version of the demo. It can be difficult to recapture the magic of demos and the sense of discovery. A lot of our final versions of songs turned out to be the original demos souped up by Michael James’ mixing mechanics. The feedback guitar on Fire Has Sparks took several sessions to get just right. I’m glad we took our time because the final result very much captured what we wanted. Live, this song was hit or miss. When the mood was right, it raised the roof. I recall being interviewed by a gentleman from the Pasadena Weekly who refused to tell me during the interview what he thought of Southland. I became a bit defiant. After we finished, the writer told me he loved the CD and was going to give it a good review. He said his favorite song was Fire Has Sparks. He came to a gig shortly after that and I recall that our performance of Fire Has Sparks transported us and the audience to another world. Pure magic. Heads duly inflated, we proceeded to suck royally the rest of the gig. At least he got to hear his song. Wishnefsky
Jabberwock - Southland
0000-00-00

Lyrics

UNDERSTANDING I was walking where white people go To pretend they live in danger I stopped to look at my pale reflection But I only saw a stranger While I did the things my body wanted My conscience hit the wall Those delicate eyes staring back at me Were still waiting for the call Of understanding Try to understand Try to understand Try to understand the world this time There are places where not even God will go Because you can’t get police assistance If you want to get ahead in this bonanza You’d better be blessed with persistence It’s dog eat dog in the rat race While the cool cats monkey around I’ve got a paralyzed look of fear on my face As I keep waiting for the sound Of understanding Try to understand Try to understand Try to understand the world this time You can’t get anything anywhere these days Without a carcinogen in it I find myself hard-pressed to stop And catch my breath for a minute I’m the not first to feel this way And I won’t be the last to sound the alarm But I’m gonna get a gun and go berserk in a mall If I don’t experience, experience the charm Of understanding Try to understand Try to understand Try to understand the world this time This time Can’t get anything Anywhere These days c 1994 by Wishnefsky, Dave Rodgers, and Todd Jameson Dave – drums Todd – vocals Wishnefsky – vocals, bass, acoustic guitars, electric guitars, synthesizer, samples COMMENTS We recorded different versions of this song. We considered putting it in more of a pop song format because we felt it had a strong hook. But, in the end, we did it the way we thought it would have the most emotion and power. I always thought Understanding highlighted many strong points of the band: two good lead singers, meaningful lyrics, dynamics, power, atmosphere, and a sense of adventure. I enjoyed played this song live and always felt like we took the audience on a bit of journey. There was a nice dynamic between the end of the loud section into the quiet, moody outro. Todd and I first played the song live at a little poetry club, I think before we even recorded it properly. It was spoken word night, but they indulged our pressing desire to play Understanding since it was my wife’s birthday. Not that it’s a happy, celebratory tune, but it seemed to fit the prevalent word-smith atmosphere. Of course, those self-absorbed downtrodden poets just sat there like plastic flowers and stared at us like we were lepers in need of a hug. At least Tina enjoyed it and had a nice birthday. Wishnefsky
Jabberwock - Southland
0000-00-00

Lyrics

SOUTHLAND Greetings from the city of the devil Greetings from the place where you belong Greetings from the city of fine amusement Greetings from the city that is gone, gone, gone I made my way past the lemonade stand I floated down in my luxury cocoon A symbol of Jesus was bent in the earthquake Now there’s a crooked cross looming over you I’m only skimming the surface of the river I hardly make a ripple in the pond Is there any excuse for the shelter I have built myself Keep tunneling, tunneling on Greetings from the city of the devil Greetings from the place where you belong Greetings from the city of fine amusement Greetings from the city that is gone, gone, gone c 1994 by Wishnefsky, Dave Rodgers, and Todd Jameson Wishnefsky – vocals, bass, feedback guitar, samples COMMENTS I wrote and recorded the original piano part for Southland on an insanely hot night in our Van Nuys studio – before we had proper air conditioning. We’re talking corona of the sun hot. I seriously thought I was going to faint. I was by myself and it occurred to me that if I passed out, no one would find me until the next morning, at which time I would be thoroughly micro-waved and ready to be served for breakfast. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you look at it, I was on a songwriting roll and my solemn duty to the muses trumped any desires for personal comfort. It was so scorching hot that the only way I could sing was to imitate Tom Waits’ drunken gravel pit baritone. That is not the vocal you hear on Southland today. It did provide ample entertainment for my bandmates after I eventually mustered the courage to play it for them. The lyrics describe the experience of driving down the street where I lived at the time. It was a nice street in a pleasant neighborhood in Pasadena. Or, so it seemed on the surface. The Devil often dresses in angel’s attire. I did drive past a lemonade stand. (Come to think of it, that may have influenced the prominent role lemonade plays in my recently completed science fiction/fantasy novel, Reed the Replacement. But that’s another story for another day.) There was a church at the end of the street that was damaged in the earthquake and there truly was a crooked cross looming over the passersby. No kidding. That image was far too irresistible to leave out of a song. The voice you hear at the beginning of the song is from a recording I made in Tanzania of a most fascinating Norwegian gentleman named Bjorn. He owed the tour company taking my parents and me around the East African wilderness. He was talking on a walkie talkie and it sounded so cool in a Pink Floyd sort of way that I had to whip out my little recorder and capture the moment. As a matter of fact, we did have a third night at the crater: the Ngorogoro Crater, that is. Apparently, they don’t let visitors in the Crater anymore for environmental reasons. It’s an other-worldly place and about as far from Los Angeles as one can get. We only played this song live once and that was during the one-off performance of Southland in its entirety. When I say that “we” played the song, I really mean the royal “we.” I performed it all by my lonesome and it was certainly a lonely experience because the piano sample was simply nightmarish to play. For any antiquated keyboard buffs out there, I was using a Roland D-50 keyboard to trigger a Roland S-330 sample. In other words, it played absolutely nothing like a piano. I pulled it off somehow, but vowed never again to subject myself to such miserable keyboard torture. If I ever perform live with Veneer, which is piano based, maybe I should give Southland another chance. I do love the song. Wishnefsky
Jabberwock - Southland
0000-00-00

Lyrics

VALENCIA c 1994 by Wishnefsky, Dave Rodgers, and Todd Jameson Dave – drums, tambourine Todd – vocals Wishnefsky – bass, electric guitars COMMENTS Sorry folks, but this is a hidden bonus track; hence, no lyrics for you. This is the closest thing to a country song I have ever written. Todd, properly exercising lead singer prerogative, amended much of my original lyric and clearly for the better. Yes, the sound you hear at the end of the song is Dave throwing a tambourine at me. Luckily, it missed. Otherwise, the end of the song would have featured the melodic strains of me beating the living hell out of Dave. The multi-talented Rich Vanilla did some pre-mastering work on Southland. At our behest, he very skillfully placed the sound of a needle being placed on a vinyl record, with pops, clicks, and hisses. It’s featured right before the song proper kicks in. Some of you youngsters may not recognize that sound. Your loss, I’m afraid. The best thing about working with Rich was that he insisted we take a break in order to catch the latest episode of Star Trek, the Next Generation. He didn’t charge us for the time of course and his enthusiasm for the 23rd century was palpable and elevated everyone’s spirits. We played Valencia live a fair amount during our Southland shows. Todd hammed it up and no one really knew what to think. As if there is a law against being eclectic. When we met famous producer Bob Ezrin, who loved Southland, he wanted to know why we wrote a song about lemons or apples or some sort of citrus fruit. After a brief interlude of utter wonderment, we deduced that Bob thought Valencia is about Valencia oranges, when, in fact, it actually concerns the city of Valencia, which is located in the Santa Clarita Valley in the northern part of Los Angeles County. Bob connected the dots following a quick explanation. He did get the rest of the album without our assistance. Of course, it would have been nice if he had also gotten us a record deal. But that’s water under the bridge and somewhere in the sewer system. Things happen for a reason and had we been signed at that time, I never would have sired the most remarkable little girls in the world: Sophie and Ruby. It feels good to know I have my priorities straight. Wishnefsky

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