january 1, 1990

dear chance,

by the time you're old enough to read and understand this letter and this story, the rave-ups (a/k/a: jimmer podrasky-the singer, terry wilson-the guitar player, tim jimenez-the drummer, and tommy blatnik-the bass player) and the album we named for you will probably be long forgotten. things can come and go quickly in the world and every day seems to bring something new with it. that's probably why your mom and I named you chance.

first I should tell you of how the rave-ups came to be. the "early" stuff was well before your time, so to ease what might be a painfully boring history lesson, I'll write quickly:

i grew up in pittsburgh--went to college--didn't know what to do--graduated---still didn't know what to do---found a guitar---already wrote---thought "what the hell"---the rave-ups--played bars--painted houses--move to l.a. and played bars with different people--met your mom--got a record deal and a record--class tramp, 1984--played bars--met some guys at work at a&m records--new band/same name--town & country, 1985--played bars--made a movie--played in a bar in a movie--these wishes, 1986--critics kinda liked us--played bars--got a bigger record deal--the book of your regrets, 1988--didn't sell too well--played more bars...

...which brings me to about the time you came around. i had just returned from the "tour of your regrets" when you were born. i stayed at home with you most of that year, learning diapers instead of guitar licks. i couldn't help think how ironic your name was to me--it could very well have been change. but chance seemed the perfect name in an always-spinning world.

it was june 1989, and you were just about to have your first birthday. the rave-ups were recording a new record in hollywood. we were a funny band. four completely different personalities. we worked together. we laughed. we fought. we were the closest of friends and the bitterest of enemies. musically, we ripped off anything and everything that we could and ended up sounding a little bit like a lot of things; but mostly, we sounded like ourselves. some liked it, some didn't. it wasn't new or particularly inventive. it was us. no less valid than dylan and no more valid than debbie gibson.

the songs on the chance album were written at traumatic times for me and for the band. mostly they were written at terry's house, in a room about the size of a jail cell. appropriately, the claustrophobic surroundings seemed to echo the tensions of the time. there were lots of changes in all our lives. i was a new dad. terry had just married. tim's father had divorced and was living with him. tommy had gotten his hair cut.

in the studio, the band seemed more relaxed. we had fun taking a few musical risks and playing instruments other than the usual guitar-bass-drums lineup. terry brought in some new instruments and sounds to the sessions. cobra flutes mixed with pedal steel guitars. sitars with harmonicas. sampled laughs with acoustic guitars. we all took a shot at playing everything. we felt completely comfortable--just the four of us and david leonard, the producer we had worked with before. in the end, i think that the band took some chances on the record. it was a healthy step and a fitting one for the album's title.

more than anything else, you were in my thoughts while writing and recording the record. naturally, it was inevitable that we would name it after you.

and that's how chance, the album, came to be. listen to it as much as possible. listen to your dad.

love,