Eye Sore

I do believe today is Perfesser Ghiberti's birthday.  Happy birthday, Bugsy--may you rule beneficently over Geneva for many years to come.

Pachuco Cadaver, the Beefheart tribute band that's been about to start for the last year and a half, will make its debut as part of a (post-) Mother's Day Zappa Tribute at the Bay View Boat Club tomorrow.  We'll be playing "Harry Irene", "Candle Mambo" and "I'm Gonna Booglarize You Baby".

You & Me & Suzanne

We were the Three Musketeers:

            You and me and Suzanne

We were punk rock cavaliers

            You and me and Suzanne

Now there will be no such antics

Suzanne’s no longer a romantic

She’s more like a Lars von Trier

            Oh, you and me and Suzanne

We were like those Stooges Three

            You and me and Suzanne

On an endless, madcap spree

            You and me and Suzanne

I was Curly, she was Moe

You’re too sweet for Larry, though

That’s the way things used to be

            With you and me and Suzanne

We were once the best of friends

            You and me and Suzanne

Funny it came to an end

            You and me and Suzanne

But she lost you to another

That she thought of as her brother

Did she know you still like men?

            You and me and Suzanne

I guess I thought that I was just joking

            You and me and Suzanne

But it’s over, completely broken

            You and me and Suzanne

It was wrong, but I still did it

I’m an asshole, I admit it

The morning’s cold and we’ve awoken

            You and me and Suzanne

Saint John's has a new fight song:

True love of wisdom is sheltered in her halls
Seekers of virtue will answer to her call
Books and a balance are all the tools we need
St. John’s forever! She will make us free.


I was working on one myself, which I did not submit:

Saint John's forever
To her we pledge our youth
Steadfast are we in our
Grand pursuit for truth

Our search for wisdom
Surely cannot fail
Lovers of wisdom
We will always prevail

Here's a link to a couple of songs performed live last month.  It's just a cassette in-the-room recording, so the mix isn't all it could be.

Beatitudes

Blessèd are the poor in spirit
The end is near but they don’t fear it
Blessèd are the broken hearted
Now that all the madness has started

Bless’d are those who dare increase
The slender hope there may be peace
Bless’d are those who show some kindness
In a world so often mindless

Blessèd are all those who hunger
For justice in a world gone under
And blessèd are all those who mourn
May their hopes somehow be reborn

May the weary too be bless’d
May they somehow find their rest
And may the weakest ones be bless’d
When it’s done, they’ll inherit this mess

A blues in the Highway 61 style.  Since Dennis will be singing it and I don't like to drive, I wrote myself in riding shotgun.


I went down with the Moron, headed for the border
Searching for a cure for his sleeping disorder
Since he had the narcolepsy
I shot him a Pepsi right away
He opened his eyes and said where are we?
Aaaaaaah, wrong way!

Well we saw a couple hitchhikers, so we pulled over
Turned out that it was Marguerite and Casanova
He had powdered wig
He was late to his gig as DJ
We turned on Camino Real
Aaaaaaah, wrong way!

Well I saw a marble lady who exposed her breast
They locked her away, I suppose it’s for the best
They said save your quarters
You can afford a Doris Day
I tried to pay with Green Stamps
Aaaaaaah, wrong way

I met a man who said he’d lost his youth
To Marsden Hartley and to Charles Demuth
He said, Behold!
I saw the figure 5 in gold on display
Wheels rumbling through the dark city
Aaaaaaah, wrong way!

Mother Theresa met the Dalai Lama
He said to her let me tell you mama
In my horoscope
It said I will be the pope one day
But saints won’t give you nothing
Aaaaaaah, wrong way

Well I guess we took a wrong turn back at Albuquerque
The Moron said can you take me back to Berkeley
I just told him phooey
And I made a U-ie mid-highway
I don’t know if we’ll make it
Aaaaaaah, wrong way

Sister Odetta de Crécy

Robert Wyatt Interview

This is a great interview on Pitchfork in which Robert Wyatt talks about his favorite albums through the years. Guess what he listened to when he was five.

http://pitchfork.com/features/5-10-15-20/8776-robert-wyatt/

He sure does look great for 67!

Purim Spiel

I asked her, “Would you come down
Wearing nothing but your crown?
Sing for me and then I’ll make you kneel”
She thought it just the worst abuse
To send her naked to the noose
But really it was just a Purim Spiel

I’m not sure just who you are
Your light shines like the Morning Star
Shadowing far more than you reveal
Let’s be lovers, let’s be cousins
It sort of makes sense, mostly doesn’t
These are just roles in this Purim Spiel

The clown in the three-cornered hat
Who planned and plotted like a rat
Only serves to make us laugh and squeal
And yet like him we have our dream
Of making adversaries scream
Oh relax, it’s just a Purim Spiel

He made a bargain with the king
Who signed it with his signet ring
For ten thousand bucks they had a deal
I didn’t bow down at the gate
Which of us more filled with hate?
Oh just watch, enjoy the Purim Spiel

Two goats stand before the priest
One gets killed and one released
Like the twin who grabbed his brother’s heel
Blessings, curses, both the same
Roll the dice, it’s just a game
That we play and call our Purim Spiel

So which is you and which am I?
Haman, Esther, Mordecai
Tell me what’s a mask and what is real
Come, let’s give each other treats
Things concealed in little sweets
Live it up, today’s our Purim Spiel

We, The Sons of Bryce Jacobsen

It looks like the old alma mater is looking for a gym teacher

There is a place without music
A place of quiet and rest
There’s a place with no words
A place for the bless’d.

And yet dear Lord I love this world
Its troubles and its joys
O sinner that I am I love
The blather and the noise

Once you cross the river
There can be no violence
No word or sound can ever break
The beauty of the silence

And yet dear Lord I love this world
Its troubles and its joys
O sinner that I am I love
The blather and the noise

There’s a beautiful garden
Where the wind never blows
And the flame that burns there
Can’t consume the rose

And yet dear Lord &c.

My Little Box of 45s

Inspired by early Nick Lowe and by seeing a little 45 box at a store like one Jimmy used to have (or was that Creagh's?), which was already sold when I tried to buy it.



I’m sitting by the record player
Silent thanks to you, betrayer
Because of you, you cruel homewrecker
I have lost my favorite records….

We never would have quarrels
Listening to Ray Charles
Lee Allen and his jumping jive
How could we have troubles
Listening to the Rocking Rebels?
But you took away my box of 45s

You took away
     You took-a-took away
          My little box of 45s
My little, my little
     My little woah-uh-woah
           My little box of 45s

We’d buy a six of Yuengling
Dance the frug and shing-a-ling
The boogoaloo, watusi and the fly
And for some crazy reason
We’d dance like Jackie Gleason
But now I’ve lost my box of 45s.

You took away
     You took-a-took away
          My little box of 45s
My little, my little
     My little woah-uh-woah
           My little box of 45s

I don’t care for Pandora much
And I don’t want an Ipod touch
I want something with a hole and label
I can spin on my turntable

My box was quite a relic
Rather psychedelic
A moiré pattern running down the side
The front was kind of checkered
Full of my favorite records
You took away my box of 45s

You took away
     You took-a-took away
          My little box of 45s
My little, my little
     My little woah-uh-woah
           My little box of 45s

Still Life (with scone)

I’m rushing to get to the place we had named
Then stop on the sidewalk: you’re perfectly framed
By the rectangular window of the café
A still from some cinema verité
Just this:
Still life

You’re sitting at the table alone
Frowning at some stupid thing on your phone
Without really looking, you’re trying to pick up
The scone sitting next to your coffee cup
Just this:
Still life

Perfectly frozen, this moment in a picture
The window a frame, you within it
Not quite real, not quite a fiction
A memory, a dream, something infinite

You see me and wave, the spell is then broken
I’m not quite in a dream, not yet awoken
Between two worlds, I can’t quite decide
Then I smile, wave back and go inside
Is this
Still life?

In the news

I just saw Johny Blood listed as a contributor to the new Magnetic Fields album on Pitchfork Media. I'd clip and save the article if it weren't made out of electrons.

Happy birthday, Jymn.  We may not fuck much with the past, but we sholey do fuck with the future.

RIP to Granddad

A good father, and a really great granddad, moved on this morning.

Occupy 42nd Street

A little while ago I saw a revival of "Nymph Errant", a Cole Porter play from 1931, and I thought of an update of that kind of musical: "Occupy 42nd Street".  A producer looking for fresh faces goes out to Zuccotti Park and meets a lovely young protester.  She agrees to be in his show, they fall in love, everyone sings lots of songs.  You know.

This is what I came up with as an opening chorus.  And James, before I present this, what news from Occupy Silver Spring?


Drop your schoolbooks and your bong
Come join the march and sing our song!
We’re on the move and can’t be swayed
You don’t need a list of demands
Just grab a bullhorn, join the band
Democracy is on parade

Tell Mr. Goldman and Mr. Sachs
We’re on our way and won’t turn back
No, my friends, we’re not afraid
No need to be a socialist
Just a sense of being pissed
Democracy is on parade

The president, he feels our pain
We’re all in the same boat
He’ll help when the election’s won
So don’t forget to vote!

Well that’s thoughtful Mister President
We really give our thanks
But we can’t ask you to leave behind
Your good friends in the banks

Is freedom just the opportunity
To buy a new hi-def TV?
What kind of country have we made?
Let’s build up our neighborhoods
A good life, not consumer goods
Democracy is on parade

Happy Birthday Baby!

What a wonderful year was this past one -- I got to visit you in your natural habitat! And what a pleasure it was.
Hope this coming year is full of like pleasures for you and me.
I'm singing you a little birthday tune in my mind.