Shattered

I weave my fingers though

Each strand hair

In open awe,

The touch of it lingering

Like feathers,

And seeps deep in me

Some brew of tea

I can’t relieve

this touch drawing

stiffening in me

until like an old piece

of crockery dropped

I shatter into a million

Pieces all of them me

Each piece scrambling

To put myself back

Together, always waiting

For the next chance

To weave my fingers

In those strands

And do it all again

Imaginary flower

My fingers weave

through the pedals

I can only imagine

In this remote season of chill

The warmth of imaginary dew

Dripping from finger tip

To my lips and into my mouth

A taste so sweet

Honey can’t compete,

The feel so real

I burn inside

Melting the worst ice

This winter casts

These pedals never wilting

Always moist

Always fragrant

Filling me up

Until I burst

Frank Q sessions Part 4 (last)

This part has two songs with me and Frank, with me singing and playing guitar.

shirt

Won't be denied

Break of Day

blowing in the wind

Fairy Stories

No expectations

Frank Q sessions part 3

I didn't sing lead to songs much back in those days, but like with Ringo, they let me sing some. This group includes one. There are a few more later that night

Piere

C Moon

Tuesday Afternoon

Give me an A

Horse with no name

Lola (sort of)

Will the circle be unbroken (me & frank)

Frank Q sessions Part 2

These are more tracks from the session at Frank Q's house

Honey Pie

Horse with no name

Saw the light

Cuddly Toy

Day Dream

This boy

Urine

Musical sessions at Frank Q's House (1973) Part I (links repaired)

This is pretty typical of a recording session we did over the years. This one was recorded on reel to reel then to a cassette. these are often incomplete songs with tons of banter that got worse the more we smoked. I cut most of the banter, but left enough to get the flavor. These and some I'll post later were done in Frank Q's parents living room in 1973

Find the Cost of Freedom

Bang a Gong

The end jam

Words of love

All my love'n

Jam

Louise

Fog again?

Fog, fog everywhere

And fog to think,

This soup tow which I close my eyes

And wake, shaking to the thunder

Of a highway I cannot see,

Drifting in to sift

Through fits of thought

In this wake-sleep

I think of as life

The albatross of self-awareness

Hung around my neck

Like a life preserve

But is but a millstone

Sinking me deeper

Into this fog,

And the more I struggle

The deeper I sink

Into this dream

Where rational thought

Ceases in the fog.

Purrs in the fog

Wednesday, January 15, 2014

The fog curls around my neighbor’s lamp posts

 like a cat aching to get its back scratched,

but it is the world that purrs not the fog,

the traffic on the highway forced to slow

its pace and grumbling over its disability,

we all lost in this thing we cannot peer through

or get around or over or above or below,

stuck inside this heavy air until some other

entity beyond strips away its layers

and sets us free, so we, see nothing

until sunlight comes, and sometimes

here in the midst of mists I’m not so certain

I want yet to be set free

Scratching my back against lamp post

Purring with life that has been forced

To slow down, needing no speed bump

To give me reprieve

Frank's Cabaret set

This is a set I recorded of my best friend Frank during his cabaret days. He is the reason I mourn the loss of any artist. We teased him about his show tunes stuff, but as you will see his voice was huge. 

Cabaret

Every Street is a Boulevard

Got to be me

You were only fooling

What a fool I am

Hello Dolly

On the Street where you live

Songs from around 1980

These were on a tape together but may have been recorded at different times. This is a rough version of Dancer, while Woman of a Different Breed and Love of Mine are from earlier in the late 1970s

Helpless (cover)

Dancer in the Sand

Love of Mine

Woman of a different breed

Late 1999s music recordings (some covers)

Not sure exactly when this was recorded, but it has to be after 1995 since Formerly Joes is about remember Frank Q after his death. 

Moonlight Mile

She keeps a three story house in the back of her car

All along the watchtower

Formerly Joes

1990 session

These are more recent recordings made at some point during the 1990s. I'm not sure where.

Love is the answer

Man of the Hour (newer version)

I don't love you

Boulevard

Freezing Mile (new version)

Electric sessions: 1982 Passaic with Hank

These recordings were made over several days in 1982, some with Hank, some without, but all with a significant amount of drugs

No it isn't

Hey Hey

Eat Right

Capsule

Age of Man

Pinball

There's something coming over that hill

Old Passaic apartment sessions: 1983

This is an odd collection of songs -- some using a tiny casio. Freezing mile has a terrible sour chord in it, and Man of the Hour was supposed to be our hit single. Several of these were written in the 1970s such as Easter

Easter

Man of the Hour

It doesn't take a mountain

Freezing mile

Closet heroes

I never thought I could be your man

This is a song I wrote in the late 1990s or early 2000s, don't know when the recording was made. But it reflects a new way of playing chords with more movement in them.

I never thought I could be your man (music link)

I know you

This was written in the mid-1990s but I don't know when the recording was made

I know you (musical link)

Ghetto Passaic Sessions: 1985

These were edgier material and we jammed a lot. You might say these are how I become John Lennon for a day sessions

Hey There

Texas

Don't know (jam)

So Tired

Passaic sessions: 1975

These are four of about a dozen songs we recorded in the uptown Passaic apartment in 1975. We're still looking for The Cave Man song and Tommy and his Buggy. These sessions got me tossed out of that place because we made so much noise

She wants to be a lover

Holding on

Bus Stop

Lady Midnight

Al needs a cigarette

This is from a session in the early 1980s, a pink floyd like song about what it means to crave a cigarette when stoned.

Al needs a cigarette (music link)

Sunset eyes (the jam)

This is the last song from the 1976 Montclair session and it is a pretty straight jam

Sunset eyes (Music Link)

Cold, Cold eyes

Yet another song from the 1976 Montclair jam

Cold,Cold eyes (music link)

It's Raining

This version I still like even if it is very flawed from 1976 Montclair jam

It's Raining (music link)

Every Day and Night

This is another song from the 1976 session in Montclair.

Every Day and Night (Music Link)

Please tell me quick when you say good bye

This comes from the same session. I think I tracked the vocals, trying to show Hank the sound I wanted. I was looking for a combination Dylan and Everly Brothers -- recorded 1976

Please tell me quick when you say good bye (music link)

I want to know

This is a very early version of this song -- I think I was showing Hank the song. He may be on the harp. I think Garrick is on base. I was still trying to figure it out. Recorded in Montclair rooming house 1976

I want to know (music link)

Osgosh (sorry, Frank Zappa)

This is a recording from the summer of 1973 done on a cheap tape recorder with a condenser microphone. I don't know what we were on at the time, but I wish we still had some. Clearly influenced by Frank Zappa

Osgosh (link fixed) (Music link)

I have a little Froggie

This is a musical poem that Pauly and I made Hank recite while we played the music. 

I have a little froggie (music link)

I have a little Froggie
He loves to sniff the glue
He follow me to school one day
I don't know why he do

This bitter bit

The icicle

Drips on my lips

And I lick

The cold and bitter

Taste winter brings

A flavor of reality

I dread yet cannot

Get enough of

As if knowing

In my genes

That after this

Frigid bit

I will once again

Get to lick

Spring’s rich

honey,

the warmth of it

warming my bones

even as I sip

this bitter brew

like cold tea

waiting for the sun

to warm and sweeten it

this bitter bit

part of all that is.

Drip of time

This moment

This drip of time

I count drop by drop

Some like honey

Lingering sweet

At the tip of my tongue

Others like bitter fruit

I can’t wait to drip

But lasts just as long

Until both expire

And feed my desire

For what once was,

This drip, drip, drip

From a faucet

I fear to shut completely

Not knowing

What comes after

The dripping has stopped.