10 November
I wake celebrating another day alive. I survived a near fatal accident the previous Sunday on the way to a performance in Cambridge, MA, when the rental car we were driving decided to die – thankfully a mere mile from the venue. I was with my partner in creative art instigation, Joseph Keckler, who gallantly pushed the resistant metal beast to the curb. With little more than half an hour to spare we scurried to the club and did two back-to-back shows as if nothing happened. And, obviously, it could have been worse – much, much worse. So today we celebrate!
8.15pm
Mr Keckler, as always, arrives at my place promptly, offering up a gorgeous bottle of wine – appropriately named Babylon – for one of our weekly salon sessions. The night begins with food, drinks and the following songs. I shall leave it to your imagination whether or not dancing soon followed.
8.45pm
In my living room feasting on a spicy chicken tagine, one of my specialties, and the aforementioned red wine. Bad Luck Is All I Have by Eddie Harris causes a bit of a chuckle. We feel extremely lucky. ’Nuff said.
Jump Into the Fire by Harry Nilsson (7 min version) sets a rather psychedelic mood, and, considering the company I’m with, we feel like we’re tripping. We rat-a-tat-tat as if speaking in tongues that only the two of us can decode, which is why our salons are usually 12 to 24-hour sessions where we connive, conspire, plan, plot, read and write poetry and, on the odd occasion, philosophy. And we play or write music. It’s just what we do.
And we drink: thick coffee, followed by a healthy shot or three, I kid you not, of Never Say Die bourbon. My glass has an ice cold silver bullet in it, and an ice cube to temper the spicy notes of caramel, white pepper, vanilla and leather, the combination that is the delicious signature of this Kentucky fire water. To quote William Blake: “The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom. You never know what is enough until you know what is more than enough.” We live and try not to die by this spectacular credo.
10pm
Time Has Come Today by the Chambers Brothers. A psychedelic soul classic. At 11 minutes and three seconds, we just might have to hear it twice. If you haven’t already guessed – we are nothing if not excessive.
Ohio/Machine Gun by the Isley Brothers, live at the Bitter End NYC, 1972. An amazing mashup of Neil Young’s song about the massacre at Kent State married to the gloriously overblown opus by Jimi Hendrix (whose early career was, thankfully, pushed along by the Isley Brothers).
Gimme Shelter: Merry Clayton’s isolated vocal track followed by the full blown version by the Rolling Stones. Chilling. We pump up the volume. One of my all time favourite political anti-violence songs. Ever. A masterpiece of lyrical revolt.
Cocksucker Blues by the Rolling Stones. The best Mick Jagger fuck you to Decca records who, before releasing them from their crappy contract, demanded one last single. Genius. To all the record labels that knew better than to ever approach me …
11 November
The crack of midnight
Waitin’ Around to Die by Townes Van Zandt. Just listen to this track and don’t ask me why. In truth, it’s the last thing on our minds, following in Townes’s fated footsteps. Nonetheless, it’s a grand bluesy ballad that seems to creep in to almost all our late-night salon sessions, where we will no doubt end up singing along loudly. We’re mournful enough to rattle the dead – or at least to scare the crap out of my neighbours.
12.15am
Lest you think it’s all fun and games – and a possible dance or funeral party to boot – we both have a little work to do. Joseph is reviewing Just Another Death, an unreleased collaboration between him and musical maestro Cypress Grove, for an upcoming radio drama. Joseph takes notes and emails instructions off.
I review Murder in the Temple, an unreleased track I’m featured on from Zohra Atash, which hits in the new year. We are recording a video for it tomorrow, the day before I leave on tour. Think dark, and then even darker, wave.
1am
We both need more coffee and more bourbon, and cookies for Joseph. All that work makes us thirsty and hungry. Sonny Simmons’ Metamorphosis, just to clear the deck. From psychedelic we have transgressed to psychotic – musically, at least for now.
2am
I’ve Got to Use My Imagination by Gladys Knight and the Pips. Ruler of My Heart by Irma Thomas. Yeah figure that out – we’re suckers for soul.
(I Know) I’m Losing You by Rod Stewart, because the bourbon is kicking in hard and Rod was HOT a long, long time ago – like, late-60s, early-70s, Faces. I feel like I’m about to lose my mind now, finally.
Lose Yourself and 3 a.m. by Eminem. Why? Because. Just because. And now I’m feeling a bit frisky. Time for forensic TV. It lulls Joseph to sleep. I creep into the other room and play one of the most darkly romantic songs anyone I personally know has ever written: The Ride by Joseph Keckler. An epic ballad of longing and departure. Mandatory listening for the broken-hearted and bruised of knee. Needless to say I won’t be sleeping any time soon. I have work to do.
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