Krishna Das in NYC and talking to my kids about getting married...again

11/9/19 21:47 East Northport, NY

What a day.  From picking up Lou and Cheri and driving into the city to see Krishna Das earlier today.  I know my bro so well.  We had made plans, I’ll pick him and Cheri up at 10:00 and we will drive into the city.  It was cheaper and faster than taking the bus.  I know him.  There was a text at 0800 and then the call I was expecting.  It was at 9:00.  Did you check Waze for how long it will take? He asked.  No, but I figured I’ll turn it on when I get to your house.  I knew he wanted to leave earlier, this was the reason for the call.  Even Cheri told me later that she asked him not to call me.  But here he was. I told him, I was about to jump onto the shower and I’ll be over as soon as possible.  OK, good he said. And to their credit, my friends sprinted out of their door and we were off to the city.  This was not the typical KD concert which we knew, this was different.  This was Shree Hanumaan Chaaleesaa.  It was a special prayer that should be chanted 100 times in the native language.  For instance, Bala budhi vidyaa dehu mohin harahu kalesa bikaara, which means, “Grant me strength, intelligence and wisdom and remove my impurities and sorrows.”  The event was for three hours.  Most of the leaders were women who had beautiful voices.  The band was incredible.  A holy air reverberated within the old church on West 86^th Street.  Although we botched up the language, we sang with pure hearts. 

I had dinner with Amanda and Joe in Smithtown.  It was an open dialogue, honest conversation.  We discussed what is happening in our lives.  Amanda will fly off to France very soon.  I am heading to Mexico.  Amanda asked how the visa process was for Meli.  I explained how Meli and I have two choices, either a fiancé visa or a spousal visa.  The fiancé visa process is very risky, so I may have to get married out of the country.  Overall, they want to be involved and would like to meet Meli before we get married.  Based on the current immigration policies, this may be a stretch, but I have to say there was no anger.  We had an open and honest chat.  There is still a lot that needs to be processed.  We ended the night with hugs and love, but there is still pain from the past and some fear of the future. 

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David Crosby and the Sky Trails Band were incredible at Lincoln Center

              

              I saw David Crosby and the Sky Trails Band on August 11^th at Lincoln Center Outdoors.  It was the last concert of their free summer Americana series.  It was too soon to call it quits on the summer.  Here it is a couple of weeks later, I am writing this on September 2, Labor Day.  Summer is still lingering in the warm afternoons, although the days are growing shorter. 

              There was an opener, Anais Mitchell and her partner.  She won a Tony for the adaptation for her album Hadestown.  Interesting voice and yet she had some technical difficulties which were distracting.      

               It was a beautiful night in the city.  I bought my Icon discount parking voucher earlier and left work a couple of hours early to see the event. I assumed if I got there early, I mean how many older folkies would tread into the city to see Cros?  There were more than 700 in front of me, and I was there an hour and a half before the gates opened.  Gates opened at 6:30, general seating.  Slowly, we made our way up the block, through the entrance and I was in.  The place was already filling up, there were 3,000 seats, so I needed to move fast.  I saw an open spot in the center and asked a woman who was there with her friends, after a little banter she finally understood, I was speaking English and I wanted to take a seat.  I got up and came back with a beer and noticed the large head in front of me.  It was strange since the back of this stranger’s head, looked like the back of my head.  I was blocked.  Being six foot four or around this height; I am sure I have blocked many unsuspecting people who may have paid a good price to attend any concert which I also happened to attend.  I am aware of my height.  At the shows where I must stand, I try to make my way – most of the time to the back.  When I was younger, I was hands on the stage and wanting to get as close as possible.  I guess it depends on the artist.  By the grace of God a woman left her seat and a friend’s and I watched her tell another person, she had to leave.  I bolted and took a seat just as another guy was making his way.  Great view, saw the whole stage and enjoyed Cros for all of his worth. 

              The band was incredible; many CSN&Y songs were played.  A huge surprise was 8 Miles High, from the Byrds.  One of my favorite songs, and yet the crowd was calm, passive almost, unfortunately when the song Ohio was played, David tried to rally troops to the song, four dead in Ohio and yet the heart palpitations and gastritis was a little too much to weigh in on the chorus, disappointed, I saw Crosby look back at his band.  The bass player just shrugged as if to say, they don’t got it.  They are old.

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Ravi Coltrane at the Village Vanguard

11/14/17 08:08

Sunday morning.  There were a couple of goals I needed to complete, a walk in the woods.  The VA woods which I used to walk and ride my bike in, before mountain biking was popular.  I had a BMX bike, but I would ride a Schwinn Stingway or a ten speed with thin tires through the woods if I didn’t have anything else.  My BMX had a plastic cover across the handlebars that said, Disco Sucks! 

This was the place where I brought a BB gun to shoot unsuspecting birds and squirrels, rabbits, the last two with a pellet since the BB would pop off them.  I was an amateur hunter with my lab mix and a few disturbed friends.

A middle aged couple were just leaving the woods as I was entering.  The woman wore a helmet.  I felt like telling her, when I was a kid riding through here, I didn’t wear a helmet.  I let her go without insulting her, besides she said hello to me, so I should be nice.

The paths are the same, but the woods are smaller than what I remembered. 

A soccer game in the distance, fierce fathers shouting from a half mile away or more.  Their voices carried through the silence of the trees.  Moss on the sides of the path.  Leaves lingered on autumn branches. I closed my eyes and just listened to what the woods carried.  What memories this place held, what secrets did it want to share.

When my knee is back, I will go running in here.  I’d like to find a long trail and just go.  Me and my water bottles and a snack.

The day before I drove up to Hyde Park to pay my respects to Pierre Teilhard de Chardin.  He was a French Jesuit priest who inspired countless soul seekers.  Controversial in his time and yet renowned.   He is buried on the grounds of the Culinary Institute of America - in what was a Jesuit seminary.   “You are not a human being in search of a spiritual experience.  You are a spiritual being in search of a human experience.”  Here is another, “It is our duty as men and women to proceed as through the limits of our abilities do not exist.”

I ate a delicious and late lunch in the school’s tavern.

I drove back to Long Island in silence.  Passing dark hills and listening to the hum of the tires.  I saw a sign for Purchase College, where I met Ali almost 27 years ago.

De Chardin: “Someday after mastering the winds, the waves, the tides and gravity, we shall harness for God the energies of love, and then, for a second time in the history of the world, we will have discovered fire.”

At the end of certain stages in our existence, we discover a new beginning.

I wanted to drive into the city to see if I could get a ticket to see Ravi Coltrane who was playing at the Village Vanguard.  I’ve seem Ravi a few times, but this place holds history, is very intimate – only holds 120.  Last time I was there was to see Charles Lloyd.  I changed my mind and headed back.

This leads me back to the first paragraph, welcome back to Sunday.  All of Ravi’s shows were sold out at the Vanguard.  I sent an email, called the Vanguard, and thought of sending an email to his manager, yes I was getting obsessed.  I was on this spiritual journey and seeing Coltrane would put the comma where it had to go, keep on searching.

When I got back from the walk, I received an email, there was some cancellations for the 8:30 show.  How many did I need?  One please. 

Driving into the city, I get excited each time I'm driving on the LIE and can see the beautiful Manhattan skyline.  It was a clear night.

Twenty minutes later, I parked and was walking down the old stairs to the club.  I gave the house manager my name, his face is heavily scarred and wore a heavy grey sweater.  I was brought to my seat, after explaining I’d like to sketch.  Jazz brings out the creativity in me.  

I’m a mediocre artist.  Not too shabby for someone who rarely sketches. 

A mother and her teen aged son sat across from me at the same table.  They were in from Chicago, visiting schools, NYU, Columbia.  I was impressed with the kid’s knowledge of the various jazz trumpet players.  He looked like he was twelve and I thought of my son, visiting schools.  I couldn’t imagine sending him to Chicago. 

Ravi and the band came out to a sold out house.  We were packed in.  I could not believe how close I was and I sketched away, but could not see Eric Harland, the drummer.  I tried but to no avail.

Looking at Ravi, I saw his father so many times, his eyes scanned the heavens, his cheeks blew out, his long thin fingers raced across the instruments and yet there was peace in the room.  There was a sense that we were all a family for this period of time.   

After playing for close to an hour, using different instruments, the guitarist was brilliant - a British term which I will use here.  The young bassist held a smile throughout most of the set. Ravi closed the show with a Charlie Parker original.  Ravi brought down the house.  The lights came back on.  I had a chance to talk to Ravi once again and am impressed how genuine and humble this man is. 

“Nothing can resist the person who smiles at life - I don't mean the ironic and disillusioned smile of my grandfather, but the triumphant smile of the person who knows that he will survive, or that at least he will be saved by what seems to be destroying him.” Pierre Teilhard De Chardin
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/p/pierreteil752982.html

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Buried Child with Ed Harris and Amy Madigan

2/28/16 20:59 Home

Finding a good deal in New York City is not difficult.  It takes a little will power and luck.  Last night was one of those nights.  I bought two $25 tickets (partial view) for the Sam Shepherd play Buried Child which stars Ed Harris and Amy Madigan at the Signature Theater which is on West 42^nd, we passed the follies and the tepid tourists who are searching for that ring.  That thing.  I saw a few pose for pictures with the waxed pope in front of Madame Toussaint’s museum.  Music played, hips swayed, ancient bodies scrapped their feet on the winter sidewalk.  Ali and I made our way through the crowd.  Through the neon light which reflected off glass and into our eyes and stained our clothes for an instant.  We had a parking coupon for $25 at a garage which was mere blocks away from the theatre, but they were full to capacity when we tried to get in.  The kid at the garage told us parking was free on the streets starting at 7 PM.  In nine minutes you can park on the side.  I wasn’t going to park on the street especially that close to Times Square.  But I felt alright, not really calm, but alright.  Like I was in control.  We tried to find another garage, but couldn’t find one in the area where we were searching.  Still in control, but not as cocky.  Finally, I found a good spot on 41^st, close to Bryant Park and the NY Library.  Parked the car.  I assumed I could swipe my card in the machine and get a coupon, even if it was after 7 PM.  Just for the assurance that my car was not going to get towed.  All the machines were turned off.  Ali checked her phone, twenty two minutes to walk to the theatre.  We got a move on.  Like I said we briskly walked through the condensed crowds and kept going, passing tourist shops, the food carts which simmered dry flesh on crisp sticks in smoke and arid pretzels which were coated with thick chunks of salt which have a tendency to fly back into my throat, gagging me for a second.  We made it.  Got inside.  It’s easier and faster to take the stairs the usher tells us.  He wanted to hear us moan down from the third landing and be sure we had a good sweat to take into the warm theater.  We made it.  Bathroom break.  Met Ali in the lobby and we bought a water and an Arnold Palmer thought I could have had a beer, made it inside.  Our seats were so close to the stage, and yes I was against the wall and no one was behind me.  There must be two hundred seats in the small theatre.  Ed Harris was on the stage and in character, although I thought it was an old man in the dim lights.  He watched a television which was resting on a metal milk crate.  The play began. I was in the presence of a master, actually two, Harris and Madigan were exceptional.  I was on the edge of my seat and looked at the man who sat next to Ali.  He would bite into his palm with excited energy or grind a finger deep into a nostril.  This freak was in his own world and I got back to watching the play.  It was disturbing and dark and yet rich with the universal appeal of exposing and tragic family secret.  I have waited years to see a Sam Shepherd play and was struck with the poetry.  I would like to see it again, this time on a full stage.  So, tickets, cheap.  Parking…free.  Dinner, was $9 for three hot dogs at Papaya Dog and we were back at Target at midnight to pick Emma Tess up after she got off her shift.  Not a bad night.

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http://www.thenewgroup.org/buried-child.html

You have to see Camper Van Beethoven and Cracker, really. I'm serious...

1/25/14 19:07 Home

Last Sunday, was one of those winter prison blues days when being alone and isolated is acceptable even universal?  Well we got out for a few things.  Of course we went to church, who do you think we are, heathens?  Eric, my brother-in-law and I planned on heading into the city to see Camper Van Beethoven and Cracker who were performing at the Highline Ballroom, West 16^th.  I had a chance to buy the tickets on-line, but didn’t want to pay the service charge.  We took the chance and we drove into the night, past Brooklyn and arrived in the lower East side, made our way up the Bowery and across Houston and up town a little more till we finally parked the car on the street.  I enjoyed listening to Eric describe my nephew’s basketball team.  They are the only 7 year-old team and are having a losing season.  He realized the kids don’t care, after getting clobbered and on the drive back home, Deklan (his son) asked, “Who won?”  Back to the night… except for the gas, we didn’t pay any tolls or for parking, but had to pay to get into the Highline. Near the ticket booth was the bass player for Cracker, guess he was waiting for someone.  Eric and I saw Camper/Cracker a couple of years ago at the same venue.  As if the past repeated itself; we walked up to the balcony, and where we sat at a table, and had the same meal as last time, small kobi burgers and beers.  If you don’t know, Camper was David Lowery’s band till they broke up in’89 and formed Cracker less than a year later.  Their current drummer and he’s been their drummer (both Camper/Cracker) is an old friend from my parent’s block, Frank Funaro.  Frank also plays for the Del Lords and has been on a number of records as per his web site, Joey Ramone?  I need to ask Frank about that.  If I had to choose, between the Cracker or the Camper set, I would lean towards Camper.  I know more of their songs and the lyrics are poetic.  During both sets a film crew was recording the show.  There were a few times when the camera man would get too close to one of the musicians and was distracting from the performance.  I spoke to Frank briefly after the show.  He was busy catering to about 20 guests he said and apologized.  No problem.  I don’t have a set list for either band, but wanted to share something. I will work on getting a list…I will…damn, they played White Riot and Wasted when they were in DC?  Really?

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The Who and Elvis Costello play for charity at MSG theatre

3/01/13 10:13 Home

I took the day off since I knew I would not be in the right frame of mind to drag my ass out of bed and make it into work.  On a few hours of sleep, I was up early anyway.  I can use more rest but want to share some highlights from last night.  It was the first time in years I hung out with Jim Marcino.   There was a period in our lives when I’d consider him a close friend, but with his marriage and both of us having children, we drifted apart.  Please cue in the violins.  Jim and I saw The Who at the garden back in 2002.  It was one of their first shows after their incredible and historic performance they had at the 9/11 concert months before.  The energy in the garden that night was heightened to a peak that is tough to repeat.  In the past Jim and I have seen Ringo Starr’s All Star Band as well as the Old 97’s, but music and sports are stables of our conversations.  Hanging out with him last night brought back warm memories of why I like and respect him for the man is he and the life he is leading.  His life revolves around his children.  Everything he does is for his family.  Jim doesn’t hold back - he tells you what’s on his mind and it can be brutally frank.   Eric met us outside the entrance to the theatre.  It is a small venue compared to the garden where the Rangers played last night.  We saw their intoxicated obese fans on the train heading into the game with their $400 dollar jerseys and shorts on although it’s still winter and they are men.  I love their passion.  They clutch onto the blue shirts as if their lives depended on it.   Back to the show….Elvis Costello and The Impostors opened.  It was the first time for us seeing the legend.  Now, just a second as I digress to the ancient past; sleeping in tents in Dan Madigan’s back yard, say 1978 and hearing Pump It UP on the radio and thinking this song is powerful.  I loved it.  But never have seen a single performance.  Elvis came out and high fived some fans in front of the stage and cranked out his hits.  What’s so funny about Peace Love and Understanding, Radio Radio, Pump It UP.  Allison,   Everyday, I write the Book.  Each song smacked into the next, no holding back for the green Costello with his thick black glasses and white wired head set looking like a freaked out Irish alien from outer space.  His band was incredible.  This is one act I would love to see again instead of an opener, although New York loves the Costello alien.  Watching the Detectives….Elvis can play the guitars with the best of them.   This was the third time seeing The Who.  The second I described earlier, but the first was at Shea Stadium.  The Clash opened up and I was excited for seeing two of my favorite bands.  I stood in the outfield at Shea thinking of all of the players whose cleats ripped up the grass which was covered with a plastic sheet.  This was the same place The Beatles played and as I normally do, I made my way as close as possible to the stage. Paid for it days later; with ringing ears, and permanent hearing damage to my right ear.  I did the same last night when The Who was on.  Our seats were in the way back, although there is not a bad seat in the house.   I walked down steps and was about to set foot on the lower level just yards from the stage when I was stopped.  Told the usher I just want to take one picture…you can take it there.  From where I was and I should have been content till I saw another sneaking expert slip in and got in close to the stage. Bastard!  There was some commotion and it was my opportunity.  I made my way in.  Then even closer when two ushers were talking and I walked past them and got in in front of the stage.   The Who played a couple of songs off Quadrophenia  since they are on tour playing the whole album as well as a best of set.  Love Reign over me, Pin Ball Wizard, The Kids Are Alright, Who Are You.  Baba O Reilly, You Better You Bet! Were some of the highlights from their set.  Pete had more energy than I recall the last time we saw him as the garden, he was leaner and bounced around windmills of course and played the whole set with electric guitars.  Roger was in great shape and swung the microphone like no one else can.  His voice was shaky at times but what can you expect for someone who is nearing seventy.  Last night’s concert was a benefit for Teen Cancer Fund.  Both bands played for free.  Roger was eloquent as he described the hurdles teens encounter with cancer research and the extreme struggles for the health care providers who have a high burn out rate.   And just before the clock struck 11 PM, the show was over since Pete explained - we don’t want to pay the union anything more than what we need to!  Good night.

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Mike Watt at Maxwell's

So a couple of weeks ago I’m checking into the best radio show on Long Island Finn’s Revolution Tuesday Nights on WUSB. His guest was the legend Mike Watt from Minutemen and firehouse fame who released a new album, Hyphenated Man on his own record label, Clenched Fist. Do your ears and soul a favor - order a copy. The progressive, complex and erratic album is in your face – bold! Each song flows like a rock stuck deep in the grooves of a tire - smacking the pavement on a lone Nevada highway. The songs follow you. You know it’s there and it sounds like it belongs, that’s Watt – he belongs in our ears. On the radio, Watt was the wise master who spilled wisdom to the listeners, only possible by Finn’s knowledge of punk history. During the interview, there was a contest to give out copies of the new album and then another for tickets to see Watt and The Missingmen at Mercury Lounge. I won a copy of the CD and received the copy and the tix for the show the night before seeing them at the hollowed Maxwell’s in Hoboken, NJ. Eric and I rode in and passed under the tunnel and popped out in Jersey, took the first exit and took in the sites of the small city as we searched for parking. That took longer than driving through NY City! Anyway, we made it inside and saw the opening band. Ah, who was that? They were tight.
Inside the black walls, Mike Watt made his way to the stage - slowly with a limp through the crowd, wearing a yellow windbreaker. Once he hit the stage the cheers rose. The room smiled with Mike and the band played hyphenated man for the entirety – 30 songs and some Minutemen covers on the encore. Watt, standing stage right - in the back – shadows - had a black brace on his knee, but he bobbed and weaved – stood strong like an anchor - through the whole set and even bent over – played - behind the wicked basher drummer, Raul Morales. The amazing/screech guitarist, Tom Watson rocked into a sweaty frenzy.
So after you buy the album, you need to go see Mike Watt and The Missing Men. Here are five of my favorites off hyphenated-man.

Classic song: Hallowed-Man
Classic song: Cherry-Head-Lover-Man “The Lesson never lessens”
Classic song Mouse-Headed-Man
Classic song: Hill Man (get ready to kick up yar elbows you nitwits)
Classic song: Wheel-Bound Man

John Coltrane!

Meeting Michael Stipe, Patty Smith is my hero, Tibet House 2011

Last Thursday I ate my dinner at the Cracker Barrel in Trevose, PA. After I finished I headed up to NYC to meet Ali and Amanda and Emma Tess at Carnegie Hall. The show began at 7:30 and I just made it to my seat as Robert Thurman walked on the stage and spoke about Tibet House, it was a benefit concert for the foundation.
Tibet House US is dedicated to preserving Tibet’s unique culture at a time when it is confronted with extinction on its own soil. By presenting Tibetan civilization and its profound wisdom, beauty, and special art of freedom to the people of the world, we hope to inspire others to join the effort to protect and save it.

Tibet House US is part of a worldwide network of Tibetan institutions committed to ensuring that the light of the Tibetan spirit never disappears from the face of this earth.
Our seats were up at the top balcony, but the acoustics in the auditorium are perfect. The ornate ceiling, stucco walls with gold trims were pristine. After a blessing for a prosperous new year by a group of monks, the performers hit the stage. The reason we attended was to see Michael Stipe, but before he sung, Patty Smith recited a haunting Rimbaud poem as her daughter played piano and her friend on the xylophone. All of the performers were incredible, from Jesse McCartney, Taj Mahal, Angelique Kidjo, The Roots, Flaming Lips, who were the most excited to be on the stage. I loved the fact Philip Glass plays and MC's the show. We're blessed to have all of these gifted artists on the same stage.

It was a good night. After the show,I had an opportunity to give Michael a copy of Killer Commute. Before I saw him, I signed the book and scribbled in frozen black ink my email address. A minute later he bolts out the stage door and headed back to the waiting car as fast as possible. Shit, he ain’t talking to a little crowd waiting. Signs a few things, CDS…some guy walks next to him and holds up a camera to get them in the shot, flash. He signed the copy of Killer Commute as he kept walking - quickly. I explained, it was his copy, and he looked up, “oh, I thought you wanted me to sign it. Thank you.” He was gone, I didn’t get the full attention, I felt like I was in a rush…my heart was racing. Hey Michael, this is my novel. I used lyrics from Mr. Richards…scribbles his name…I held it as he walked on and caught myself…no, I need to give him the book instead of holding it! Mission accomplished. Thank you.