When I was 19 I was like "I want to write BOOKS!" So I got a few pens and some of those blank books that people buy their acquaintances on semi-noteworthy occasions, and I proceeded to write and write and write until I found that I was 30, unpublished, and working with little kids — the kind that poop a lot and don't do much talking. This felt weird to me. I had hairs growing out of my ears and I was obsessing over furniture with sharp edges to it. Not knowing what else to do, I began studying those kids, how they groped with meaning and articulation, what sorts of audible and visual input arrested them (for however long) in their constantly bumbling tracks— and I brought in my guitar. My goal at first was to emulate those tunes that exist independently on playgrounds, being passed through the generations simply because they belong to childhood itself. From that intention has grown these multifarious compositions, some more childlike, others totally off the wall. From freak-outs to nap-tracks: these are the shiny things those kids schooled me at finding.