Gary Davis plays
the blues (quietly) in church
from beyond the grave
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23 June 2021
Greensboro VT
Category: Music
“Tennessee Jed” plays
as I wait in the drive-through
: road trip to Vermont
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11 June 2021
Matamoras, PA
at the laundromat
spinning some live Grateful Dead
while my clothes go ’round
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10 June 2021
State College PA
the moment I knew for sure I liked David Rovics
I remember he finished singing the line
“Coke is the drink of the death squads”
picked up a Coke, looked at the audience
said, “Hey, it’s a complicated world”
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16 April 2021
State College PA
for David Rovics
Revenge!
Mingus! Dolphy!
Elderly people doing yoga!
Park pavilions full of
downward dogs & the upper class.
The Buick owners realigning their chakras
before heading off to brunch.
Everyone has a dog or else no one does.
There’s ozone in the air but the sun is out.
Where’s the promised thunder?
The desert is a dirty liar.
The bass clarinet will have to do.
///
21 January 2021
Oro Valley, AZ
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2 Comments[bandcamp width=100% height=120 track=1758795542 size=large bgcol=ffffff linkcol=0687f5 tracklist=false artwork=small]
An ode to life in a red state.
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I’ve been listening to a lot of Wendy Eisenberg recently to prepare for an interview. All that music inspired this piece, performed on ukulele, diddley bow, pandeiro, and two tracks of soprano saxophone.
Leave a CommentCat Stevens’ voice breaks
when he sings the word “listen.”
Hummingbird flies off.
Prince died four years ago today. On that morning I talked with guitarist Vernon Reid about Prince and his legacy:
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For McCoy Tyner
McCoy Tyner died today.
He was 81.
Honestly that surprised me;
I’d thought he was older.
Aren’t all masters ancient?
Or maybe timeless. Ageless.
Achieve a certain level of fluency
& you pass beyond the reach of the clock’s hands,
slip through Death’s grasping arms.
Now all four are gone: John, then Jimmy,
Elvin next, now McCoy.
A baby born tomorrow will never have
breathed the air at the same time
as any member of Coltrane’s classic quartet.
I wasn’t born when Trane died.
I was two when Jimmy left us.
Once I shook Elvin’s hand.
Another time I heard McCoy play.
McCoy Tyner died today.
He was 81.
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Jason Crane
7 March 2020
Tucson, AZ
new world man: for Neil Peart
mid-80s, knees wedged against
the vinyl bus seat
avoiding my fellow students
with a Sony Walkman
I had to bend the headphone cord
just so to listen in stereo
I still have good hearing today
despite blasting Signals
over & over at the limit
of those cheap headphones
later: band trip to Virginia, John & Scott
in the back of the bus
boombox across their laps, John on
air drums, Scott on bass
memorizing every note of
Moving Pictures
(put sticks in John’s hands &
he could really play that stuff;
our hometown Neil)
later still: at the War Memorial
in the era of the rotating drum set
we heard the harp glissando
cheered ourselves hoarse as Neil
roared like the god of thunder
row after row of awkward teens
beating the air in unison
’91, Japan: borrowed room, borrowed CD player
Roll The Bones on repeat
till Shoko banged on the wall, yelled — in the
Japanese I was just learning —
to turn it down (memories of my parents
buying me a stereo my mom
would never let me turn up)
this morning: false spring, older now
than he was then
out for my morning walk blasting
Signals, Grace Under Pressure
water in my eyes but not from the rain
drums carrying the weight of years
all the memories wrapped up in those sounds
seems to me it’s chemistry
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Jason Crane
11 January 2020
State College PA
Japanese Punk On The Corporate Wheel
Got my uniform on again. Now, in addition to being
embarrassed by the fact of it, I’m also embarrassed
by the fit. I’ve lost twenty-five pounds and look like
a kid in my father’s clothes. And if there’s one thing
I no longer want to wear, it’s the legacy of my father.
Either of them. Anyway to cut the taste of defeat
I control the music. Me and my Bluetooth speaker
against the world, or at least the office. Right now
I’m playing the Japanese punk band Chai at a volume
that can only be called inconsiderate. I know. But
there are times when four young women screaming
in unison in Japanese is the only thing that will
shove the darkness back a few steps so I can get
a full breath in.
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Jason Crane
7 January 2020
State College PA
Playing The Fania All-Stars At My Retail Job
Takes me back to my early days playing
latin jazz and salsa in Tucson bars.
When we were all the way on
whole rooms full of sweating dancers
would cheer, spinning, singing along. ¡Baila!
Me, a 20-year-old white kid with no business
among these grizzled Mexican and Puerto Rican
veterans of the local music scene. Playing the claves
like an elementary school kid with woodblocks.
“If you’re going to play them,” Ismael said, “PLAY THEM.”
Later he would tell me, during a flamenco tune:
“Clap like my mama’s making tortillas.”
(He offered me cocaine, drank Scotch during every set
till the tempos were elastic as putty.)
Later I would lay jazz melodies over the dance rhythms.
Will, the bongocero, said to a new trumpeter:
“Can you play them jazz songs like my man Jason?”
I floated off the floor in my cap-toed spectators.
MCA Records offered us a deal, so we got together
at Izzy’s house to lay down a bunch of music.
Izzy got coked up, missed the meeting with the execs,
the deal was off. But when we were on, man,
we were all the way on.
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Jason Crane
27 December 2019
State College PA
Real
I watch John Tchicai dance lightly
through the minefield of “supposed to.”
He’s far ahead but I can see him,
and though the way is full of danger,
I take one step—
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Jason Crane
12 December 2019
State College PA