week 442 ~ light on a passing breeze

“Et la mandoline jase
Parmi les frissons de brise.” – Paul Verlaine, Mandoline (1869)
(And the mandolin chatters on/ In the shivers of breeze)

light on a passing breeze
wafts a most joyous sound
charged with lost memories

intertwined histories
laughter notes run to ground
light on a passing breeze

mandolin melodies
some unknown some renowned
charged with lost memories

across the centuries
sweet tremolos resound
light on a passing breeze

play the tunes as you please
they’re waiting to be found
charged with lost memories

now it’s your turn so seize
them they’re yours this time ‘round
light on a passing breeze
charged with lost memories

week 441 ~ a world of music beckons me

a world of music beckons me
I enter with my mandolin
and sturdy travelers we begin
our trek through many lifetimes see
the path unfurl its history
of jongleurs lutes sad serenades
courtiers barbers renegades
we follow hoping they somehow
knew that we would and somewhere bow
acknowledging our accolades

September 19, 2016

I bring armloads of music down from the attic today, to sort and take in to school tomorrow where I have a student working on a project to scan it, for preservation and to make it easier to share with other mandolinists. Some of the sheets are so brittle they feel like they will crumble in my hands. There are folders, taken from my former teacher’s house after he died, that seem to be from his teacher, the legendary Giseppe Pettine. Folders of mis-matched parts, music taken from the pages of a magazine he published, Italian music with hand-written dedications from their composers. A project intended to take a couple of hours stretches to fill the day. But, as with the basement, it’s a project I am happy to have, at least, begun.

week 356 ~ when there is a dream to carry

when there is a dream to carry
I hope that I will do my share
to move joy around simply care
enough to let the right things be
change some and watch the rest run free
recognizing there’s a new way
to move ahead with grace to stay
bound by indecision is death
so I pause just to draw a breath
then grab my mandolin and play

April 7, 2012

I was thinking about “unexpected” on my walk this morning, how the word in my youth used to bring such delight– unexpected discoveries, rewards, victories, happiness. But these days unexpected seems to come more in the form of a body-block to the soul– loss, heartbreak, pain. And then later, these thoughts still milling about in my brain, I received news of the unexpected death of a mandolinist and friend, gone far too young. John McGann was brilliant, dedicated, quirky, and always so much more interesting than the average virtuoso. I can hardly fathom he’s not still here with us. I’ve been listening to him play all afternoon, and here’s one to share with you. RIP, my friend.

August 18, 2010

After my fit of homesickness for Rio yesterday, my poet/blogger friend Kavita suggested I post one of my Brazilian songs. So here is my “Siga em Frente”. The title is Portuguese for “Go Straight Ahead,” and it’s something you hear alot when asking for directions. I wrote it for my Rio taxi driver, who is also a friend and a musician. This recording is from my most recent CD, “Meu Bandolim,” (My Mandolin), recorded w/ my Brazilian musical friends. I’m playing bandolim, and my friends are playing sax, 7-string guitar, and percussion. Enjoy!
Siga Em Frente

August 14, 2010

I am sitting on my new orange sofa and writing music on my new mandolin. Such a simple sentence, yet such a miracle. The sofa arrived today. It replaces a decades-old lump of a sofabed that got me through all the kid-at-home years and should have been gone ages ago. The mandolin is not technically new, but was bought from a friend in June. I’d been looking for a new voice to inspire a new style of writing, my muses having dried up several months ago, and somehow felt it might be found in this instrument. Inspiration is never an easy door to open, even if you do arrive with the golden key of instinct. But today, completely unplanned, sitting on the orange sofa, I break through. Nothing brilliant, but ideas awaken yielding cheerful tunes that I know lead somewhere. It’s impossible to describe the extent of my delight. And happy birthday today to my bro, alas not here, but celebrating with those he loves miles away.