Christopher Lee Lewis returns with “They Still Haven’t Figured Out What’s Wrong With Me,” the follow-up to his July release, “They Haven’t Figured Out What’s Wrong With Me,” both on Sweet Cheetah Records. This second installment delves even deeper into Lewis’ battles and unfiltered narratives that resonate with authenticity and vulnerability. Go ahead--call it a part two, if you'd like.

The album opens with “Who Are You People?” where Lewis poignantly declares, “My wasteland / Is newer than yours / My waistband / Is larger than yours.” This sets the tone for a journey through his experiences, from his total hip replacement to dealing with occasional fungal outbreaks, while firmly rejecting unsolicited advice "door-to-door."

“Wheel Spinner,” the closing track, serves as a sequel to “Bridge Burner,” the opening song from LEWIS’ 2023 album “Growing Pains.” In it, he reflects on past actions, stating, “My bones are / Brittle as NASCAR” and adding, “My bowtie / Might be too tight / Want my tubes tied like you.” This track addresses the lingering questions of whether he’s still burning bridges or his wheels are just spinning in place. These two songs serve as bookends to a two-year period in which Lewis wrote hundreds of songs for his last three records.

The honest “Eating Over the Sink” explores the dark side of addiction through a story of hidden food wrappers and quick, mouth-stuffed, guilt-ridden meals. It paints a picture of the struggles of concealing one’s vices.

“Family Secrets” tackles the challenge of breaking free from generational curses and outdated traditions. Lewis sings, “So I crawled in a cove / Rolled over ‘coz I snore / Some may say, it’s set in stone / But I know, I’m in a cult,” highlighting his desire to forge a new path despite the weight of the past.

The last song written for the album, “What It Is,” encapsulates the feeling of merely getting by in life--it captures the essence of resignation and acceptance: “Die near the vine / Split at the seam / The pleasure’s all mine / It happens every time.” Who else shrugs through absurdity?

"Not Sticking Around" explores self-identity by asking, "Who am I kidding? / Who am I grappling with?" Followed by a desire to escape.

“They Still Haven’t Figured Out What’s Wrong With Me” is a testament to Christopher Lee Lewis’ journey, reflecting on his struggles and quest for understanding. This album speaks to the complexities of the human experience.

All proceeds from the album will be donated to Doctors Without Borders.

My grandparents had an above-ground pool throughout my childhood, but it was only maintained during the summer. Their front gate was always unlocked, and if you could get past the gauntlet of large, jumping, barking dogs, the pool was all yours.

Occasionally, family members or friends would show up mid-swim. After a few awkward moments, you’d get used to having someone new to splash around with or search for hidden rings.

My older female cousin, who was about three years older than me, had a game she liked to play: She, at 12, would do a handstand underwater and have me, at 9, watch her butt to see if it leaked air. She’d say, “Chris, I think I’m leaking today. Put your goggles on and check.”

Every single time, I would come back up and report to her that, yes, she was indeed leaking. It wasn’t until years later that I realized she was just farting in my face while underwater.

Something reminded me recently of my teenage years and how we used to scam businesses. One memory in particular stands out from my first trip to Los Angeles. My band, The Kinison, was staying at a run-down hotel in Van Nuys, down the street from Sound City Studios, courtesy of Island Def Jam Records, and I was hungry but broke.

Back then, we had a hustle: we’d scam pizza delivery drivers by claiming our order was wrong, then offer a third of the price or less, hoping they’d cave rather than return to the restaurant with a cold pizza. This worked best when we were on the far edge of their delivery zone. Regardless, we'd still tip, food or not.

So here we were, in LA, hungry and without money. I figured I’d pull the same trick on an LA pizza guy. He knocked on our hotel door, and I played it cool, nicely explaining that this wasn’t the pizza I ordered. But this guy must’ve seen it all—he wasn’t falling for my “scam the pizza guy” routine. I offered him a discount: nope, no dice.

The problem was I didn’t even have enough money to pay for pizza in full. But what I did have was a few Natural Light beers and some Xanax. So I handed him three loose Natty Lites, five blue footballs of Xanax, and three crumpled dollar bills.

The driver accepted the barter, thanked me repeatedly, left the pizza, and sped off.

I wish someone had been awake to witness this absurd exchange, but Bub was passed out with Planet of the Apes blaring in the background on the record label's tab. Don’t worry—Bub made out, too. The room wasn’t in our names, so he packed up three pillows and two comforters in his suitcase for later use.

Thanks, Island Def Jam, for the Nintendo 64, the Planet of the Apes rental, and the free bedding.

They didn’t end up signing us anyway.