When I first heard this album, this is the song that really stuck with me, personally.
I lived in The Woodlands (essentially the place that this album is based on) from 1992 to 1996, and this album dictates life as an adolescent and teen there very well.
Still, by far, the worst time in my life was there, one of the things that I really enjoyed about that period were the bike rides into the wilderness. The western part of The Woodlands, past what is now Kuykendahl Road, used to be miles of open forest, old logging roads, abandoned deer stands and hunting cabins, an isolated reservoir and dam and it was fantastic to explore. This is what we would do in the summer: bike out there, past the "No Trespassing" signs and into this quiet, much more wild landscape. It was so interesting coming from the staleness of the sprawling subdivisions.
When I came back in 2000 for college, it was kind of a blow to my nostalgia to find all of that gone. Every bit of it has now been developed. I imagine that this is what a lot of the song is about. The Butlers lived there about the same time as I did, and I can definitely relate to returning to the place after several years and finding it vastly different, very much for the worse.
Another little personal thing: it was common with the cops in The Woodlands, at that time at least, to take kids' names and info on where they lived. I don't know what they did with it, but I was asked a couple of times, even though we were doing nothing wrong at the time.
I lived from '92 to '97 in a similar kind of suburb of DFW. Same situation - mere years after we moved away, the little 5-street neighborhood I grew up on had been expanded to an endless maze full of cookie-cutter tract houses, the fields behind my house and the woods behind my best friend's house, where we'd spend hours, days exploring, making treehouses, daydreaming, playing, enjoying nearby nature, all gone, all replaced by more people, less childhood.
I lived from '92 to '97 in a similar kind of suburb of DFW. Same situation - mere years after we moved away, the little 5-street neighborhood I grew up on had been expanded to an endless maze full of cookie-cutter tract houses, the fields behind my house and the woods behind my best friend's house, where we'd spend hours, days exploring, making treehouses, daydreaming, playing, enjoying nearby nature, all gone, all replaced by more people, less childhood.
When I first heard this album, this is the song that really stuck with me, personally. I lived in The Woodlands (essentially the place that this album is based on) from 1992 to 1996, and this album dictates life as an adolescent and teen there very well. Still, by far, the worst time in my life was there, one of the things that I really enjoyed about that period were the bike rides into the wilderness. The western part of The Woodlands, past what is now Kuykendahl Road, used to be miles of open forest, old logging roads, abandoned deer stands and hunting cabins, an isolated reservoir and dam and it was fantastic to explore. This is what we would do in the summer: bike out there, past the "No Trespassing" signs and into this quiet, much more wild landscape. It was so interesting coming from the staleness of the sprawling subdivisions. When I came back in 2000 for college, it was kind of a blow to my nostalgia to find all of that gone. Every bit of it has now been developed. I imagine that this is what a lot of the song is about. The Butlers lived there about the same time as I did, and I can definitely relate to returning to the place after several years and finding it vastly different, very much for the worse.
Another little personal thing: it was common with the cops in The Woodlands, at that time at least, to take kids' names and info on where they lived. I don't know what they did with it, but I was asked a couple of times, even though we were doing nothing wrong at the time.
I lived from '92 to '97 in a similar kind of suburb of DFW. Same situation - mere years after we moved away, the little 5-street neighborhood I grew up on had been expanded to an endless maze full of cookie-cutter tract houses, the fields behind my house and the woods behind my best friend's house, where we'd spend hours, days exploring, making treehouses, daydreaming, playing, enjoying nearby nature, all gone, all replaced by more people, less childhood.
I lived from '92 to '97 in a similar kind of suburb of DFW. Same situation - mere years after we moved away, the little 5-street neighborhood I grew up on had been expanded to an endless maze full of cookie-cutter tract houses, the fields behind my house and the woods behind my best friend's house, where we'd spend hours, days exploring, making treehouses, daydreaming, playing, enjoying nearby nature, all gone, all replaced by more people, less childhood.