I began writing this song in Barcelona, Spain, where, among other things, I spent a lot of time performing in and around the Gothic Quarter. On my lapel, there was an enamel Frida Kahlo pin that someone had gifted me. Somehow, during a gig one night, the pin fell off my jacket and after the show, I found her hiding under the chair.  So, I stuck her back on my lapel, but by the time I’d made it to the metro, Frida had found her Fri-dom. She was gone.

 

Later that month in Morocco, soaking in that North African pentatonic bliss, the tune was nearing completion. You can imagine my surprise when I discovered that Frida, His Holiness The Dalai Lama, and myself, all share the same birthday. How auspicious that we are all together in a song.

 

Upon returning to the states, I called my friend Jim Roberts and asked if he would like to lend his expertise of African rhythms to this track. So we recorded guitar, vocals and a calabash gourd. 

 

As it turns out, Jim also shares the same birthday as Frida, His Holiness, and myself.  I guess the truth is stranger than we can suppose.