Stephen King was once asked why he writes the things he writes. His answer was a question: "Why do you assume I have a choice?" Bruce Linde may or may not choose to write what he writes, but you'll probably be glad he writes it.

From the opening track psychic sombrero to the closing ode peter's song, the album is a bit like a Stephen King story set to music. Songs about space aliens, karma cowboys and disenfranchised musicians populate the landscape and/or dreamscape. The hilarious dance? not a chance! is a pseudo-rap about a nerdy dude whose "hands never leave the pockets of my polyester pants," with a nice little plot twist at the end. The kitschy drum track is perfect.

East meets West in yippie yin yang, as a monk-gunslinger "searches for the truth on the road to Cheyenne." Linde's obviously not your run of the mill navel gazer. He can be serious though, and does so with beautiful results on in need of company. The closing track is a tune for a little brother who's "the happy one of the family." Lest you think he's about to succumb to Hallmark sentimentality, check out how he sums things up: "it's not his fault things are f***ked right now/at least he gets a song/he better like his song..."

How could he not?