After hearing these song, I understand. Songs are not jobs, they're gifts—present-tations. They come packed with ideas, emotions, stories, laughs... but they're nothing until an artists open them for an audience. And that, in this case, deserves applause.

Besides, performing music is not a job. Musicians don't work songs, they play them. They entertain the listener in the head, feet, and heart. Let me know when somebody figures out how this works. It's magic as far as I'm concerned.

The magical performances in Cover Me open my musical gifts. Each opening amazes by giving back more than I remember putting in. In some cases, so very long ago. My friends and family have given me the best in my songs.

Conceived as a showcase for my song-writing, Cover Me turns out to do much more. It spotlights a family of musical talent. Vocalists, instrumentalists, producers, engineers, artists, and designers. Some veterans of the music business and others showing off their chops for the first time.

Imagine them all standing on a stage, maybe Carnegie Hall, maybe the London Palladium. The hall is empty except for one thin man with wild, graying hair. He's standing, front and center in about the fourth row, clapping. His lone applause echoes around the huge theater. The doors of the theater open onto the city street bustling with holiday shoppers. First, one, then two passers-by venture in and join the applause, not knowing exactly why. Soon the hall and its balconies are packed with people, all standing, all clapping.

At last, Victor Harrison steps up to the microphone. The crowd sits and settles in to listen.

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Victor stands out as a vocalist here and on his own CD You Keep Me Dreamin'. Check out Mañana and Feelin' Good.

A long time before you were born, Victor and I entertained motley, rag-tag congregations of 60s college students in and around the University of Cincinnati. This is back in the days when we schooled together at the College Conservatory of Music's Radio and TV department.

There Victor watched me sing a song about Beethoven in a TV-production class and afterward introduced himself with, "I write songs, too." What an understatement! My friend Victor is a master of moods, melodies, and words that conjure up worlds of love, death, triumph, and disaster.

We rambled the country troubadouring our young peers with our collaborations from one ocean to the other. One of the most appreciative audiences—a couple of construction workers on their way home from work around Providence, Rhode Island—picked up us two hitchhikers, took us to their regular bar and fed us snails and beer while we regaled them with songs. Back on the road that night, highway took on a whole new meaning.

I love this recording's down-home blend of melodious fiddle, pure and simple guitar, and Victor's life-wise voice. I still hear the rocker creak and the creek roll every time I listen.

Ethan Harrison created this vividly evocative woodcut upon hearing his father's performance.

"I made the woodcut to serve as a possible CD cover for the song, 'Bluegrass Music,' which is produced and performed by my Dad, Victor Harrison, for Peter Lloyd's Cover Me project. The image is carved out of a wood block, colored with acrylic paint, then rolled over with black ink."

Ethan was born in Cincinnati, Ohio. After moving around the US, he ended up in Colorado where he has spent most of his life. He attended Montana State University and received a Bachelor in Fine Arts with a concentration and honors in printmaking. A resident of Vail, Colorado, Ethan obviously understands and enjoys the mountains and working on his art.

Oh, and while we're bragging about our kids, Kyle Harrison makes beautiful blown glass objects. You can visit her work at West End Gallery.

While you enjoy some "Bluegrass Music" Harrison style, note how Ethan's woodcut jives with the song illustration by Gary Kopervas on the cover. As far as I know, they did not compare notes.

Credits: In addition to singing and producing, Victor plays acoustic and electric guitars. Julia Hays plays the fiddle with Brain Hunter on bass. Brian also engineered at The Mousetrap Recording Studio, Denver, Colorado.

The first to recognize its potential was David Rhodes Brown. We'll get into the indelible mark he has made on my musical soul later. "I Miss Marie" pleased him enough to introduce it to Lance Kaufman of the Star Devils, back when David was a Star Devil. Brown and the boys soon covered I Miss Marie in this version with David on lap steel.

Since then, the Trio sped up and turned up the temperature a bit for the CD. Both versions give "Marie" the Star Devils' rockabilly best. The second, the one on Cover Me, puts the hot poppin' licks of Jim Ohlschmit behind and all around lead singer Lance.

You can grab a copy of "Marie" along with eleven other rockabilly hits from these three cats at the Star Devils website. The site is packed with SDT music on vinyl 45s, CDs, and mp3s. Plus T-shirts, stickers, photos, reviews, and concert dates. Sign their guestbook and follow their links. It's all really keen. At least that's what I would have called it back when I dressed like and slicked back my hair like a Star Devil.

And Marie, wherever you are, I know I missed the Town Hall Dance / But if you think of me, give me one more chance / I'm still wearin' my denim pants... Uh-oh, I feel the follow-up number coming on!

Credits: Lance Kaufman sings and plays guitar backed by Jim Ohlschmit on blistering lead guitar with Frank Turner beating the upright bass on this live recording for Kat-Tone Records.

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So far and later on, Cover Me artists stake their interpretations near and far from where I originally planted them. Ben Lawson stays remarkably true to the original in this cover while raising "Long Love" to a masterful level of vocal and instrumental artistry.

Since I've only known Ben for a year or so, I asked him to tell you a little about himself:

A little about me? I started writing songs when I was about 14, but they were mostly awful. I've spent the years since then honing my craft, trying to learn as much as I can from guys like Pete Lloyd. I've played in various bands, recently wrote an album with some friends under the moniker "Banquets and Bars," and am currently attempting to create a cyber-network of supermusicians who will very likely take over the world in the near future.

I first heard this song through Jason Ayers during a discussion we once had about songs that acted like a bottle of good whiskey. The ones that hit your palate in a dozen different places and give you a tingly sensation in your head and in your stomach. And maybe a hangover the next day, but an insatiable desire to go back for more. "How Long is Your Love" was like that for both of us, and I couldn't help but cover it, even before I knew about this project.

I'm extremely grateful that my recording made it onto this album, and maybe a bit surprised, but as long as Pete keeps making music, I'll keep listening. You can find more of my music at The Musical Things. Enjoy!

I highly recommend listening. You won't be surprised why I included it.

Ben and his friend Jason Ayers, whom you'll hear later, have spent many a whisky-rinsed evening out on our back deck, around our copper fire pit, exchanging songs until the sun reminded us that another day needed to get going. I wish I could take you there, but if you follow Ben Lawson on The Musical Things, he'll introduce you to new and past recordings of his work with Jason Ayers and others. Many of the songs rang out over our deck. Listen and you might even feel the cool evening breezes mingling with the smoke and heat of the fire.

A debate rages here in Cover Me circles. Some say Ben's first take, a one-pass practice track according to Ben, is superior to his second pass, which you hear on the CD. Decide for yourself: How Long Is Your Love? Take One.

Credits: Ben Lawson does absolutely everything on this recording, vocal and guitar, at his own studio.

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In the hands of Mike and Wendi, this "keep your chin up" number tickles me. Pure and simple, straight from the heart. Lots of people can do that, but Wendi, as you will hear, was made for the stage. You'll hear why. Hers is not just a pretty voice, it delivers her vivacious, vocal personality.

Mike supplies the perfect guy-girl contrast and straight-up guitar support. I'm very happy to have entrusted my feelings to their interpretation. They've been playing together for a long time and you can clearly hear why.

That's the Ezgurs, sans Wendi, on the left. Wendi, Michael, and their children Aidan (11), Charlie (8), and Rosie (6) counterpunched our economic downturn this year with a five-month family odyssey. To learn all about it, visit Family Off Track. You'll see what they discovered in words, pictures, and video. There's a book on the way as well.

Wendi and I go back to the early 00s. Alone, she  channels her audacious creative brain power into her invention company Leadhead. Together we helped big, macho companies around the world invent new products. In every invention session Wendi always proves herself a creative force, a fountain of ideas, and a priceless advisor. Maybe our fellow ideator Gary Kopervas (more about him later) said it best when he pointed out "Wendi's uncanny ability to find the humanity in the things that most of us take for granted."

I wrote this snappy little toe-tapper for my daughter Catherine. When she whistles, I dance. That makes it one of the few true songs in my tune book. I find it very difficult to write songs about what actually happens. Maybe because what actually happens never quite lives up to what I can imagine. But in this case, I hope it works.

As you'll hear, my world glows when Catherine laughs and it grows darker when she cries. What father doesn't know the feeling? We've been whistling, dancing, laughing, and crying for 23 years now. Naturally I want her dancing happily all the time. This is Catherine's reminder that we need to see her dancing her dreams.

"Dancing Your Dreams" rides on the rhythms of David Lloyd's upright base. See how tightly knit the family is here? David of the University of Cincinnati College Conservatory of Music, teaches bass, guitar, and keyboards all over the town of Cincinnati and Newport.

To the right David leads the David Lloyd Trio on the Purple People Bridge in Newport, Kentucky, spanning the Ohio River at the first Wine Over the Water event.

Credits: Wendi Ezgur sings lead, Michael Ezgur backs her up and plays guitar. The vocal and guitar mix was produced by Wendi and recorded by Michael at Leadhead Studios in Chicago. David Lloyd drives the bottom on upright bass, which was mixed in by Ben Hartzell at The Hampster Hut in Clifton, Cincinnati, Ohio.

Chris joins the Cover Me family in a relative way. He's the partner of Jessica Harrison, first-born of Victor, whom you met above. Chris mastered the trombone at Miami University. In this song, he plays for us everything but the kitchen sink. You will excuse the cliché when you learn that he literally went into their Covington, Kentucky, kitchen to grab the Calphalon stock pot you hear in the song.

Chris Storms has created a cover as intrepidly off-kilter as its protagonist, determinedly drunk, staggering in and out of focus. Tom Waits, you need to listen and take notes. Remember Ben Lawson's fidelity to the original presentation? Here's the obverse. Chris went in a direction that made me smack my head with the heel of my hand. Of course! This is the way "Echo" should be opened.

When you write a story, especially one like "Echo," people inevitably ask you whether it's true or not. Or at least, if it's not literally true, well, then, what inspired you to write it?

The only thing I will admit—there once was a strip joint across the street from the Greyhound bus depot in Louisville, Kentucky. I know this because on my way to visit my cousin David Sylvester (who looks like Ben Lawson) stationed in Fort Knox, I laid over in Louisville.

Listen to the way Chris delivers this number and you will understand more than I or David Sylvester or his buddies in the Military Police will ever allow themselves to admit.

Credits: Chris Storms does everything on this recording: vocals, guitar, harmonica, child-model accordion, and Calphalon stock pot, at his home studio.

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Catherine sings the oldest song in this collection. And she's the youngest performer on the CD. How ironic or cosmic or poetically just is that? When she delivered this recording and I listened, I got the goose flesh. I had been stuck in a rut with this song, singing it the way I've always sung it. Me, the innovation guru! Along comes my daughter with her boyfriend Jason with a take that takes me by the heart.

Did I realize that such tenderness and care was in this lyric and melody? No. I've dug for it in the thousands of times I've played it. And sometimes, believe it or not, maybe I was alone or in front of a 60s wine-cellar crowd, I think I brought some of that tenderness to the surface. Nothing like this, though. This song was meant to be sung this way. It took too many years to find out, but how else could it have happened?

No matter how evocative this song may seem to you, imagine how I feel. I wrote "Sometimes" when I was about as old as Catherine. To hear her sing it now plays all sorts of tricks with my mind. I absolutely love the sensitivity she brings to this interpretation and likewise the care with which Jason Ayers supports her sweet, whispery rendition.

Speaking of sensitivity, I found it impossible to find a picture of Catherine without someone else in the frame—usually hugging her or sitting on her lap. That says more about the warmth of her personality than my words could.

The hands that link our musical Cover Me family include a Catherine-Kopervas connection. She recently started working as a writer for Gary at Backe Digital Brand Marketing.

For many year's, among my way-back friends, "Sometimes (Sherry's Song)" carried only the title that lingers in parentheses today. Which brings us to breaking news: The song was dedicated long ago to the lovely former Rocky Fork Lake lifeguard Sherry Lynn Monts de Oca of Hillsboro, Ohio. Maybe Victor Harrison is the only artist on this CD old enough to remember her. She sang beautifully. Maybe she still does. But the high water mark just went up quite a few notches.

Credits: Catherine Lloyd sings backed by Jason Ayers on piano and guitar, produced at their home studio.

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Jason's unsolicited musical gesture came as so much more than a pleasant surprise. Sure I had already been recorded by David Rhodes Brown and the Star Devils. But I had asked them to record. Again and again.

Victor Harrison, my brother Victor Lloyd, and others have performed my songs now and then. I've been begging Sam Hudson of A Prairie Home Companion to lend my songs an ear. Jason was the first to put a recording in my hand.

Remember the whisky-rinsed evenings out on our back deck? Above is Jason making a late-night contribution with his admiring sweetheart Catherine looking on. There has been a lot of that sort of thing over the years out behind the homestead. And this song pops up a good deal of the time. It fits in nicely with the cool, contemporary tunes of Ayers-Lawson, I'm proud to say. This recording also shows off Jason's talents not just as a singer and guitarist, but as a producer and sound engineer.

You've heard both Lawson and Ayers perform if you've played the songs in order so far. Now imagine them knocking around tunes on a cool evening, under a 30-year-old maple, surrounded by a hexagonal, three-level deck seat facing a log fire. Song after song from two guitars and two young voices flowing like folded butter and batter. 'Tis a consommé devoutly to be quaffed.

The song Jason chose came to me one autumn afternoon as I sat on my front porch swing and began absent-mindedly doodling with what has become the melodic hook. My spirits must have needed a lift or at least some relief from the grief brought on by that week's rain and loss of summer warmth. I love summer, hate winter, and now I have a couple of recordings to help assuage the pain.

That's right, a couple of recordings. You're hearing Jason's second take. Some still argue that his first version rules—the first one that Jason offered me before there was a Cover Me Project. You decide. Listen to Take One.

Credits: Jason Ayers does it all on this cut: vocals, guitar, keyboard at his home studio.

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Back to storytelling mode. The first story may have been bittersweet but this one is tragic. Softened only by what the protagonist takes away from his experience. You see, a well known evangelist walks up to a store-front church with a sign on the door that reads... Let's let Tim Bloof tell the story.

I have to admit I wasn't too surprised that Victor Harrison chose "Bluegrass Music" or that David Rhodes Brown chose "Ice Fishin'. But I was surprised that someone chose "The Church with the Styrofoam Steeple." At least until I saw who chose it.

I'll put it this way. My partner and pal Judy and I often pause in pure awe when we talk about our two children David and Catherine. I won't sap on about all that. But I will say that our pride has always extended to embrace the friends our kids have brought home and introduced to us. Among David's friends there's Peter Nienaber and Ben Hartzell. They are the genius behind the cover of "Steeple."

Peter Nienaber rose to the challenge of covering "Steeple" and showed up with this unclassifiable collaboration. His work with Ben Hartzell and company gives the song the mood-inducing aura of a movie soundtrack. Tim Bloof's story-teller vocal couches the first-person narrative of the church pastor. What can I say about Tim Bloof? I have no idea who he is. A friend of the Nienaber-Hartzell crew, of course. But that's all I know. More as the mystery unfolds.

Once again, my newer musical friends chose one of my newest songs. They're all young, talented, and intrepid enough to take "Steeple" from a simple folk narrative into a dramatically layered musical yarn that never forgets it's a song.

On a walk along Washington Street in Newport, Kentucky, I passed a church topped with a steeple absolutely classic in shape. Oddly though, the surface of the structure seemed unlike wood or metal or any other typical construction material. It appeared to have a seam running up two, opposite sides. As if it had been formed in a cast. Upon closer inspection, I noticed that the pure white surface shined like plastic.

Struck by the contrast of something so artificial rising out of brick and mortar that certainly, I thought, must house the hopes of sincerely fervent people, I started scribbling out the story you'll hear the mysterious Tim Bloof sing.

Credits: Tim Bloof sings this story with vocal backup by Tom Mazzocca. Peter Nienaber played all the instruments and produced with Ben Hartzell, and Rob Abner at The Hampster Hut, in Clifton, Cincinnati, Ohio. Their engineer was Ben Hartzell. International teaser Mike Miller provided creative influence.

David Rhodes Brown, my longest standing songwriting friend, croons this tune of chilly  pleasure with his lighthearted interpretation and a surprise conclusion of his own composition. He delivered the recording to me late one winter night. Why he didn't come in the house, I don't remember. I just recall sitting in his big, black truck, heat pouring out of the vents and his hearty, road-mellowed voice rolling out of the speakers. The truck stood still but I was moved.

David took to this number the first time he heard it, even though, as far as I know, he's never drilled a hole over an icy creek. I remember strumming and singing "Ice Fishin'" for him in my kitchen. He loved it. And Brown's approval means a lot to me. We've composed together and have traded songs for many years. This cover is his greatest gift to me.

I couldn't be more proud of the fact or flattery David has paid me by saying that I introduced him to the guitar. He did so very publicly once at one of his Warsaw Falcons performances. When he caught sight of me in the audience he announced to the crowed, "I see my songwriter friend Peter Lloyd out there. He taught me to play the guitar."

Now here's what actually happened. David returned from a stint with the Navy and looked me up. He found me at the Westwood Town Hall in Cincinnati's west side. My quarters there had been converted from what was once the old community center's stables. He had no idea I had taken up the instrument while he served in the Navy. And he was flabbergasted.

The future prince of rock-and-roll watched me strum and sing not for very long before he sat up straight, slapped both his knees with his big hands and declared, "If you can play that thing, I know I can."

You see, David and I grew up together in the working-class neighborhood of North College Hill, Ohio, perched on the perimeter of Cincinnati. We stomped the streets, plied the community pool, and survived the Sisters of the Precious Blood at St. Margaret Mary grade school. My dad and David's dad were good buddies. I think they met counting the collection money or maybe at the Knights of Columbus. They might have both belonged to the S.P.E.B.S.Q.S.A. as well. In any case, David generally out-performed me at just about everything. There was no way he was going to let me steal the guitar show.

Enough background. Imagine yourself rolling out off the shore onto a frozen Minnesota lake in a pick up truck stuffed with a lean-to, bait, a power ice auger, and gallons of liquid refreshment. You're wearing layers of down and polyester and hulking shoes capable of softening the crunch and abating the bite of the lake's crust and chill with soles at least two inches thick.Now you're ready to listen.

Credits: David Rhodes Brown did it all—vocals, guitar, bass, dobro, mandolin, banjo, and harmonica. He produced at Leaping Lizards Studio with engineer Dean Ulmer.

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I knew it belonged here, after the end, as soon as I heard it, because it felt like "Day in the Life" at the end of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart Club Band. That entire album mesmerized me as I listened to it for the first time, letting the Beatles take me further and further into a whole new kind of recording. Then, bam! the revolutionary conclusion.

This song also stands alone and apart and at the end of Cover Me, because I sing it. That goes against the intention of the CD, but how could I not let you hear it? The Widow Za has surround my original cut with a world as hectically incoherent as the observations of its alien narrator. In this new, multidimensional version, he's standing on a street corner playing with his band as the urban scene rattles on around them.

As you might expect, I've been pressed to divulge the identity of The Widow Za. It sounds like a pseudonym and it is. I can't divulge, but I can tell you a story:

I created the dystopian vision in "I'm Not From Around Here" a year before 9/11 and several months before I began working with Andé 3000. Our collaboration took us to LA. If you think the lyric distorted, you should have been there as we hammered out our stage names.

Rather than bore you with the details, let me just say that while Dre and Big Boi were recording Stankonia, I wanted to join them as Pierre 4000. But neither Dre nor Big Boi wanted any part of me with that name. You see, Dre had added his number 3000 to distinguish himself form Dr. Dre. "Who are you trying to distinguish yourself from," he sneered, "Peter Yarrow?"

Dre and I still stay in touch but it was touch and go there for a while. At least I did get him to change one of his song titles from "Mrs. McGillicutty" to "Mrs. Jackson." That may have helped it hit number one on the Billboard Hot 100, but I have not heard one word of thanks.

That's my story and, as they say, I'm sticking to it.

Credits: The Widow Za mashed the original recording with help from Fidgett on guitar, Preston Shuttlesworth on bongos and drum kit, and Pookie La Rue on vibes. Pookie La Rue produced at Animal Crackers Studio, Cincinnati, Ohio, Toby Donohue engineer.

When we work together, Gary often sketches what's going on around him in between drawing up clever new-product ideas. From time to time I've appeared in his sketches. In each one, I'm the focus of his incisive yet approving ridicule.

We shared a suite somewhere in Italy one night on a new-problem-development assignment. And the graphic result is on the right.

Visit the ticklishly twisted world of Gary's Out on a Limb cartoons. Don't you just love the acronym: OOAL? Maybe Gary considered that in the process of naming his strip, because he's a writer as well as a toonist. We've both worked with Wendi to create new products. Now Gary is a big cheese, like Chief Creative Yahoo or something like that at Backe Digital Brand Marketing.

In his role as a marketer, Gary writes Kopius Notes, where he calls our Cover Me work "social objects," and an example of Marketing 2.0. There you go. You can't please all the people all the time. 

We go back much further, though. "My name is Jay Petach," he announced the first day of audio production class at the University of Cincinnati College Conservatory of Music, "that's 'peach' with a 't' in the middle." That day he also gave us a list of tools to buy. I think I still have the audio-tape cutting block, razor blade, and editing tape in a black-zippered pencil pouch.

Since then we've worked together in analog and digital on both sides of the sound-proof studio window. I once hired Jay and his soft, squeaky voice to peddle a toy for kids. He also produced the jingle, which, if I recall correctly, might be called an homage to "Wheels on the Bus."

John also did all the art and design for the I'm Not From Around Here CD cover and disc. He was the design genius behind all three business branding stages my one-man corporation has been through. The most recent, my half-head, appears at the top of the page and on my business card, stationery, and the rest.

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