As performed by the wonderful San Francisco pianist Dr. Dale Tsang, this is my piano sonata founded in Appalachian fiddle tunes.  For more information, including program notes, go here: https://www.newertunes.com/fiddlins.

Jon Jeffrey Grier: Fiddlins'

An original by Jon Grier.  Anybody's guess what the title means...

PICK OF THE LITTER

WELL YOU NEEDN'T

A funky interpretation of the Beatles classic

ELEONORE DIGS ME

As an American, I feel compelled to respond to the murder of George Floyd.  As a musician, naturally, I want to express my anger, grief, and concern for our country through the most powerful medium of which I am capable.  So, I offer this song, which I composed in late 2016 for the GLOW Lyric Theater production And Still I Rise (https://glowlyric.com/event/and-still-i-rise/).  In it, I have set the poem For Nai’s Son on His Birthday by North Carolina poet Ashley Lumpkin, in which an aunt offers her newborn nephew a preview of what it is going to be like to grow up as a Black man in America.  It is a potent warning and a heartfelt, hopeful expression of the beautiful potential inherent in every new life.

The singer is the wonderful Atlanta-based soprano Dr. Diana Thompson-Brewer, one of the finest vocalists I have had the privilege of working with; I am at the piano.  The performance was recorded on 14 January 2017 in the Recital Hall of the Greenville Fine Arts Center.  Here are Ashley’s words:

the day may come when the hounds are sent to lick the brown from off your skin
to steal the fire from beneath your eyes
to pull the truth from your throat
do not fear
remember who you are
remember you chose your own name
you are hurricane
and hustle hard
with love enough to clench your teeth
you are cayenne pepper
and ginger root
this heritage don’t come easy
you are warrior and hip hop gospel
you soldier and sound until the sun come
do not let them quiet your music
a prophet was made to sing
and for the days the song gets heavy
remember your mother is ocean and psalm
she is still water quick tongue
with a mean right hook
she is law and lawless when it comes to this heart
you are two sides of a coin picked up for good luck You make your own fortune here
remember to breathe
remember to pray
remember these days are touch and go
remember this poem
how it come from the stars that brew inside your belly Be a galaxy
a courageous heart
be peace and protest till the lightning fall
be a light to this world
we welcome you.

For Nai's Son On His Birthday

A dark lamentation condemning the proliferation of guns and gun violence in our country, written in the immediate aftermath of the Parkland High School shootings.  This performance is by Danielle Knox, soprano, & myself at the piano.

Shards - text by the composer.

They were someone and someone’s;
A few shards only remain 
of life space shattered in an instant.

It began as it ended,
lacking light, empty of reflection.
If only, if only...

To score the Glock,
to bury reluctance,
to hear the ricochet and walk away,
to repeat the pain.
It’s grown so easy.

Hail to the Chief!
Hail to those sacred amended words
that require nothing more
when questions question me.

He was once someone’s little boy,
a hopeful statistic rotted to the negative,
his aim better than his plans,
his shards offering little solace.

Hail to the Chief!
Hail my right to trample
any weed or rose if their blooms frighten.
Boots don’t kill, people do.

She was someone’s little girl,
a spark of promise snuffed out,
unknown to the extinguisher.
Her shards offer bitter solace.

Who will have the courage to say 
what all claim, but fear to know?

If only, if only.

Jon Jeffrey Grier

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