Jabberwock - Southland


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

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