Before undertaking such an experiential buffet indulging in huge gluttonous portions, one must delve deep into the mind of the creator. For to give an honest interpretation, without first isolating the artist’s intent would be premature.And with that, folks, lies the big surprise inside the Cracker Jack box. What gives the real excitement is Fond’s murderous lyrics and story line twists which chronicles an introspective autobiography born of neurotic suffering, corrupt corporate politics, and shallow tragic romance.You hear colors. See sounds. Something has inexplicably touched you, on a heart-stopping scale never before imagined...OK...enough about the Tequila.He’s a nostalgia-minded-iconoclast-farmboy-biker who understands Bob Newhart,
seeks slices of the past in the roadhouses that remain, and has a fueled demand for
truth in contemporary society.But if the first rule of vanity is don’t let ’em see you sweat, cast vanity to the wind, this guy is distressingly damp.But, no one believes this hoopla anyway. Just give a listen.And, if you can help a brother out, purchase a CD.
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