Below is an interview with Tiltwheel songwriter Davey “Tiltwheel” Quinn, who penned
"I Spent My Spring Break in Vancouver and All I Got Was This Dumb Song"

“An angry young man won’t let boredom run his life” and a “beautiful man won’t let boredom run his life” are quite philosophical. Are you guys self-aware, pondering thinkers as well as drinkers,
or do you fall into the “oblivious day-boozers” category?

“Would you ask Hemingway these questions? He’d probably kick your ass for asking something like that or get a bull piss-drunk and sic it on you. I for one happen to find more knowledge, history, happiness, and guidance from the ‘oblivious day-boozer’ than the iBook-carrying—grad-school—free-Wi-Fi-pondering-thinker crowd.”

What other philosophical points do you express on the rest of the album or even
in this song that maybe someone might’ve missed?

“Nothing, we’re oblivious day-boozers. Our songs are just about on the same level as listening to some crazy bum guy scream at the giant flyin’ eyeball of Jesus being shot at him from a laser beam—carrying dragon wizard.”

What led you to write the song?

“It’s a pretty self-explanatory song, really. Out of beer but having a good time; bored, write letter to the beer company thanking them for the good time, find some stuff, send it off, wait for a reply, reply doesn’t come, and if you ever notice or remember you even sent the damn thing, you say ‘oh well’ and pay no mind, you gotta get a little pissed off first that your love isn’t reciprocated, but then you calm down and write a song about it. It’s art, man.…”

Were you ever in Vancouver to write this song?

“No, but I always wanted to go. I haven’t really traveled out of Southern California, which is lame, I know. I hear it’s really pretty up there and there’s nice shopping to be done on Hastings Street. I almost went to Mexico once. My friend was saying something about a place called Adelita’s. I told him, ‘No thanks, I don’t like Mexican food — it’s too spicy.’”

Lyrics to "I Spent My Spring Break in Vancouver and All I Got Was This Dumb Song”

I can’t think of, think of nothing, nothing left to drink from and I’m searching for the answers in this here can but all I got is a P.O. box Somewhere, Milwaukee I’m better off with a letter to them telling them instead (so I wrote) “Dear Mr. Pabst congratulations are in order. Your beer is great, your prize was well deserved. Every time that I look back upon my life, you have been there nearly every single fucking time I’ve smiled” I gathered all my empty cans, I bought a postcard and a stamp I made an envelope of flyers and tape and I drew some pictures there’s one of you and me at a bonfire in B.C. you were so beautiful and I was flipping off the police. But I waited a few weeks and I didn’t get no reply. I sat by the phone and the mailbox and I cried. All the while with a 12-pack by my side. I’m not going to sit back and take this punch in stride. You nazi motherfuckers better run for the pubs and hide. Cuz I’m fat fucked up and beautiful on the wine. An angry young man won’t let boredom run his life. A beautiful man won’t let boredom run his life. Till the last call, till my last breath.