UPCOMING GIGS

  • Sept.30,2017 All That Jazz & More, at the Minden Legion
  • Aug. 5, 2017 Private Party, Carnarvon, ON
  • Aug. 4, 2017 Music by the Gull, Minden, ON
  • Aug. 2, 2017 The Nice Bistro, Whitby ON
  • May 17, 2017 The Nice Bistro, Whitby, ON
  • April 29, 2017 Minden Cultural Centre, Minden, ON
  • March 24,2017 The Old Mill Toronto, Home Smith Bar
  • Feb.26,2017 San Pancho Music Fest. Mexico
  • Nov.5, 2016 Radio Hall, CanoeFM, Haliburton, ON
  • Nov. 2, 2016 le Nice Bistro, Whitby, ON
  • Sept. 4, 2016 The Red Umbrella Inn, Minden, ON
  • July 26, 2016, Head Lake Park, Haliburton, ON
  • Jan. 29, 2016, The Home Smith Bar at the Old Mill, Toronto
  • Oct.23, 2015 Gate 403
  • Sept. 9 The Nice Bistro, Whitby, ON
  • August 22, Gate 403, Toronto
  • August 14, Music by the Gull, Minden, ON
  • July 29 Hugh's Room, Toronto
  • June 13, Gate 403,Toronto

Thursday, February 23, 2017

I WANT TO BE HAPPY

Some of the time, I simply am not..  but i don't consider that a problem.  Why should i be happy all the time?  Why should anyone?  It's not normal.  Life has ups and downs, don't you know, and seasons, and changes, all that.  Here's a poem I wrote the other day, in a down moment:
The metre fails. The melody, absented, goes unheard.
What should be, went somewhere, and words are
Stumbling clods of thought.
Stumbling blocks that fizzle into dirt, making mole-hills out of
Mountains, tick-tocking their way down the dark side.
Rocks that tip and settle like a bad throw of the dice;
The bet is swept; you thought it hidden, but everyone knew,
Except you.
If shapes could hold, be fast, and stop, so senses, shrivelling
In lightest air, might know an instant’s knowing....
But on and on we are carried by the dull haul of dreams,
To waken, and hear

Nothing.

the tickling, cold jacuzzi
And then, some happy moments ensued.  Some pictures:
at the rehearsal; garden
a rooftop sunset pic i took

me, sam peeking past drums, and carlos

steve goldberg, trumpet and me, pointer

beautiful statues in the garden; this and one below



the ocean visible past the garden

just so tickled


and now I will attempt to put up the video of us rehearsing "I Want to be Happy"  or maybe another day...it's taking too long.



Monday, February 20, 2017

IT'S JUST THE CHAMPAGNE TALKING

There’s some nice window-rattling and rib-shaking bass pounding going on right now, thanks to the upstairs neighbour. Oh, no offence to them, it’s sort of de rigueur practice around here to blast your way across the airwaves at any time of day or night. Why just listen to music? Why not force it on everyone within a forty mile radius? And why be restricted to just one song? How much better if you can have five or six conflicting melodies, or in the case of the shit that’s currently playing, conflicting bass, dinning. I’m in another land, where the culture, as it’s been described to me, and using the term very loosely, is like this. This is an expression of something, so I’ve been told, and I must be respectful of their different take on things. Mmmmm. I’m in their country, after all.
Yes, I am. What crap. Crap is crap. And it is impossible to think, or talk above the noise. It’s also impossible to walk down the street in peace. It’s like being constantly assaulted. And I am beginning to resent it very much. I even resent the animals, the dogs lying like dead things in the middle of the streets, the garbage that is strewn around, the dust, the moronic roosters. I mean, I like nature, but birds make a lovely sound, and these creatures are simply stupid, and obnoxiously repetitive. It’s got to affect your outlook on life.
So obviously, I don’t belong. And I shouldn’t complain. Respect, after all. And my own sanity, which requires that I leave, and find something more closely resembling intelligence. Where would that be, I wonder, what with the world in the state it is. I despair of finding a place or people, and minds that I can enjoy. But having despaired, I must say that I just had a lovely glass of champagne with my neighbour and a friend of hers, and that was a relief, except that we had to scream over the attendant “music” of the surrounding area.

Is it just me? Am I somehow throwing myself into situations and contacts that will never satisfy me? Is it some old and repressed idea of myself that insists that I be unhappy, and never find the ground I want; never grow the way I should? Do I believe, under all the freedom and learning that I’ve had, that I don’t deserve better? Well, screw that. Or give me another drink.  Or find me a job.  Or get me a gig.  Or let one of my songs go viral.  Or, or....shet ma mouth

what i need to clear my mind

my despairing self

my champagne-sharing and saviour/neighbour kathy

Sunday, February 19, 2017

I WOOF I WAS A WRITER

I’m writing a book. I wish. To just settle in, with my four hours of daily discipline, then walking and ruminating through remaining times of meals, and exercises, and visits with like minds. Crafting exquisite phrases, ferreting forgotten but sublime roots of language that bloom and thrill, as satisfying as an astounding and controlled physical feat, or a simple, nourishing meal taken from the plentiful earth.

I wish, but I cannot. The writers that have preceded me have eyes that see beyond my lenses, and words, knowledge, and experience that make me seem like a dog, romping on the beach diving into waves time and again, changing nothing. My brain can offer nothing to bequeath to hungry readers. I only marvel at what others produce, and prance in the freedom of the joyful dog.

But if I can't be a writer, at least I can sing a little bit.  I will be performing at the San Pancho Music Festival in Mexico next Sunday, Feb. 26, and then on March 24 at the Old Mill, Toronto. Here's an advance picture of meself on the SP stage, (more to follow after the event), and then some pics of the lovely apartment that I inhabit here: