RIP Phil

 I well remember the time around sophomore year at St John's when I had the Wall of Sound on constant rotation. Genius? Madman? Looked great in a wig. I'm looking forward to reading his prison journals or seeing the Netflix movie of same. Please Al Pacino.

RIP Sylvain

Sorry to read of his departure.... to a private world no doubt.

Today's Verse: 1 January 2021

 From the day I saw light first

I was blessed and I was cursed

Precognition is the gift

I was made to struggle with

Let me share it clear and plain

Everyday: more of the same

Love Cult!

 I took a poke at your Love Cult, Jimmy. The original song was written to an already-existing tune with no chorus, as Dennis favors the 32-bar AABA form.  I used the same form, so once again no chorus. However since Dennis thought "anthropophagic" was too hard to sing, I've cut his supper up for him and used (almost) all words of one syllable. Love cult!

Love cult, love cult

Come be part of our rite

Love cult, love cult

We only meet at night

 

Love cult, love cult

We sing our hymns of praise

Love cult, love cult

Just like the good old days

 

Boys and girls

Meet by night lit by the stars above 

Make their vows

That they’ll give their lives to live for Love

 

Love cult, love cult

Let all love be free

Love cult, love cult

Come make love with me!

 I dreamed I was getting new strings for my bass, and as I woke up, my left hand was playing "Baby, Won't You Come Upstairs." What a great song that is.

Happy Birthday Jymn

 I seem to have gotten my birthday wish--may you get all yours!

The Tragi-comedy of Love

Love is comic
Anarchic and anomic
Love is hilarious
So funny, so precarious
 
Love is tragic
Grotesque and anthropophagic
Love’s Grand Guignol
With a mad king and mad queen role
 
Angels laugh
When two lovers kiss 
And suddenly their hearts beat faster
Demons laugh
When the whole show turns to
Horror and to disaster
 
Is it catharsis?
Is that really what this farce is?
How can we know?
On with this tragic vaudeville show!

Music From a Time of Immaturity

 Archivist Phil Milstein sent me this fragment of a solo electric tuba performance. My guess is Chet's circa 1987.

https://soundcloud.com/user-60976419/solo-live-electric-tuba-fancy

Happy Birthday Johny! This is a big one!

I sincerely hope that my birthday wish for you is the same as your birthday wish and that it comes true.

Love on ya

Yer Darn Tootin' Round Two

 The Book of Jones will be presenting our pitch to be Your Next Favorite Musical next Thursday the 27th at 8 PM Pacific time. It was supposed to be a live competition last April but instead it's an online video, which means that you my dear friends who are far away can view it by following the links from here. If you miss it the first time, it should be archived at that site afterwards.

King Corona

Here's my Covid song. I was thinking of those old blues songs about diseases, like the TB Blues



There’s an old demon worryin’ ‘round my door
Oh, King Corona
I told him I’m not the one he’s looking for
Oh King Corona
I said, Sir you must be mistaken
I locked my door, but he tried to break in
He’s a nasty devil and he means to score
Oh, King Corona

I thought maybe I could hide
Oh, King Corona
Spend the rest of my life inside
Oh, King Corona
I don’t know what makes him desire us
So much power in one little virus
Couldn’t get away no matter how I tried
Oh, King Corona

When he comes knocking, will I be able to refuse?
Oh, King Corona
Will I be the one that he grabs and subdues?
Oh King Corona
First you have a little cough
Soon that demon tries to carry you off
Don’t want to sing those ventilator blues
Oh King Corona

Today's Verse: 24 July 2020

We met on the eve
Of Covid 19
Your lips were rubies
Your eyes shiny green

We made love all night
You left the next day
I learned from the app
Covid took you away

Open Song

I had a little secret

I had a secret just for you

I found a little stone

A perfect little pebble

Gray and smooth like any other 

For you, it was for you

For no one else but you

I couldn’t put it in your ear

I couldn’t, so I put it on your tongue

Behind your tongue

Beneath your tongue

I put it under your tongue

I had a little secret

I had a little button and I didn’t know where to hide it

So I put it under your tongue

A secret for you to find

To find when you were ready

Maybe one day as a lisp

Maybe one day as a stammer

It was a little pocket with a secret 

 I hid it under your tongue

Your little tongue

Your little tongue

A little snake that pops out

A little jack-in-the-box 

I made a little puzzle

I made a little riddle

It was just for you, I made it just for you

I made it for you but I kept a piece for me

Just one piece for myself

I wanted to give you something to read

I wanted to ask you to read me but I didn’t want to

I was afraid to

I made a thing to read to you

A little thing for you to read

Folded paper, folded words

I kept one piece and I hid the rest

I hid it where you could find it 

You know where, you know where

I hid it where you can find it

It was a present for you, that’s all

I wanted you to find it

I wanted you to read me

Little button, little pocket

Little riddle, little present

Little secret

Little stone

Today's Verse: 3 June 2020

My god is a son of a bitch
Thank god he's a son of a bitch
He'll make you suffer one two three
He'll make you suffer so you'll see
Nothing on earth is stronger than he
My god is a son of a bitch

I was born to sing his praise
To worship him and be his slave
Through countless nights and countless days
A joke, a jester, and a knave
Lost inside his endless maze
Confused, confounded, and half-crazed
My god is a son of a bitch

I was born to be a tool
To realise his awesome might
A dunce, an idiot, a fool
Irreverent and impolite
My god is a son of a bitch

I was born to be a shout
Proclaiming his omnipotence
A goof, a hooligan, a louse
Shameless in my innocence
My god is a son of a bitch

I was born to bear the load
Of Sovereign desire
Light me up and I'll explode
Bursting into righteous fire
My god is a son of a bitch

My god is a son of a bitch
Thank god he's a son of a bitch
He'll make you suffer one two three
He'll make you suffer so you'll see
Nothing on earth is stronger than he
My god is a son of a bitch

Selfie in place

I hope you don't mind that I put you in the song, Poppa. One worries.



Selfie In Place

I just wanted to take the time to say Hey--
I’m healthy and working and doing OK
No sign of the virus, no fever, no cough
I haven’t been furloughed, still not laid off.
I’m inside all day working, which I know’s not unique
I walk the dog once a day and I shop once a week.
I cook dinner most nights, then I read or hang out
I’m trying to quit drinking, it’s bringing on the gout.

I wanted to write you a quarantine song
How we’re all in this together and need to stand strong
A song full of uplift and affirmation
Or a blues about being lonely in isolation
Or something putting down fools who won’t stay six feet apart
Something clever and fun, inspiring and smart
But I can’t, man. I can’t. Whenever I do
Just sounds hokey, cliché and untrue.

If I get the flu and am laid up in bed
It won’t be much fun but it beats being dead
I worry abut my dad, he’s now 89
Younger than Lee Konitz but much older than John Prine
And my friend James who had surgery last year
They took out his teeth and then took off his ear
If he gets sick he’ll die, which he says he’s not scared of
He just has some shit he was hoping to take care of

Even if we flatten the curve out and all
The virus will probably be back in the fall
There’ll be fires in the summer, and universal depression
Things may just get worse with the November election.
A vaccine might be ready in 2021
I can’t imagine myself or the world when it’s done.
Well, when it’s over let’s get wasted like Noah after the flood
‘Til then
         I’m as ever
                Your friend,
                     Mister Blood

Say it isn't so!

little-richard-flamboyant-rock-n-roll-pioneer-dies-at-87

Today's Verse: 22 April 2020

Peter stepped out of his mind
To leave all his troubles behind
His body a shell
That echoes of hell
His eyes though wide open
Are blind

Peter's gone out of his head
To find what it's like to be dead
The things that he feels
Are all very real
But nobody hears what
He said

Peter was Adonis
Peter was Einstein
I can't believe that Peter
Was a friend of mine

Peter's taken leave of his senses
Of posturing and of pretences
He's naked and base
The smile on his face
Betrays not a thought or
Intention

I wonder what got into Peter
A ravenous, glorious creature
It came in the night
Flame burning bright
Transforming his pain into
Pleasure

Peter was Johnny Thunders
Peter was Frankenstein
I can't believe that Peter
Was a friend of mine

Today's Verse: 8 April 2020

I'm looking forward to the time I will forget you
There'll come a day that you'll have vanished from my mind
Every night will be a night that I can get through
And tomorrow is the reason why
I'll be glad you're left behind

Today's Verse: 3 April 2020

Now I have the time to ponder
Have the time to stare
Look out the bedroom window
Life's growing over there

Now I have the time to wonder
Floating in my head
Businesses unfinished
Memories un-dead

Things I need are nagging me
To tend them day and night
But what I want's abandoned me
And taken appetite

Yer Darn Tootin'!

Dennis and I and the rest of the Book of Jones will be doing a live, extended version of this pitch in April.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qqQohRwWgjo&feature=youtu.be