Arlo, traveling alone, cold and depressed, lost in the wilderness of thought, was walking down a lonely road in San Juan. He passed by hopeless souls and neon signs when he realized that life was not worth living. As he laid down outside a rundown housing project, ready to make his final resting place, a cough, a cough so raspy and unique it made our tragic hero turn his head curiously. A man, not knowing of Arlo's existence or troubled past, scratched his beard with a sigh of frustration. For this man had his own skeletons, not too different than Arlo's. Arlo said with his soft voice, "Heyyy, brotherrr. What your name stranger?" The man, slightly startled, stared at Arlo, surveying his looks and his eyes as though he was determining whether or not to reply. "They call me the Otter. Don't got no change though, best keep on moving down the road, folks do better begging up yonder." "I'm not asking for change mister... I'm looking for a friend." Arlo replied. The man they call the Otter coughed again and surveyed Arlo once more. He decided that Arlo's response was genuine and sat down next to his new acquaintance. And from that point on, Arlo and the Otter became the greatest of friends. They decided to form a duet and then talked more to find out that both actually had musical training. Opium played a role. ..

: Website :
http://www.myspace.com/arloandtheotter

: MP3s :
http://www.myspace.com/arloandtheotter

: Website :
http://www.myspace.com/thewoodrowwilsons

: MP3s :
http://www.myspace.com/thewoodrowwilsons

: Website :
http://www.myspace.com/banditasmusic

: MP3s :
http://www.myspace.com/banditasmusic