Tuesday, May 29, 2012

How to Get There

The following is from a session with my good friend, poet and sometimes rhythm guitarist Andrew Klein, on 4/1/12. Andrew is reading the poem "How to Get There" by Frank O'Hara while I play. My playing is a free improvisation, and it is my first time hearing this poem. Towards the end of the poem Andrew begins to improvise by repeating phrases, and then revisiting parts of the poem after its end. I am playing with my loop pedal. I've put the text of the poem below, with O'Hara's original layout.

This is the first of a few tracks from this project I will be posting in the coming weeks. This is from only our third session together.

Gary Prince - Guitar
Andrew Klein - Voice

"How to Get There" - Frank O'Hara, 1960, New York City

White the October air, no snow, easy to breathe
beneath the sky, lies, lies everywhere writhing and
clutching and tangling, it is not easy to breathe
lies building their tendrils into dim figures
who disappear down corridors in west-side apartments
into childhood’s proof of being wanted, not
abandoned, kidnapped
betrayal staving off loneliness, I see the fog lunge in
and hide it
where are you?
here I am on the sidewalk
under the moonlike lamplight thinking how
precious moss is
so unique and greenly crushable if you can find it
on the north side of the tree where the fog binds you
and then, tearing apart into soft white lies,
spreads its disease
through the primal night of an everlasting winter
which nevertheless has heat in tubes, west-side and
and its intricate individual pathways of white
by the ringing of telephone bells beside which
someone sits in
silence denying their own number, never given out!
like the sound of troika bells rushing past suffering
in the first storm, it is snowing now,
it is already too late
the snow will go away, but nobody will be there

police cordons for lying political dignitaries ringing too
the world becomes a jangle
from the index finger
to the vast empty houses filled with people,
their echoes

of lies and the tendrils of fog trailing softly around
their throats
now the phone can be answered, nobody calling,
only an echo
all can confess to be home and waiting, all is the same
and we drift into the clear sky enthralled
by our disappointment
never to be alone again
never to be loved
sailing through space: didn’t I have you once for my
West Side?
for a couple of hours, but I am not that person

[copyright Frank O’Hara, 1960]

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Shine a light on me

This Sunday, May 27th, Zach Lupetin will be in town from sunny LA, where he is currently fronting The Dustbowl Revival, writing plays, and generally being amazing. Here we are the last time he came and visited, in Oct of 2010, playing "The Midnight Special" at BloomBars (where we will be again this Sunday)

Zach Lupetin: Guitar/Vocals
Gary Prince: Guitar
Andrew Klein: Guitar
Sara Curtin: Vocals

The Midnight Special is an old blues traditional tune - from what I've read, the midnight special represented the underground railroad and the concept of escape from oppression. As a bunch of 19 year old college kids, we made it the name of our blues band. Here we are doing it like the CCR version.

I'm pretty excited about this weekend. Not only is it my birthday (the only time I'll turn 27 on the 27th), but we're going to get down with an amazing concert. It's happening:

Sunday, May 27th
BloomBars, 3222 11th St NW, Washington DC
8 pm
$10 suggested donation

Come join us. Sara will also be performing a set of her original, solo music - a truly special experience!

Thursday, May 17, 2012

Solo Improvisation 4/22/12

It's been a long time, I know. Not because I haven't been busy.

Among other things, I got a loop pedal (Boss RC-3). That is what is going on in this track, pulled from a session with Andrew Klein - more on that later. It was raining outside, and while I didn't necessarily plan it at the time, I think that is what I was going for on some level. I hope you enjoy it - the music has been building up and I'm thinking again about putting it up here

Happy Spring!