The Company One Keeps. . .

. . . says a lot about one.

Monday night at Brewer's Alley, was (as always) a pure, pleasureable potpourri of piano performance and otherwise musical patois. Check out the eclectic roster of fine performers: (Hyperlinks are to the left of each name)

Craig Cummings Craig Cummings
Jamie BoydJamie Boyd
Jenny Morgan Jenny Morgan
Teporah Teporah
Rod Deacey Rod Deacey (Rod not only plans, books, schedules, runs sound and co-mcs this venue WEEKLY, but is [as you will hear when he posts some music very soon] a local, talent treasure]
Tomy Wright Tomy Wright

Would it then be immodest of me to say, that's pretty damned good company?

[And I started things off with Tomy, admirably and tastefully, on percussion for most of the set. BTW, I am one of the featured artists on "my-piano.com" this week. (See below)]
my-piano.com My-Piano.com

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Busy, busy, busy. . .

Been Trying to Get the Word out about ANOTHER SHOT

Ray Jozwiak - Gonzo Piano
performs the piano prelude This Week!
Monday, April 25, 7;30PM at Brewer's Alley Restaurant & Brewery (Songwriters Showcase-Upstairs)
124 North Market Street Frederick, MD 21701
Telephone: 301-631-0089 Fax: 301-631-1874
http://www.brewers-alley.com/
Get a FREE burned copy of the digital-download release ANOTHER SHOT at Brewer's Alley (while they last)
visit: http://www.rayjozwiak.com


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I found a friend. . .

. . . a passtime, a hobby, a treasure, a joy, a therapy, a passion in music. Not consciously, mind you. But music and I became one. We were joined at the hip and never found each other to be a burden.

And as I uncomfortably approached, then entered adolescence, I found that music could be a comfort; a refuge. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

As a young guitarist, who never took a lesson or ever really played a guitar with any semblance of skill, at the tender age of seven, my Mother received a phone call. A young entrepreneur was opening a 'music studio' in our very own east Baltimore neighborhood. (I always thought the term 'music studio' sounded impressive. Sophisticated, cultured and exclusive.) This studio was to be called the Maryland Accordion Institute. (Talk about impressive, sophisticated, cultured and exclusive.) The phone call was telemarketing for prospective clientele, namely wee sprites who were interested in learning to play that prince of all reed instruments, king of the Bohemian beer hall, and butt of many, many jokes - the accordion. But, this was not the perception held by myself at the time. Nor was it the perception held by many in a similar position at the time. It was, quite honestly (and truly , unashamedly) an interesting and desirable proposition. I was, indeed, VERY interested in learning to play the accordion. DAMNED interested. Those Sunday afternoons listening to Dad play his accordion, combined with my natural love of music, possibly even my lack of ambition and talent on the guitar, all united in my seven year old brain forming a profound hunger to learn to play the accordion.

As odd as it sounds, I did not regret at the time, nor do I now regret not pursuing the 'cool' -er musical path of playing the guitar. It just never occurred to me that that's what I should have done. And I never looked back.



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Taking in. . .

. . . my daily sustenance down at my local Scottish restaurant when I noticed that my entree was more than I bargained for. Look what I got. The manager said there was compensation coming my way. But not today. Don't call us. Don't call us. Don't call us, we'll call you.

Auntie Lynn said it would be a sin to waste my precious vocal expertise. So I took me to audition down at the prestigious theatre called the Ritz. Producer man was nice as he could be. He said I was fine, but not this time. Don't call us. Don't call us. Don't call us, we'll call you.

Seems I've been hearing the same thing since I don't know when. Some with a little less confidence might just give in. I'm no one's fool unless I want to be. Life can be cruel. Won't someone please just CALL ME!?

At the end of what had seemed to be a perfect evening, just what did I do? Could it be something I said or didn't follow-through? I wish I knew. We danced and dined. I even kissed your hand. Under a twinkling sky I said goodbye when you cried don't call us. Don't call us. Don't call us, we'll call you.

©1997 Raymond M. Jozwiak


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Not much fidelity. . .

. . . emanated from a 3 x 5 inch transistor radio, but who knew from fidelity? When you're five years old and you're starved for sounds, a transistor radio is nothing short of a little jewel box. Mine was a General Electric, black. Very sleek. It was maybe 1 1/4 inches thick with a length and width similar to a post card. It came with an 'earphone', only ONE bud, no FM stereo here, which was perfect when circumstances warranted private listening.

Walk Like a Man, It's My Party, Ring of Fire, Blue Velvet, Surfin' USA, Blowin' in the Wind, Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Rubber Ball, Big Bad John, Blue Moon, Traveling Man, A Hundred Pounds of Clay, This Diamond Ring, Mrs. Brown You've Got A Lovely Daughter, Dang Me, Do You Love Me, Louie Louie, I Saw Her Standing There, Needles and Pins, You Really Got Me, It's Over.



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Whenever. . .

. . . I get to feeling discouraged, or sorry for myself, I like to read things like. . .

Every part of the scheme shows that this man [George Stephenson] has applied himself to a subject of which he has no knowledge, and to which he has no science to apply. (Parliamentary Committee 1825)

Far too noisy, my dear Mozart. Far too many notes. (Emperor Ferdinand after the first performance of The Marriage of Figaro)

I liked your opera. I think I will put it to music. (Beethoven to a fellow composer)

If Beethoven's Seventh Symphony is not by some means abridged, it will soon fall into disuse. (Philip Hale, Boston music critic, 1837)

I played over the music of that scoundrel Brahms. What a giftless bastard! (Tchaikovsky's diary. 9th October 1886)

We don't like their sound. Groups of guitars are on the way out. (Decca Recording Company about the Beatles.1962)

These boys won't make it. Four-groups are out. Go back to Liverpool, Mr. Epstein, you have a good business there. (Recording Company)

I'm just glad it'll be Clark Gable who's falling on his face and not Gary Cooper. (Gary Cooper on his decision not to take the leading role in "Gone With The Wind")

They may be world famous, but four shrieking monkeys are not going to use a privileged family name without permission. (Frau Eva von Zeppelin)

He bores me. He ought to have stuck to his flying machines. (Auguste Renoir, on Leonardo da Vinci

This fellow Charles Lindbergh will never make it. He's doomed. (Harry Guggenheim, millionaire aviation enthusiast)

Very interesting, Whittle, my boy, but it will never work! ( Professor of Aeronautical Engineering at Cambridge University)

You will never amount to very much. (Munich Schoolmaster to Albert Einstein, aged 10)

Professor Goddard does not know the relation between action and reaction and the need to have something better than a vacuum against which to react. He seems to lack the basic knowledge ladled out daily in high schools. (New York Times about Goddard's revolutionary rocket work, 1921)

Stanley Matthews lacks the big match temperament. He will never hold down a regular first-team place in top class soccer. ( Unsigned football writer when Matthews made his debut at the age of 17)

Why do you necessarily have to be wrong just because a few million people think you are? (Frank Zappa)

Failed in Business, 1831. Defeated for Legislature, 1832. Sweetheart/Fiancee Died, 1835. Nervous Breakdown, 1836. Defeated in Election, 1836. Defeated for U.S. Congress, 1843. Defeated again for U.S. Congress, 1846. Defeated once again for U.S. Congress, 1848. Defeated for U.S. Senate, 1855. Defeated for U.S. Vice Presidency, 1856. Defeated again for U.S. Senate, 1858. (Abraham Lincoln, Elected President of the U.S.A., 1860)


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Who's to blame?

Jimmy only went outside to take a walk. And when he saw his buddies, stopped to play some ball. Nobody heard the shot ring out 'til they saw him fall. Jimmy was gone. And everybody shakes their heads when the story's told. Jimmy was ten years old. Tell me how can we stop the slaughter? How can we stop the pain? How can we call this order? Oh it's a shame. What a shame. How can we stop the slaugher? How can we stop the pain? It could be your son or daughter. Then who's to blame?

A screaming siren split the calm of a summer night. The crowd was pressing in with eyes that were filled with fright. What can a population do to make this thing right? Haven't we tried? NR association claims that it's still our right. Oh what a noble fight! Tell me how can we stop the slaughter? How can we stop the pain? How can we call this order? Oh it's a shame. What a shame. How can we stop the slaugher? How can we stop the pain? It could be your son or daughter. Then who's to blame?

Hear the roar of the gunning motor. Hear the squeal of the spinning tires. See them running through city streets. Ready, aim and fire. Have you ever felt like the victim? When the culprit has all the rights? See them running through city streets. Ready, aim and fire.

So here we sit in comfort and indifference. If the situation gets no better put up a fence. The problem isn't getting smaller, it's grown immense. What can I do? I could save my pennies, buy a magnum; protect my self. Safety for all my wealth. Tell me how can we stop the slaughter? How can we stop the pain? How can we call this order? Oh it's a shame. What a shame. How can we stop the slaugher? How can we stop the pain? It could be your son or daughter. Then who's to blame?

©1993 Raymond M. Jozwiak



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