I always try to produce truly original and unique things, but, of course, that's a goal which is very difficult (if not impossible) to achieve. This is one of my favorite pieces because I think it comes reasonably close to that goal. My recipe? Take several unsold TV/radio commercial demos. Pour into the musical "blender" which is my mind (for better or worse, sometimes!), and hit "liquefy". Yields a kaleidoscopic, euphoric, trip-like thing...with a beat. Bon appetit.

A modern-day fairy tale for string quartet, piano, and narrator, wherein a man in mid-life crisis regains hope through the intercession of an angel, and the pure love of his four year-old son. Not completely autobiographical in that I didn't have any kids at the time (and, I have my doubts about the San Francisco Symphony ever playing my music...). The ending always chokes me up...can't help it. Wonderful performances by the Amabile Quartet, pianist John Akin, and producer Clarke Rigsby. Average performance by myself as narrator.

Original comment: "Subtitled 'One fine afternoon down at the Particle Accelerator'. This is the first in a projected series of pieces designed to treat the synthesizer/sequencer as an instrument in and of itself, revelling in the endless timbral possibilities and lack of human performance constraints. Another of my favorites, in that I believe it manages to be inventive, original, and musical all at the same time."

Additional comment: I have always thought that there was a visual component to this music as well, so I've used it as the basis for a video entitled "Another Day in Paradise". To view the video (and other films that I've made), click here.

I have extremely mixed feelings about this one. Although I love the music, I'm filled with a sense of helplessness at the events that inspired it. Essentially, this piece concerns an age-old question, for which there is no answer except that which we choose individually for ourselves: WHY DO BAD THINGS HAPPEN TO GOOD PEOPLE?

A few years ago, I believe it was in Texas, a young girl was abducted while playing in her front yard. Some child molester/predator passing by in a truck just snatched the girl through his passenger-side window, and then sped away, while witnesses frantically ran after the truck, trying to stop it.

Of course, the girl's body was eventually found. I don't know if the perpetrator was ever caught. I can't imagine what that little girl must have endured in her last hours, or the unspeakable pain her parents must live with each and every day, forever.

But if I really have anything to say about anything, folks (musical or otherwise), it's this - we could have a Paradise here on Earth if we all just decided that that's the way it's going to be. I may rail on about God's absence in the lyrics to this piece, but I know who's at fault, really. It's us - we're all guilty. We allow the world to be a place where things like this can happen.

I could never bring myself to finish or polish the lyrics, nor would I ever want them to be sung. I publish them merely because I need to cry out against these things, and, as a small memorial...to her, and to all of the other innocent victims in this world - past, present, and (God? Help us!) future.

Rest in piece, A.H..

Raindrops, come play,
Come wash away my tears.
Tiny drops of rain,
Come rinse the pain from me.

They say that life's a bitch, and then you die,
And when you die, life goes on.
Well, I don't know the how, or when, or why,
I just know that my little girl is gone.

They said that some creep in a pickup truck took her away then next day the police found a torn little body and there ain't no doubt...

She played in the yard with her friends everyday now they stay in their houses and peek through the curtains, afraid to come out...

While I was at work,
Mom was baking a pie,
A neighbor ran after the truck as it drove by,
And now, only questions that won't go away:

What does God know?
Where did God go?
How can He say He loves us so?
Are You taking good care of her now?
Now that she's down in that cold, hard ground?

Raindrops, come play,
Come wash away my tears,
Tiny drops of rain,
Come rinse the pain from me.

During one particularly dark period in my life, I actually considered giving up on the idea of being a composer, because the world seemed to be relentlessly pushing me away from it. The closer I got to quitting, the clearer this piece became to me. The process of writing it down was an emotional catharsis - there was no introspection or analysis whatsoever. At the time, I thought I was writing a piece about loss, suffering, and sadness, with a bit of resignation at the end. But now, 25+ years older (wiser?), I no longer hear those qualities so strongly. What once seemed to be resignation now sounds like accommodation, serenity, and acceptance; what had previously seemed like grief now sounds like gratitude that dreams exist at all. I think this has happened because I've finally come to terms with the fundamental truth about the really big, "impossible" dreams that we all have: they never really die; they just evolve as we gradually achieve clarity about what we really want, and what we really need.