A little 12/8 shuffle blues with some call and response between the bass, guitar and organ (subbing for backing vocals).
Monday, February 28, 2011
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Lead Sheets
I spent some time dinking around with Band-In-A-Box today, and finally got it to print out a lead sheet. Woot.
I spent some time dinking around with Band-In-A-Box today, and finally got it to print out a lead sheet. Woot.
I spent some time dinking around with Band-In-A-Box today, and finally got it to print out a lead sheet. Woot.
An Economic Melodrama
It was the 80's. I was reading a lot of Raymond Carver.
“I can't pay the rent” she said.
I'd been sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a beer, before Deb came in.
“Um” I swallowed. “When do you get paid?”
“Next Friday. Where did you get the beer?”
“Fridge”
I watched her bend in the trapezoid of light flowing out of the open refrigerator door. She looked thin. The fruit in the crisper looked pretty rotten.
“What happened to the TV?”
Deb was looking for a bottle opener. “Finally threw it away. I was going deaf from having to turn the volume so high over the static.”
“Use your teeth”
“What?”
“How I opened mine”
“No, I found it.” She came back into the kitchen, her longneck smoking just like the advertisements on Monday Night Football. She took her pocketbook off the table and lit a cigarette. Ultralights. Sounds like airplanes. I fidget with the matchbook. It was from some bar on the North Side. O'Flannery's. There was a phone number written on the inside cover. I closed the flap.
Deb went to the other side of the room, by the sink, and ashed on a pile of dirty glasses.
“Been to Jimmy's Bar lately?”
“Every Thursday night. It's work.”
The tobacco embers hissed in the dregs of a wine glass.
“You always hated doing the dishes”
“Still do”
I went to the refrigerator. I took the fourth of the six pack I had brought. Then I looked around in the crisper, searching for the least rotten apple. I found one, on the bottom, not quite so bad as the rest. I opened my beer and went back into the kitchen.
It was awkward, silent. Deb smoked.
“So Deb, how have you been?”
“Okay. Fucking job sucks. I don't know. What have you been up to?”
“The usual, I guess. Wanna go out and have a drink someplace?”
She looked at my hand. “You've already got one.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot.”
Deb lit another cigarette.
“What I really came over here tonight … well … I need a place to stay for a while.”
“Can you help me with the rent?”
“Yeah, I think so. Play a few more bars.”
“Old habits die hard.”
“I can't pay the rent” she said.
I'd been sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a beer, before Deb came in.
“Um” I swallowed. “When do you get paid?”
“Next Friday. Where did you get the beer?”
“Fridge”
I watched her bend in the trapezoid of light flowing out of the open refrigerator door. She looked thin. The fruit in the crisper looked pretty rotten.
“What happened to the TV?”
Deb was looking for a bottle opener. “Finally threw it away. I was going deaf from having to turn the volume so high over the static.”
“Use your teeth”
“What?”
“How I opened mine”
“No, I found it.” She came back into the kitchen, her longneck smoking just like the advertisements on Monday Night Football. She took her pocketbook off the table and lit a cigarette. Ultralights. Sounds like airplanes. I fidget with the matchbook. It was from some bar on the North Side. O'Flannery's. There was a phone number written on the inside cover. I closed the flap.
Deb went to the other side of the room, by the sink, and ashed on a pile of dirty glasses.
“Been to Jimmy's Bar lately?”
“Every Thursday night. It's work.”
The tobacco embers hissed in the dregs of a wine glass.
“You always hated doing the dishes”
“Still do”
I went to the refrigerator. I took the fourth of the six pack I had brought. Then I looked around in the crisper, searching for the least rotten apple. I found one, on the bottom, not quite so bad as the rest. I opened my beer and went back into the kitchen.
It was awkward, silent. Deb smoked.
“So Deb, how have you been?”
“Okay. Fucking job sucks. I don't know. What have you been up to?”
“The usual, I guess. Wanna go out and have a drink someplace?”
She looked at my hand. “You've already got one.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot.”
Deb lit another cigarette.
“What I really came over here tonight … well … I need a place to stay for a while.”
“Can you help me with the rent?”
“Yeah, I think so. Play a few more bars.”
“Old habits die hard.”
Friday, February 11, 2011
The Strings Of Our Genes
An original which I hadn't recorded before. Still not happy with the webcam microphone.
Chords and lyrics
Bm7 Em9
A7 Dmaj7
C#m7 F#7
Bm7 Am7 G F#
Em7 A7 D
---
Bm7 G A
I try to be calm
In the face of your rage
Your grandmother's face
Your grandfather's rage
Pulls you out of your seat
A dancing marionette
Tied to the strings of your genes.
The stone and the sod
Whiskey and God
Run from the law
Sleep in the straw
Pulls you onto your feet
A dancing marionette
Tied to the strings of your genes.
I curse you to never feel satisfaction
To see injustice in all of its forms
I bless you with strength
Quickness of mind and
A hurting desire to learn.
I curse you to be unable to follow
This curse and these gifts I give to you
Because I carry them too.
We're dancing marionettes
Tied to the strings of our genes.
Chords and lyrics
Bm7 Em9
A7 Dmaj7
C#m7 F#7
Bm7 Am7 G F#
Em7 A7 D
---
Bm7 G A
I try to be calm
In the face of your rage
Your grandmother's face
Your grandfather's rage
Pulls you out of your seat
A dancing marionette
Tied to the strings of your genes.
The stone and the sod
Whiskey and God
Run from the law
Sleep in the straw
Pulls you onto your feet
A dancing marionette
Tied to the strings of your genes.
I curse you to never feel satisfaction
To see injustice in all of its forms
I bless you with strength
Quickness of mind and
A hurting desire to learn.
I curse you to be unable to follow
This curse and these gifts I give to you
Because I carry them too.
We're dancing marionettes
Tied to the strings of our genes.
Tuesday, February 08, 2011
Something Light
Give us something light, love
To lift us on our way
A melody to sing or hum
Some warmth on a winter's day
Everything is not your life or love
Or death or a family dispute
Our time is spent mostly working or sleeping
Or shuttling between the two
So give us something light, love
Because I've got my dark places too
But to make time pass more pleasantly
I don't always share them with you.
So give us something light, love
To lift us on our way
A melody to sing or hum
Some warmth on a winter's day
To lift us on our way
A melody to sing or hum
Some warmth on a winter's day
Everything is not your life or love
Or death or a family dispute
Our time is spent mostly working or sleeping
Or shuttling between the two
So give us something light, love
Because I've got my dark places too
But to make time pass more pleasantly
I don't always share them with you.
So give us something light, love
To lift us on our way
A melody to sing or hum
Some warmth on a winter's day
Monday, February 07, 2011
A Hard and Demanding Man
A Hard and Demanding Man
My father was a hard and demanding man
Even if he did not think of himself as such.
For every one of my failures
His sadly disappointed look
Rendered hollow his words and gestures of reassurance.
He always acted as if he had come up from nothing
Although I know he was given much more than he had managed to retain.
And for years, he held it against me
That on the day I finally left his house
I said to him:
“I'm not like you dad
I'm clumsy and stupid
Little and weak
I'm just not like you”.
As he got older, and his drinking started to take its toll
I visited him in the hospital.
After and hour of silence he said:
“My father was a hard and demanding man
But he always did his best by me.
I am truly sorry
That I could not do the same for you”.
My father was a hard and demanding man
Even if he did not think of himself as such.
For every one of my failures
His sadly disappointed look
Rendered hollow his words and gestures of reassurance.
He always acted as if he had come up from nothing
Although I know he was given much more than he had managed to retain.
And for years, he held it against me
That on the day I finally left his house
I said to him:
“I'm not like you dad
I'm clumsy and stupid
Little and weak
I'm just not like you”.
As he got older, and his drinking started to take its toll
I visited him in the hospital.
After and hour of silence he said:
“My father was a hard and demanding man
But he always did his best by me.
I am truly sorry
That I could not do the same for you”.
Friday, February 04, 2011
197 Words For Snow
The wind is my enemy
The rain is my enemy
The wind is my enemy
Are you my friend?
The sleet is my enemy
The cold is my enemy
The snow is my enemy
Are you my friend?
The snowflakes fall fast
And fill the night sky
A spiraling dementia
For a Friday commute
The flash and the boom
The strobe and the crash
Lightning, then thunder
And through it more snow
The measures get shorter
As the storm gets closer
The flash and the boom
The strobe and the crash
The cold is my enemy
The snow is my enemy
The wind is my enemy
Are you my friend?
Sunshine on a Saturday
An arctic blast blows the clouds to the east
Leaving a blinding glare and prisms of ice
My breath hangs frozen
Before floating away
I pull my muffler
Close to my face
First moist, then wet
Then frozen in place
Shovel the snow
Crack the ice
Salt the steps
So very nice
Whatever did possess us
To come so far north?
I'm going back to Borneo
An old man of the forest
To swing through the trees
With a belly full of fruit
I'm sick of snow
Why don't you take a warm shower?
Meh
It'll make you feel better.
I'll be out of the bathroom in March.
Did you talk to your mom?
Yeah, she's ok
But there were people stuck on Lake Shore Drive for 18 hours.
That thunder snow is some freaky stuff.
The rain is my enemy
The wind is my enemy
Are you my friend?
The sleet is my enemy
The cold is my enemy
The snow is my enemy
Are you my friend?
The snowflakes fall fast
And fill the night sky
A spiraling dementia
For a Friday commute
The flash and the boom
The strobe and the crash
Lightning, then thunder
And through it more snow
The measures get shorter
As the storm gets closer
The flash and the boom
The strobe and the crash
The cold is my enemy
The snow is my enemy
The wind is my enemy
Are you my friend?
Sunshine on a Saturday
An arctic blast blows the clouds to the east
Leaving a blinding glare and prisms of ice
My breath hangs frozen
Before floating away
I pull my muffler
Close to my face
First moist, then wet
Then frozen in place
Shovel the snow
Crack the ice
Salt the steps
So very nice
Whatever did possess us
To come so far north?
I'm going back to Borneo
An old man of the forest
To swing through the trees
With a belly full of fruit
I'm sick of snow
Why don't you take a warm shower?
Meh
It'll make you feel better.
I'll be out of the bathroom in March.
Did you talk to your mom?
Yeah, she's ok
But there were people stuck on Lake Shore Drive for 18 hours.
That thunder snow is some freaky stuff.
Tuesday, February 01, 2011
Ain't Nothing Like The Real Thing
Another jazzy Ashford-Simpson number. The Motown Monday thing was supposed to be a time to work on my bass playing, but I decided to just cut a video of solo guitar and be done with it.
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