just to let you guys know, the daily foot is back up and rockin' from our little jaunt out here in the asiazealandish part of the world. check it. peace!


andy.

Winter walked right into my heart, sat down inside and made itself at home. (You know I wouldn't write a sentence like that unless I truly, truly meant it.) These six, lightly orchestrated acoustic songs will be with me forever. The amazing thing is I knew my connection would be special upon first listen. That just doesn’t happen to me anymore. And to be honest, I’m not really sure if I want you to be happy or sad for me. The only thing I am sure about is what you’ve no doubt already deduced: you need Winter.

I will be extremely surprised if someone releases a better song than “Somebody’s Baby” in 2008. Foreman’s voice is gristly and weathered as he tells the story of a young, drug-addicted woman. Lines like “All of her nightmares grew fingers / And all of her dreams grew a tear” literally chilled me to the bone. A mournful violin paints a picture of grey skies and hopelessness. But the true message of “Somebody’s Baby” is one we forget all too easily: everyone has someone who loves him or her, no matter what. We pass by those in need everyday, and I can only speak for myself on this one, but I push these people out of my mind almost immediately. I just don’t want to deal with it, because, you know, I’ve got my own “problems.” Who am I kidding? I’ve got it great. So do you, I reckon. As I write this, another anonymous person is dying of hunger/thirst/broken dreams. But remember this: “She’s somebody’s baby, somebody’s baby girl / And she’s somebody’s baby still.”

“Learning How To Die” begins with a breathy woodwind instrument (an Oboe, perhaps?). Foreman speaks about the inevitability of passing on from this life. Even with slightly regal trumpets in the background, the song has an admittedly somber feel. I think, however, that the song is quite cheerful. Yes, we aren’t going to be around too long. But we must remember to use our time well.