A martial snare plays rat a tat tat
On the marital rhythm of tit for tat
But now the tux and the gown are all packed in a bag
And they're off to Manhattan for a Saturday night.
An expensive dinner and a cab downtown
To a basement in Alphabet City
Jazz, funk and rhythm and blues
With a modern sensibility
The dance floor is packed with the lust and sweat
Of familiar possibility
Slinking through the darkened lobby
Empty bottles of water from the minibar
The mirror reflects on the king size bed
She stands on her head
With legs spread wide
Like an apple tree weighted with fruit
The kick drum plays thump a thump thump
On the quick deep strokes of an oft postponed fuck
In Midtown Manhattan on a Saturday night
Terry cloth robes and a room service breakfast
The sun through the curtains above Hackensack
While he reads the paper she looks in the mirror
And it seems like her wrinkles are written in black
But she turns into the room and looks hard at the roses
And says "there's time for a quick one before we have to pack
And get back
From Midtown Manhattan and our Saturday night".
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Monday, March 14, 2011
Wednesday, March 09, 2011
Modern Science
Late one night, a man is standing under a streetlamp, looking at the ground. Another man comes by and asks him what he is doing. The first man replies “I'm looking for my keys”. The second man starts to help with the search, and asks “where did you lose them?”. The first man replies “in the bushes, down there”. Annoyed, the second man asks “but, then why are you looking here”? To which the first man replies “well, this is where the light is”.
We started off
Trying to design a new drug
Which would treat a common illness
In a novel and exciting way.
But drug development
Is a long and expensive process.
And when we suffered a setback
In our second round of clinical trials
Our investors had grown tired of the game.
So we decided to sell a tool
(To allow researchers
To design new drugs
Which might treat common illnesses
In a novel and exciting way).
This approach
Promised reduced marketing costs
And a shorter path to profitability.
Our investors were rejuvenated
And ready to get back in the game.
I went to go visit
A lab that used our tool
To design some knockout mice.
Their hypothesis is novel and the theory exciting.
They hope to start clinical trials
By the middle of next year.
The only problem is that the mice
Refuse to breed or even coexist.
Inside the cages they attack one another
Hacking off mouthfuls of raw flesh and fur
Till they have eaten each other alive.
We started off
Trying to design a new drug
Which would treat a common illness
In a novel and exciting way.
But drug development
Is a long and expensive process.
And when we suffered a setback
In our second round of clinical trials
Our investors had grown tired of the game.
So we decided to sell a tool
(To allow researchers
To design new drugs
Which might treat common illnesses
In a novel and exciting way).
This approach
Promised reduced marketing costs
And a shorter path to profitability.
Our investors were rejuvenated
And ready to get back in the game.
I went to go visit
A lab that used our tool
To design some knockout mice.
Their hypothesis is novel and the theory exciting.
They hope to start clinical trials
By the middle of next year.
The only problem is that the mice
Refuse to breed or even coexist.
Inside the cages they attack one another
Hacking off mouthfuls of raw flesh and fur
Till they have eaten each other alive.
Thursday, March 03, 2011
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.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Reelin In The Years
On Saturdays I am working through "The Best of Steely Dan: An Inside Look at the Guitar Styles of Steely Dan". The tab seems accurate, the CD is useful, and the text is reasonably insightful. At the core "Reelin In The Years" is a straightforward G-D-A song, but there is a bunch of harmonic stuff happening in the solos that is hard to nail. Learned this one pretty much by rote repetition, hopefully I will gain some understanding from future efforts. I'm in the right channel, the original is in the left channel.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Think
Working through "The Great James Brown Rhythm Sections - 1960-1973" on Wednesdays. The playing on this one is pretty bad, but my new RME Multiface is allowing me to record four tracks as once, which is giving me more options for fattening up individual instruments. Right now I've got it set up to record the DI, the line out of the amp head, a close mic on the amp cabinet, and a room mic.
Not much to this song - the original drum part is kind of erratic and hard to follow - my version is more regular (if less funky) - but a pretty straightforward shuffle blues. Main thing to be conscious of is when you double and when you lay out on the bass and guitar.
Not much to this song - the original drum part is kind of erratic and hard to follow - my version is more regular (if less funky) - but a pretty straightforward shuffle blues. Main thing to be conscious of is when you double and when you lay out on the bass and guitar.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Ain't No Mountain High Enough
It's in D major, but you spend the whole song avoiding D - voice the III, voice the V, voice the IVsus4, just don't voice the I, because that is reserved for Tammi. The bass line has some funky chromatic passing notes, but I didn't really have time learn the whole thing, so I kind of faked it. There is also one of those classic Motown moves where the bridge returns to a modulation of the verse, but again, party over out of time.
Ain't No Mountain High Enough, by TheWoodshedTapes, on SoundClick.
Ain't No Mountain High Enough, by TheWoodshedTapes, on SoundClick.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Just The Happy Times
When mom was in the nursing home
I stopped by every day at lunch
And after she passed, I kept going
Partially out of habit
And partially for the good karma
But mostly because I'm a social person
And if I don't get out and talk to people
Something is not right in my day.
So there's this one old lady
Not as good as some, but better than most
She's got a VCR and a big stack of tapes in her room.
When I visit I ask the people if they want to watch
A different channel on the tv
The news maybe, or one of the soaps.
But all she ever wants to do is
Play those tapes again and again
"Just the happy times, Bill" she says
"Put in one of the happy times".
And it's the standard sort of home movie stuff
From when her kids were little and she was young.
So I've seen these kids
Opening presents and blowing out candles
Dying Easter eggs and climbing trees
Over the span of several years.
But I realized today
That while I know exactly what they looked like as babies
I have no idea what they look like now.
I try to ask her about it but all she will say is:
"Just the happy times, Bill
"Put in one of the happy times".
I stopped by every day at lunch
And after she passed, I kept going
Partially out of habit
And partially for the good karma
But mostly because I'm a social person
And if I don't get out and talk to people
Something is not right in my day.
So there's this one old lady
Not as good as some, but better than most
She's got a VCR and a big stack of tapes in her room.
When I visit I ask the people if they want to watch
A different channel on the tv
The news maybe, or one of the soaps.
But all she ever wants to do is
Play those tapes again and again
"Just the happy times, Bill" she says
"Put in one of the happy times".
And it's the standard sort of home movie stuff
From when her kids were little and she was young.
So I've seen these kids
Opening presents and blowing out candles
Dying Easter eggs and climbing trees
Over the span of several years.
But I realized today
That while I know exactly what they looked like as babies
I have no idea what they look like now.
I try to ask her about it but all she will say is:
"Just the happy times, Bill
"Put in one of the happy times".
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