A dude named Steve Poltz (me) in East Nashville wakes up one morning and gets a call from another dude in East Nashville named Dex Green. Dex says, “Hey man, you live so close. You oughta come over and make some music. Maybe we’ll document it — who knows, maybe it’s a record.”

Capturing me in a studio is like convincing a whirling dervish to stop spinning long enough to sign a bill into law. It’s chaos, caffeine, and accidental poetry — art colliding with microphones and commerce in a glorious mess. That’s how JoyRide happened. No seatbelts, no helmets. Just unsaturated, unadulterated art. Real humans making real noise in real time.

JoyRide is my 14th solo album (not counting the Rugburns records, live things, and bootlegs floating around). I tour nonstop, so I usually have to be tricked into a studio under the guise of “just one song.”

The record opens with “If It Bleeds It Leads” — my kinda classic mischief:

“I can never watch the news with you because you yell back — you scream like they can hear you in the television set.”

Then comes “Petrichor,” inspired by the beautiful smell after it rains. (I later discovered Phish has one too, but mine’s the barefoot cousin at brunch.)

“At It Again” follows, a cosmic co-write with my brother-from-another-meerkat Jim Lauderdale, featuring Bryan Owings and Chris Donohue (Emmylou Harris’s rhythm section).

The title track “JoyRide” feels like a warm hug after a long road trip:

“Free hugs, no shrugs, wrong drugs, bedbugs. Smiles, laughter, for here ever after.”

Side one ends with “The Son Of God.” 
A nutso magutso  track of a conversation I  may or may not have had with Jesus.“ I get to play both parts. Myself AND Jesus.
“The son of God contacted me about buying some Funk and Wagnalls encyclopedias. I said hello who’s this?”
“It’s Jesus”
“Jesus who?”
“Jesus H. Christ. God’s son.”
“How’d you get my number?”
“I have everyone’s number.”
“Even Liberace?”
“He’s on dead people's speed dial.”

I will probably get crucified for this song, but hopefully it will be an AI video made by an angry man living in his mom’s basement. 

Side two kicks off with “Love a Little Bigger” — a rowdy co-write with Vince Herman of Leftover Salmon. It opens with:

“Jacob took a hammer and he went up a hill, built a nice house for his best friend Bill…”
and ends with a singalong reminder to forgive faster and swim more often.

“Fixin’ Up” (track seven) is my secret favorite — like a quarter from the Tooth Fairy you gotta dig around for.
“New Tattoo” follows — about a dude who got his lover’s face inked on his own face. (Bad plan, good song.)
“Brand New Liver” imagines swapping out your old one like a water pump instead of quitting drinking.
And then comes the closer: “Hairlift.”

That one has my favorite line I’ve ever written:

“I used to play ping pong with my old friend Mao Zedong. I thought he told me I was well hung, but he was speaking in the mother tongue.”

That’s JoyRide. Ten songs, no filter, no seatbelt, no map.
Big thanks to Dex Green for being the musical trickster who lured me into the studio.
Party on, weirdos.

According to Wikipedia, Steve Poltz (me) is a Canadian-American singer-songwriter and guitarist. He is a founding member of the indie-rock band the Rugburns and collaborated on several songs with singer Jewel, including the 1996 single "You Were Meant for Me", which reached number 2 in the US.

— Steve Poltz, East Nashville