A Letter to a Mad Musical Genius, and a Friend

Dear Joe ~

Perhaps you’re too young (gimme some!) to remember a time when teenagers used to lock their bedroom doors, turn down the lights, put on a record and lie there just listening to an entire half hour of Side A from some glorious music-maker. Perhaps I’m too young to remember such a time (I do recall the cassette tape), but we were both teenagers once, and we both found some sort of escape from this wretched world through music. Back when the whole universe felt wrong, when there was no viable way to get out, and when the meaning of life seemed so utterly lost and elusive…

Listening to your ‘Samsara’ recital last night I felt the same thrill I got back in those teenage days, when life and death were very literal choices in the course of any given evening, and the only solace was to be found in the kindred spirits who came calling with certain music and certain songs. Your work was a cathartic journey through many paths, offering different portals to multiple planes. Vast of scope and rich with densely-layered sonic details, this was a beautifully-bonkers roller-coaster ride of epic electronica. A fully-realized multi-media trip that was reminiscent of the very best albums, when the artist took the listener along on a shared adventure, it felt at times like I was experiencing life in the 1880’s, 1980’s and 2080’s all at once – a striking past/present/future moment melded into one brilliant pastiche of sound and sight. 

The hours of work and editing, and trying and failing and trying again, that go into something of this magnitude are apparent. For just three seconds of imagery and music it could take three days of trial and error and dedication and craft. The immensity of layers and details, the consistent struggle to get things just right, and the ever-germinating seeds of doubt and dread – would this be good, would this be reviled, would this be ridiculed, would this be nothing? – and the resolve to trudge boldly ahead no matter the cost, no matter the outcome – you should know it was all seen and felt and keenly admired. It was all worth it.

In a weird way, it felt like you reached back in time to my teenage years, handed me a record to play, and saved my life for one night – a night that gave me all the nights that followed in a life I have come to honor and appreciate. There is healing in that, and healing something in the past is the stuff of only the most talented mystics and musicians. 

You, my friend, are the mad genius who takes his personal turmoil and tumult, boldly faces them down, and turns the fight into the stuff of beauty and art. You interpret the ancient lessons of the sages and point their well-won wisdom at our present-day demons through the modern machinations of technology. Of course it’s a futile battle, it’s a losing battle, it’s the ultimate cancellation of cancellations, but there you are, nobly drawing your synthesized musical sword and striking at the very heart of the possibility that none of it matters. Amid all the brutal thrashing and death-throes, you conjure a work that reflects your most singular, darkest secrets and fears, and somehow that work speaks to others. What was once your story is now ours, and there’s no more reassuring comfort than finding such camaraderie in a work of art. 

Thank you for sharing this powerful, challenging, thought-provoking recital with the world. 

With great admiration and awe

I remain, proudly, your friend,

~ A. 

PS – Can’t wait to hear the Halloween song!

[Listen to the full ‘Samsara’ performance here.]

Continue reading ...

Finding An Owl In A Pear

You may have heard of a partridge in a pear tree, but have you ever found an owl in a pear? This sort of sorcery is what thrills me most about going through the simple motions of a morning. It’s a little bit of magic in a mundane task – carving out the heart of a pear before roasting – only to reveal the unexpected face of an owl. To open the mind to the possibility of such enchantments is a way of returning to childlike wonder – a portal to a more carefree time. 

To be observant is to be present on a whole different level. It allows for the space that makes room for whimsy to enter. I think we miss a lot of the beauty of the world because we are too rushed and unfocused to see how it’s all around us.

As for secret, surprise owls, that is the nature of such a magnificent creature. 

Continue reading ...

The Fire of a Saint

This fall season on the blog has been fueled by fire and memories and some redemptive rage.  It’s featured the long-lost ‘FireWater’ project, a first and last letter to the first man who ever kissed me, these flaming feathers of fabulousness, and a fiery start that set the tone for what was, and still is, to come. These posts alone would have drained anyone, but I’m old hat at writing about experiences as a way of exorcising them, and this is more cathartic than any sort of therapy. So we shall continue on our flame-addled way, but not without a momentary respite, a pause in the hectic proceedings. 

…You got to soldier on, you know you can’t quit until it’s won…

Way back several years and several seasons ago, this song formed the impetus for a blog post on touring and traveling. It was all excitement and anticipatory delight – all bright lights and big city 80’s excess. It was, in many ways, an embodiment of my youth and childhood. A time of innocence and hope and happiness – the way everyone’s childhood should be. 

…You broke the boy in me but you won’t break the man…

Many years have passed since the first iteration of the song and my subsequent memories of it – years that proved I was no longer a boy. The man in motion I’d longed to become had begun to slow down. I’m 47 years old. Some days I feel every one of those years; some days I still feel like I’m twelve. Most days I feel a little more certain, and still a little bit lost. 

Listening to this acoustic version, by the original artist who sang it over those 80’s synths and manufactured beats, fills me with a strange sense of satisfaction, tinged with just the slightest bit of sadness at the way time has moved all of us along. With age does come a certain wisdom – mostly that wisdom is in the form of understanding how little I know, how much more there is to learn, how the search for perfection is a useless and futile quest. Inherent in such wisdom is a certain calm. The restlessness I once felt has subsided, the fire put out by experiencing quite a bit of life – sometimes too much – and the thirst for more has been quenched by the realization that there will always be more. No one can do it all. There is simply too much – too many places, too many people, too many options and opportunities.

In this age of immediate internet reach and instantaneous connection, the greatest rebellion is in slowing down and shutting it all off. Making the choice to disconnect and engage only when it truly matters, making experiences that count, making decisions that don’t consist mostly of going through the motions. These are the choices and edits that refine our new world, and how we choose to walk through it. For far too many years I was a man in motion, rushing to get through to the next event, the next experience, the next new thing. It was what I needed to do to make it through. Stopping was not an option. Stopping could very well have killed me, especially if it happened at the wrong time. Seeing the folly of that hectic pace has been one of the more difficult lessons, and one of the most rewarding. 

And so we slow things down with this song, pausing to watch the leaves fall, pausing to reflect and enjoy, pausing to take a few deep breaths before we soldier on…

…Just once in his life a man has his time…

Continue reading ...

A Crystalline Journey

Do you always trust your first initial feelingSpecial knowledge holds truth bears believingI turned around and the water was closing all aroundLike a gloveLike the love that had finally, finally found meThen I knew in the crystalline knowledge of youDrove me through the mountainsThrough the crystal-like clear water fountainDrove me like a magnet to the sea

Sky mottled like a painter’s canvass, land and mountains undulating like the holding pattern of an ocean, the world around me signals fall as much as it signals forever. Carrying its secrets and mysteries, questions and non-answers, it is the foggy obfuscation of autumn that conceals and merely hints at its possibilities. If you’re looking for the key to life, it won’t be found amid such veiled beauty. I don’t even know if that key exists. Seems folly to have forged such a thing if no one can use it or share it. But that’s what humans do I suppose. 

How the faces of love have changed turning the pagesAnd I have changed oh, but you, you remain agelessI turned around and the water was closing all aroundLike a glove, Like the love that had finally, finally found meThen I knew in the crystalline knowledge of youDrove me through the mountainsThrough the crystal-like clear water fountainDrove me like a magnet to the sea, To the sea…

Why should fall posit these questions, this wonderment? And why should we bother with such wondering? Slumber awaits us all – the slumber of winter, the rest that the garden requires. We demand such a show from it from spring to summer – it deserves this reprieve. 

Meanwhile, the world runs wild around us, in the water of the sea – but that recent journey is yet to be posted. Not to worry, it’s on the way…

I turned around and the water was closing around meI turned around and the water was closing around meSeaThe seaI turned around and the water was closing around meAround me like a glove, around meAround me, oh, around meI turned around and the water was closing around me

Continue reading ...

Dazzler of the Day: Meryl Streep

There is nothing I could possibly write that would live up to the wonder and majesty that is Meryl Streep as Dazzler of the Day, so… that’s all.

Continue reading ...

Vibrant Hues Hanging in Rings Around the Neck

Spring and summer get all the glory when it comes to seasonal color – and rightfully so; no other seasons come close to their fresh chartreuse brilliance, the infinite strong shades of flower blooms, the sunsets and rises, and the way they world feels somehow more alive when it’s warmer out. 

Don’t sleep on fall though, whose enchantments may be more subtle, but are just as divine. 

It’s up to us to fill in the dearth of color with a snazzy shirt and necklaces of brightly-hued braids and beads. Fall will do the rest, with its gourds and amber waves and rainbow harvest. 

Fall blazes its own colorful path, you just have to look a little closer for it, dive in to deeper depths to experience its hidden beauty. It’s there for the finding, there for discovery, there to celebrate and enjoy if we allow ourselves to feel it. Perhaps it’s a quieter show, and all the more wondrous for it. It demands we lean in a little closer, and in so doing provides a greater intimacy that might otherwise be lost amid the cacophony of summer. 

Continue reading ...

An Autumn Nocturne

The charming photo featured here is a glimpse of Troy, NY on a recent Saturday night on which we got to see the magnificent Rufus Wainwright perform at the Troy Savings Bank Music Hall. Clearly, the entire evening was an exercise in enchantment, and while this song has nothing to do with Mr. Wainwright, it felt like a fitting soundtrack to a fall night. 

Lord knows I love a nocturne. May this one lull you to sweet sleep. 

 

 

Continue reading ...

Dazzler of the Day: Sam Perwin

Actor, singer and writer Sam Perwin is one of those triple-plus-threats who somehow manage to insinuate themselves into any role, then drag the audience around in mesmerized amazement. A graduate of Harvard (in Literature no less), Perwin also studied voice at Manhattan School of Music. Currently slaying as John Wilkes Booth in the Playhouse Stage Co. production of Stephen Sondheim‘s ‘Assassins’ at the Cohoes Music Hall, he earns his first Dazzler of the Day crowning for all of the above. Check out his charming website here for further evidence of his brilliance. 

Continue reading ...

The Animals Know

A somewhat purgatorial moment – this mid-week, mid-month, mid-fall day – and all the worst that is Wednesday still lays ahead. Or is it lies? My English major fails me yet again. I’m never quite as good as everyone thinks, and still quite better at the same time. Such a conundrum calls for a simple song that poses similar sentiments, with a somewhat sad piano melody. Wonderful Wednesday music…

Fall hangs heavily in the air on these foggy mornings. It takes a little longer to get out of bed, and this is only the beginning. Wait until January. Wait until February. Wait until that thirtieth snowstorm of March. We haven’t even approached winter, and the weight of its enormity feels overwhelming. At such times I return to my daily meditation, and remind myself of the focus on the moment at hand. One minute is easy enough to get through, and minutes becomes hours become days become months and so on. The blessed and cursed cadence of time. 

Time, spilling out, spilling forward like gourds from a fall basket, is our greatest sorcerer. It bends and twists itself into grotesque forms, usually in whatever frightens us or wears us down the most. I don’t know how best to master or tame it. Instead, I do my best to take it a little bit at a time, trusting that being mindful is always the right choice, no matter how difficult it might be. Breathing through those tough times, one breath in and one breath out, and then again, and again. And then a minute has gone by, and if you can get through one, you can get through two. By three or four you forget what you’re doing and why, and perhaps a crisis is averted. Simply by breathing. 

A good-enough lesson for a Wednesday morning.

Continue reading ...

A Tattered Tuesday

Torn between the lingering effects of a very relaxing vacation and the jumpstart of a new week in which I’m already behind on office work, this Tuesday is an exercise in recuperation on a number of levels, and I’m already feeling as tattered as the flowers and leaves shown here. (Even on the Monday night on which I am writing this, I feel the return to stress and wear; how quickly our vacation mode evaporates the moment we are back in the routine.)

And so I will aim to be a little gentle with myself today, and with those around me. It’s not in our nature to be on a perpetual vacation – and deep down I know a perpetual vacation would lose its glamorous appeal the moment it became perpetual. Only a fool would wish for such monotony and throw away the very thing that makes vacation such a wonderful state of being. I embrace the days off, and feel a slight, underlying sensation of gratitude for the days on. The challenge – one which I’ve always been up for – is to make these days on as enjoyable and entertaining as possible. Another weekend away will be here before we can update the automated out-of-office response. 

Continue reading ...

Dazzler of the Day: Woody Woodbeck

Hometown heroes are not as common as we’d like to believe, but Amsterdam, New York, in addition to being the hometown of yours truly, is also the hometown to television producer extraordinaire Woody Woodbeck, who recently celebrated producing his 10th Bravo series, which is way more than needed to merit this Dazzler of the Day crowning. I’ve known Woody since his days on Fly 92 (our local radio station) and watched him fly through the years with happy pride. To see someone who started off in the Home of the Rams go forth and take the world by storm was a marvelous, and rare, event. The second season of his ‘What’s up Woody?” podcast is coming out soon, which feels like a full-circle moment for those of us who listened to him all those years ago on the radio. 

Continue reading ...

A Day Late Recap

Our weekly recap usually happen on Mondays, but since that was a vacation day for most people, we are behind, hence this recap a day late and so many dollars short. The previous week was all about ‘FireWater’ – the 2009 project that was shelved way back then but finally saw the light of day in a litany of posts that occupied things here while I was vacationing in Maine with Andy. It forms the bulk of posts this week, and was more than enough to keep the fires burning while we were gone.

The elusive ‘Amber Absolute’ by Tom Ford sizzles for the season.

The long-list project is resurrected.

The fear before the fire.

The preamble to FireWater, because forewarned is fair-warned.

Dazzlers of the Day included Lauren Ford, Jamie Lee Curtis and Dr. Joseph Abramo.

Finally, here is ‘FireWater’ in all its burning glory:

The Overture

Scene 1: Bourbon Street, New Orleans

Scene 2: College Ave., Ithaca, NY

Scene 3: Union Square, San Francisco, CA

Scene 4: Sunday mornings, Boston & Provincetown

Scene 5: Braddock Park, Boston, MA

Scene 6: Times Square, New York

Scene 7: Tapas & Tinis, Ogunquit, ME

Scene 8: Hollywood Brown Derby, Albany, NY

Scene 9: Holiday Cocktail Hour, Albany, NY

Scene 10: My Brother’s First House, Amsterdam, NY

Scene 11: A friend’s home, Stormville, NY

End Scene.

Post Script: the ashes of FireWater.

Continue reading ...

Dazzler of the Day: Dr. Joseph Abramo, Again

Mastermind and executor behind Lords of Sound and Lesser Things, Joseph Abramo is once again crowned Dazzler of the Day, thanks in no small part to the tantalizing hints of the genius to come this Friday, October 14. That’s the date of ‘Samsara’ – a musical multi-media phantasmagoria (see the trailer below) that Abramo is performing at J. Louis von der Mehden Recital Hall at the University of Connecticut starting at 8 PM. This event will also be live-streamed at  https://www.kaltura.com/index.php/ext…  and https://www.twitch.tv/los_alt.

As Associate Professor at the University of Connecticut, Abramo has been published in countless texts, all of them well above and beyond my brain level, but I’ve been lucky enough to connect with him on a more basic plane, that of a friend who can appreciate the various calls of an artist. On my last few trips to visit his wife Melissa and their two amazing kids, I’ve been able to get a glimpse of the mad musical genius that comprises Abramo’s artistic world, and it’s always exhilarating. Witness the two excerpts below. 

What he has in store for the recital this Friday is anyone’s guess, but it looks to be his usual groundbreaking stuff – an amalgamation of music and images where gorgeous melodies reckon with modern-day technology, and the push and pull of darkness seeks out redemption or damnation, and the only way out is to go through each pulsating beat, letting it reverberate through the body and mind. Watching Abramo at work is like seeing a wizard at the height of his powers – it’s raw, wild, occasionally unnerving, and absolutely mesmerizing of sight and sound. Check out his recital this Friday if you get a chance. 

Continue reading ...

FireWater: The Ashes

Too many drinkers have ended their stories in a blaze of shame and destruction. They burned brightly and feverishly and insatiably, only to burn out too quickly, too irrevocably. They provided the perfect finale, with the locked finality that left no room for another act, or even one last goodbye. Their fires raged until the very end, taking up all the air in the room and suffocating those who dared to remain loving them. 

It’s such a difficult thing to love someone so seemingly hell-bent on destruction. I’ve often said that we can’t choose who we love – it’s our original failing as human beings – we are powerless in the throes of love. Even when we know better – and we all know better – we are abysmally weak when it comes to our hearts. I knew that then, and I knew my heart needed something to see it through the thousands of breaks it would have over the course of a year, a month, a day. How many pricks and cuts and fissures can we withstand before we all simply break? 

Elaine Stritch once described needing a drink before she went on stage because it was too hard to go out there alone. “It’s scary up here,” she said. “You know, so… you’re scared, you drink, you’re not scared… I never put a foot on the stage without a drink. Or any place else come to think about it… Up here, two drinks. One before the curtain, another at intermission, a little back up and that was it. Well, three maybe. If I had the eleven o’clock number. I wanted a friend out here with me…”

I often felt that way about the world.

It’s too hard to go out there alone. 

I wanted a friend out here…

My ‘FireWater’ project was a love-letter to drinking, and in that love-letter was the poison seed of a goodbye ten years in the making. Written in 2009, it hinted at what I feared might happen, what I dreaded might happen, and what I most wanted to happen. I planted the darkness, let it take root, and when it grew and bore all its rotten fruit, I cut it down and burned it to the ground. 

In 2019, I stopped drinking. A decade after ‘FireWater’ was written. A decade not quite lost to the fire, and not quite spared from it either. Alcohol was my savior and destroyer. It gave me a false confidence that saw me through some of the darkest days – there is no denying it helped me when nothing else would. The cost, though, was dangerously high. If I could afford it, it’s just because I got lucky. Catching myself just in time, or maybe just realizing I didn’t need to be caught if I could stand on my own, I was able to stop drinking and not look back or miss it. There is immense gratitude in that – I’ve seen firsthand how difficult and sometimes impossible that is for others. 

While I can make no predictions about never or forever (as doing so seems to be a curse and challenge) I do know that I don’t really think about or miss drinking. I’ve found other exquisite enjoyments, and don’t want to add a depressant that messes with my brain anymore. The thrill was gone, and I was glad to see it go. 

During the ensuing years, it has felt felt like a fog and haze were slowly and steadily lifting. It didn’t happen overnight, but the very act of slowing things down became an exercise in mindfulness that I so badly needed. My ‘FireWater’ days had reached their end, and I was fortunate not to have burned out. Too many of us end up extinguishing our lives before we learn to live without the fire. 

FireWater‘ ~ The 2009 Project

The Overture

Scene 1: Bourbon Street, New Orleans

Scene 2: College Ave., Ithaca, NY

Scene 3: Union Square, San Francisco, CA

Scene 4: Sunday mornings, Boston & Provincetown

Scene 5: Braddock Park, Boston, MA

Scene 6: Times Square, New York

Scene 7: Tapas & Tinis, Ogunquit, ME

Scene 8: Hollywood Brown Derby, Albany, NY

Scene 9: Holiday Cocktail Hour, Albany, NY

Scene 10: My Brother’s First House, Amsterdam, NY

Scene 11: A friend’s home, Stormville, NY

End Scene.

Continue reading ...

FireWater: End Scene

“Being a freelance explorer of spiritual dangers, the Artist gains a certain license to behave differently from other people; matching the singularity of his vocation, he may be decked out with a suitably eccentric lifestyle, or he may not. His job is inventing trophies of his experiences – objects and gestures that fascinate and enthrall, not merely (as prescribed by older notions of the Artist) edify or entertain. His principal means of fascinating is to advance one step further in the dialectic of outrage. He seeks to make his work repulsive, obscure, inaccessible; in short, to give what is, or seems to be, not wanted. But however fierce may be the outrages the Artist perpetrates upon his audience, his credentials and spiritual authority depend depend on the audience’s sense (whether something known or inferred) of the outrages he commits upon himself.” ~ Susan Sontag 

It’s been my one constant companion for over a decade. Friends and lovers and family have come and gone, but alcohol has always endured – a comfort, an unbreakable contract, a covenant with a reliable savior. 

It’s been with me for the most important events of my life – weddings of friends, graduation parties, birthdays, holidays, reunions, vacations, even funerals. One of my favorite family memories is of standing in the garage on the evening before a relative’s funeral, knocking back beers with my Uncle and talking with the men of the Ilagan family. It was the only way we could relate to each other sometimes. 

It’s been the bearer and witness to some of my most heinous acts, my most embarrassing and deplorable behavior, and my cruelest blows – always without judgment, always without condemnation – forgiving me when forgiveness was the very last thing I deserved. 

It is with me now, in the back of my mind, waiting to be released, to wash away the pain and sorrow, to end the doubt and worry, to drown the fiery demons of my heart – and it will not let me go. 

In this bar, in this bar, I am dyingIn this bar, in this bar, I am dying
Disassociated, keep off the grassI prefer you naked, this too shall passNuance carefully weighted, too slow, too fastToo slow, too fast
I wanna go home, right nowI wanna go home, right nowI wanna go home, right nowI wanna go home

Kissing is forbidden, biting leaves marksSex is overrated, I need to danceCalmly understated, well, you always had classThis too shall, hide is amour-platedOblivious to darts, this too shall pass
I wanna go homeI wanna go home, right nowI wanna go home, right nowI wanna go home, right now

Continue reading ...