In 1976 my brothers exposed me to the dark side of rock n roll. No more harmless cowboy ballads or quaint country songs. Now I was listening to the dark stuff - the songs steeped in mystical images of demons and wizards and dragons. That's right - my brothers picked up 1976's "The Best of Uriah Heep", and it remained on the turntable for many years to come. It all seemed so wrong, so secretive. You knew you weren't supposed to listen to this music, but it was so alluring, like the mythical sirens calling to the weary sailors. It was like being part of secret society you could never tell your parents about.A corner of the basement had been given over to my brothers, and this is where my musical psyche would be molded for years to come. It was a patch of thin green carpet spread in the corner. An old couch and a coffee table held the center. And the main feature was the big stereo cabinet that held the mammoth turntable and receiver. My brothers had also bought the "psychedelic" lights: various globes with colored facets that rotated and shone light patterns in the room. No conventional lighting was allowed.And there my brothers would sit; dissaffected teenagers, high on weed with their little brother tagging along. I was just six, but I did everything I could to spend time with them. I revelled in the dark excitement only a little brother can experience when he is tolerated in the "inner circle" of the older brother society.July Morning is an epic song - over ten minutes of swirling stoner rock. It's a song about a lost love, but that was hard to hear through the grinding guitar and distorted moog. The song became the cornerstone for my personal tastes. I have written at least five songs longer than ten minutes and every one has just been a feeble attempt to recreate the sense of dark delight I felt those days listening to July Morning in the basement.Enjoy...