Certain things change when
you have children. Besides the well-documented cessation of movie-going
and general downturn in chemical indulgence, the biggest change
is in your circle of friends and your inability to live a life
of seclusion. There are very few good choices for the recluse once
you’ve committed to making sure your kids don't end up with
same anti-social dis-ease as you. You are doomed to renege on your
principled stands against things like plastic, Chuck E. Cheese,
the Disney Channel, Lady Gaga and other stigmata of rampant consumerism.
In this way, becoming a parent is a lot, I imagine, like being
Newt Gingrich: you wake up one day fat and changing your position
on virtually everything, blaming your transgressions on the overflow
of devotion (in his case, to country, in ours, to our progeny).
This is how I ended up at the Little Gym, a franchised pay-to-play
playground where we hope either that the little ones get a leg
up in their athletic development or that we get a free hour to
read. I met Edie Meidav there a few years ago, it being
only natural that a musician and novelist would connect in a strip mall gymnasium for toddlers. We discussed our work weekly, both in the gym and in the post-Jazzy Toes (tm) meals wherever we could provide the children with some form of chicken nugget type substance. I saw early versions of Lola, California and followed her growth, getting the kind of glimpse into the process that we all wish for, not strictly by watching the Document grow, but by being privy to the Process, which, at least from an artist's perspective, is as important as the Product. One of the first things Edie said about Lola was that the music of her youth was infused in the lyric of the book (my paraphrasing), that there was a soundtrack to the writing process quite separate from that and, in fact, she envisioned her novel having a life alongside the music and dance she loved.
What you find here is
the result of three years of procrastination and a couple weeks
of cramming which, really, is how music is supposed to be.
The music is part soundtrack for the reader, part songs inspired
by the text (though I would be loathe to be too 'on the nose' about
it as Edie's words speak so eloquently for themselves) and part
music inspired by the cultural identity of the novel. That is,
we hope that they work together not literally, but like distant
cousins who bear a resemblance you can't quite put your finger
on. Credits will be forthcoming, but I must especially thank Christina
Amphlett of Divinyls for her voice and collaboration on 'Pillow.'
Some of the music is free, but, in the interest of not ceding
our entire economy to the wealthy, some is available for purchase,
but only here. With thanks to you and to Edie...