signs
I did 20 shows this year. But next year already has 50 dates confirmed + perhaps I will also be accepted to some folk festivals I applied for (one finds […]
Bob Wiseman
nathan, thelma and fred
Thelma played the cello. Every morning before she talked to anyone, like checking the weather. She was married to Fred who was a decent man. Reliable Fred. The kind of […]
graffiti
He found the best lines in bathrooms. In the cracked stalls in clubs and bus stations, places where people had something to unload. The writing was uneven, hurried, often cruel. […]
the proxy
For years the musician booked his own tours, which in retrospect was either a noble experiment in independence or a slow-motion financial crime committed against himself. He did everything right. […]
the noise
Some lower their voices when they talk about AI, as if it might be listening. Some speak of it plainly, like weather, like rent, like another instrument added to the […]
aging professor
She could emphasize rules, convert curiosity into paperwork, stamp it approved or denied like a bored customs officer. She could tighten the boundaries, turn the room into a padded cell […]
Playing an F Bob
Near the end of Robert Priest’s show, I get waved onstage to sit in. Bob Cohen starts flashing chord shapes at me helpful like hand puppetry. I say, “No thanks, […]
the reflection
The threat was never spoken aloud. No one challenged her directly. No one told her she had reached the end of something. It arrived the way weather does, without announcement. […]
stepping on the gas
Before music was written down and locked in filing cabinets, it lived in the body. It came out of throats, hands, kitchens, bars, wherever people were trying to survive. Before […]
feeling notation
Reading notation is a gift. It gives you access to work you would never otherwise touch, to a language you can share with strangers. Like being handed a set of […]