Playing the real piano gets my heart racing, so the Thirsty Soul’s acquisition of one is a fantastic event I have been celebrating for the past few weeks. This is my first performance on it. Featuring Fred Jones Part 2 (Ben Folds), This Heart of Mine, and Humiliation Compost Heap (the boogie woogie).
Saying goodbye to something can be difficult, even if the thing you’re leaving is damaging you. This song was inspired by 7 months’ alcohol free. The instrumentation is particularly sparse, which left room for some detailed production work. It also features a melodica solo. This reedy instrument can impart melancholy better than no other in my own repertoire of musicianship.
After 6 months of no drinking, my most notable craving is a pint of ale with a cigarette. During a visit to a Gettysburg beer store with my old pal, I remembered what used to be a dreaded and, dare i say, mockable fact: There’s such a thing as nonalcoholic beer.
There was actually a surprising selection of decent brands, but (in an oft-repeated fit of bad judgment), I chose Busch. I finished the six pack of cans while my pal downed Budweisers. It wasn’t horrible.
I am currently enjoying a bottle of Bitburger. It has a nice little sting of hops. Much better. And this brings me to my intention: To find the perfect nonalcoholic beer.
I’ll be reviewing all the nonalcoholic beers I can find for the rest of the year. I’ll use roughly the same method each time: Cigarettes and pizza (or other delicious food you must eat with beer). I’ll be sure to mention other beer-ish tests when relevant.
Being the enforcer of speech codes can be lonely in my not-yet-fully-imagined futuristic Orwellian musical. In this song, I assume the role of a police officer charged with finding and eradicating non-state-sponsored materials littering the landscape of communication. Enthusiasm in the first half turns to gripes about the daily grind of destroying samizdat. Thanks to my daughter for lending her voice talent by uttering on of her favorite phrases, “Shut up!”
There is an uneasy freedom when nobody else shows at an open mic. It will likely cause urges to play songs long since forgotten, or that you always wanted to play but never even tried. Such was the case on May 2. A couple of old originals with a pinch of The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald by Gordon Lightfoot.
I skipped open mic last week to work on my forthcoming song, Thought Cop 2084. That’s in good shape and will be mixed within the next few days. I am going back tonight to see what’s up. If nothing else, I’ll pick some tunes and devour some pretzel-pecan french toast while pontificating about how to incorporate my newer body of work into my act. It’s either plug in the iPad, or arrange stuff on the guitar.