Blame it on Alan David. The last song I posted Al left me some terrific comments and he
concluded with a statement that was something to the effect of I could probably write a song
about an empty shoebox. He generously meant it as a funny compliment but I ignored the
humor and saw an idea. So if you make it to the end, AD gets the credit. If you don’t, Blame It
On Al.
There may be another song there but I’ll leave that to someone else.
This was written in Biab using the following tracks. I then substituted my Acoustic, Electric and
Steel. The bass and drums were built from loops. The only real tracks that made the final
starting lineup were 1033:Guitar, 12-String Electric, Strumming Ev 120 Held and
864:Guitar, Electric, Rhythm PopRockWaltzPulsingClean Ev 140
https://soundcloud.com/ta2-659414413/old-empty-shoebox
https://tommyadamsmusic.com/track/3709074/old-empty-shoebox
1189:Bass, Electric, HardRockWaltz Ev 140
856:Guitar, 12-String Acoustic, Rhythm RockWaltzStrumming Ev 140
861:Guitar, Electric, Rhythm HardRockWaltzSustainHeld Ev 140
864:Guitar, Electric, Rhythm PopRockWaltzPulsingClean Ev 140
1033:Guitar, 12-String Electric, Strumming Ev 120 Held
900:Guitar, Acoustic, Strumming FolkRockWaltz Ev 150
RockModernWaltz^8-a:Snare, Open HiHat , b:Snare, Ride, Busy Kick
Royalty Free Loops
Recorded in Logic Pro X
Plug Ins : Nectar 3, Neutron 4, Ozone 10, Tonal Balance, Waves LinMB, Waves, L3-LL Multi Limiter, Logic Pro Metering, Waves Vocal Rider, Scuffam Amps S-Gear
Electric Guitar, Acoustic Guitar, Pedal Steel,Vocals, Tom Adams
Old Empty Shoebox
There’s an old empty shoebox stuck way back in her closet
Waiting for the postcards she would send home in the mail
works the counter at the truckstop off of interstate 40
Dreaming of the moment she would head out on the trail
Where are they coming from where are they going
Time is a wastin so maybe in the morning
She really wants to travel with no one supporting
They say that she’s crazy better listen to their warning
She wants to see the mountains to find her family’s roots
spent half her weekly tips on her Danner hiking boots
She no longer sleeps at night and now she has to choose
Between the thrill of the danger or one more poor excuse
If she stays and never leaves what kind of life would that be
Never going nowhere or seeing what she wants to see
Hell of a future broken cigarette machines
And one night stands in cheap motels that rent by the week
There’s an old empty shoebox stuck way back in her closet
Waiting for the postcards she would send home in the mail
works the counter at the truckstop off of interstate 40
Dreaming of the moment she would head out on the trail