New CD: The Red Circle Line

Okay folks, it's been a nutty couple of weeks. South is down, for now, and I've divided my new schedule between catching up with my actual job and sleeping.

Now for all of you who may not have been fortunate, or crazy enough to make it to New York City for South, I've naturally got another thing going. Somewhere in the rehearsal process for South, I wrapped a new CD, The Red Circle Line. The title honors my daily commute into midtown by subway to extract money from the man, or a man. Or sometimes the Woman. Whatever. In any case, it's a wonderful piece of musical output, and you will be certainly pleased by it if you pick up a copy.

Now I'm not going to get into that "hey, support me because I'm an artist" thing, although I do crave support. No, you should check it out because it contains some truly great music and I think you will like it. These songs are good. A guy at work said, "It would be great if you could get some guitar and drums in these like a normal album, but even with the ukulele or whatever that is, I was humming these tunes on the way into work today. Weird."

See, people like this stuff.

Go, listen to some pieces, and if you're interested, then buy it online, because unless you come ring my doorbell in the Bronx, that's where you're going to get it.

If you'd like to be supportive, but don't want to spend any money, I have another offer. Listen to the snippets on itunes or CDBaby, post a comment on CDbaby or itunes, let me know you did it so I can check it out and I'll send you a copy for nuthin'. Of course, if you do not wish to waste precious time reviewing the actual music, you may simply provide a testimonial on those sites regarding my character and I'll honor the commitment. Writing is good for you! Even if you trash me out with a scandalously negative review, I'll still send you a CD. You may be able to make a few bucks selling it on ebay (where most of my sales occur), but whatever, I'm into redistribution of wealth, even my own, such as it is. This offer is especially good for Kent, as he pontificates so beautifully about quality music, and I long to be included in his commentary.

A few facts: I wrote all of it and played most of it. Some spectacularly sexy vocals by Alison Davy, to whom I'm married. (TMI?) Eric Garfinkel played guitar on one song, and I should have used him on more. Brian Dewan did a beautiful painting for the cover. Alan Silverman of Arf Digital in NYC mastered it for that extra special something. All in all, it's a no-miss event.

So that's the deal at the moment. Download it on itunes for 10 bucks (fire up itunes, type in Carmen Borgia in the itunes store) or buy the CD on CD baby for 10.99 plus shipping. More info can be had here on my Web site. Come on, go do it!

Man, marketing my own stuff is hard. Almost makes me wish I was on a record label.

Back East

It's midnight and my nerves are jangled
Down the jetway at a Batman angle
They strap us into narrow seats
And feed us trays of runny eats
And jet our sorry asses back east

Back to the land of subway rails
Where oven summer heat prevails
People sweat on rooftop decks
The new arrivals curse and wreck
Their taxis in the traffic back east

In the west the weather's nice
And everybody has a car
All the people like themselves
Just the way they are

We're flyin' down the BQE
The driver breaks some laws for me
It's great to be in old New York
My baby called in sick to work
To spend the day with me back east

From the CD, "The Red Circle Line" by Carmen Borgia

It's Love, Boys

I gave my gal a cookie, she let me see her underwear
I touched her on her fuzzy thigh, she didn't really seem to care
I got into her t-shirt
I got into her bloomers
But what the people say are just a bunch of nasty rumors
Because it's love, boys,
This time it's really love, it's really love
Because it's love, boys, this time it's really love

Pretty Polly 2x4, she slipped right through my bedroom door
She switched off the TV and put her hand upon my shorts
She kissed me on the cheek
She whispered in my ear
She sent me up a creek and she took away my fear
Because it's love, boys,
This time it's really love, it's really love
Because it's love, boys, this time it's really love

Later in the boudoir I got into her lingerie
We spent the night together and all my worries slid away
I paid my girl a visit
I crept behind her mirror
I touched her rosy fingers and I slept beside her feet
I listened to her dreaming and I flew into her sleep
Fluttering of eyelids, dreaming all the time
Never let 'em tell you that getting close is such a crime
Because it's love, boys,
This time it's really love, it's really love
Because it's love, boys, this time it's really love

She Speaks To Me

You got to do and you got to see
You must come through and you’ve got to be
You got to save and you’ve got to sin
You get more out than what ya put in
She speaks to me! She speaks to me!
She speaks to me! She speaks to me!

Some are born to dream and fly
Some are made to cheat and lie
While I struggle and while I try
She brought me to life and she makes me die
She speaks to me! She speaks to me!
She speaks to me! She speaks to me!

And she say…
Zoob zaba sayay
Zoob zabah zooyah
Zoob zabah zayah zooyah,
Zoob zaba zayah zoob zabah zooyah
Zoob zaba zayah zooyah...

I debarked upon this place
I had a smile upon my face
Lately I’ve been on the ropes
And when I lose my stupid hopes
She speaks to me! She speaks to me!
She speaks to me! She speaks to me!

You got to do and you got to see
You must come through and you’ve got to be
You got to save and you got to sin
You get more out than what ya put in
She speaks to me! She speaks to me!
She speaks to me! She speaks to me!

And she say…
Zoob zaba zayay
Zoob zabah zooyah
Zoob zabah zayah zooyah,
Zoob zaba zayah zoob zabah zooyah
Zoob zaba zayah zooyah
Zooyah...

There's a Song I Can't Write

I dropped off the new CD for replication and have signed off on the artwork, so the manufacturing begins! I'll have a bunch in a few weeks, very good to move it along. In honor of the event, a set of lyrics from the upcoming release...

There's a Song I Can't Write

There's a song I can't write and I'm singing it now
Singing it now
Singing it now
There's a song I can't write and I'm singing it now
Anyhow

There's a lot I won't do but I'll do it with you
Do it with you
Do it with you
There's a lot I won't do but I'll do it with you
Anyhoo

There's a lot on my mind that I should leave behind
Places to go and stuff I don't know
There's a lot on my plate that'll never get ate
There's a lot to be found if I ever get round...

There's a song I can't sing and I'll write it one day
Write it one day
Write it one day
There's a song I can't sing and I'll write it one day
Hey, what do you say?
Hey, what do you say?

Brazilian Serenade

Can you bear the longing
Of a day that won't surrender
To the car alarms shrieking in the street?
Even though the night has come
And tomorrow's far away
And the day has nothing left to offer...
I'd empty out my pockets
If the batteries would die
And give us just an hour's worth of sleep
I'll surrender all my language
And strip down to the clay
Get out the booze, I'll sing you
A Brazilian serenade!
A Brazilian serenade.

Can you feel the pull
Of a moon that is full?
Can you feel that hound dog wail across the yard?
Every night the shadows come
And every night that dog goes on
Until the sunlight presses on our window.
If we could only keep that dog from barking for one night
I know that all our problems could be solved
I'll surrender all my language
And I'll strip down to the clay
Get out the booze, I'll sing you
A Brazilian serenade!
A Brazilian serenade.

Can you feel the desire
Of a body that's tired?
Can you hear the neighbors fighting in the street?
Every night the crying comes
Sobbing 'till the morning sun
And the sweet golden rays come shining through.
If we could only keep that couple happy for one night
I know that the world could be ours!
I'll surrender all my language
And I'll strip down to the clay
Get out the booze, I'll sing you
A Brazilian serenade!
A Brazilian serenade!
A Brazilian serenade!
A Brazilian serenade.

CD Art by Dewan

I spoke with Brian the other day, which is always good. He has agreed to do the artwork for my CD.

- What's up?
- Oh, I'm very excited to at last be finishing up on the basement! I spoke with the cement guy and he's going to come by this week to have a look at it. The only thing left is a bit of cement that needs to be broken out by the steps and I'm done.
- Then they pour?
- Yes! It's going to be so nice at last. I'll have a whole extra floor then, and room for my stuff down there, it's going to be great.
- It'll be brilliant to have a real basement with a ceiling higher than five feet.
- Oh, yes! I feel that all of the hard work will have finally paid off. I've been digging it out forever, but now that the end is in sight it just seems as if a tremendous weight is about to be lifted from my shoulders!
- I really love that. Congratulations, man.
- Oh, thank you! My new floor is almost here!
- What else is going on?
- Oh, just a lot of bullshit. My email has been acting up and that's why I've not gotten back to you. I just finally got access to things and saw your email there. I'm ready to get going as soon as I get this last piece of cement broken out of the basement.
- Alright, that sounds good.
- The Internet here is rather unpredictable. It usually works fine but then not at all for awhile. Then a bunch of emails will arrive all at once.
- Drag. Is it a dial up?
- Oh no, it's a high speed, but it just doesn't behave as it should sometimes.
- Who knows?
- It's worse than an enigma, it's just random misbehavior. Just when you think it's working ok it craps out in a completely unpredictable way. Fuck that!
- Fuck that!
- What a lot of bullshit it is!
- A whole lot! ... Did you get the songs and the templates?
- Yes, I just got them today. As soon as I finish digging I'll have a look at them. I'm so excited about my basement.
- Well, it is the very foundation of your house. You should be excited.
- Oh, I am. I really am. I've been anticipating this moment for so long, and now that it's about to become a reality I can barely believe it! Have you decided on a title yet?
- No, I'm not sure. I've sent you some options, but I don't know. I've been working on the music all by myself for so long, and now I'm ready for some company. The only person who has heard it all is Alison.
- Oh, well I'm certainly ready to have a listen and see what's what.
- That would be good.
- I can see why you'd be anxious to get to the bottom of things at last, after all this time.
- It's all good. I like figuring out how it will all be by myself, but I do like some socializing before presenting it to the public.
- Of course! It's dreadful to not know how it will play. And yet it's really the best thing to decide what you will do without the pointless meddling of others.
- It scares me.
- But you shouldn't be scared! Your music is fine! It's not so hard to make a thing that is good. It's only people who are filled with doubt, and who are concerned with what others think who will strive to fuck up your good work. And they won't even do it because they have opinions of their own, but because they're anxious about what other people will think. Fuck them! They will hear your songs and be critical, but who cares??? If they feel so strongly about it they should write their own songs, or even better, just go and fuck themselves. Who do they think they are anyway?
- Well, thank you for your support. It's good to get out in the world a bit after months of being introverted and all hidden in my studio.
- That's ok. I'll finally get a listen to your songs today and then I'll know what to do.
- Excellent. I'm glad to hear that the basement is almost done. It's been months and months since you started. I was glad to be able to help you kick it off.
- Oh, you were so helpful! I was in a very depressed state and I never thought it would get started. But you came along and cleared the way!
- That was a good weekend.
- There was such a jumble of crap down there, and you neatened it all up so that I could see more clearly the task that lay ahead.
- It was good to just come up and be in a little town for a change. I was exhausted from the day to day in the city.
- Well it was my gain, It was very fortunate for me to have you show up, just at that moment when things seemed so dark to give it a push.
- Cool.
- And now all that's left is the one little piece of cement by the steps. I'll go back down in a minute and get back at it. It's very persistent though.
- It's expressing itself?
- Yes, it's a very hard kind of cement. I pound and pound and it just makes little marks in it.
- You should rent a jackhammer.
- Really? You can do that?
- Oh yeah. Just call up a tool rental place, they're probably only about twenty bucks a day. Then you just pull the trigger and knock that shit out of there. Twenty minutes and you'll be laughing.
- That sounds wonderful!
- You can rent a little one, it'll probably be cheap.
- Oh, that would be fantastic!
- I guarantee you it will be. Twenty minutes to rent it, twenty minutes to knock it out. Forty total minutes.
- That would be a tremendous outcome!
- And then you could get on to my CD art.
- Yes! And then I could get on to your CD art. This is so exciting!

The Mix Continues

Listen loud, listen soft. A couple of troublesome details, a touch of hazy schmutz on the horizon.

1. The surdo. Ed talks about having an ideal stable of guitars that fill a precise musico-spiritual spectrum of tone and touch. Some of it's about the sound and some is the thingness of it. The ideal Ed stable includes a Strat. A dreadnought acoustic. An electric 12 string. An electric sitar. Certain indispensable amps. Stuff I can't talk about here. This list is sacred, hermetic and evolving, a hovering monad impinging on Ed's consciousness in a persistent manner that would be oppressive if he didn't continually refine the stable with acquisitions, deletions or tweaks. Each modification to the collection is accompanied by a deep, thorough audit and overhaul of the remotest edges of his soul.

My own stable is an overlooked ensemble of instruments, to be played by a to-be-discovered band of players who will one day accidentally wander into my apartment and be so taken with my brilliant and subtle collection of musical artifacts that they will commit themselves on the very spot to playing my songs, on these collected instruments, for my hardcore fans, forever. They include at the moment: baritone uke, acoustic guitar (steel), acoustic guitar (nylon), guitarron, banjo uke, congas, bongos, bass drum, selected cymbals and a gong, diatonic accordion, melodeon, marimba, harmonica, and let's not forget voice.

So, the surdo. I've got a great old bass drum that I bought at the San Francisco dump in 1983 for $2.00 with house paint applied to the heads to warm up the tone, but the stable has been crying for something authentically Latin. Once in Buenos Aires I saw a guy play a bomba, which is a big wood shell drum with goat skin head. I've been looking for the right one of those for years with no luck, but then I saw a surdo on craigslist for a good price. This is the Brazilian marching bass drum with a steel body and a goatskin head on the top. It's loud, very loud, and fun to beat upon. I got this instrument thinking it would be the ideal fit into the Latin world arrangements I've been digging on lately.

I marched it home and started recording, but rather than greasing the path to glory, it's tone once recorded is an enigma. I'm trying changes in arrangement, micing and eq to get it to work and I'm still searching. I feel pressure to finish the CD but this thing is bugging me, maybe I have to rethink the whole project. The problem is I can't yet hear how it fits into the mix. Is it like a kick drum? Is it a distinct voice in an arrangement or a certain something down there that gives it some warmth or power, or is it just adding a bunch of low-end muck? I can't tell if it's that scenario where I have to trust my ears and go back to the $2 drum or if I should be growing some new connections in my tormented brain to hear it properly. As a complicating factor, my downstairs neighbor totally blew his cork while I was trying to get just this one last take down. I never heard him pounding on the door because I was wearing headphones and I will not reprint the note he shoved under my door, but it was unkind. Through the acoustic barrier of my floor and his ceiling he could apparently not appreciate the wisdom of my replacing the original classic Brazilian bass drum beat (bahBOOM, bahBOOM) with a nice sold thwack on the 2 and the 4. And then the altered pulse with the hotter dynamics in the middle section. I'm really sorry man, but I did get the take. Hopefully it will drop into the mix ok.

2. The last song. It's so easy to write the first song. It is nothing, I write songs like this all the time without even thinking. Why not make a whole CD of them? The second song had been sitting there patiently for years, waiting for this moment. I simply plucked it from it's place and laid it neatly in an attractive spot on the disc. The third song was going to be used in a movie, but the young director foolishly chose to use a MIDI instrumental from his girlfriend's brother's website instead, I had merely to make a lyrical adjustment to the chorus for inclusion in my most newest and most amazing collection of songs to date. The fourth and the fifth songs were written on consecutive days on the subway; one traveling uptown and the other down. Their respective feels tastefully imply the orientation of the transit. How well I remember the sixth song! I was atop a breezy hill on some other coast and it came to me in a rush of pleasant insight. Thankfully I had my portable recorder handy to bag the moment for later use. The seventh is always a bit tricky, much like the weariest inning of a baseball game. I tricked the seventh song into existence by pretending to make a grocery list and casually scrawling a few significant phrases in the margins. I then "lost" the list only to "discover" it some weeks later in the inner pocket of last season's jacket. The eighth and ninth songs are inferior throwaways that I've buried in the middle of the CD in the hope that the listener will sort of zone out but not become annoyed and hit the skip button. At the tenth, the home stretch, I felt some apprehension, and acknowledged this emotion by recording it three times at different tempi and choosing the one in the middle. But now I'm at the last song, and as has been the case in the past, it is making trouble.

Though it will easily be the finest song on the album, it is behaving in a very coy manner. I thought the first impulsive take would set me up, and Bill says it's a great recording, but the singing is monstrously out of tune and the vocal abandon that seemed intuitive on the night of recording has by now revealed itself to be merely careless. Then I tried takes with Alison singing along to keep me company, but we sounded too fooken Irish. Fifteen or so takes in a fierce frame of mind, twenty more gentle, then sad, then puckish. Still no take. Takes in the morning, then try late at night. Sober, drunk, before the nap, after the nap, all no dice.

Keep on rolling my friend, keep on rolling. Either I will get it or it will get me.

Mixing

Ok, so I'm moving into a new area here.

I'm wrapping up on a new CD that I've been working on for awhile. I started recording the CD in June or so and I think around July I decided to do a push to finish it up. I figured I'd wrap the mixing by September, but here it is mid-November and I'm still pushing and changing and mixing. I keep thinking that I'll finish the mix this week, and then just in a few days and then by Tuesday. I think of myself as a responsible and diligent member of society, but in making a CD it seems that my word isn't worth shit. I suspect this is because a song is not a promise I've made to someone else but a promise I've made only to myself, and if I run a little behind I'm still good for it. Yeah, I'm good for it.

It also appears that a new theater in NYC has invited me to mount a production of a musical I wrote a couple of years ago. I'm very excited and also trying to keep a lid on my enthusiasm. I've gotten very positive, solid and authoritative signs from the theater that the show is on, but I haven't signed anything yet or been given any of the usual official commitments to do such a thing, a thing that requires a substantial investment of love and treasure from myself as well as the theater involved. I think it's all good, but you just never know. When I wrote the show it was a promise that I made to myself, now somebody else is making a promise to me. I know I'm good for it, but I don't know about them. I believe them, but I don't know.

I love music more than anything, especially performing it. Recording, writing, schmoozing, hearing other music, the whole and entire attendant ephemera of the life of music sometimes seems like a bunch of stuff I have to do so that eventually I'll get to perform a bit and some people will see me. I can't tell if this is shallow or if I'm missing the point of music, that listening and sharing are, I know, every bit as important as creating the music. I know that the most tiresome people to be around are those who broadcast but can't receive, and I don't wish to be one of those, but I will defer all manner of happiness for a chance to perform a pretty good tune.