Forthcoming. . .

My new release BLACK & WHITE then BACK will be available on April 2, 2013, for digital download only, at http://www.cdbaby.com

BLACK & WHITE then BACK was designed, conceived and performed to transport you to aural locales inhabited by emotions, sentiments, memories, hopes, joys and challenges we've all encountered. You may even hear a snippet of a song you remember from childhood, have flashes of your first date, recall aromas from the kitchen when you visited your grandmother, remember your favorite summer vacation or when you fell in love.

My music has been referred to as 'Fractured Jazz' laced with generous amounts of 'Improvisational Terror Tactics'.  I have been nominated for a WAMMIE Award in the Jazz Instrumentalist  category, named Baltimore Magazine's BEST LOUNGE PIANIST and was a finalist in the Mid-Atlantic Song Contest for the composition ALWAYS YOU. Performances in and around Baltimore include the 13th Floor Lounge-The Belvedere, The Kiss Cafe, Gardel's Supper Club, The Full Moon Saloon, The Baltimore Songwriters Association, The Baltimore Book Fair, Maggie Moore's, Ze Mean Bean, Border's Books and Music and GBMC. Ray's  music releases (CHROMATOSE, CRITIC'S CHOICE and PUT A FINGER ON IT and FOR THE RIDE) are available for purchase at http://www.cdbaby.com/all/rjozwiak  as well as a host of cyber-outlets for download (cdbaby has a list). I also joined with long-time musical friends Jay Graboski and David Reeve to complete the latest incarnation of OHO (now a trio) playing OHO's unique brand of prog/folk/jazz-rock originals and for parties, covering a number of sophisticated contemporary popular music.

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It's Not Easy. . .

. . . being a creative artist on a budget.

Like this weekend, I have discovered that my Canon ELPH can be easily used to take videos (I knew it could but never thought it through for music promotion).  But the problem herewith is the audio.  You know how the old recordings on 78rpm records always sounded like they were recorded in a rainshower?  Well that's what the audio sounds like on my Canon videos.  So I got the brilliant (my word) idea that I could record the audio portion in glorious, high-quality digital format with my Zoom H2 portable digital recorder, then sync everything together in Garageband for a fine video.  Well, necessity is the mother of invention you know.  What I didn't take into account was the file trail (and file naming etc.) task that would be required to keep it all straight.  For example, if I flubbed a take and chose to plow forward without stopping either machine, I had to remember how many false starts were on each take.  Attempting to record more that one song only complicated matters.  Then I also learned that since Garageband is specifically designed for audio, I could not edit the beginning of a video the way I could stop it at the end anywhere I wanted.  At least I haven't figured out how to do it.  So I re-recorded several pieces and edited the beginning on the Canon before uploading it to my laptop.

It's a lot of boring information granted.  But it's how I spent most of my weekend.  I did learn a lot about the process and now know how to avoid some of the earlier pitfalls.  I'm not too ashamed of the outcome though. . .

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Beer. . .

. . . and other stuff. . . 

. . . at Brewer's Alley. . .

This week I'll be there at 7:30 to open another great  show of talented, local and regional singer/songwriter and creative musicians and poets on a late winter evening in lovely, historical Frederick, MD.

Monday Night Songwriters' Showcase (now in its eighth year!) is held on Monday evenings upstairs at Brewer's Alley, 124 N. Market St., in beautiful downtown Frederick, MD, except during December (when we are closed after the first Monday). The program starts at 7:30 pm with a piano prelude, followed by three or four songwriters doing three songs each (lots of variety). The featured songwriter for the evening goes on around 9 pm for around 45 minutes, followed by two or three more three-song performers. Somewhere in the mix we throw in some poetry from our resident poet, John Holly. Our MCs are Ron Goad, Todd C. Walker and Tomy Wright, frequently interrupted by Rod Deacey on sound. Most of you know all this, but this mailing is going out to some people who may be unfamiliar with our format, so please bear with me.... Our shows are FREE – we collect tips for the featured songwriter, but there is no door charge, so come and support LIVE MUSIC! Our featured songwriters are a mix of national and regional touring performers, with many award winners from all genres.

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American. . .

. . . dream. . .

"You're throwing away your money," she would sometimes say.  "Buy a house."  In her eyes, paying rent was throwing away money.  It was the prevailing logic of her generation, the children of immigrants who arrived in this country with very little, worked hard and carved out a well-deserved place in the American landscape.

I, unlike most of my, and successive generations, left my parents' home when I got married, and did live in a rented apartment at that time.  It was a wonderful place in a lush, wooded area within the city itself and within minutes downtown.

To my simple mind, it was the ideal living situation.  We put furniture in the place, hung pictures and lived.  If anything broke, leaked, stopped heating or cooling, made too much noise, cracked or otherwise caused a problem within our 'home', we called maintenance.  When we got home from work the next day, the problem was solved.  All we had to do was pay our rent, preferably on time.
And we did.

But oh how Mom thought that 'owning' a place was what young adults were supposed to do.  It meant staking out one's own turf.  It was putting money into something that was your own;  and investment in the future.  And of course she was correct.

Only now. . . there is no 'maintenance' to call.

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Bread, Circuses & Gonzo Piano. . .

Bread
Aish MerahrahMade - with fenugreek seeds and maize; dough allowed to ferment overnight, then flattened and baked

Ajdov Kruh - made with buckwheat flour and potato

Babka - Traditional types usually contain some sort of fruit filling, and are glazed with fruit flavored icing; some contain chocolate or cheese filling

Bagel - ring shaped, usually with a dense, chewy interior; usually topped with sesame or poppy seeds baked into the surface

Baguette - Thin elongated loaf, made of water, flour, yeast, salt, instantly recognizable by slits cut in top surface before baking to allow gas expansion

Barbari bread - invented by Barbar tribes of Iran and Northern Afghanistan

Bazlama - Flat and circular, average thickness of 2 cm, usually eaten fresh

Bofrot - Round, comes in various sizes, made with white flour


Circuses
There is no proof that Phineas Taylor Barnum ever said, "there's a sucker born every minute." He did, however, say that "every crowd has a silver lining," and acknowledged that "the public is wiser than many imagine."

Big Apple Circus' four-legged performers are all horses and small dogs. This not-for-profit circus began 32 years ago in Battery Park, New York City. This year’s show, “Bello is Back!” features Bello Nock, the playful clown with gravity-defying hair.

25 years ago Cirque du Soleil began its modern interpretations of the circus, minus rings and animals. With unique artistic flair, Cirque du Soleil featured state-of-the-art costumes, sets and acrobatics set to music.

Zumanity, an adult-themed circus, features contortionists, acrobats and aerialists. The host of the show, the Mistress of Seduction, says there are no bad seats in the 1,261-seat theater. “It is the only Cirque du Soleil show that talks to the audience. They are very much a part of the show,” says the Mistress.


Gonzo Piano by Ray Jozwiak
Friday February 22nd at 6:00PM
Bread & Circuses Bistro
27 E. Chesapeake Avenue
Towson, MD  21286
410-337-5282
http://bandcbistro.com/

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Let's. . .

. . . all agree. . . NO MORE LOOPHOLES!

 (By Scott Stump, TODAY contributor http://todaynews.today.com/_news/2013/02/13/16925098-activists-pols-how-did-mentally-ill-killer-amass-an-arsenal?lite&lite=obnetwork)
In 1995, when Minnesota teen Christian Phillip Oberender killed his mother with a shotgun, he was deemed mentally ill and dangerous by a juvenile court and committed to a psychiatric hospital. Eight years later, at age 22, Oberender was released after living in a halfway house. But in January, 13 guns were discovered in his home, including an AK-47, a Tommy gun and shotguns, according to court documents. He was charged with being a felon in possession of firearms.

“I think everyone was quite scared to be honest with you,’’ Oberender’s neighbor, Dennis Hilk, told NBC News.

Police also found a chilling note addressed to Oberender’s deceased mother, according to court documents.

“I feel the good part of me fade away,’’ he wrote in the note. “I don’t know how long I can hold it in for. The monster want out. I know what happens when he comes out. He only been out one time and someone die.”

Oberender’s arrest has left gun control activists and local politicians vowing to close the loopholes that allowed Oberender to amass an arsenal.

“In the polarized world that we're in right now it seems as if you're either for quote-unquote gun control or for addressing the mental health issues when the reality is that we need to reduce gun violence by doing both,’’ Minneapolis mayor R.T. Rybak told NBC News.

Oberender, 32, is believed to have obtained a legitimate firearms permit due to a number of snafus, including the fact that the Bureau of Criminal Apprehension had no record of him murdering his mother (an issue that is currently being investigated). Oberender’s attorney did not respond to an interview request by NBC News.

Police were tipped off to his weapons stash when Carver County Sheriff Jim Olson, who was a young detective 18 years ago when Oberender was sentenced, heard that the man had posted pictures of guns on his Facebook page. Olson went online and found photos of Oberender toting weapons and posts expressing sympathy for the shooters in the school massacres at Columbine High School and Newtown, Conn., according to court documents. A warrant was obtained to search the house, which led to the discovery of Oberender's arsenal.

“He should not have guns posted on Facebook,’’ Olson told NBC News. “He should not have guns.’’

Olson shudders to think what could have happened if the name Christian Phillip Oberender had not rung a bell when he heard about the Facebook page.

“This certainly could have turned out differently for us — for Carver County, for Minnesota, and for America,’’ he said.

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Ahh. . .

. . . humor. . . thank God (did I say that?)

(http://www.stuff.co.nz/dominion-post/comment/columnists/joe-bennett/8324052/Meteor-message-for-unbelievers%5C)  by Joe Bennett
An amazing thing happened in Switzerland last weekend during the annual Peace and Light Symposium. This inter-faith conference, renowned for its catering, had attracted leaders from every major belief system. Top of this year's agenda was the Russian meteor. All the theologians except the Archimandrite of Easter Island had seen it on television and were frightfully excited.

At the plenary session, held in the Davos Convention Centre, the Peace and Light Moderator told journalists that despite two days of commitment to the gravy train, the thinkers had been unable to reach a consensus on the meaning of the meteor. So the various factions would present their conclusions separately.

First to step to the microphone was a mullah, gravely wiping crumbs of strawberry gateau from his beard. "God is not mocked," he said. "And neither are his faithful followers. So when a member of the New Zealand Parliament chooses to denounce all 2 billion of us as misogynist troglodytes from Wogistan, it is hardly surprising that He should choose to express his wrath meteorically."

A journalist interrupted to ask why the meteor should have been biffed at Russia rather than New Zealand, but the mullah was not fazed. "Do you have any idea where New Zealand is?" he asked.

The journalist shook his head and conceded the point.

Next up was a cardinal from Omen Dei (De Imaginis in Pane Immolatis), the powerful Vatican committee for the interpretation of portents, cloud shapes and pieces of toast burnt with the image of the Virgin. "With all due respect to my friend the mullah," he began in Latin, "God could hardly have spoken more clearly. In the same week as the Holy Father resigns, whoompha. Coincidence? I don't think so. Our Almighty has a long history of communicating through celestial show, and this meteor is a clear warning to the Russian Orthodox church and other eastern schismatics. Now is the time for them to renounce their heresy and to return to the one true mother church. And I am assured by the Vatican Bank Enforcement Division that a suitable accommodation can be reached with regard to centuries of unpaid . . . "

"Poppycock," exclaimed a small man, leaping to his feet and shrugging off a straitjacket in what looked like a practised manoeuvre. He grabbed the cardinal by the chasubles and flung him into the wings, to applause from the Eastern Orthodox churches.

Seizing the microphone the little man glared at the gathering with eyes that swivelled independently. "As president of the Mayan Calendar Straw Clutchers I am thrilled to announce the imminent end of the world. We were right, you were wrong, so suck on that, sceptics."

"Wasn't it meant to be December?" shouted a journalist.

"What's a few months in an 18,000-year calendar cycle?" bellowed the little man with glee. "We're talking stone-age people here. They didn't have digital calculators, you know. We're all going to die."

"I refuse to share a stage with a doom-saying poltroon," exclaimed a Texan Baptist, rising to his enormous feet.

"Not so fast, big boy," exclaimed the swivel-eyed Mayan. "All of you have got a doomsday scenario, same as we have. Fire, brimstone, rapture, apocalyptic horses and so on. We're just the only ones prepared to put a date on it."

But the Texan had seized his chair and was advancing on the little man with obvious intent. Other divines rose to their feet, shouting. An ecclesiastical donnybrook seemed seconds away, with the journos cheering them on. The Archbishop of Canterbury squealed "No violence, please, I beg you," but no one paid him the least attention, which made him feel at home. But then just as the Texan raised the chair above his head there came a mighty crack and the roof of the convention centre split asunder.

The divines fell to their knees as one and gawped in awestruck silence. Above them lay the sweep of the cosmos in the form of a limitless multi-dimensional skittle alley. Meteorites by the billion criss-crossed the alley at dizzying speed.

And as their eyes grew used to the darkness of forever, the clerics made out a huge dim figure hunched in the heart of the cosmos, launching the meteorites arbitrarily into space like intergalactic bowling balls. And though the figure had neither ears to hear with, nor yet eyes to see with, whenever a meteorite struck a celestial body, wiping out a race of dinosaurs here, a whole planet there, a huge and eerie cackle rang through the reaches of eternity.

"Gosh," said the Archimandrite of Easter Island, reaching for an anchovy sandwich.

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