Terry S. Taylor

[Neverhood Lyrics] [Liner Notes] [Skullmonkeys/BoomBots Lyrics] [Credits]

When I was a child I had an aquarium. If memory serves me without
revision, my first was a round bowel with a single goldfish I named
"Jaws." As the years passed, the waterscapes became a bit more exotic,
sunken treasure chests and all. In the passing stages of my childhood, I
also cared for terrariums, chameleons, and, most likely, sea monkeys
(although they never would colonize as shown in the comic book
advertisements). I remember spending hours watching and caring for
all my -iums. For many, myself included, these activities carry the great
weight of a hundred memories. So, what does any of this have to do
with writing liner notes for Terry Taylor? Everything!

The heart of the matter is this: with every aquifer, bubbling diver and
planting, I engaged a desire to create and to grow. The sad truth is
that, at the same time, I also owned an Imaginarium where I could
continue to try my hand at creation and it's incidents. I can't for the
life of me, however, remember what I did with it. Did I lose it at
school? At work? In the church? Did I let a friend borrow it? Was it
stolen? Did my mother sell it in a garage sale with my fish food and
bowl? I simply don't know. But I'm looking for it. I want it back.

Since misplacing it, I've learned the value of possessing an Imaginarium -
a place where I can live, bask, grow and enjoy all of the marvelous and
wonderfull creations I, made in the image of God, can call forth. Quite
simply, I miss it. Notwithstanding the unknown whereabouts of my own,
you hold in your hands the truest of expressions grown in one man's
Imaginarium. Terry Scott Taylor's Imaginarium. To be sure, this
compilation was born in that greenhouse; but it is only a small, yet
beautiful, planting in a much larger world. By contrast, this fruit is
greater than the whole of most any other known Imaginarium
(I presume that some of you are still in possession of yours).
Terry has never lost his; indeed, it has never even been misplaced.
As this collection attests, he has cared for, cultivated, watered and
grown his Imaginarium. His world is beautiful yet bizarre, mysterious
in it's articulation and evidence that those with shuffling feet of clay do,
in fact, receive divine intervention. For that I love and thank him. For
me, this is an amazing soundtrack to score my quest to recapture my
own Imaginarium. I trust that you will also be inspired to do the same.

September 2000

Jonathan T. Feavel

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