'Thank god it's not raining glass... ' The cover of this album is a sketch of what Steven saw moments after the second plane crashed into the WTC. He was standing with a stage crew between the two towers on the morning of September 11, 2001. The images of that day were never far from Steven's thoughts and take form in his music. 'What the F...there's a sound I know...but I can't place it. It is loud...white...noise. It's absolutely screaming... overhead...building from nowhere. It's a jet engine. It's a couple of jet engines... big ones... oh it stops quickly a moment of silence is followed by a low rumble and then the metallic crashing of a mile long coal train starting from a dead stop. It gallops down and around us with gathering speed and intensity as we fall over each other busting out of the production trailer. We all stand on the aluminum stairs looking stupid as hell when someone yells something or another about 'the glass guys, f...! THE GLASS!' I look up and see a huge cloud of orange and black and glitter. Wonderful, it's kind of pretty against the grainy blue sky. Glass rains down all over the plaza.' Steven Calhoun 2001 Most of the songs on this album were recorded in Steven's NYC apartment on an old laptop in 2005 and early 2006 until he bought an iBook G4 with GarageBand in January 2006, "southern bell" was his third GarageBand project. He used two JBL stage monitors, a Behringer eight channel powered mixer, a Fender hand wired Blues JR amp, and his 1969 Custom Telecaster. What microphones he used and how he put everything together is unknown. The drums and bass tracks were added later. Revelations in life...'Lately, I've been spending great lengths of my days trying to rediscover the small and often overlooked moments of beauty that exists in our lives. They are revealing themselves slowly and unexpectedly, but it seems they have always been there for me. I am truly thankful for that. No matter how dark things are, or how far below the surface I see myself, I always look for beauty...I keep an eye out for it. I collect little bits of it so that when I sleep I have something good to match up against all the bad. They kind of cancel each other out... Which would seem to leave me with nothing... but it's nicer than that: to know and exist in a certain amount of darkness and then to have it erased by something beautiful means to me that there is hope that one day.