pianogonzology

Sunday, December 11, 2016

Wanna . . .

. . . hear? . . .

December 9, 2016 @12:11PM
Ray, David & Jay off to The Bratt Studio this evening to work on David's "All There Is," an ambitious romp in 5/4 (chorus in 4/4). Years in the making, we inch closer to the finish line.

December 9, 2016 @ 10:57PM
The fruits of tonight's labor...

All There Is
by OHO by David Reeve, Jay Graboski & Ray Jozwiak(All Rights Reserved)

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Saturday, December 10, 2016

Plunge . . .

At heaven's door we pick the lock
When all we had to do was knock
Though Alice she rattles her train of chains
The fetters are inward all the same

Take a look as you fall
Passing through another wall
Here is where the corn is cut
The wind comes down
Get off the pot
Get off the pot
Get off the pot

It's your world the way that you live
Eats the smile right off your face
You're not in Kansas anymore
I am the sheath I cry for more

Biding trends and waves of shock
The turbulence it turns me on
Nonetheless we're born and rocked
By divas, drunks and Barbie dolls

I signed up for high-wired acts
If I lose my balance just cut me some slack
I'm holding out for what can be
Emc squared possibility

Experience to be alive
The abstract now is literalized
You have dreams and nightmares to explore
Get the goods
Get off the floor
Get off the floor
Get off the floor

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Friday, December 9, 2016

The Power . . .

. . . music

(from http://theotherjournal.com/2008/09/16/the-monk-and-the-hymn-encountering-grace-in-the-work-of-thelonious-monk/)
". . . Each of us is continually involved in the co-creation of our story or the performance of our song. A song and a story alike are each common, apt metaphors for our lives, for living both as individuals and within a community. It is in the reality that we are all continually stumbling our way through life that the beauty and truth of Monk’s intentional awkwardness with this song (This Is My Story, This Is My Song) becomes evident. His characteristic discordant notes and unconventional timing are so appropriate as a symbol for our own lives. It aptly expresses our own imperfect faith, our own inconsistent story. . . I hope that I can tell my story in a way that contributes to the story, in a way that offers redemption to the broken world around me, yet my stuttering tongue and broken heart often keep me feeling useless and futile. I want to be able to play my song in a way that points to the beauty of the Kingdom, but my clumsy fingers seem to ruin the power of the melody. It is here that Monk’s performance offers me hope and inspires me within my own believing unbelief, in my own “already, but not yet” song. . ."

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Thursday, December 8, 2016

Ideas . . .

. . . are plenty . . .

. . . That is ideas for songs/compositions/pieces of music . . .

. . . but these days I feel as though I cannot find/make enough time to properly develop them. The reasons are many, varied and boring. But they do say we MAKE time for those things for which we really want to make time. . .

. . . This idea has been floating around my consciousness for a few months now and continues to evolve although it may finally be taking some form now . . .

(of course titles, like the ideas themselves, continue to evolve also_

A Thing for Spring
evolving it's way into a song

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Wednesday, December 7, 2016

Sans . . .

. . . lyrics

Video performance of the original composition Church by Ray Jozwiak, sans lyrics . . .

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Tuesday, December 6, 2016

Church . . .

The church of music
Holds no ham and oyster suppers
We're all just deacons
With our boots upon the ground
Marching into mystery
In command but
Still can't quite see

The church of music
Won't require your weekly presence
You'll find it stays with you
No matter where you are
No dogmatic postulates
No demands on
Your fidelity

It can end the darkest night
Carry you through the hours
Know not if it’s wrong or right
Make no mistake
It’s divine
This church of mine

There are no fiery demons
In what I believe
It’s not for me to say
Who’s what and where they go
All things flowing naturally
No controlling
Power over you or me

It can end the darkest night
Carry you through the hours
Know not if it’s wrong or right
Make no mistake
It’s divine
This church of mine

Stricly spiritual
No trace of any politics
Lurking in the mix or in the fabric
Only what is good
No room for hate and no deceit
Honesty
Sincerity will move you
And me

This church won’t interfere
With what you think or do
Your body and your mind are
Yours and yours alone
No one tells you what to say
No one criticizes
What you feel inside

It can heal the deepest wound
Shine a light in the darkness
Warm a chill in any room
Make no mistake
It’s divine
This church . . .
It can end the darkest night
Carry you through the hours
Know not if it’s wrong or right
Make no mistake
It’s divine
This church of mine

Church
©2016 Raymond M. Jozwiak

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Monday, December 5, 2016

How . . .

Waited all these nights for the day to come
Nevermore will I ever suck my thumb
Imaginary pains from my misery
Merely phantoms peopling my fantasy
I believe again in everything good
Though my body feels its decrepitude

How is where we go.
Where is how we go.

Severing the strings of the puppeteer
No longer victimized by the petty fears
Swinging round the pole of infinity
Now I am “in the know”

How is where we go, where we go.
Where is how we go, how we go.
How is where we go, where we go.
Where is how we go, how we go.

Cupid hurled his dart; aim was true, hit its mark.
I know that I will never be the same.
Writes across my soul in a secret, sacred code,
Pouring cream so sweet into my tea
Chiming bells ring. See this living take wing.

My identity’s been revealed to me.
I am in accord with my mystery.
How is where we go, where we go.
Where is how we go, how we go.
How is where we go, where we go.
Where is how we go, how we go.

What do you think?
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