I wrote this for my wife Neal, who often comes home in dirty jeans after a day of her work as a landscaper. The third in a series of “one-liners,” little ditties I write and record based on a spontaneous unique expression that comes to mind during the day which I feel deserves to be memorialized in some minor way or another. An experiment, so to speak, on what one can do with very limited lyrical resources. This one is a bit of a cheat because it has two lines in it. My bad.
These pieces are done off-the cuff with very little planning and are generally recorded start to finish in an hour or so.
Dirty Pants