Yes, and now and then, someone comes forward with a sweetly moving personal story of hearts touched, of lives improved, of souls inspired and transformed by our music…

Well, actually, this has never, ever happened. Not once. So we make up the stories ourselves, such as how Trevor “Teensy” Terwilliger got his groove back. Read Teensy’s touching tale NOW (see below) and keep a box of tissue nearby because you’re gonna cry, I promise. It’s like chicken soup for the tear ducts, I’m telling you … whatever that means.

Oh, and, then, once you’ve read it, why not give the songs a listen … please? Just this once, for God’s sake? What the hell else do you have to do on a Monday morning? Don’t try to tell me you’re working. That’s bullshit, and we both know it. You’re playing on Myspace, looking for hot new girls or guys to add as friends, posting comments on your pals’ pages that only your pals understand because they’re “inside jokes,” which, frankly, pisses us off because you never post comments on OUR page, inside jokes or not, and we have feelings, too, you know….

Anyhoo …. take it away, Teensy!!!!

I love my master;
Thus I perfume myself with
This long-rotten squirrel.

I lie belly-up
In the sunshine, happier than
You ever will be.

Today I sniffed
Many dog butts-I celebrate
By licking your face.

I sound the alarm!
Paperboy-come to kill us all-
Look! Look! Look! Look! Look!

I sound the alarm!
Mailman fiend-come to kill us all-
Look! Look! Look! Look! Look!

I sound the alarm!
Meter reader-come to kill us all-
Look! Look! Look! Look! Look!

I sound the alarm!
Garbage man-come to kill us all-
Look! Look! Look! Look! Look!

I sound the alarm!
Neighbor’s cat-come to kill us all!
Look! Look! Look! Look! Look!

I lift my leg and
Whiz on each bush. Hello, Spot -
Sniff this and weep.

How do I love thee?
The ways are numberless as
My hairs on the rug.

My human is home!
I am so ecstatic I have
Made a puddle.

I hate my choke chain -
Look, world, they strangle me! Ack!
Ack Ack Ack Ack Ack!

Sleeping here, my chin
On your foot – no greater bliss – well,
Maybe catching cats.

Look in my eyes and
Deny it. No human could
Love you as much I do.

The cat is not all
Bad – she fills the litter box
With Tootsie Rolls.

Dig under fence-why?
Because it’s there. Because it’s
There. Because it’s there.

I am your best friend,
Now, always, and especially
When you are eating.

You may call them fleas,
But they are far more -I call
Them a vocation.

My owners’ mood is
Romantic- I lie near their
Feet. I fart a big one.

“Freaks in Love” - Who says The Lapse can’t write a rocker? Well, everyone, actually. But do we give a damn? Yes, yes, we do. It hurts our feelings, frankly. Which is why we wrote this song, in a vain attempt to prove everybody wrong. But we probably failed….

“Every Word You Said” - When love finally falls apart, sometimes it’s the little details that you remember…

“The Rain Queen” - She died young before her time….

“Forget Everything” - Love doesn’t follow any rules and it’s not always what it’s cracked up to be…

How humiliating. And yet we soldier on, two middle-aged Mississippi guys thumbing our noses at the collective wisdom of the 50 Cent-worshipping masses, gamely writing, recording and, yes, now posting THREE NEW SONGS!!! That’s right, kiddies, THREE NEW SONGS of love lost, love won and love yearned for, including:

“Ole Miss Girl” – She’s heartbreakingly beautiful and fated to marry a jerk. Where she BELONGS is “at the end of these two arms”…..

“She’s All Alone” – Once the most popular girl in school, she now wears “a painted smile ’cause she didn’t have a smile of her own.” But this aging beauty gets one last chance at true love….

“The Holy Happening” – They may be “saved in the blood” of Christ, but even kids in a Holiness church have hormones…..

So what are you waiting for? Beat the weekend rush and check out these new songs NOW at www.myspace.com/thelapse! Don’t worry, no one will ever have to know…..

Rick/The Lapse

This keychain is good for practical jokes, but it also has embarrassed me publicly more than once, such as in the canned foods aisle of the Big Star grocery store, where, with an errant waggle of my finger, I accidentally “set her off” amidst the Beanie Wienies and Spaghetti-O’s … much to the bewilderment of my fellow shoppers, I might add. And once the Fake Orgasm Keychain gets started, you can’t turn it off. THERE IS NO OFF BUTTON. You just have to stand around and wait for the “big moment” to arrive. There isn’t a damn thing you can do to stop it.

Well, it struck again on Wednesday morning. I’m pulling out of my driveway, office-bound, when I see my landlady standing nearby, waving at me. She is a petite, mild-mannered, kind-hearted woman of middle age who speaks in a whisper. I stop, we chat a minute or two, and I offer to write her a check for my rent. “Have you got a pen?” I said. Then, I remembered that I usually keep a pen in the storage compartment next to the driver’s seat.

Sadly, the storage compartment is packed with random CDs and empty CD holders and assorted other junk, and at the very bottom lies … the Fake Orgasm Keychain …. which I haven’t seen or heard in six months, at least. Knowing no better, I start rummaging through all the junk, and, not unpredictably, the keychain suddenly erupts.

“Oh …. Mmmmm …… Unnnnhhhh ….. Oh, yes…..”

My landlady has wandered off to HER vehicle, fortunately, looking for a pen, but by the time she starts walking back, Madame Orgasmo is just getting warmed up.

I’m frantically trying to shove the storage compartment’s lid closed, but it’s so packed with disheveled CD cases that the lid keeps popping back up.

“Oh! Oh! Oh, God! OHHHHH!”

Thinking fast, I switch on my car stereo, and loud music (The Lapse) blares from the speakers. I let the music play for a few seconds. The landlady is standing there, looking at me with a bemused expression. I switch the stereo back off, thinking, “OK, surely the gal’s finished by now.”

But, no. In fact, it is climax time. We’re talking exploding fireworks and fountains here. We’re talking Jenna Jameson at the peak of her talents.

“OH GOD! OOOHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHH!!!! YESSSSSSS!”

At last, I decide to (so to speak) come clean. “I’m sorry, someone gave me this fake orgasm keychain and I accidentally set it off,” I explain, staring miserably at the steering wheel.

“Oh, neat. Can I see it?”

Reluctantly, I start fishing through the storage compartment again and finally manage to extract the Fake Orgasm Keychain from the rubble. By now, the climax is over, the keychain has fallen silent, and somewhere in that imaginary world, the satisfied woman is happily smoking a cigarette and wanting to discuss where their relationship is going.

I hand the keychain to my landlady, who immediately pushes the little pink button. Madame Orgasmo commences to wailing and shrieking again. The landlady smiles.

Madame Orgasmo says, “Ohhhh ….. ohhhhh, God! Oh, yesssss!”

My landlady pushes the button again.

Madame Orgasmo declares, “UH-HUHHHHH! UH-HUHHHHH!”

My landlady keeps mashing the little pink button, then stares at the keychain, eyebrows cocked. She is no longer amused.

“OHHHH, YESSSSS! OH, GOD, YESSSSSS!”

And, finally, my landlady raises her head, looks at me and says, in that meek near-whisper of hers: “Um … how do you turn it off?”

“That’s the problem,” I admit, red-faced. “It can’t be turned off. It just has to run its course.”

“Here, take it back,” she says, shoving the keychain back into my hands. She turned and walked away. She was probably shaking her head in disgust, but I was too embarrassed to look at her, so I’ll never know for sure.

Yes, we have. We’ve sunk so low we’re giving away FREE Lapse CDs to anybody who wants one, just as, for years, we’ve given them away to people who DIDN’T want one but were too polite to say so. If you want a free Lapse CD, I’ll either deliver it to you in person (if I know you personally and you live somewhere in the Oxford, Miss. area) or mail it to you if you e-mail me privately with a snail mail address. (Oh, and don’t worry, I don’t stalk people anymore. I mean, sure, I’m TEMPTED, but I fight it. I-FIGHT-IT-EVERY-GODDAM-DAY, I-TELL-YOU!)

The CDs will contain the following tunes currently or previously featured on the Myspace site (although not necessarily in this order, and, yes, I know I use the term “tunes” loosely – just humor me, will you?):

Long-Gone Linda
Feel Young
The Aftermath of a Summer Rain
Goodbye, Virginia
How Bad Can It Be?
The Heartache Club
Beautiful
Come On, Make It Right
Summertime Girl
Gonna Make You Mine

Most likely the CD labels will not feature any eyecatching artwork (unless you’re really smitten with the Sony logo) …. well, maybe it will, if Quentin, my songwriting partner and our resident artiste, wants to create something, but that’s up to him. I’m not making any promises. Most likely what you’ll get is a silver-hued CD with the words “The Lapse” scrawled illegibly in magic marker across the top. And you’ll LIKE it, you’ll be glad to have it….. or, I swear to God, I WILL STALK YOU.

No, no, no. Ha-ha. Just kidding! I don’t stalk people anymore. I promise!!!!

Anyway, just let me know if you want one, and you’ll get one, and that will be that. Now we return you to your regularly scheduled programming…..

RICK

QUENTIN: I figured that, inasmuch as we won’t have a lot of, uh, give-and-take interviewing each other by e-mail, I’d make it like one of those annoying profiles from American Express or some scotch company, where we’ll have such checklist categories as “most ambitious condiment moment” or “most recent book perused.” But that idea seems equally worthless. So I’ll just begin by asking you about lyrics, as that is one of my sore subjects. Pick any of the following: Do you keep any sort of lyric journal? Who, among the bands and artists you listed as ones you/we admired, do you think of as being among the best lyricists and why? What, to you, makes someone a competent or outstanding lyricist? For example, most would not consider Steve Miller a great lyricist, but we can sing along with practically every hit song of his – so is “catchy” good or part of being good, or what?

 RICK: I don’t keep a lyrics journal; that would require self-discipline on my part. I have zero self-discipline. My philosophy is, screw self-discipline. That philosophy has gotten me far in life.  

At any rate, what makes a competent or outstanding lyricist probably depends on what the listener himself/herself relates to. As a music LISTENER, I like lyrics that, to some extent, reflect my own experience or emotions or desires, good or bad, happy or sad, and I THINK that MOST (not all) people would agree. Granted, every individual’s experiences, emotions and desires are (or seem) somewhat unique to that individual, but certain universal themes are shared by all. And, although I don’t make a conscious effort to tap into those universal themes, I can’t seem to help myself. So, if someone DOES like a set of lyrics, it’s probably because the lyrics somehow make sense in the context of that person’s own life.

A lot depends on the listener’s individual interpretation of the lyrics. Most people think of “Every Breath You Take” as a love song. But Sting said it was a song about obsession, and the ugliest kind of obsession: as in stalker obsession. But what’s wrong with thinking of it as a love song? Nothing, that’s what. Once a song is sung or a painting is painted or a novel is published, in a very important sense it belongs to everyone who ever hears or sees or reads it. To me, “The Long and Winding Road” is about longing for God. To most people (and probably to McCartney himself), it’s a love song. But I prefer to think of it as a song about longing for God. And, by gum, that’s my right.

 Possibly the greatest living lyricist is Paul Simon. The man is a genius. Take “Call Me Al,” for example: “He ducked back down the alley with some roly-poly little bat-faced girl.” Oh, man, that’s incredible. Every single word in “Slip-Slidin’ Away” rings beautifully true. “St. Judy’s Comet?” Gorgeous stuff, very evocative. I don’t think anyone does it better.

QUENTIN:  When we used to ask our erstwhile bandmate and eponymous silent partner, David “Lap” Smith, what his latest song was about, he would  quip, defensively: “God, oh, and drunk driving.” Actually this was true about some of his songs. Do you write lyrics from ideas? Do they ever suggest themselves from the “sound” of the music? Does your process for lyric writing differ if you are writing for one of your compositions or one of mine?

 RICK: Oddly enough, the sound of the words themselves matters to me. Certain vowel sounds, for example, are pleasing to the ear (my ear, at least), but it’s not always easy to write meaningful lyrics using those vowel sounds AND make them fit within the confines of a certain melody AND set them to the rhythm of the song. But it’s a fun challenge. “Gonna Make You Mine” is my personal favorite because I think I pulled off that little trick (at least in the first two verses) – lots of long i vowel sounds, which, to me, is a happy sound ; hence, all the i rhymes: smile, style, moonlight ride, Sweet Caroline, John Prine, wine, time, skies, etc.

I seldom start out with a lyrical idea and say, “Hmm, I think I’ll write about two teenage lovebirds in a Holiness church” (as in “The Holy Happening,” which has not been released yet to the general public). A line comes to me here, a line there, and then I start trying to bring it all together in a way that makes sense, without resorting to cliches if at all possible. And if a line sounds or feels phony, it may make it into a working version of the song, but it usually gets tossed by the final version.

 In short, the embarrassing truth is, I make it all up as I go along. Some lyrics write themselves in an hour or two, others take days or weeks. As you know, it took me almost 10 years to write the lyrics for “Aftermath of a Summer Rain.” They still aren’t all that great, either.

QUENTIN:  You are now off the hot seat about lyrics.  One of the songs currently on our playlist is “Gonna Make You Mine” which is a song we collaborated on (you lyrically and vocally).  I absolutely love this song, but no one ever comments about this song to me, favorably or unfavorably.  Maybe no one has heard it (I did think of that) or gives a rat’s arse. Do you think it’s execution? What are a couple of songs you can think of (yours, mine, ours) that “could be good” if they were just executed better?

RICK: Well, first of all, to this day, I don’t know whether YOU like my lyrics for that song. Your answer is always the same: “I had to get used to them.” Regardless, the illustrious Moonpie Curtis and Dianna Seddon have both recently said “Gonna Make You Mine” is their new favorite (without any prompting from me, I might add). I believe your sister Beth likes it a lot, too.

 I have come to grips with the sad truth that, aside from the above-mentioned folks, very few people, including close friends and family members, ever listen to our songs more than once or twice. They listen to our CD a couple of times, they say, “Well, thats nice,” then pop it out and pop in 50 Cent or James Blunt and never listen to us again. You and I both know it usually takes repeated listens to fully appreciate any given song.

 A lot of it probably has to do with the quality of the recording itself; we don’t have the advantages of studio production. Wer’e doing it ourselves, and you can tell. Plus, we write in a vacuum, and we don’t have anyone else nudging us in this or that direction which can be a positive (it keeps our music, ahem, pure, untainted by outside influences) or a negative (we don’t get input or assistance or perspectives from other, more experienced musicians).

I think that “Gonna Make You Mine,” recorded professionally in a studio, would be an amazing song. It’d be even better if we could find someone else to sing it instead of me. “How Bad Can It Be” is already perfect. I wish I could sing “Come On, Make It Right” a little better, or get a better mix on the vocals. And, I don’t care what YOU say, I still can’t stand my vocals on “Man of the Hour.” Plus, I think the drum sound on that song needs some work.

All in all, I’d like a better drum sound on a lot of our songs. “Gonna Make You Mine” has the best drum sound of all our stuff. I wish every song could have that drum sound.

QUENTIN:  Do you think the Beatles will ever get back together?

RICK: Well, if you believe in forever, then life is just a one-night stand. And if there’s a rock-and-roll heaven, well, you know they’ve got a hell of a band.

 QUENTIN:  Pick a song by someone else that really gets panned, generally, and give me your best shot for giving it a second chance.  What’s your sleeper?

RICK: Well, I like a LOT of songs that other people consider cheesy. Nowadays cheesy is the default term for anything that conveys sentiment, whether it’s phony sentiment or genuine sentiment. Any song that can even be vaguely labeled as sentimental is hopelessly uncool today. I would argue that that’s why modern radio stinks to high heaven – because all the sentiment has been drained and replaced with “attitude,” which is much hipper but, like all things hip, ultimately ephemeral.

Granted, there is a ton of genuinely cheesy music out there that makes me cringe, but I have a higher-than-usual tolerance for cheese. I really like, for example, the hopelessly uncool, much-maligned John Denver, particularly “Rocky Mountain High,” which is a great song. He wrote beautiful melodies; his lyrics were hit-or-miss, but I think “Rocky Mountain High” is strong lyrically, too. It’s a cohesive song with lyrics that make sense for the most part, it’s very catchy, it has a great chorus – I’ll defend it to the death.

 I am a sucker for a good melody, so I love songs like The Carpenters’ “Weve Only Just Begun” and “Close to You.” Yes, I love them. There, I said it. And I won’t take it back either.

I also like some Neil Diamond (although some of his 60s/70s arrangements were godawful, such as “Sweet Caroline” – what a great chorus that song has, but it’s hard to listen to the entire song all the way through and maintain your dignity) and some Bread and some America. And I’m not ashamed to admit it. OK, well, maybe a LITTLE ashamed…..

QUENTIN:  Finally: Have you come out of the closet yet? (Not that there’s anything wrong with being in the closet.)

RICK: Yes, I have. As of this interview, I am now officially out of the closet as a Carpenters fan. Smartass.

player – I wanted to be a guitar player, too. One day we passed each other in the hallway at school, and I said, innocently, casually, merely out of curiosity:”Hey, Quentin, can you play any Van Halen?”

Quentin turned, lifted an eyebrow, sneered at me – and, yes, “sneered” is the word – and, in a tone that dripped sarcasm, he replied, “No. Can you?!?”

Well, of course I couldn’t. I couldn’t play a simple A chord. The closest I’d come to playing guitar at that time was strumming on a tennis racket in my bedroom. As it turned out, Quentin found those kinds of questions very irritating: “Hey, man, can you play ‘Stairway to Heaven’?” “Dude, can you play ‘Dust in the Wind’?”

To his credit, Quentin had no interest in playing those same tired songs that every other beginning guitarist knew how to play. He was on the road to being a true artist, a musician who composed his OWN music, with his OWN style.

I still can’t play Van Halen. And I don’t know if Quentin has ever tried. But I know he is the most gifted musician I have ever met. I never would have learned to write songs without him, and my life would have been very different, and not in a good way.

There. I said it. Now here’s my interview with him:

QUENTIN: First of all, let me thank my partner in this, our latest mutual admiration-fest. But stop it, please; I’m not going to let you live in the garage again. As to our supposed first “musical discussion,” let me say that I SORT OF remember that, but not as well as you. If I said anything that snappy, I’m pleased. I remember being amazed when I saw the sign in the music store in the movie “Say Anything” which read “No ‘Stairway’.” It was one of those “I thought I was the only one” revelations. I honestly don’t know how people work in those stores, with skinny kids coming in every day, plugging up and ripping away blazing solos and endless imitations of guitar heroes. I was always (sort of still am) mortified whenever anyone tried to “help” me in a music store, and no, I never want to plug it up and, uh, rip away. Mainly because I don’t know any good solos to rip. Always wanted to, but lacked the testicularity. Hence , the world’s shyest band, for my part.

Now, to your “questions”….

Rick: Many of your own compositions sound like 4-minute symphonies for the guitar. This is a fact that’s probably lost to our “fans” (all several of them), because by the time they hear the song, it’s finalized, with a melody, lyrics, vocals, etc., to
distract them from the intricacies of the music itself. But I usually get to listen to just the music alone, and I’m awed by the many layers of complex guitar parts, the unique chords and bass lines. Do you hear all that stuff in your head first before you compose the music, like Mozart or Brian Wilson, or does it come to you slowly, as you’re writing and playing? Or both?

QUENTIN: I think a lot of what you refer to is the luxury of having sometimes 10 years to “write” and record a song. “Ole Miss Girl,” for example, is a song which has been sitting around, musically at least, since about ’91. The introductory guitar “solo” was the original melody I had, then I realized it
would be impossible to sing, or if not impossible, would be asking a lot of you or me or both. The other “companion” sort of guitar line that goes along with the chords on the verses came in about 1998. It’s all two-note harmony stuff, and it just so happens at that time I was rediscovering stuff from the B-52′s (yes, the B-52′s) and Ricky Wilson. I think he was a much better musician than anyone ever gave him credit for. When I was a kid I guess lots of people were enjoying the soft-punk/”new wave” stuff because you could actually play it, or reproduce a similar sound in your garage.

“52 Girls” was one of the first songs I learned, but even then I
realized he wasn’t just playing straight chords, but had all sorts of weird harmonies going on (this is without the singing). I always liked his guitar sound and his way of playing, but it just never suited the songs I eventually started to write. When I added that stuff to “Ole Miss Girl” in ’98 or so, it made the song sound more “country” to me, which is why the original sung version had a lot of backing vocals and sounded sort of country. But a lot of the stuff I try to do comes from the conviction that we both share with regard to pop songs, which is that apparently very, very few people are even attempting to put any effort into writing pop songs. [I champion Mike
Mills of REM forever for his efforts]. Yes, anyone can write a good sing-along pop song in three chords, but why not try to make it somehow more? By “more” I mean musically (although I realize how pompous and full of crap I am sounding) rather than technologically. I recently got to hear “Just Like Heaven” by The Cure and was AMAZED at how many different melody lines there were in that song. It’s a poppy-sounding song for them, but it’s one of those songs that gives me the tingles.When I hear stuff like that, I just want to listen to it a thousand times and see what’s going on at every level. The fact that it adds up to “more” than the sum of its parts is what in part keeps me convinced that, yes, Virginia, you can write a multi-layered
pop song; the audience isn’t stupid, they can keep up. And for the rest of us, who cares if you only want to sing along with the song, isn’t that the hallmark of a good pop song? And by the way, I have no idea what Mozart or Brian Wilson did or do, and wouldn’t dare compare myself to their most knavish acquaintance.

Rick: Can you trace your love of music back to an identifiable (if not necessarily specific) point of origin, i.e., to a certain song or album or experience that had some significant effect on you?

QUENTIN: Well . . . with my dad being a Presbyterian minister, I got to hear a lot of great music every Sunday as a kid, musically at least. It was a Presbyterian church, but it was in Mississippi, so there were a lot of old favorites among the hymns. So I guess it was a little stuffy compared to the average southern Baptist experience (I refused to believe for years that there was actually a hymn called “Victory in Jesus.” We NEVER sang songs like that, I bet they weren’t even in the hymn book), but not SO stuffy and formal. Everyone in my family played or tried to play some musical instrument, and I was the youngest, so I got to hear everything, especially from my sister Beth who always was, and remains, a piano-playing genius.

But the popular music influences on the family side were really varied, which helped. My older brother Alan was a drummer in a garage band called the Dearly Departed, and I can still remember them cranking out Doors and Hendrix songs when I was about 5 or 6. So I naturally thought THEY were the
coolest. My sisters, who are between us in ages, all listened to
things you might expect older sisters at that time to listen to (Elton John, James Taylor, heck even Barry Manilow– who I couldn’t stomach, however), so it was a good wide net of music.

Somehow, I missed a lot of Beatles stuff growing up; I can remember Strawberrry Fields, Penny Lane, and Hey Jude
as a kid; the rest came much, much later. But as a kid, I used to get in the Living Room, where our family stereo was, put on a record, and then listen to it over and over again on different speeds. I can remember “inheriting” the Steve Miller Band’s “Brave New World” LP and I would play “Space Cowboy” about 20 times a day for probably 5 years. I would play it on every speed (my parents’ old stereo would go from 16 rpm to 78). After a while I could tell you where the goof was in the bass line, and where every cool part was.

So if I found a record I liked, I just wore it out, listening to it
endlessly. This means that I didn’t always know what was “out there” in terms of popular music, however. Remember those K-Tel records (every one had something by BTO, I think). I was always convinced that either they were lying, that these weren’t really hits, or else I had been in a closet and hadn’t listened to the radio and had no idea what was out there. Probably a little of both. But it meant that what I did know, I KNEW, and that was helpful later on.

Rick: I don’t think I’ve ever asked you this question before, which is odd since we’ve known each other for nearly 30 years. What are your top 5 favorite songs of all time? (Or top 6 or top 7, whatever you prefer.)

QUENTIN: Wow, although I love questions like this I’m sure the answers would change every week. I sort of characterize it by whether I like the song for a particular instrument, like the guitar, or something else. This partially explains why I’m so inept with lyrics. I could listen to whole albums sometimes and not know a single word of what was being said, or only know
very few lines; I was too busy trying to listen to something else in the song. I will put “Space Cowboy” in there just because it’s my oldest favorite song. Great guitar solo in there, too, by the way. I will leave two spots open for Beatles songs, but those change all the time. Sometimes it’s things like Twist and Shout, sometimes it’s things like the second side of Abbey Road, it changes all the time. I would leave a space for Elton John, the Police, and REM, but again, those songs change all the time.

If you say [regarding REM] “Oh, my favorite song is ‘Perfect Circle’” then you sound like a snooty jackass, like “I knew them when,” but I have to say I do like the early REM better than the later, just like U2 or the Cars.

But there are these random songs that just pop out of the blue, like I love “Are Friends Electric” by Gary Numan and the Tubeway Army, and [I'm probably butchering the title, because I usually listened for the guitar] “When the Waters Part” by Let’s Active, Mitch Easter’s old band. “Wouldn’t It Be Nice” is in there somewhere as well. “Back in the Saddle” by Aerosmith would be in there. Oh, and here’s a cliche, but I love “Comfortably Numb.”

Rick: Forget the Beatles, The Police, REM, The Cars, etc.
What other artists or bands have helped shape your musical interests, and how?

QUENTIN: I will forget them for the purposes of the question because it’s probably impossible to explain anyway how anyone can be an “influence” on you, period. Sure, I would love to have been able to play guitar like Eddie Van Halen, but it just wasn’t going to happen. So I’ll talk about the ones that maybe you wouldn’t think would jump right out there. As I have already mentioned, I really did like the B-52′s and Steve Miller, and I always liked Let’s Active, although I always thought they were tragically just short of having really cool, complete songs. Their songs [to me] would always have some part that just broke down and went nuts and sort of crabbed everything up. Old Van Halen songs would do that too, at least the old ones, sometimes (I couldn’t tell you what they’ve been doing since about the “Fair Warning” album).

And somewhere, I have to mention old Aerosmith. In addition to really catchy and cool guitar riffs, Joe Perry and Brad Whitford were both great at coming up with melodic guitar parts, and not just the solos (which I also love). By old Aerosmith I mean before they went into rehab, probably
stopping at “Draw the Line.” But I think what’s different, for better or worse, about my tastes is that so many really important, sometimes very popular people never got on my radar. Somehow I missed out on being influenced by people like Bruce Springsteen and Elvis Costello. Here’s hoping it’s the holes in Swiss Cheese that give it its taste and enduring fan base . . .

Rick: If you had to speculate, where would you say all
this music is coming from? Is it a gift from God, angels whispering in our ears, a happy little explosion of chemicals sizzling in a morass of brain cells, what?

QUENTIN: Your questions are better than mine, by the way. I do think that some songs are like that, like thunderbolts out of the blue; that some songs write themselves, for the most part. But a lot of them are ones that you come up with just fiddling around, and then you add, add, add, subtract, subtract, subtract. To me it’s an urge. I can go for months where I do not feel inspired (but have written some decent songs during spells like that) but then, when the weather changes, or your emotions surge or wane, you can write a song more easily.

And of course, I have always written or had the URGE to write and record at times when I absolutely did not have time to do
so. I wrote some nifty songs during exam times in my life over the years. And sometimes, hokey as it sounds, you get through with something and you really do have that moment like in “Amadeus” where what’s-his-name looks up and thanks (the crucifix) for helping him to write something. Although, usually, my songs would not be things that even Baldo, the Panamanian god of double-parked vehicles, would want to be thanked for.

But if you think about it, even great songwriters don’t usually answer the question of “how did you do it?” with regard to their best songs in a way that seems to satisfy even themselves as they say it. If someone as great as McCartney can say that he dreamed the melody of “Yesterday,” and then just shrug and
talk about something else, then I am content to say that it is all a mystery to me. I’m much more interested in remaining “attuned to the spirit” than trying to “master” the process of putting c-sharp minor with E, then blah blah blah. But there are things you can do to help, and to me the greatest is to learn something new, play the same old 12 notes in a different order.
More often than not, it can yield ideas, even if it’s things you
wouldn’t ever want to try to do.

Rick: As you well know, I get blocked creatively for months, even years, during which I write nothing, period. You never seem to have that problem. Why?

Quentin: You naive sap. I do have that problem, I just warehouse songs and time-release them to you like a functioning Contact cold capsule. One of the most harrowing things about watching The Beatles “Anthology” DVD’s was
imagining them just on the cusp of greatness, trying simultaneously to be seen and write hit songs on the road, all at the same time. (and doing it). All the time you see the great ones, after they’re on top, release disappointing songs, and you think, “Have they lost it?” or “Have they quit trying?” and then you try to imagine the song-writing fodder that comes from
a whole different set of problems that must, apparently, belong to the noteworthy and famous among us. I personally find it difficult to imagine The Indigo Girls or Tracy Chapman in CONSTANT PAIN AND TURMOIL after they reached a certain level of notoriety, and then . . . what will they write
about? My hat is off to anyone who keeps at it and appears to be trying, even at this late hour, to continue to write decent songs between sifting the crap of their fame. As for me, I get blocked when it gets hot, and stays hot, for what, 9 months of the year? Which means that if I don’t have a productive January, it’s going to be a long year. Football weather is a big boost to me, as are the holidays. One of the luxuries of having written songs for so long is that in the doldrums you can go back and see if some of the old ones are worth re-doing and updating, now that we are not using stacks of books for drums (true story) and the E-strings of guitars for bass. Of course, most of those songs were and remain crap, but every now and then, you find something to get you through. I don’t really think of it as “blocked,” though. I just think of it as “doing other things.” If I were dependent on songwriting for a living, this would be a major source of stress. As I am not, I just look at it as indulging other interests.

I do feel lucky to have someone else to do this with, however, you prince. Sometimes I have sent you two or three half-songs, and you pick the one I came closest to feeding to the cats, and make it something great. I don’t know how to nourish the songwriting gland or whatever during the down times, but I do believe in eclectic source material. I once even got a cool song from listening to the background music during an episode of “The Flintstones.” So you never know.

Rick: Please expound on your theory that the bald guy in a TV show/movie invariably turns out to be the child molester, serial killer, wife beater or lover of farm animals?

QUENTIN: Ah, finally! A subject one can really sink one’s teeth into! In its simplest form, my random paranoid theory is something like this: In the mass media, not all bald guys are bad, but all ULTIMATE bad guys are bald.

There are variations, but I think I am on Joseph Campbell ground here, when I state that for the most part, all truly despicable smut peddlers and pedophiles on TV and in movies are bald. Dr. Evil is BASED on bald Bond villains, to take a mundane example the youngsters will recognize. I read
recently that the albinos were outraged that in the Da Vinci Code, the albino character Silas, who, I suppose, is something of a bad guy, is portrayed negatively. I defy any albinism expert to find enough spare time to get in line behind the bald guys who have similar claims. I am here to correct this notion, and state emphatically that most of us are just harmless, hopeless geeks and wannabes for whom a headful of hair would not
really help anyway.

One radio ad I heard recently for some “herbal” remedy for baldness featured a husky-voiced female, who asserted quite confidently, “Losing your hair is like losing your MANHOOD.” Jeepers that’s harsh. I nearly wrecked the car checking to make sure mine had not vanished. Still looking, but confident that it’s there somewhere.