I’m All About Soil Moisture (2015Jan31)

Last day of January–the Winter won’t last forever, after all….

Well, they finally launched the Soil Moisture Active Passive (SMAP) observatory today.
In honor of which, I have two improvs and a song of Mendelssohn…

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The Very Latest (2015Jan23)

I’m not getting any writing done, but I’m enjoying the absence of the ‘push’ that makes me write.

In the meantime,  I had a pretty good day at the old eighty-eight.

First, I made fewer-than-usual mistakes whiling playing these two pieces by our old pal, Felix:

 

Then, I have a real improv, in which I play like no one’s watching. (That’s why I always turn the camera on–so that I forget it’s there sometimes.):

 

And here’s a more ‘formal’ kind of thing that I get when I’m not playing alone:

 

Hope you like’em!

 

A Tiny Concert (2015Jan11)

Sunday, January 11, 2015                       5:00 PM

I stumbled through a short-concert-for-no-one earlier today. It includes two of Felix Mendelssohn’s “Lieder Ohne Worte” (Songs Without Words), a song from Cole Porter’s classic musical “DuBarry Was A Lady”, entitled “Come On In”, and (as always) a brief piano improvisation of my own devising. I hope everyone, or anyone, enjoys listening to it as much as I enjoyed playing.

 

 

 

 

In other news, I’ve begun a song project. At the moment I have only a rough draft of the lyrics, given below—I invite comment and constructive criticism:

Song Project:

Chopped greens, yolks in a bowl,

The wooden spoon, the shakers, the mitt,

The stove-tops, all four, full,

As the oven glows and bakes.

Boy comes into a warm steamy kitchen,

Aroma says stew’s on the stove,

The sure cutting of mom, cooking…

 

“Get yer hand out of there!”

“You wanna lose a finger?”

“What the hell’s wrong with you?!”

 

A boy who wants, just wants,

Thinks of a cookie in a bear-shaped jar.

Having been chased off, he tip-toes

Toward the pantry, stubby fingers

Reach for the china head.

Eyes wide, mouth agape, boy

Approaches the granting of his sugary wish.

 

“Get yer hand out of there!”

“Can’t you see me cooking dinner?”

“You wanna RUIN your appetite?!”

 

Boy walks away, then skips a little,

Hums a tune—a nursery rhyme,

Spins around and starts to sing,

Dancing along, closing his eyes,

He pipes angelic notes,

Transported to a fairy-land

Of song and dance and freedom…

 

“Watch where yer going!”

“What is your problem?”

“Get out of my kitchen right now!”

 

Please note that the mother’s lines are meant to be contrastingly loud and screechy, very unmusical—while the verse is meant to be all soft and trilly and peaceful. I’m not sure what the song is about yet—I’m just amused by the idea of the really strong contrast between the narrator’s lyrics and the mother’s words.