Treehouse at the P&G Bar this Thursday

There are gigs and there are gigs. Some gigs are just about showing up and hitting play, not the play button on your ipod but the play button in my mind.  This gig will not be like that.  Forget all of my previous gigs, and all other known gigs, this gig is different.  Yes, it is at a bar, as so many other gigs have historically been, but this gig will be elevated, and not in a subtle manner either.  This gig will be singular, unique.  Yes, I shall be playing songs from the book, as I played at my last P&G gig and numerous gigs previous, but don't worry your pretty little head about that, we've kicked it up a notch.  Maybe two. Let me assure you that this gig will be more than a gig.  It will be an engagement.

I will wear a nice shirt and a comfortable hat.  I've purchased a new guitar tuner, and I shall be using that to carefully tune my guitar.  I may be playing electric, I may be playing acoustic.  This gig is so profoundly innovative that I am not sure I will even know myself which instrument I will play beforehand.  I can't know even that fundamental piece of information, the kind of thing that basic pre-planning and rehearsal ordinarily demands, this gig is so outside the box.

Randy Hudson.  Evan Cassidy.  Tom Freaking Wayland.  And, of course, me, Carmen Borgia.  We got your guitar, we got your ebow, we got some other guitar, we got your bass and drums.  We got 'em right here.  For you.  Come, attend, be there, be free.  It's free.  No drink minimum, but they do assuredly have drinks, and there is no drink maximum either. You get to decide for yourself; this groundbreaking option of choice is only one of the many refreshing aspects that define this gig.  It's early, catch us after work and get home in plenty of time to chill out with a movie or a plate of artisanal cheese.  You see, this is not like other gigs, those that are so frequently later or drinkier or expensiver. 

This gig will be a game changer. 

P&G Bar, 380 Columbus Avenue at 78th Street

Thursday, July 1st, 6-8pm

No cover

http://pandgbar.com/

Thursday shall rock once again.

Last Thursday for awhile!!!!

Come on down to the Dixon Place Lounge for a warm and toasty evening of tunes and hospitality.

It's been a fun run of my favorite tunes. Come down to catch the last one, it will be a toasty evening of music and hospitality. I'll be joined by the amazing Randy Hudson with some tuneful ebowness.

Last show for now!

Thursday, THURSDAY! Music starts at 7pm.

I'll be at:
The Lounge at Dixon Place
161 Chrystie Street
7 till 10, more or less
Thursday 2/25
No cover, no begging, no catch, naturally!

Thursday is the new Friday

Work is a workweek work is a blind slide that startsonmondaystopsonfriday if i'm lucky, life is a workweek, life is life, life is a big fast car flying down a one lane blacktop, flying, swooshing, sighing by like a thing you did but don't clearly recall, like a memory you haven't had yet, just yet, life is the car, destiny is the road, work is the engine, money is the fuel

At night not every night, some evening, not every evening there is a thing, a pause, a RECALIBRATION a stutter, a skip in time, a break a THEFT...

The email is abandoned, the duty lost, the phone as if ripped from the socket on the wall in a horror film, the life, the way, the assumed thing is torn from existence

A nylon bag, black, obscure, ignored in the corner of the day.

A box, vinyl clad, dusty, harsh in its promise.

The box plugged in, the bag unzipped, a stand, an instrument, a guitar!

Plugged in, placed in the stand, stand, the last. Stand.

And then:

Music, possibly. Tentative, shy, people are leaving the building, I pick up, I hold, I pick, the pick...

Open the book, flip pages back, forward, deliberating, act of choosing and then...music, really.

The hand searches, the hand strums, with pick or sans pick. A familiar scale, an intimate riff, the warm up, the approach. And then a little voice. Shy, tentative, air crawling gently over chords, vocals, voice ashamed of itself, voice and then voice with guitar. Song. Songs! Familiar songs from the place, the home, the nest, the book. Singing more rightfully now with the guitar, a song, another song, another and another and now let's play the harmonica too. Simple and there.

Music filling up, life making way, music coming in, music occurring. It's Tuesday, let's work it, it's Wednesday, let's practice it, it's 10pm, we can stop now. It's ok, we can stop, its midnight, we can pause. I can stop today, even though its not today anymore.

Pack it up now. Carefully, each harmonica in it's little case, the rack folded and stowed, the picks and capo in the little knit bag, the tuner and the bag and the rack and the encased harmonicas in the zipper bag on the outside of the case, the guitar in the case, the cable in the other zipper bag, the amp turned off, the guitar in the bag in the office, the light's turned off, the door closed, the brain turned off, the subway ride home, alone, reading to distract, distract productively, without my guitar and without my amp, they are parked and undeployed in my office, ready for any thing, ready for tomorrow.

Tomorrow is Thursday.

I'll be at:

The Lounge at Dixon Place
With Randy Hudson joining me on guitar.

161 Chrystie Street

7pm until 10, more or less

Three more Thursdays - 2/4, 2/11, 2/25

No hat, but I may pass the cover