Christmas Song For All The Sea Animals (Ralph’s Mixxtreme)

Christmas Song For All The Sea Animals (Hott N Sweaty Nels’ Mix)

We tried a second song, but he got belligerent. So when I said “What’s the title for this one?” He said “I’m not telling you and I know GUITAR.”

I played toy glockenspiel, and did percussion with a bottle opener. Nels played a strainer with a fork, and ran the effects. Frankly, I think he’s a little effects heavy, but OH WELL.

Download Orion

Download One Hundred Miles Away

( or download backspace this by black unicorn )

. . . . . . .

This summer, Nelsie, Sophie, & I are participating in 5090. It’s a songwriting contest. You can read all about it, and my reaction.

( or download property.mp3 )

This summer, Nelsie, Sophie, & I are participating in 5090. It’s a songwriting contest. You can read all about it here, and my reaction here.

This song is called Property, by Ralph & Nels Hogaboom. Just a regular jam is all.

I tried to do this song as an instrumental piece, as though it belonged in a movie soundtrack. The tapping is the water dripping out our basin faucet when I woke this morning.

This savage also understands intuitively the role that status plays in our modern world. At the end of the bath time, I prompt him “Say goodbye, soap.” He looks at the soap, but catches the trick. Addressing the Enhancing and Revitalizing shampoo with a serious look, he says “Good-bye, Dampoo.” Then, and only then, can he address the lowly surfactant with a simple “Good-bye, Doap.”

This savage also understands intuitively the role that status plays in our modern world. At the end of the bath time, I prompt him “Say goodbye, soap.” He looks at the soap, but catches the trick. Addressing the Enhancing and Revitalizing shampoo with a serious look, he says “Good-bye, Dampoo.” Then, and only then, can he address the lowly surfactant with a simple “Good-bye, Doap.”

Honest to dog tears welled up in my eyes.

I remembered when Sophie was his age, a book she had that listed various bath toys. Towel, Ducky, Soap, Faucet. I was overwhelmed with nostalgia for just a few years ago. In Kid Time, though, those years are uncannily light-speed. I mentally flashed-forward to Sophie, a 20-something parent of her own, and me trying to tell her about that book and the word “towel” and how she said it. I wondered why my own parents don’t relate these little memories of growing up. Then I was struck by fear that these moments dissappear; that memory is incorrect, that this memory will soon be gone. That’s why my parents don’t tell me. They don’t remember.

I was suddenly sad, but my son was already down the hallway and picking out his own pajamas, and there was no more time for nostalgia.