As my life zips by at warp speed I barely see the signposts ahead, the lives dripping by, the rain that falls or the
multiple times that particular moments  grab me by the stones and scream ‘LISTEN!’.
There is an incessant drone that accompanies the soundtrack of my life.
Like any constant, the human condition adapts and moves on, uninterrupted and undisturbed.
The body is made in a way that it simply adapts and adjusts.

Example: Where did I put my glasses?
Answer: They are up on the top of your head.

If we didn’t have this ability, wearing clothes would drive us to insanity.
I work in a cigar store and hear on a daily basis,
“This store smells wonderful! It reminds of my Dad/Grandfather/Uncle.”
Truth be told, I can’t smell it.
I can be away for weeks from the store and upon my return?
Nothing.
No smell, no recognition.
I am for the most part physiologically incapable of recognizing it.
But I could walk into another cigar store and the smell grabs and smacks me in the face like the cigar smoking bitch that I am . . .
(in a good way, I love tobacco).
My point is that as we live our lives we sometimes build up an almost unintentional immunity to things that mean the most to us.
This includes people, places, things, moments, songs, food, smells, feelings, emotions and more.
It’s physiological and biological as well.
It’s how we are hard-wired.
We are bombarded by so much media that much of what we see consists of perpetuated and virtual cybershit.
Don’t know about you but seeing that on a daily basis puts me on a virtual merry-go-round.
But now and then something throws me off the ride, in a major way.

My 2011 Ford Escape has one hell of an amazing sound system.
It is equipped with Microsoft Sync, Sirius Radio, a great CD player and a USB port for the 4,000+ songs on my Ipod Classic. (and it gets close to 32 miles/gallon highway)
Not sure but judging from the sound I think the speaker system may be made by Bose.
At any rate this thing kicks some serious sonic ass.
It is AMAZING.
(and it has an awesome Australian Southern Cross vanity plate to boot)
I was driving into Boston last Sunday morning and had my Ipod set to ‘Shuffle’ (random songs).
I can fast forward or rewind using the controls on my steering wheel.
As I made my way onto the Mass Pike THIS song came on.
I’ve listened to Marc Jordan for years but never listened to this song as I did this particular Sunday.
It’s meaning was crystal clear as to what and who the song was about.
The next song was THIS from Michael Sembello (aka, Maniac from ‘FlashDance’ fame)
Although I’d listened to this album years ago, I never heard the actual words.
What came to me towards the end of the song was that someone is trying to get in touch with me.
Someone is trying like hell to make me listen.
Someone is going out of their way to get me to wake the hell up in terms of my life.
If you feel like doing some homework, listen to these two songs.
Who do YOU think they are about?
Know that I am listening and know that in my heart the songs are both about the same Man.
Is He Superman?
It’s all about interpretation.
I’m thinking I understand and it’s always been all about Superman . . .

~m

I have never been shy about professing the love I have for my wife.
Over the years she has been my greatest advocate, critic and friend in a way that defies the actual meaning of love.
Since I ceased writing music (for now) I listen daily and in a deeper way than ever before.
Now and again a song comes to me via chance/serendipity and explains to me why God sent this gentle and beautiful soul my way.
Yes, I am sappy but I couldn’t care less what people think.
I love this woman and am not afraid to tell the world every chance I get.
I heard this song for the first time tonight and was close to tears on the train home.
It hit me like a ton of bricks.
It is a deep version of Pamela and me in so very many ways.
Those that are close to us will possibly understand.
If you haven’t listened to Marc Jordan or even heard of him, check this song out.
I’ve listened to him for well over 20 years. He is quite simply awesome.
This song is not unlike a personal anthem to a woman that has stuck by me through thick and thin for almost 29 years.
She is absolutely the ‘best part of my life’ . . .
[lyrics are below. took me the better part of 1.5 hours to transcribe them as they are nowhere on the web]
(as with most of my posted videos, headphones are essential)
lyp . . .

I walked on all these streets in victory and defeat
gathering the fragments before the sky turned grey
but always in my mind, you’re with me all the time
and every while now Lord I take . . .
I feel you like the rain . . .
And from this windowpane the world feels like a dream
the lights shine on these streets where you and I have been
sometimes I think I see . . .  you looking back at me
‘cause loving you has been a story without end
a river running through,  my heart and back again
A place where I was safe,  when the world felt like a knife
loving you has been the best part of my life

Your arms gave me faith, to reach out for the light
and although I was lost sometimes I ran to you each night
and if these wounds could speak they’d cry your name out loud
and if my heart had wings I’d fly beyond the clouds
I’d carry you away beyond this maddening crowd
‘cause loving you has been a story without end
a river running through,  my life and back again
a place where I was safe, when the world felt like a knife
loving you has been the best part of my life

From this windowpane the world seems like a dream
the lights shine on these streets where you and I have been
sometimes I think I see you looking back at me
to a place where I was safe when the world felt like a knife
loving you has been the best part of my life . . .

~m

This song is deeply personal to me.
Interpretation is as always a unique thing.
Jimmy Webb has inspired me for many years.
His writing style, lyrics and unmistakeable piano chords make me yearn to
write again someday.
‘Mistress’ has been recorded by many people over the years but no version gets to me like
Webb’s.
As I said, the song is embedded deeply into the tapestry of my life.
A secret and a mystery I will take to the grave.
This is the beauty of the written song . . .

I put my keyboards up for sale a short time ago and truth be told it was harder to do than I thought it would be.
My gigging days are, for now, over.
30+ years of playing has left me gasping at the changes in the entire music scene in general.
[a post all by itself]
Don’t get me wrong, I still love my piano, my Taylor acoustic, my two didgeridoos and will continue playing them
just not in the capacity I once did.
Yes, I will be playing piano at the house on Christmas Eve.
That’s tradition.
While a part of me is sad looking at the possible end of my performing career another part of me is
thrilled to be home on New Year’s Eve.
I’ve toyed with the idea of getting a group together should I reach the ripe age of 70.
The name of said group would be ‘Comb-Over 7000′. (an idea from a close friend)
We could be sponsored by Geritol, Depends undergarments and Poligrip (a marketing frenzy would ensue, no doubt)
People in wheelchairs would get in for free.
With a cane, half price admission.
Hell, maybe we could offer free blood pressure checks at every show.
The possibilities are truly endless.
And the t-shirts could change the world!
I found this little tome I wrote from many years ago and decided to share it again.
Life is cyclical from time to time as is writing.
The merry-go-round stopped here today.
Enjoy my ‘old’ list . . .
Feel free to add to it . . .

You might be too old to gig if:

Ø Before each gig, you find you’re warming up more parts of your body

Ø It becomes more important to find a place onstage for your boxfan, than your amp.

Ø During the second set, you scream for the drummer to please stop hitting those annoying cymbals

Ø You refuse to play out of tune

Ø Your gig clothes make you look like George Burns out for a round a golf

Ø Your fans have left by 10:30

Ø All you want from groupies is a foot massage.

Ø You love shopping the dollar store because you can sing along to most of your playlist.

Ø You hire band members for their values instead of their talent.

Ø Instead of a fifth piece, your band wants to spring for a roadie with the extra money.

Ø You’ve lost the directions to the gig

Ø Prepping for the gig involves plucking hair from your chin or nose

Ø Most of the hair you’ve plucked from your chin or nose are gray

Ø You need your glasses to see your amp settings

Ø You need help on and off the stage

Ø You’ve thrown out your back jumping off the stage because no one would help

Ø You’re thrilled to have new year’s off

Ø The waitress is your daughter

Ø You stop the set because your bottle of ibuprofen fell behind the speakers

Ø Most of your crowd just sways in their seats

Ø You find drink tokens from last month’s gig in your guitar case

Ø You refuse to play without earplugs

Ø You ask the club owner if you can start at 8:30 instead of 9:30

Ø You want an opening act

Ø You check the TV schedule before booking a gig

Ø High notes make you cough

Ø Your gig stool has a back

Ø You’re related to at least one other member of the band

Ø You need a nap

Ø You eat before the gig, you get heartburn then need the nap.

Ø You don’t let anyone “sit in”

Ø After the third set, you bug the club owner to let you quit early

Ø On the breaks, you now go to your van to lay down

Ø You prefer a music stand with a light

Ø You say you double on bass

Ø When shopping, you consider the instrument’s weight as well as tone.

Ø When in the music store, the hip sales people ignore you even though you have cash.

Ø You don’t recover until Tuesday afternoon

Ø You can’t operate without a setlist

Ø You know all the words to “Hotel California”

~m

Back in 1972, the Stylistics released ‘Betcha by Golly Wow’ to the masses.
Although I’m not sure just how high it climbed on the charts, it was an amazing song in so very many ways.
The song’s harmonic complexity was something of a rarity for the ’70′s.
I loved the song back then (musically, not really knowing why but understanding it now)
and had all but forgotten about it until today.
A friend had given me the new Pat Metheny CD to listen to,
I put it on my Ipod and completely forgot about it.
Shuffling my way to South Station tonight this old familiar song came streaming into my headphones.
Betcha by Golly, Wow?
On guitar?
Who the hell is this?!?
Ayup.
Pat Metheny.
I can’t believe that there are still people that have never heard of him.
If I can turn one person onto this incredible musician, this post will have done its job.
If you have 10 minutes, please listen to the original and then to Metheny’s rendition.
Maybe you will hear why I am just so amazed by this man (and the Stylistics)
Either way, enjoy them both.
Expect some posts about my sojourn to Australia in the next few weeks.
Right now my cranium us still sifting through the incredible and amazing details . . .
~m

Over the years, I have felt a connection with several Bruce Hornsby songs.
Fields of Grey, [don't watch the video but listen to the song!]
reminds me of my daughter Sarah and my intense feelings of fatherly protection and safety for her.
[this strange phenomenon has happened for all 3 girls, truth be told]
When the song shows up unexpectedly on my Ipod I usually text her to see if everything is alright.
She sends me a text that loosely interpreted  says, listening to Hornsby huh?
I listened to ‘Lost Soul’ a few nights ago for the first time and couldn’t help but associate the words to
a person suffering from Alzheimer’s, the most lost of souls.
When the chorus kicked in I heard a female voice and thought, hey, that’s Shawn Colvin.

Here’s the connection with me and Shawn Colvin.
And here’s the song.

Not sure if this song is speaking to the issues regarding dementia or AD but I took it that way.
‘Lost Souls’ is chilling lyrically and musically sophisticated beyond belief.
Play the video and read the lyrics below and maybe you will see.
If not, it’s still a great tune.
Hornsby is an amazing musician, jazz/classical pianist and songwriter and Colvin just gives me a bad case of goosebumps. (and maybe because she’s a real cute blonde)
I am doing my first walk for Alzheimer’s research on September 25th to raise funds for some badly needed research.
Check back in the not too distant future for more info if you would like to help me meet my goal.
I already have a webpage HERE.
Check it out!
Until my next post, please be safe, happy and well.

Michael

There was a man of confused and sad nature
Thought no one loved him that was not true
He said he was a lost soul didn’t fit in anywhere
Didn’t know where to turn or who to turn to

There’s a lost soul coming down the road
Somewhere between two worlds
With an oar in his hands and a song on your lips
We’ll row the boat to the far shore
Row the boat of the loved lost soul

Ever since oh I can remember
We all tried to ease the pain
Took him in when he needed some shelter
Tried to make him feel he was one of us again
There was one day oh I can remember
He sat alone with a pencil in his hand
All day long he drew careful on the paper
In the end just a picture of a man

Of the lost soul coming down the road
Somewhere between two worlds
With an oar in his hands and a song on your lips
We’ll row the boat to the far shore
Row the boat of loved lost soul

Oh dear Mary do you remember
The day we went walking downtown
As I recall it was in early December
After school had just let out
When I see you on the street in the twilight
I may tip my hat and keep my head down
You show me love but maybe I don’t deserve it
I’ve been called but not been found

There’s a lost soul coming down the road
Somewhere between two worlds
With an oar in his hands and a song on your lips
We’ll row the boat to the far shore
Row the boat of the loved lost soul

My nephew Ryan sent me this link.
I’d never heard of Brett Eldredge before.
The story is quite simple and one that our family is all too familiar with.
‘Katherine’ mistakes Brett for her son Raymond who died in Vietnam.
As Eldredge says, “And that’s alright by me.”
For anyone coping with Alzheimer’s or working in a nursing home this song should be heard.
God bless the all the Raymond’s of this world of which there are many.
Lord knows, I used to be one . . .

Some people consider themselves fortunate to have one Valentine.
I am blessed with four beautiful hearts that I love intensely,
four women that make my life so incredibly and bitter-sweetly complete.
On this 14th day of February know that all four of you are truly my home.
In my crimson heart, I’m singing this song for all of you.

“I love you in a place where there’s no space or time . . . “

For my PaMeLa, SaRaH, JeNnA & HaNnAh . . .

Happy Valentine’s Day, miladies.

My wife would never consider this particular name for a daughter of ours.
For some reason I love it.
Check out this performance by Sting.
Although he may be a prick, the boy can seriously sing.
His vocal range makes me want to kill him.
Not much in the way of substance here but wanted to let people know that
I am still alive. [and writing]
Peace.
Out.

~m

It’s been a particularly difficult day for yours truly.
And change is in the wind.
I decided to place my worries elsewhere tonight . . .
Bigger hands, much bigger shoulders.
He has never let me down before.
Going a bit God on you here.
I apologize.
Sometimes that’s not a bad thing, though.
If you have yet to listen to Casting Crowns, do yourself a favor and check ITunes sometime.
Yeah, it’s a God thing in some ways but musically these guys are simply amazing.
And their message is always ‘life is good’  positive.
And I need positive after the soul sucking day I endured.
I got the goosebumps that I badly needed after watching this video.
Love your neighbors, love your world, love your life, and kiss the kids for me . . .
And yes, ultimately, I am His
~m