Danny Carr first started sketching Who Is She? after a late-summer show in Miami, when he spotted a woman in the crowd who seemed to glide through the room without touching the floor. He never caught her name — she vanished before the second song — but the mystery stuck. Back at Grant Street Studios, Danny wrapped the story in a breezy yacht rock groove, smooth bassline, and that signature sunlit swagger. It’s a song that feels like salt air, silk dresses, and a memory you can’t quite prove was real.

Danny Carr wrote I Never Sent It after finding an old, unopened letter in the back of his desk drawer — one he’d written years earlier to someone he’d loved, and lost, but never found the courage to mail. Late one night at Grant Street Studios, he poured that feeling of almost-said words into a tender, slow-burn ballad. With warm keys, soft guitar, and his signature smooth delivery, it’s a song that lingers like the letter you never send but can’t throw away.

Danny Carr wrote Second Chances Don’t Wait after overhearing a conversation at a marina bar — a man quietly admitting he’d “waited too long” and lost the love of his life. The line stuck with Danny, and that same night at Grant Street Studios, he built a mid-tempo groove around it, blending breezy yacht rock smoothness with a bittersweet hook you can’t forget. It’s a song that feels like watching the sunset from the dock, knowing you should’ve said something while the daylight was still there. 

Danny Carr says Palm of Her Hand came from “one of those nights you don’t plan on losing your cool… until you do.” He’d been out with friends at a quiet dockside lounge when a woman walked in and, without saying a word, completely rewrote the room. Back at Grant Street Studios the next day, Danny turned that moment into a slow-tempo yacht rock gem — all smooth keys, easy bass, and a vocal delivery that sways like the tide. It’s equal parts surrender and seduction. 

Danny Carr wrote Sunset after an evening on the back deck of a friend’s sailboat, barefoot with a drink in hand, watching the sky melt from gold to purple. He says the song “pretty much wrote itself” the next morning at Grant Street Studios — a breezy, beachy groove with congas, brass, and just enough sway to make you forget the clock. It’s pure island-time philosophy: when the sky’s this good, there’s nothing else you need.

Danny Carr came up with Cold Pint on a rainy Tuesday night after ducking into a small harbor bar to get out of the wind. He ordered a pint, found an empty stool, and ended up people-watching for an hour — couples laughing, strangers nodding, no rush to be anywhere else. Back at Grant Street Studios, he turned that feeling into a warm, easy singalong built for late nights and low lights. It’s a toast to the little pauses that make the noise of life fade away. 

Danny Carr’s Over My Shoulder came to life after what he calls a “nowhere drive” — one of those evenings when you take the long way home for no reason at all, only to find yourself passing old landmarks and catching echoes of someone you used to know. Recorded at Grant Street Studios with soft guitar shimmer, warm bass, and Danny’s easy, reflective delivery, it’s a yacht rock classic about how certain memories don’t haunt you so much as they dance just out of reach, keeping you swaying even as you move forward.

Danny Carr says Tomorrow Works Too came from a conversation where the answer wasn’t a “yes” but definitely wasn’t a “no” either — the kind of moment where patience feels like confidence. Back at Grant Street Studios, he wrapped the idea in slick guitar, warm fretless bass, and just enough conga groove to make it feel like a sunset drink on the pier. It’s yacht rock at its smoothest — all laid-back charm and unhurried pursuit. 

Danny Carr wrote I Should’ve Known after a late-night conversation with a friend who admitted he’d seen the signs of a breakup long before it happened but ignored them out of hope. Danny took that quiet confession back to Grant Street Studios and built it into a tender ballad — soft electric piano, clean guitar, and brushed drums giving the space for every word to land. It’s a song about hindsight, heartbreak, and the little signs we wish we’d read sooner.

Danny Carr wrote Still Got It after a night out where, as he puts it, “the kids were trying too hard, and I was just having fun.” Back at Grant Street Studios, he laid down a bass-driven groove, a wink of guitar scratch, and a horn section that struts as much as it plays. It’s a playful, self-assured reminder that cool isn’t about age — it’s about knowing exactly who you are and letting the room catch up to you.