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Musicians spend yearstrying to soundlike themselves. Actors spend yearslearningto disappear. Some crywithout grief. Some laughwhile mourning. Some kisspeoplethey would neverinvite to dinner. The audiencecalls this talent. Lifecalls it Tuesday.

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Lyrics rarely arrivewearing a tuxedo. They shuffle inmissing a shoe,carrying somebody else’s umbrella,insisting they belongin the second verse. Usually the first lineis wrong. The second pretends to understandthe first. The […]

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The dream began without announcement. There they were, his old band-mates, standing around as though no time had passed. Someone made a joke he had forgotten. Someone complained about a […]

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The piano did not become easier. It became stranger. For yearsI thought itcontained eighty-eight keys. LaterI discoveredit also containedhesitation,childhood,arthritis,three broken romances,an argument with Chick Corea,and whatever it isthat keeps arrivingat […]

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It happened near the end of the term, when the students had become comfortable enough to stop asking technical questions. No longer how to rhyme “orange” or whether a bridge […]

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Neil, the pianist, had been in bands long enough to know that hatred in music rarely announces itself openly. It lives in small things. In how someone counts off a […]

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I have playedfor six people,thirteen people,twenty-seven hundred people,confused bartenders,and springer spanielswhose commitment to artistic inquirywas superior to many festival programmers. The posters promisedAN EVENING OF EXTRAORDINARY MUSIC. My manager,which is […]

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When I was hired to teach at Toronto Metropolitan University, I was still teaching at Seneca. I mentioned the new job to one of my classes. Dave asked, “Isn’t that […]