Beach balcony (again), and I got to thinking about the various sensations we attach to romantic feelings; what we hear, what we see, what we say or think or dream. And I wonder, if those feelings are left unvalidated, do the sensations become the landscape of a fantasy? Rex's Take: When I was training dogs for the federal narcotics division, our commander took her shoes off one day, and she said to me "If fantasy has a landscape, then you better mow the grass there, Slick." She had such well-defined toes. . .

When you write something so deeply personal, there's always the risk that it will become trivialized.  But how could you possibly feel something so powerful and keep it to yourself?

The Red Mile is about a seaside bar where boats can dock, Harleys can roll up, and the middle (age, class, whatever) can huddle together.  And by the way, if you've never kissed someone soulfully in the rain, well, you better get on that.
Guitar by Mark Crabtree.
Rex's take:  Look what preconceptions have done to England.  Either way, in finding your way back to the emotional wilderness you're bound to get a present from. . . someone. 

My grandmother has our hometown newspaper sent to me every week.  One day I opened the paper to the obituaries to find my Uncle Wayne and a former classmate of mine and MY OWN NAME, which gets you thinking, of course.  It occurred to me that towns and people continue on (sometimes rather somnolently) despite our weekly losses.

Everybody out there has tales of the old days, stories of the things you maybe shouldn't have done but got away with and lived to tell about anyway. Featuring Kathy Zeigler on vocals and Mark Crabtree on guitar.  Rex's take:  Tired angels aging gracefully. . .

From the writings of Aristotle (yeah, I know, what the ????). There aren't alot of words, but it can be as deep as you want it to be. . . Parneatha Samuels and Jacklyn Pope are the fabulous guest vocalists. Rex's take: Glorious!! Take me to the river!

A nod to the leader of the lost generation.

Hey, if anyone knows Tim McGraw, tell him I'd be willing to let him use this song in exchange for some future considerations. Rex's Take: That's a pretty clever turn of the phrase there. . .

The dark tale of a narcotic-laced journey into the netherworld. . . Gotcha!! Rex's take--Although he denies it, I am convinced that Kenny wrote this about the night I drove a Mercury Gran Marquis right into the Atlantic Ocean. (In my defense, the car did not have air conditioning or a CD player.)

--Previously released on the internet. Recorded this one with Cliff back in 2003, but I left it off the "Say When" disc primarily because there were a couple other "dreamscape" songs on there already. This one reflects that moment when you realize that you have to let things come to you. Rex's take: I remember we rehearsed this one a couple times before my assignment to cover the community of Basque people located just outside Cameron. The song was wistful and hopeful all in the same breath, much the same as I felt when I met that young shepherd girl soon thereafter. Alas, she ended up answering phones for a mobile home manufacturer while I moved to Wilson for a time. The song, though... it brings back great memories.

I was down at the beach on a balcony overlooking the evening's proceedings, watching the people come and go, thinking that everyone there had their own personal agenda. And not just everyone there, but everyone everywhere. Let me tell you my friends, life can be a fascinating spectator sport. Rex's take: What is this "unlived life in your veins", and what are you going to do about it?

Well, you try to age as gracefully as you can, all the while watching everyone else try too. Or are you just imagining the whole thing? Rex's take: What, are you going on Oprah or something?

This one was also left off the "Say When" disc. It is somewhat darker in nature. Rex's take: Cliff did some astounding guitar work here. Very Rattler-esque.