the feral cat was a little thing
its heart didn't match
it was alone and then not and then again
five years of the little girl
no ballerina
a tomcat and feral
but the heart didn't match
Friday, December 26, 2014
Saturday, December 20, 2014
Success or Remaining True to Your Art
Sometimes it is and either or. But why not strive to make an "and" out of it?
I was talking to an old friend about artistic purity.
What I told him was at fifteen years of age I had a huge dose of purity along with a portion of amazing ego. I would never belittle my craft by donning makeup and a persona, ala KISS. Or condescend to play "easy stuff" like the Blues.
But at almost sixty I would don the makeup in a heartbeat.
Name it...C&W, Classical, Jazz, Cover, doesn't matter.
With makeup or without. Making a statement or being The Turtles.
I also learned to master any portion of this craft is not, "easy stuff." The Blues is hard shit to play with a passion and real feel.
A tight band gets me more excited than the genre they play. A hot flame of energy and passion between audience and band goes twice as far as playing for my soul.
So if I can play in a metal band and be successful at it, and feed from the energy playing provides, where is the loss?
Happy Hanukkah
Merry Christmas
Play with your dreidels, kids!
I was talking to an old friend about artistic purity.
What I told him was at fifteen years of age I had a huge dose of purity along with a portion of amazing ego. I would never belittle my craft by donning makeup and a persona, ala KISS. Or condescend to play "easy stuff" like the Blues.
But at almost sixty I would don the makeup in a heartbeat.
Name it...C&W, Classical, Jazz, Cover, doesn't matter.
With makeup or without. Making a statement or being The Turtles.
I also learned to master any portion of this craft is not, "easy stuff." The Blues is hard shit to play with a passion and real feel.
A tight band gets me more excited than the genre they play. A hot flame of energy and passion between audience and band goes twice as far as playing for my soul.
So if I can play in a metal band and be successful at it, and feed from the energy playing provides, where is the loss?
Happy Hanukkah
Merry Christmas
Play with your dreidels, kids!
Monday, November 17, 2014
Cream, Blues, Jack Bruce
I have been, to use the vernacular, bingeing on the blues, Cream, Clapton, Bruce, Baker, Guy, Terry, gawd the list goes on for about an hour.
Mississippi Fred McDowell was my introduction, circa the summer of 1969.
How this led me to Steve Miller, God only knows.
Actually I do. My mother's teachings...I saw a sampler album from Capitol for a whopping ninety nine cents.
Besides the universal message the blues can help us convey, the beat in a good boogie woogie makes me mental. That was gift from my father. At six he taught me to play the boogie on the piano. I could only handle one hands worth at the time but I felt it in my bones.
Which is my main point.
Rhythm is the key to music. There are only 12 or so notes, so every combination has already been played, when it comes to melodic stuff.
But the rhythms we can make are infinite.
It was rhythm that first reached me musically.
That walking bass makes me squirm...I am dancing. I cannot help myself.
Is it mom's heartbeat in the womb that begins this?
Was she dancing when I was in there? Was dad playing Fats Waller...loudly?
I am giggling now that I see my own musical genesis laid out so.
My hands are too small to play the bass. At least that is what I told myself since I think there are no limitations, just mental barriers. If Jimi could play with those huge paws what is stopping me and my teeny ones?
Al DiMeola started playing the drums at age eight.
This makes a lot of sense to me.
Mississippi Fred McDowell was my introduction, circa the summer of 1969.
Besides the universal message the blues can help us convey, the beat in a good boogie woogie makes me mental. That was gift from my father. At six he taught me to play the boogie on the piano. I could only handle one hands worth at the time but I felt it in my bones.
Which is my main point.
Rhythm is the key to music. There are only 12 or so notes, so every combination has already been played, when it comes to melodic stuff.
It was rhythm that first reached me musically.
That walking bass makes me squirm...I am dancing. I cannot help myself.
Is it mom's heartbeat in the womb that begins this?
Was she dancing when I was in there? Was dad playing Fats Waller...loudly?
My hands are too small to play the bass. At least that is what I told myself since I think there are no limitations, just mental barriers. If Jimi could play with those huge paws what is stopping me and my teeny ones?
Al DiMeola started playing the drums at age eight.
This makes a lot of sense to me.
Thursday, November 6, 2014
Man, I Love To Play
Playing any gig is a night well spent.
Even an old tired standard.
We're at The TreeHouse.
Playing Sweet Home Alabama, a song I really, really dislike.
It is a two guitar tune. And the band I am playing with has only one guitar at the moment.
I understand their desire to try out tunes that were formerly beyond their sound's depth. But I would have thought of several other tunes first - Layla, While My Guitar Gently Weeps, Brown Sugar, Can't You Hear Me Knocking, Black Market...I could go on for an hour.
And it went really, really well. The audience liked it and we enjoyed playing it.
The weather was not as cold as it could have been, but it was clear and clean. Invigorating.
The front man plays lead and sings; up until this point he has had no support when he 'wanders off' to play solos or flourishes.
I was there to plug that hole. And plug away I did.
Even when it is such a trite and true tune.
I did one song and made a few bucks. A couple slaps on the back and a few compliments. It was a good night.
Even an old tired standard.
We're at The TreeHouse.
Playing Sweet Home Alabama, a song I really, really dislike.
It is a two guitar tune. And the band I am playing with has only one guitar at the moment.
I understand their desire to try out tunes that were formerly beyond their sound's depth. But I would have thought of several other tunes first - Layla, While My Guitar Gently Weeps, Brown Sugar, Can't You Hear Me Knocking, Black Market...I could go on for an hour.
And it went really, really well. The audience liked it and we enjoyed playing it.
The weather was not as cold as it could have been, but it was clear and clean. Invigorating.
The front man plays lead and sings; up until this point he has had no support when he 'wanders off' to play solos or flourishes.
I was there to plug that hole. And plug away I did.
Even when it is such a trite and true tune.
I did one song and made a few bucks. A couple slaps on the back and a few compliments. It was a good night.
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
Time Marches On
Things do not stay static.
Things constantly change.
But we as humans claw to hold onto what we held dear forty years ago. We are anything but prepared to move on with the time. No matter how hip and forward looking, there is always a voice screaming for the world to slow down.
And with all change there is a sameness to it all.
The more things change, the more they stay the same.
I am certain two Romans wondered about the latest epidemic to break out or the threat from terrorists.
I have said for a long time that people without children do not age as quickly. And I do not mean the struggle of life with children; in fact that is energizing. But when your baby gets married you can no longer escape the evidence of age. Children are mile markers in life. Without them you would blissfully have no idea how much time you have wasted on one pursuit or another.
Language changes.
'Swipe' now means to read a magnetic strip on a card rather than to steal.
'Dope' means something cool rather than an idiot.
Attitudes change.
There has been a two term black president.
Pot is soon to be legal across the country; it's a revenue stream now.
Same sex discrimination is dwindling.
While at the same time, Islamic extremists are fighting other Islamic sects as well as the rest of the infidel world.
Fear of ebola has driven some people to madness and they do not recognize it. I mean your chances of dying from the flu are one thousand times greater and few of the fearful will be getting vaccinated.
And what used to be the loyal opposition has now become the insecure and virulently racist, homophobic, war mongering, fear embracing minority that are circling their wagons against an imaginary foe. We are, after all, Americans first, right Mitch McConnell? Right Mr Speaker?
Companies can decide what laws they will obey. Unarmed black kids shot dead and the protests that brings.
People thank veterans for their service but do not want to pay for the benefits the soldiers were promised.
Same shit, different day.
The fight will never end as long as there are humans to muck it up.
Things constantly change.
But we as humans claw to hold onto what we held dear forty years ago. We are anything but prepared to move on with the time. No matter how hip and forward looking, there is always a voice screaming for the world to slow down.
And with all change there is a sameness to it all.
The more things change, the more they stay the same.
I am certain two Romans wondered about the latest epidemic to break out or the threat from terrorists.
I have said for a long time that people without children do not age as quickly. And I do not mean the struggle of life with children; in fact that is energizing. But when your baby gets married you can no longer escape the evidence of age. Children are mile markers in life. Without them you would blissfully have no idea how much time you have wasted on one pursuit or another.
Language changes.
'Swipe' now means to read a magnetic strip on a card rather than to steal.
'Dope' means something cool rather than an idiot.
Attitudes change.
There has been a two term black president.
Pot is soon to be legal across the country; it's a revenue stream now.
Same sex discrimination is dwindling.
While at the same time, Islamic extremists are fighting other Islamic sects as well as the rest of the infidel world.
Fear of ebola has driven some people to madness and they do not recognize it. I mean your chances of dying from the flu are one thousand times greater and few of the fearful will be getting vaccinated.
And what used to be the loyal opposition has now become the insecure and virulently racist, homophobic, war mongering, fear embracing minority that are circling their wagons against an imaginary foe. We are, after all, Americans first, right Mitch McConnell? Right Mr Speaker?
Companies can decide what laws they will obey. Unarmed black kids shot dead and the protests that brings.
People thank veterans for their service but do not want to pay for the benefits the soldiers were promised.
Same shit, different day.
The fight will never end as long as there are humans to muck it up.
Thursday, September 18, 2014
Why Are We Wired This Way?
Why does a driving bass line send me over the moon?
I can play them over and over until it drives those around me to flee.
The Perry Mason theme makes me sway to & fro involuntarily.
When Jimi Hendrix hits a particularly high note with an almost screechy quality to it, or Santana eliciting a cry of sorrow.
There is some thing that is hardwired within me. Similar to the need to be loved. It is something I was born with.
Some people get the same thrill when looking at art, or reading a book or working with their hands.
What evolutionary purpose does it serve?
I suspect it is twofold.
On one hand it is symbolic language allowing for sharing, communicating. And this furthers movement of the species.
On the other it is the exploratory arm of evolution, looking for the next big thing.
In my heart though where I feel it the most acutely, it just feels right.
Sometimes the satisfaction is by myself. I write something particularly good...a tasty lick. I play a piece well. Sometimes it is in front of an audience. An audience also adds to the mix the energy that people bring. The back and forth sharing between the stage and the crowd can be electric; almost as good as sex.
We also know that songs with a beat that mimics the human heartbeat makes us dance involuntarily.
So there are physiological as well as mental considerations. But there seems to be something from the ether that connects us to music.
There is pattern matching, complete this sequence sort of puzzles throughout a musical piece. Our brains look for conclusion, closure. So we anticipate endings or phrases. And then when a new song is heard we look for familiar themes or use of dynamics. And we attempt to learn this new pattern as quickly as possible. Some of us focus on the lyrics, others the music.
Whatever the cause, I am wired this way.
I can play them over and over until it drives those around me to flee.
The Perry Mason theme makes me sway to & fro involuntarily.
When Jimi Hendrix hits a particularly high note with an almost screechy quality to it, or Santana eliciting a cry of sorrow.
There is some thing that is hardwired within me. Similar to the need to be loved. It is something I was born with.
Some people get the same thrill when looking at art, or reading a book or working with their hands.
What evolutionary purpose does it serve?
I suspect it is twofold.
On one hand it is symbolic language allowing for sharing, communicating. And this furthers movement of the species.
On the other it is the exploratory arm of evolution, looking for the next big thing.
In my heart though where I feel it the most acutely, it just feels right.
Sometimes the satisfaction is by myself. I write something particularly good...a tasty lick. I play a piece well. Sometimes it is in front of an audience. An audience also adds to the mix the energy that people bring. The back and forth sharing between the stage and the crowd can be electric; almost as good as sex.
We also know that songs with a beat that mimics the human heartbeat makes us dance involuntarily.
So there are physiological as well as mental considerations. But there seems to be something from the ether that connects us to music.
There is pattern matching, complete this sequence sort of puzzles throughout a musical piece. Our brains look for conclusion, closure. So we anticipate endings or phrases. And then when a new song is heard we look for familiar themes or use of dynamics. And we attempt to learn this new pattern as quickly as possible. Some of us focus on the lyrics, others the music.
Whatever the cause, I am wired this way.
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