Sons de Carrilhões (João Pernambuco)

Written and performed by Jacob Pribilsky 
Bass, mixing, mastering, and production by Thomas Kau 
Photo by Hannah Conkin circa 2020 "Big Pencil"

Late Bloomer - LLC

Temptation / Standard Delivery Practice

Third part of my father trilogy.
The father trilogy ends with my naïve and youthful attempt, at the age of 23, to break away from my father, who seemed overpowering at the time, and stand on my own two feet: 
To move as far away as possible from my provincial hometown, to throw myself into a Berlin that was completely foreign to me at the time and completely overwhelming. 
My saviour at the time was my oldest friend, who had already been living in Berlin for a few years and took me under his wing like a big brother.     
But even with his help, I soon had to realise that the attempt at a radical inner "patricide" could not succeed in any way. The early imprints he had left on me, the demons I had 'inherited' from him, were all still there. No matter how much I turned my outer life upside down, there was no escape from the central patterns and beliefs that I had learnt from my father in the first 10 years of my life.
In this respect, the song title "The Singular Man" is a "Mission Impossible". It was only three years later, and especially after his early death, that I realised more and more that a lifelong confrontation with my inner father images could lead to a closely linked dialectic:
An ever deeper and visibly more reconciliatory bond with my father and, at the same time, an ever-increasing self-realisation    
 
The Singular Man  (Lyrics in English)

Run through streets crooked and skewed 
The bridges criss-cross

All around me the stink of the city
An army of people everywhere

Turn in somewhere now
Fall in at your door

You are alone
Your corridor infinitely long
Your walls high and wide 
Your front door broad and welcoming

You push me through the corridor now 
At the windows the siren-
song

I get scared and bang 
Am I still
Your catch of fish
Your silhouette
That only plays at being free

And yet I have escaped you 
Escaped!

I take off all hinges
Hang out the windows
Make me a magic wand
Grey Berlin becomes a colourful bouquet for me 

Ride on a peacock wheel
Take a foam spring bath in the Spree

All light 
Time thrown into the air

Pain-free in a glittering dress
An ecstatic feeling of life

But something pushes back
Under the carpet lies the hanging rope
The spider's web is
Still there
The old danger

I only know about her now 
Keep me out of her more 

Oh man, the singular man
Man Oh man, the singular man
Man Oh man, the singular man
Man Oh man, the singular man


Der Singuläre Mann (Deutscher Originaltext)

Lauf’ durch Straßen krumm und schief, 
Die Brücken kreuz und quer

Um mich herum der Großstadtmief
Überall ein Menschen-Heer

Bieg' irgendwo jetzt ein
Fall’ bei Dir zur Tür herein

Du bist allein
Dein  Flur unendlich lang
Deine Wände hoch und weit 
Deine Eingangstür willkommens-breit

Schiebst mich jetzt durch den Gang 
An den Fenstern der Sirenen-
Gesang

Mir wird Angst und Bang 
Bin ich immer noch
Dein Fischfang
Dein Schattenbild
Das das Freisein nur spielt

Und doch bin ich Dir entflohen 
Entflohen!

Lege alle Scharniere ab
Häng' die Fenster aus
Bastle mir einen Zauberstab
Grau-Berlin wird mir zum bunten Strauß 

Fahr auf nem‘ Pfauenrad
Nehm‘ in der Spree ein Schaum-Frühlingsbad

Alles leicht 
In die Luft geworfene Zeit

Schmerzbefreit im Glitzerkleid
Ein rauschhaftes Lebensgefühl

Doch etwas drängt zurück
Unterm Teppich liegt der Häng‘-Dich-Strick
Das Spinnennetz ist
Immer noch da
Die alte Gefahr

Kenn‘ mich jetzt nur mit ihr aus 
Halt mich mehr aus ihr raus 

Oh Mann, der Singuläre Mann
Mann Oh Mann, der Singuläre Mann
Mann Oh Mann, der Singuläre Mann
Mann Oh Mann, der Singuläre Mann

Der Singulare Mann (The Singular Man)

Der Singuläre Mann (The Singular Man)

In New York City in the mid-1990's, internationally known guitar player Barry Finnerty found himself in a very bad place. His glory days of the 70's and 80's, when he was recording with Miles Davis, flying first class around the world with the Crusaders, making legendary records such as "Heavy Metal Bebop" with the Brecker Bros, banging beautiful groupies and partying non-stop - all of that is a distant memory.
As he reminisces about the past and laments what might have been, he has no choice but to make a living as the rock singer in a high society tuxedo band, a job with no artistic satisfaction whatsoever, which he finds highly depressing to say the least. Self-medication with booze and cocaine is continuous, and he becomes so unhinged at one point that he actually believes he can escape his predicament by getting into a relationship with Yuvana Crump (the ex-wife of the notorious New York real estate tycoon Ronald Crump) because she smiles at him while he is onstage at a tuxedo gig at the Waldorf. When that brilliant idea doesn't work out so well, he starts thinking that maybe becoming a stand-up comedian might be his way out.
The often hilarious narrative, told in the first person (from Barry's own perspective) and in the present tense (except when recalling past memories), blurs the barriers between memoir and fiction. "There's a lot of reality in it," says Barry. "although many of the names have been changed to protect the guilty. And a lot of it sounds like it really could have happened... although most of it didn't. But some of it did!"

START Podcast #1

This track was featured on Teruo Nakamura's "Superfriends" CD in the 90s. Toots Thielemans plays the melody on harmonica, with Steve Gadd on drums and Marcus Miller on bass.

Robot Freedom

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