This is a song about the intangible magic of our favorite places.

It was inspired by the real Sam Bond’s Garage in Eugene, OR – a place I quickly came to know as a cozy outlet for great live music, tasty craft beers, and good company.

When I’d left Chicago, this song was simply a chord progression, troubled with a trickle of place-holder lyrics (I eventually kept only one line: “I, for one, come here too often”). Lyrically, nothing was working, and this tune was shelved!

Shortly after arriving in Eugene, a friend invited me to see an incredible musician at Sam Bond’s Garage that I later described in a letter as “Woody Guthrie gone bald, punk rock, and how!”

I collected more and more fun experiences starting fresh in a new town – writing new songs, playing with new bands, hardly stopping to think about old, unfinished material. On that same “Punk Rock Woody Guthrie” night, I met several folks that helped shape the direction of my next few years: musicians I would come to play with, the guy who later produced both our records (including this song), and a real cool lady who has since become my wife!

When I eventually remembered this old chord progression and the first line I’d written in Chicago (“I, for one, come here too often”), images suddenly sprang to mind and the lyrics simply flowed, sort of like the song had been waiting for me to find the perfect place to write about!

So, this is a song about a special place. And I think that there are special places like this in towns everywhere – places that can resonate with people and make us feel that we really are a part in the sum of the greater whole.

The video footage was captured in its natural setting: at a live show at Sam Bond’s Garage on Oct 8th  2010, by the guys at Lip Media.

Sam Bond’s Garage

I, for one, come here too often,

drinking beer from large-mouth mason jars.

Belly up to the beer-stained bandstand

where Woody Guthrie’s gone bald, punk-rock, and how.

Through the door, all the earth stands still.

Nevermind the clock up on the wall

that counts the minutes fall

since now they never will.

An empty pint jar, and a barstool spinning;

if every end is a new beginning,

then I’ll start over with a Black Butte Porter

and step outside with the back porch smokers,

skipping stepping stones with the Mason’s daughter.

Through the door, all the earth stands still.

Nevermind the clock up on the wall

that counts the minutes fall

since now they never will.

The band was good and the beer was strong.

I’m as weary as an old country song;

the band was good and the beer was strong.

As tired as a country song,

and all the clocks are stuck on a half-past wrong,

but the band was good and the beer was strong.

Stagger and Sway will perform next at the Twilight Bar & Cafe in Portland this Thursday, Jan. 27 at 9 p.m. For more updates on the band, check them out on Facebook and Myspace.