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I Nearly Died Making This Album...

I was about 36 when it dawned on me: for all those years playing in bands, I really had nothing to show for it. Also, another "dawning" occurred: I may not live forever.

So, feeling incredible, perhaps healthy-ish pressure magnified by a grievously unhealthy, stick-wielding OCD decree that "he who does not have an album shall have no rest until said album is made," I punished myself for a good number of years throughout said album's creation.


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The Music Was Glorious. The Making Wasn't

I slept, but barely. It got to the point where I added a sleeping aid to my regular medication. Without this sleeping aid, the edict held sway -- there was no rest without an album. 

For over 10 years, two albums, and two singles, the stick prevailed. Eventually, post-"Sacred," my mind reached a breaking point, and my overworked body -- through intense exercise and deprived recovery -- began reacting poorly. Scary pains and symptoms led to decreased running, and I hit a state of seemingly unrecoverable exhaustion.

Things eventually got better, but the recording of this album --  although resulting in the realization of a dream, and a damn fine effort if I do say so myself -- was a mother-f*cker. 


The Players


Tiras Buck

Writer/composer, all vocals and synths, and slow to-decide producer.


Brett Kull

Electric/acoustic guitar, bass, recording engineer, mixing, mastering, producing, hugging.

Paul Ramsey

Drums and percussion.

Why "Songs for Parked Cars?"

The cover to Peter Gabriel's first solo album moved me. It was a person, alone, perhaps grieving and wanting to get out, but far too timid to leave. This, in essence, is me.

So, in my cramped, rain-pelted alone-ness, I created music for others peering out in anguish, perhaps too afraid to step out or let go. It was for us. It was for me

And admittedly/foolishly, I wanted to show the world I could do something great (and the world...remained unmoved, signaling another brand of unsustainable thinking).

"This is a wonderful collection of lovingly crafted compositions that speak to the heart of the listener. Thoroughly enjoyable recommended listening from beginning to end."

Jerry Lucky


Photography by William Schwartz 

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Bill, the owner of Catapult Sound studio, loved the black and white photography of Anton Corbijn. In fact, we both loved it, considering Anton was responsible for the breathtaking imagery of U2 staring at a camera while huddled unamused in the desert. They were thinking big feelings in a big place -- seriously concerned over something resembling a flat, sprawling, abandoned garden of American prosperity -- and Anton captured this magical desert lament beautifully.

And so, Bill gave me my Joshua Tree, the sprawling desert replaced by flat but steadily climbing cement. A foreground focus on my seriousness, sure, but also the grand scale of simple architectural purpose. 

I was in a place where perhaps my brothers gathered, having parked safely, looking to each other through fogged windows and raking cordial messages across films of hot breath. Here, they would find others of their timid ilk, never leaving the safety of their coach, but parked close enough to achieve brief solidarity.

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