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Used To Be A Disco

To Sir, With Love (cover w/original vocals)

Photo is Lulu at Muscle Shoals studio.
Two turn tables and a microphone. Well, maybe three drum samples and an upright bass. No actual blisters, thanks for the suggestion John, but that tall old man can take a punch. Felt like Daffy at the last take. "I can only do this trick once." My little tribute to the joys of bass playing. ;)

I Got Blisters On My Fingers

Laisse Tomber Les Filles (reframed)

Couch King

Girls Just Want To Have Fun (The rock version)

Dedicated to my brother Cristopher Robert (1969-1996). Now gone almost as long as he was here.

Hey sometimes I see you standing
In my dreams
But I can no longer hear your voice
You’re mute to me
I miss you
And it still hurts

All my memories of you have become
Old stale vignettes
It’s just not as much fun when you have
All the answers first
I know you’d visit
If you could
So if you’re out there
It’s understood

You were just a kid sometimes I wonder
What we’d talk about
I think I’d be ashamed
My belly full of
What you went without
But I know you love me
And wouldn’t eat off my plate
You can play your cards right
But you can’t beat fate

You Can't Beat Fate

Endless Summer

Night Party

Funky

Shimmy

Uptight

The time is now. Well, mid-September anyway and nearly ten o’clock at night. The year is, ah, not now. In fact long enough ago that air-conditioning was not yet a common occurrence in a Greenwich Village cocktail lounge.
          The front door and a side door are both propped open. It was warm during the day but now a cool breeze carries in the softening sounds of the street and carries out snippets of conversation, music and some of the cigarette smoke.
          There is a quartet; drums, bass, guitar and a guy that splits time between a piano and vibes. This is the first time they’ve played this number. Dave (leader, vibes and piano) played the song for Roy, his boss, only a few days earlier. “Not bad Davey ya think you can shrink the melody to under a octave and a half and make it a little less busy in spots?” “Ah come on Roy. It’s just barely over and not that busy. Can I take it to Marty for some lyrics?” “Nah, I need him to finish the stuff on his desk already. Take it over to Sal. He might be able to sell it as an instrumental.”
          A young woman and her date are sitting quietly talking at a small table by the window. It’s not their first date but the end of a more casual relationship and the beginning of something else. She’s talking about a previous group outing or more specifically a girl who came named Mary. She thinks, in a subtle way. Although not particularly perceptive, he laughingly notes her obvious dislike of Mary and asks why. She admits to her flimsy subterfuge but defends herself by stating that Mary is chasing him. He laughs even harder “come on, Mary hardly knows me.” Of course he’s wrong and Mary is but his obliviousness makes her happy.
           After a few drinks he takes takes her for some coffee and pastries. He gets a napoleon and an expresso. She gets a coffee light and sweet and a cannoli. While he’s wondering whether or not she likes him enough to sleep with him. She’s dreaming of names for their children. She only nibbles an her cannoli. She’s killing time until it’s too late to catch her train. When it gets close she tells him a story. After her parents divorce she moved with her broke mother to a new town. Out school clothes shopping she saw a dress, too expensive for their means, that she fell in love with. Her mom, feeling sorry for her, decides to indulge her. She wears to to the first day of school and is teased so ruthlessly that she never wears it again but won’t tell to her mother why. Completely enraptured by the story he doesn’t notice the time until it’s to late to make the train. The next one is not due for hours so he invites her back to his apartment. She then wolfs down her dessert and they go. There is a moment after getting punched in the face, when that metallic taste of blood floods your mouth, that your senses are heightened and you are fully there in that moment. That night was the flip side of that same coin. The next day she worries that, swept up in passion, she might have driven him off to some other girl. But in his mind there are no other women and there wont be. Sometimes she will still hum the melody, the simpler parts, but she no longer remembers where she heard it. Long forgotten by everybody else it now only exists, in fragments, in her mind.

Pop Tart

Bubble

An imaginary theme to an old imaginary show.

Firefly

Me and ghosts. I've always thought this one sounds so much like a jazz club in NYC. I can smell the perfume, stale beer and cigarettes.

Four

I'm such a fan of Axel's wonderful guitar work. I wrote this piece in hopes that he might be generous enough to join me on the track. Thanks Axel a man who is as warm and thoughtful as his playing.
For those who haven't already had the pleasure, find more of Axel's playing here: @axelweis 
Art by Jack Allen

Crabgrass (An Axel Weiß  collaboration)

At some point, a long time ago, I gave up on creating a "new" musical language. It was still possible, in the late nineteen eighties and early nineties when I came of age, for me to see music as a linear progression. In my early twenties I would compose pieces that I thought of as new jazz. Of course they weren't. Just very individual songs in older styles with some ideas for other styles. A dash of Duke Ellington arraignment, a snippet of Monk perhaps a teaspoon of Syd Barrett mixed with some rock and roll harmony. Eventually, after a long pause in playing at all, I came to make music, I see as, more in line with the pop artists like Warhol and, especially Lichtenstein. My own musical ideas are still there but slyly inserted into pieces that are consciously, imprecisely, modeled on other works or styles. Anyway I went to see the new version of West Side Story with my wife the other day. The original show made right before that "pop" era. It was so sincere. No irony with an honest attempt to bring musical theater "forward". I so enjoyed it even if it's a bit middle brow Americana. I'm writing this description in hopes of being equally sincere. The melody borrows a bit of "Somewhere" as a tip of the hat. I hope. My big musical ideas, besides that, are as follows. The key may sound a bit vague at times but floats between B major, E major and A major so that classic one four five, if somewhat buried. the time signature changes a few times, briefly, and syncopates when it doesn't. There's the Syd Barrett influence for those keeping score. There's also some willful changes from major to minor in the harmony that are classic rock ideas. Even if, in this context, they eventually become key changes. Well that's enough sincerity. Oh except for the photo. It's Miss Place. My wife maiden name and me back when I would have written something like this. ;)

Miss Place

Blank Space (Reframing)

Pumkin Pie

On Broadway

Monkey Parts

Shake It Off

Got to work with Marc Freak @marcfreak on this one after he foolishly offered to, in a comment on a track of mine. I spent a bit of time in London in the late eighties. Boy George was king, the food was still mostly bland and there were a million different rules for dress depending on where you went. Funny how sometimes things can be so foreign and familiar at the same time. I have lots of thoughts but I won't bore you. Oh and the music. I knew most of the bands but it did change my perception a bit to hear them in context. Thanks so much Marc for the singing, melody, lyrics and maybe some context. ;)
Lyrics:

PERFECT DREAM
Jumping out of the frying pan into the fire
Like a drug bust with a visible wire
But its worth it for the time that we spend
And I pray they don't end

All I crawled through has the skin busy itching
And my internet is permanently glitching
But I cannot bare the time we're apart
Its a trial of the heart

CHORUS
Is this just a perfect dream that's coming true?
I want to spend the whole of my brief life with you

When you're standing in darkness and a glimpse of light shines through
When you're lit up like a beacon
And although you are freaking I'm loving this dream come true
With you

And the time I have left grows ever shorter
I am drowning in invisible water
Its a failure on my part I can't swim
And the prospects look grim

There's a torch that ever shines in the distance
Hold my hands up - show no signs of resistance
I'm a prisoner of love 
I don't mind in fact I'm pleased to do time

CHORUS

When you're standing in darkness and a glimpse of light shines through
When you're lit up like a beacon
And everyone's peeking 
I'm loving this dream come true

Perfect Dream (A Marc Freak Collaboration)

Ruby Tuesday

You might have to be close to my age to remember this one and that's the only hint I'll give.

Name That tune* (*if you want to)

Always Something There To Remind Me

Dance Party!!!

Lyrics

Every time I see your face
I feel my 
Heart race
I can't believe I got the luck
To get in
Your good grace

I am the worm
You are the dirt
the good Lord
Placed me on this Earth
Just to
Chase after your skirt

And when the sun don't shine
And when my life feels black
You move your heart right next to mine
And a cut me a little slack

Your smiling face refracts the light
Straight into
My place
My life has been a decent hand
But you are
My only Ace

I am a slug
You are the warm wet place
The good Lord
Placed me on the Earth
Just to
Gaze upon your face

I do not believe in God
I don't think there'll be any place else
And if I'm right and this is all I get
I'm thankful my cup was filled

-Guitar solo-

And when the sun don't shine
And when my life feels black 
You move your heart right next to mine 
And a cut me a little slack

Cut Me A Little Slack

I sent the original tracks over to Couch King some time ago after working with him on a couple of his projects. I've always wanted to do a hip hop track with some rapping but it's the one thing I haven't gotten down yet. I love what he did both musically and with the subject matter. Plus what a sweetheart to work with. I got it 99% done but then got really busy and left him hanging for far too long. After some gentle prodding, I finally finished. Thanks again Marquis! :)

And So You Say(A Couch King/Jon Lock joint production)

Lyrics

Raging at the fools won’t stop the fun
Jesus jumped the gun
He should have lied in wait
I can’t go on with this
My life of subtle trysts 
With both love and hate

To tell you now
But then it seems to be allowed
So shallow and unavowed 
Are we

To think like unkept beds
Let’s fill our empty heads
With candy cake
For the fortunate
This could be the end
Of our sad mistakes

Have been made
Lie and say we’ll be ok
Close my eyes and
Turn away

Baby I have got
Black hatred  in my heart
A stomach tied in knots
For you

To see me here
It can not be clear
What I’m trying to do
Or failing to
Perhaps hiding from
Shadows in the dark

Is what it is
My love lift up your chin
And then maybe we can begin
To dine on the light

Odd Times

I've had the pleasure of working with Janine Levinson a few times now. In listening to her own tracks I've commented a few times how much she reminds me of one of my all time favorites, Laura Nyro. Anyway she graciously offered to do a cover of one of Ms. Nyro's tracks and I picked this one. She killed it, in my opinion and I got to have a great time filling in around her. Thanks Janine and Ms. Nyro.

If you don't already know Janine's wonderful stuff here's her page: @janinelevinson

Stoned Soul Picnic (cover and collaboration with Janine Levinson)

What a great guy to work with. This is the second track, that I wrote, that Couch King worked and rapped on. Love his positive energy both in music and life. Thanks Marquis!
https://soundcloud.com/king-of-the-couch
 Here's a bit more information, for those who are curious.
I am by no means in the habit of explaining what I was trying to say in a piece of music. I generally think the views of an artist on their own work are often, at best, partial or wrong and, at worst, self-serving. It's be better to stick to answering questions if asked(not that for the most part people's interest in my music rises to the level that they do ;). I've started to rethink that position though, in light of my own interest in what the people I listen to are thinking, and in any case I probably owe my collaborator a fuller accounting. I'll start with my own relationship to hip-hop. I'm older than the form. Making it the only major form of music that that is true of. It was also born close, geologically and culturally, to where I'm from but not in my neighborhood so to speak. So to me it's like the kid from down the block, say, four years younger. Growing out of the same environment, ie. soul, funk, jazz, etc., but with a bit of a divide. That being it's original construction out of samples. It was an audio collage art form. This has over time changed of course, although the original form still exerts influence over the way it's played and constructed. I had none of this in my mind when I sent the original tracks to Marquis(Couch King) but when he sent back his first rough draft of his rap; a thought came together in my mind. His speedy delivery set against my languid backing track brought to mind a slightly self conscious dinner guest. A new friend over for the first time. Filling in details of his life, and how he thinks about it, through stories of his past. The first verse addressing his new friends on his background. Small talk if you will. As he gets more intense though he starts to really talk to, in his mind, his father and then an old lover. Not unusual in an interesting, thoughtful conversation, no? I'm taking the role of the host of course. Inviting the younger, but now mature, man from the old neighborhood to my home. It's a dinner party so there are other people there. Chirping in about drinking, smoking, Nietzsche, chasing girls and his date sighing about his story(the samples in order except the bell which I'd rather not explain, you've got to leave something, no?). The music changing as his stories effect the mood in the room. The host though shares nothing. Polite and reasonably warm but sphinx like and a bit haughty. Making interesting ambiguous comments and not explaining them.

Dinner Party (A Couch King Collaboration)

The great Grandfather of garage rock done as garage rock.

Gnoissienne No. 1

It's funny how your view of music can be colored by so many factors. This piece, at least to my ears, is vintage early 50's NYC cool jazz. While I was not alive to actually witness that scene, I did frequently go to shows in the eighties and early nineties. I got to see many of the artists that were a vital part of that time in some dusty old clubs that were not changed much from their heydays. It boggles my mind that I am now the age many of those artists were at the time I first got to see them. 
 One also thinks of one's own life when listening to music. For me this style, with some others, formed the sound track to my twenties. I was raised in a house that was fairly male dominated. My brother was only eleven months younger than me but my sister was nearly seven years. When my wife, who only had a sister and was raised mostly by her mom, and I had three daughters in four years, I was introduced to a whole new world. Equally as chaotic as the home I grew up in but with a certain restraint. Sort of like this jazz. I would love to tease them. Telling them I would not make them lunch because I was tired or that I'd make them something horrible so I could save some money with cheaper ingredients. My daughter's response would often be" no daddy" on the dubious, unestablished, grounds of "Mommy said so". Using this as an unassailable high legal precedent. Hence the title. Of course my wife, in spite of being quoted, again dubiously, as a sage high moral authority more closely resembled the woman in the photo. Which also combines a nostalgia for a time I didn't witness with one I lived.

Mommy Said So

Beach House

A collaboration with a fellow bedroom producer. Although, Emily gets out much more now that she's dead.
Lyrics by Emily Dickinson

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,
And Mourners to and fro
Kept treading - treading - till it seemed
That Sense was breaking through -

And when they all were seated,
A Service, like a Drum -
Kept beating - beating - till I thought
My mind was going numb -

And then I heard them lift a Box
And creak across my Soul
With those same Boots of Lead, again,
Then Space - began to toll,

As all the Heavens were a Bell,
And Being, but an Ear,
And I, and Silence, some strange Race,
Wrecked, solitary, here -

And then a Plank in Reason, broke,
And I dropped down, and down -
And hit a World, at every plunge,
And Finished knowing - then -

I Felt A Funeral, In My Brain

Baby I get no fascination
With your pretty face
It’s just I want my sticky fingers
Roaming ‘round your place
Dollar bills misplaced in pockets
Of your forgotten coats, are
Enough to feed my nasty habits
Bless me I’m the pope
Of dope and lost hope, ah

I climbed right into this gutter
Didn’t need your help
You seem to think that I want better
That I might elope
Well I got news now darling
My heart is true
Just not to you my lover
What’s a girl to do
Well adieu

I have seen the light
Don’t show me
I know the world is cruel
You said you’d do what you could to help me, well
Fifty bucks would do
I know you can’t stand to see me
So pull your eyelids low
Open your eyes
I’m not the one who’s lying
To me
It’s you, oh

Pope

Wave

Leave Us Alone

What a joy it is to live in this modern world where one can reach part way around the globe to collaborate with a fellow musician whose work you admire. I've admired Dag Olav Hermundstad's music from the first time I listened. His music often calls one of my favorite albums to mind "Nilsson Sings Newman". The same sharp songwriting and wit combined with an unfailing pop sense. Although in Dag's case he contributes both. I'm sure most of you are well aware of Dag's music but let me recommend this personal favorite https://soundcloud.com/dag-olav-hermundstad/15-minutes-would-also-do

I Will Follow You (featuring Dag Olav Hermundstad)

Yeah Yeah

Another collaboration with the wonderful Janine Levinson.
Here are Janine's lyrics.
take my broken heart and candy-coat it
take my empty room and fill it full of sugar roses
cause we’re walking in four leaf clover
our lonely days are over!
they’re just a memory to us now

bad luck comes and goes just like the wind and weather
and my luck changed the moment love blew us together
now we’re walking in four leaf clover
our lonely days are over
they’re just a memory to us now
a memory to us now
a memory to us now

we’re walking in four leaf clover
we’re walking in four leaf clover
we’re walking in four leaf clover now!

Four Leaf Clover (A Janine Levinson Collaboration)

I'm a conceptual musical artist but the concepts are vague and I'm not willing to explain them.

jon lock

Pinned to spotlight

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