The Time: 1999 or so.
The Place: Somewhere in the desolation of the Northern Virginia suburbs.
I was returning with Freddie from a Cub Scout camping trip. Bone-tired from not having slept at all in a miserable pup-tent on the torturous forest floor, disgusted with the company I'd been forced into for two days -- let's face it; I wouldn't have befriended most of the dullards who made up the Cub Scout troop parents if the choice had been up to me, and the kind of nitwit who enjoys leading a bunch of eight-year-olds through "On Top of Old Smokey" while toasting marshmallows can only be characterized as a complete twat -- I needed something Seriously Transgressive to chase away the anomie.
Freddie, who'd slept as little as me, was dossed in the back seat. I searched the CD carrier and found it: "Weasels Ripped My Flesh" by the Mothers of Invention. The perfect record! Take this, you boozhy cocksuckers!
Didja Get Any Onya... Prelude to the Afternoon of a Sexually Aroused Gas Mask... Toads of the Short Forest... Yes... yes...! This is doing the trick! I am not some goddamned Cub Scout Dad in khaki Dockers driving a fucking minivan through the 'burbs! No! I am a Zappa Fan!
I heard a stirring in the back seat. Freddie had been awake and listening.
"Yes, my son? How may I help you?"
"Why's his guitar want to kill her mommy?"
My first attempt at a GarageBand recording, back in, what, 2003? was My Guitar Wants to Kill Your Mama. I was experimenting with the loops that came with that marvelous program, found this neat-o N'Awlins kind of drum thing, and it just grew organically out of that. I sequenced the bass using an acoustic bass patch, laid down a rhythm guitar vamp, and then just played the shit out my Strat. Sometime when I'm at a loose end I may feed the original file into Logic to see if I can't give the recording a little more testicular fortitude, but I kinda like it the way it is.
My Guitar Wants to Kill Your Mama (pops)