sounds of Ecuador and all over
Nicola Cruz, live (The Lot Radio), New York, 2018
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along the mountain road
somehow it tugs at my heart—
a wild violet—Matsuo Basho, 1644-1694 (translated from Japanese by Makoto Ueda)
sounds of New York
Lake Street Dive, “Musta Been Something,” live, New York (Retrofret Vintage Guitars, Brooklyn), 2018
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it is spring!
a hill without a name
in thin haze—Matsuo Basho, 1644-1694 (translated from Japanese by Makoto Ueda)
another take
Here’s the original.
The Jaynetts, “Sally, Go ‘Round the Roses” (L. Stevens & Z. Sanders, or A. Spector), 1963 (Billboard Hot 100, #2)
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as if it just spotted
a star
the pheasant cries—Kobayashi Issa, 1763-1827 (translated from Japanese by David G. Lanoue)
voices I miss
Tim Buckley (1947-1975), “Sally, Go ‘Round the Roses” (Z. Sanders & L. Stevens, or A. Spector; T. Buckley), live, c. 1973
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We dream – it is good we are dreaming –
It would hurt us – were we awake –—Emily Dickinson (1830-1886), from #584 (Franklin)
basement jukebox
Solomon Burke (1940-2010), “Cry to Me” (Bert Russell AKA Bert Berns), 1962
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Looking back now, in the late autumn of life—or is it early winter?—I am convinced that art and the erotic are as closely entwined as a pair of lovers lying in each other’s arms.
—John Banville (1945-), Time Pieces: A Dublin Memoir
two takes
“When the Gates Swing Open” (T. A. Dorsey)
Otis Clay (1942-2016), live, Chicago, c. 2007
***
Al Green (1946-), live, Memphis, 1983
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Spring and All
by William Carlos Williams (1883-1963)
By the road to the contagious hospital
under the surge of the blue
mottled clouds driven from the
northeast—a cold wind. Beyond, the
waste of broad, muddy fields
brown with dried weeds, standing and fallen
patches of standing water
the scattering of tall trees
All along the road the reddish
purplish, forked, upstanding, twiggy
stuff of bushes and small trees
with dead, brown leaves under them
leafless vines—
Lifeless in appearance,
sluggish dazed spring approaches—
They enter the new world naked,
cold, uncertain of all
save that they enter. All about them
the cold, familiar wind—
Now the grass, tomorrow
the stiff curl of wildcarrot leaf
One by one objects are defined—
It quickens: clarity, outline of leaf
But now the stark dignity of
entrance—Still, the profound change
has come upon them: rooted, they
grip down and begin to awaken
off the hook
The Armed, “Witness” (The Armed), 2018 (Only Love)
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What I was thinking was get my own shoes off and a quick wash and into bed. Tomorrow is a brand-new day. Except literally it was not. It was the exact same day as here and now. It was Friday morning and would be Friday dinnertime when I arose Sir Frederick, arise ye and walk the plank ere doom befall ye.
Man, what a life.
—James Kelman (1946-), “talking about my wife” (If it is your life)
two takes
James Carr (1942-2001), “Pouring Water on a Drowning Man” (D. Baker, D. McCormick)
Live, Italy (Porretta Terme), 1992
***
Recording, 1966
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lingering a while
above the blossoms,
the moon in the night sky—Matsuo Basho, 1644-1694 (translated from Japanese by Makoto Ueda)
sounds of New York
Right now, in the midst of a noisy criminal trial, nothing seems more appealing than something peaceful, something quiet.
Jürg Frey (1953-), Extended Circular Music No. 7; Singularity, live, New York, 2018
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I don’t know anything about consciousness. I just try to teach my students how to hear the birds sing.
James Carr (1942-2001), “The Dark End of the Street” (D. Penn, C. Moman), 1967
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Counting the Mad
by Donald Justice (1925-2004)
This one was put in a jacket,
This one was sent home,
This one was given bread and meat
But would eat none,
And this one cried No No No No
All day long.
This one looked at the window
As though it were a wall,
This one saw things that were not there,
This one things that were,
And this one cried No No No No
All day long.
This one thought himself a bird,
This one a dog,
And this one thought himself a man,
An ordinary man,
And cried and cried No No No No
All day long.
music clip of the day 