Number one, Fred Shaw represents: Pittsburgh, reading everything and writing narrative poetry from his own experience in the argot (lingo) of the Rust Belt restaurant worker. As he has said, “the workaday speech of line cooks and dishwashers is the signature sound."
Possible Wildlife (redux)
So, in the spirit of establishing a courteous process going forward and to avoid confusion, I...
DAI BANDO’S MUSIC ROOM #7: Ca’ the Yowes / Burns Night
Pagan's tiny cottage in the woods became what the Scots refer to as a "howff" – a gathering place for hunters, shepherds and drunken wags.
From musician to musician: Mark Cutler on David Crosby
..."Triad" and "The Lee Shore." I learned them both but had no clue what they were really about. They confused a 7th grade boy. What the hell is a “sister lover” or a “water brother “?
The Return of Dai Bando: Music Room #5
On the track "Rubylove" (Cat's nod to his Greek heritage) he features traditional bouzouki and sings a verse in his Cypress-born father's native language. And thank god for Greeks: lamb souvlaki, dark olives, John Cassavettes' movies, Platonic relationships, Nana Mouskouri and Cat Stevens.
Notes from the New Year:
But wait, there's more. And it's the thing I really wanted to talk about from the start: Joe Pug's monthly newsletter called The Enthusiast Digest. There's something kind of vaudevillian about Joe's mix of links to must-read articles, unusual podcasts, literary tidbits and recipes.
Mars Hides Behind the Moon: the expanding edition
So this is how the moon and Mars appeared last night from the Mt. Sopris Observatory!
Civita di Bagnoregio
Once you have trekked up the pedestrian bridge that connects old Civita to the town of Bagnoregio (about 75 miles north of Rome), and walked its quiet streets, at some turns shaded by fulsome persimmon trees and at others, decorated by medieval-era depictions of Madonna and child, the thought of Civita di Bagnoregia sliding into the valleys below is saddening.
This is my final appeal (promise) unless…
From "The Night It All Got Going": I’m thinking, “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” but before I can open my mouth, she’s pointing at the window on my side of the bed. Light from the moon spills over the sill and bounces onto the adjacent wall in overwrought shadows. I shudder. She’s turned pale.
The body is a peculiar instrument, the actor thought after weeks of therapy. It can be imploding in the brain and a man can still hold himself upright. Even if only for short periods of time. The heart, of course, is a different proposition.