Monday, November 2, 2009
Thursday, October 15, 2009
work=patience=reward=sanity, well kind of
trying to find more afrobeat mash-ups, and tracks for Saturday. fun work. got this mike nice reworking of AMERICAN GANGSTER mixed with fela. its pretty dope. so those tracks gave me the idea for a whole night. finished a track for Paloma McGregor's new dance work based on NINA SIMONE. it is part of a whole night of Simone inspired dances. i was trying to go and witness, but alas that fell through cuz not only do i have to dj- i couldn't find someone to go with me, and i should work - rather than see work. anyway the process was cool, its been a long time since we collaborated on anything. she is visionary in my opinion, and after the rough draft of the track- she knew exactly where she wanted it to go. spent yesterday digging for records, went to a few of my secret spots, and ended up at one spot PHONOGRAPHIC ARTS in Tremont. i'm telling you about this one cuz i want them to stay open. after the dig, listened to this mingus piano improv record that came out on Impulse. raw shit, and he was a bassist. Peerless came through- called out of the blue, and i made three joints for his new record. i made four, and he wasn't fucking with one of them, but we came up with three bangers. im really happy with them.
got to see my really good friend Chewy - she called out of the blue, and we got cocktails. got up. she was getting mad cuz i kept texting funny as hell. good night.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
CD RELEASE - PASTICHE, A Memoir of sorts
So this past sat. we (meaning the cleveland tapes crew) threw a cd release for my album PASTICHE - you can download it, or any album out on the label by clicking here -
it was a good night, with an awesome dj performance by e.react spinning a mix of clevelandtapes/fare trade music, then delo fi brought some noise/funk to the mix, and folks wasn't ready. its strange how the city is just not used to seeing a beat set. they don't seem to get it. so we had to cut his set, and get on before we lost the crowd. i was surprise by the response to the songs, i think Mantis and me came off fairly well. i remember all my songs, which never happens, real excited to play again. this crazy dumpling lady tried to grab me a few times which made for some real comedy. man she was wasted, and amber and scott sykes tried to hold her back, but she kept charging. after my set, aLIVE killed a rare J DILLA set. he was on fire and it brought the house down. it made for a complete night, with e.react holding down sound man duties, and Z doing the host thing. Amber and the crew sold some cds and the night went off seem-less. in looking at the pics you would think it was just a dozen folks there, but there was about a hundred there, i guess the angles in that basement space a tricky cuz the back extends toward far stair case. anyway, it was kind of a let-down because so many of my friends didn't come out like they said they would. i wonder if its just that folks don't really care, or they just hate the art we are making and are too scared to say so. it makes it hard to want to keep going, even though we make primarily cuz we just have to- to live. but you want community support, and what we are doing as a collective with limited resources is kind of cool. i'm proud of us.
so below are some shots by Amber, and Scott Sykes(not sure if delo fi took any) i will up load more pics later. i just want to publicly thank the team, we making it happen, one day at a time, lets just keep pushing.
it was a good night, with an awesome dj performance by e.react spinning a mix of clevelandtapes/fare trade music, then delo fi brought some noise/funk to the mix, and folks wasn't ready. its strange how the city is just not used to seeing a beat set. they don't seem to get it. so we had to cut his set, and get on before we lost the crowd. i was surprise by the response to the songs, i think Mantis and me came off fairly well. i remember all my songs, which never happens, real excited to play again. this crazy dumpling lady tried to grab me a few times which made for some real comedy. man she was wasted, and amber and scott sykes tried to hold her back, but she kept charging. after my set, aLIVE killed a rare J DILLA set. he was on fire and it brought the house down. it made for a complete night, with e.react holding down sound man duties, and Z doing the host thing. Amber and the crew sold some cds and the night went off seem-less. in looking at the pics you would think it was just a dozen folks there, but there was about a hundred there, i guess the angles in that basement space a tricky cuz the back extends toward far stair case. anyway, it was kind of a let-down because so many of my friends didn't come out like they said they would. i wonder if its just that folks don't really care, or they just hate the art we are making and are too scared to say so. it makes it hard to want to keep going, even though we make primarily cuz we just have to- to live. but you want community support, and what we are doing as a collective with limited resources is kind of cool. i'm proud of us.
so below are some shots by Amber, and Scott Sykes(not sure if delo fi took any) i will up load more pics later. i just want to publicly thank the team, we making it happen, one day at a time, lets just keep pushing.
Monday, September 28, 2009
BALDWIN NOTES
Been working on a trilogy of books about James Baldwin entitled BALDWIN NOTES. the first book will be a book of poems called "I HEARD RUFUS SAY". here are some of the poems from the manuscript.
The bridge
For Albert Ayler, who died along the dubious lines.
The mouth of a river,
Hold the soot of a country
And this city of bridges
Knows no mercy for thinkers
And if it was Bessie in the morning
Then its was, drifting he thigh at night.
So after it was guilt in the mirror
For the push to love weighed terrible
And these angels gargoyle the mystery
Temples are on fire
His beautiful mouth
His sly sugar walk
His tell in of a Rufus
The ashed Icarus
No wings.
And the soot of the city
Hidden by the fog
Faggot call words burst mountains
Jump.
Jump.
Jump. They never saw you.
The call
And for stars who die
What of their light?
I imagine, you the late riser
Chasing a hangover, last night’s
Pages in hand, a cig dangle
Lucien asks you if you are ready for coffee
You kiss him, full and bold mouth
For you are not of Harlem,
Even as its nightstick remembers
And the phone rings,
A shiver rises up the spine
Snuggle the sweater close, the fourth ring
You make it-
Your brother is whisper
Says
“they killed Malcolm come home.”
The receiver never finds the handle
As Betty’s face cuts your cheek.
Times Square, 1940
There was the palpable tension
For the earth too separate
Jews dying. The beginning
None of it mattered
The burn in my heart
The search for my place
I took him full on in the mouth
Rough kiss, he grabs me short curl
And I can see my father’s eyes
To blink, alley light swinging
Against the brick, “relax. I’ll do you.”
Spit trickles to my ankle
I wonder how I smell to him
If he can see my black skin
Underneath all of this shame
I finish, and he gestures to me
To return,
His eyes blaze and it hurts to hood them
The belt, fumbles
My hands feel dumb
The zipper sound of a thousand lions
His hair smells of sweat
Sweet anticipation
A beautiful indecision, I swallow.
The bridge
For Albert Ayler, who died along the dubious lines.
The mouth of a river,
Hold the soot of a country
And this city of bridges
Knows no mercy for thinkers
And if it was Bessie in the morning
Then its was, drifting he thigh at night.
So after it was guilt in the mirror
For the push to love weighed terrible
And these angels gargoyle the mystery
Temples are on fire
His beautiful mouth
His sly sugar walk
His tell in of a Rufus
The ashed Icarus
No wings.
And the soot of the city
Hidden by the fog
Faggot call words burst mountains
Jump.
Jump.
Jump. They never saw you.
The call
And for stars who die
What of their light?
I imagine, you the late riser
Chasing a hangover, last night’s
Pages in hand, a cig dangle
Lucien asks you if you are ready for coffee
You kiss him, full and bold mouth
For you are not of Harlem,
Even as its nightstick remembers
And the phone rings,
A shiver rises up the spine
Snuggle the sweater close, the fourth ring
You make it-
Your brother is whisper
Says
“they killed Malcolm come home.”
The receiver never finds the handle
As Betty’s face cuts your cheek.
Times Square, 1940
There was the palpable tension
For the earth too separate
Jews dying. The beginning
None of it mattered
The burn in my heart
The search for my place
I took him full on in the mouth
Rough kiss, he grabs me short curl
And I can see my father’s eyes
To blink, alley light swinging
Against the brick, “relax. I’ll do you.”
Spit trickles to my ankle
I wonder how I smell to him
If he can see my black skin
Underneath all of this shame
I finish, and he gestures to me
To return,
His eyes blaze and it hurts to hood them
The belt, fumbles
My hands feel dumb
The zipper sound of a thousand lions
His hair smells of sweat
Sweet anticipation
A beautiful indecision, I swallow.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Thursday, September 10, 2009
NEW RELEASES FROM CLEVELAND TAPES
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