Danny Cohen

It is I.....Errol Sprague, producer of this poignant requiem, and the true force behind Danny Cohen. While he watches the Weather Channel and Latino soaps with the sound down (smoking 'no stone', and petting the hair of an Orange Creme and tequila dog, on a used tobacconated sofa), I wrote these songs and got him on the county bus to the studio. When he plays 'live', it's really me, that's why his clothes are too tight.

It was Winter While we recorded; Neighbors and celebrities were dropping like flies. Two of the musicians had malignant cancer (the violinist passed away); War was rampant; It rained for months; Relatives got divorced; there was nuclear proliferation; the stock market plummeted; A local fell from his roof on his head; there was a Tsunamei; the world hated us. Coincidentally, death pervaded the lyrics to these songs.

As I Looked Down is about a Near Death Experience; "Cows" concerns the death of the 60's; Pamela Rodgers is about an overdose,"Caffeine" the death of hope; "Noir" leads up to a mob hit; "Quicksand" depicts the death of culture, Magritte, the death of innocence, "Guy", the death of the mind; "Funeral" proffers death by voodoo; "Ghost Country" is a ghost story and a child abduction/murder parody; "Holigrams" is about the Astral Plane and persistence of ecto-force; Serene laments the death of self though faith and/or love; "Tanna" deals with modern mummies and politigious mortification; "Coffee" is a fever dream that could well be fatal; Mystery Man dwells on Apocalyptic prophecy; We're All Gunna Die sums it all up in the present. The true events chronicled here begin in Cohen's college years and follows his transition to bitter old man.

Like a Mesmer or Svengali, I transfixed the musicians into transcendant performances, and made Cohen sing like his life depended on it (range be damned). I made decrepid instruments play in tune and serendipitous mixing events transpire. The swashbuckling Errol in me willed it all into being, while the timid Sprague side demured, and logically executed my every whim.

There is no rotting stench here.... only the sweet putrescence of falling bloosoms on 16 well chiseled headstones.

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