All songs written by Les Sampou, published by MoNando Music (ASCAP), administered by Bug Music.

Thanks to Adam for every minute of it, Tom, Young Josh & Pete for all the fun and great space to work in especially the Pru-view fire escape, all the outstanding musicians who generously laid down tracks and wiped out tracks and laid down tracks, especially you--Lou Velvet; the coolest family & friends-dawna/deb/netts, Eric Biondi for daily phone, roses, and other life sustaining support, Ken Irwin and the good folks at Rounder, Larry Dalton and the crew at Fishman Transducers, Joe Miele of The Joes for being the best round the clock team I ever had, Connie Crosby for quitting her day job, Steve Witt for his wit, Jonathan Wyner, Barry Berenson, Jodi, Paula, Lois and Bart for the day of glamour in Newtown, Jeff Scornavacca, Karen Eisner, Jay at Capron, Fletcher at Mercenary Audio, Steve at Evening Audio Consultants, all you fine and kind people who come to my shows again and again, the folk & acoustic scene for its support, and last but never least, a very special thanks to Paul Dobson and A&E Sampou for picking up the slack and being true believers.

This album is dedicated to all you love orphans out there. Keep searching.

If you're trying to read this and listen to Les's album at the same time, Utah Phillips says don't do that. Well actually, he said that about one of his own albums. But I'm sure he meant this one too. Les's songs deserve your complete attention.

"Come on, boys, roll in the big picture and hang it up in front of me So I can just sit there and stare and maybe it'll come to me"

That's how I've felt for weeks, you know, contemplating the writing of these notes. But the boys never showed. So let me just tell you why I like these songs, and this music.

Truth, poured straight from the source. No translation necessary. Raw emotion to pen and paper to voice to ears. And it's multi-anatomical, as the best music always is. It's from the heart, sure. It's from the mind, sure. But mostly it's from the gut. And the gut-bone's connected to the heart-bone. And the heart-bone's connected to the truth-bone. And the truth-bone's connected to the toes, to the fingertips, to the hips, lips, tongue and lungs. You can breath it, taste it, feel it, smell it, all of it; the life, the love, the anti-love.

This is a slice of a woman's life. It is a healing--a howling healing. It is a roaring rehabilitation through despair to discovery. It is a one-woman expedition through no-man's land and out again, but it is emotionally universal.

But all that doesn't make a great songwriter. What does? If someone says they know, you can probably disregard their other opinions as well. But I say this. Les is up there with the best.

"Everybody's got some secret way to cope, Some religion, superstition, philosophy or dope"

Ok now, take a break from reading, and sing that last chorus in your best Bob Dylan voice. Fun, eh? Now try Lou Reed. Ok, back to reading.

Lyrics are, naturally, critical elements in songs like these. Ever since Bob Dylan came along people have been saying "listen to the words, listen to the words, the words are really cool. " And Les expresses herself with a clarity and a command of language that few others have. But a great song must have a great melody. And that might be the most elusive element to songwriting, and the one most commonly neglected. Don't forget the melody! Les hasn't. Listen. In a minute. I'm almost done.

"Sometimes, I think if I don't hold it all together It'll spill right out and down the side And everyone would know I was mad as a Hatter Except for you cuz you're walking the same fine line"

Coping. This is all about coping with Homo sapiensanity. Most of us don't talk about this stuff much, our own struggles within and with ourselves. Mostly we keep it in. But Les hasn't, not this time. This is a very personal collection of songs, as it could only be, written for the writer. But as different and unique as we each are, our similarities are our combo to sanity. Your reflection is somewhere in these songs, as surely as mine is.

"I tell myself I never lost you It's me I finally found"

Steve Witt