broken train of thought [1998]

Mickey Ray is a fictional booking agent that only wants to be as omnipotent as every other Hollywood club booker's imagined persona. This song always gets welcome guffaws from any other band musicians who have braved the blood-sucking, spirit-killing racket that is the Hollywood music scene. Yes, we helped feed that racket by believing hook-line-and-sinker that we'd somehow made it somewhere by playing a number of these famous venues. I've come away with no bitterness - just great song material. -tjz

Maybe it was just a reaction to the pick-up scene rampant in coffee house/book stores-where most people (the guys anyway) fake their sophistication by pretending to be interested in the obscure piece of literature falling from their hand as they try desperately not to be too excited about the attractive person they would never have gotten within ten yards of had they been in a bar, who now is initiating a conversation about that very book which now just hit the floor- but this song was just a lot of fun to get inside and let flow; and not just to touch on but really to celebrate our quirks. -tgz

I enjoy voicing a twisted perspective. The song started out simply singing of taboo attraction. It felt nice and sexy but a little dull. Mid-way through writing I came up with the little twist "Should I marry her tomorrow?" Then the whole song became a wedding-jitters nightmare. I credit my songwriting hero Sting for inspiration. It's always sounded like something he might do. -tjz

When it really looks bleak, I find it helpful to acknowledge the shit when it hits the fan- maybe describe the stench, the revolting debris- and then acknowledge that God knows it all, whether or not I have the feeling of God’s presence in the moment.
It takes the whole song for the voice to finally cry out directly to God- “God save my soul”- and then when it does, it’s the surrounding community (or back-up voices) that start the cry. Sisters and brothers who come along side me just to feel the pain first without trying to fix it are treasure indeed. -tgz

I had to write this song. It was the only way I could deal with the shock and grief of the situation. I had only just met Paige. She and her friends had come to one of our gigs and we wound up hanging out in a diner all night. It was one of those brief but somehow profound connections that left me hopeful of building a new friendship. Shortly afterwards I heard that her fiancé whom I'd never met committed suicide. Initially, I thought the song was too personal and too blunt to share publicly. -tjz

I had a great tune and no lyrics. Desperate for inspiration, I was drawn to this old Shakespeare anthology. When I flipped to the sonnets I noticed number 30 was marked with pencil. I read it and was blown away. I read more of the book but kept coming back to number 30. I am truly humbled by the mastery of this writer of old. Setting this text and committing his lyrics to memory I know has elevated my own writing. -tjz

Sometimes I find hope in the last place I’d expect -the bonds of community in the midst of divisive cultural, social-economic differences- So often, opposites are true. Conventional wisdom, it seems, is never God’s wisdom. I guess I kept chewing on this up-side-down reality enough to get together with Tom and write a song about it. -tgz

I had a wild dream that included the image of clustered hands with forearms bursting out of the level ground- but not above the elbow. The clustered forearms (maybe in sets of three) formed the trunk while the hands literally made the palm branch part. And there were many of these “palm trees” in a vast field all “reaching for something.” Close friends helped me reflect on this dream before Tom & I began musically interpreting it. That made for a richer creative process and reminded me, really, that we’re not alone in our striving. -tgz