Free Piano Music

On these four albums, you will find compelling improvisations around contemporary classics you may recognize.   These and other albums were sold as CD’s between 2018 and 2020, mostly locally.  As of today, I’m offering them for free.   Any charitable donation will of course be appreciated.  

 

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Exile 


Abstractions 


Pinnacle


Suspended 

 

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Gratitude List 1532

(1) I am thankful that my daughter is in my life today.   It makes me feel good to know that, whatever might have gone wrong, I’m not the type of dad that I keep hearing some of these Kids tell me about.   I’ve made mistakes — but at least I care.  Some of those so-called fathers did not even care — and worse.

(2) Thankful for this desk.  For my Lenovo IdeaPad, which safely returned from a warranty fix-up.    Thankful for Audacity free audio editing software, because I got into the multi-tracking and the mixing last night or the first time, and it was all I could do to stop mixing Zazen’s song, I was so thrilled.  This opens up a whole new world of creative possibilities.  I can actually even place musical underscores at key moments in my oral presentations.  It’s amazing what technology can do, if properly utilized.

(3) Grateful for the revelation that when I lost my cool recently, I was basically mad at all the other people on the team because I wasn’t doing my job.   True, they weren’t doing their jobs either, but it’s my job to make sure they do their jobs, and they’re definitely not going to be about doing it without pay and without pressure of definite deadline if I don’t kinda gently get on them about it, now and again.   So, I’m glad I saw the light.  I got my work cut out for me now.

(4) Just ran six miles — my longest run since I’ve been in North Idaho, I’m ashamed to say — and it feels great.  Looking forward to getting a lot of work done tonight.

(5) Looking forward to meeting my new student on Zoom for the third time tomorrow, and to having coffee thereafter with my buddy Tom, the fellow who helps with the four-hand job of putting the smartphone on the tripod.  But other than that once-or-twice-daily step-out, I mostly continue to be grateful to be sheltering in place.  It’s teaching me to be grateful for the place I have for shelter.   For a long time, there was no such place.   Things really could be — and have been — a lot worse than they are today.

“I believe I am better than the people who are trying to reform me.”
— Johann Wolfgang von Goethe 

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Resolve

I did this one a few months ago, back in the good old days when I could still go to that church and hook up my rig with the tripod, and traverse the keys of that amazing Baldwin grand piano like there was no tomorrow. Sadly those days have been replaced by more difficult days, as we all know.

But anyway I am posting this medley of “Moon River” by Henry Mancini, “Wintertime Love” by Jim Morrison, and the old English version of the hymn “In the Bleak Midwinter.” I call it “Resolve.” It’s a cut on an album called Abandon. If you want a copy of the entire album after hearing this, hit me up and we’ll work something out.

Never did look at this video until tonight. I ripped it to mp3 at the time to stick it on the album, and for a reason that ought to be obvious to anyone who knows me, I only glanced peripherally at the video.

(By the way, if the reason isn’t as obvious I think it is, go ahead and tell me you think it is. If you’re right, maybe I can give you some kind of grand prize on my way to the bank, if and when.) Enjoy, folks.

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Tuesday Tuneup 75

Q. What’s going on inside?

A. Elation.

Q. Elation?  Are you out of your mind??

A. Not that I know of, no.   Why would I be?

Q. Well, what on earth is there to be elated about?   Don’t you know what’s going on in the world?

A. I do.   

Q. Then why are you elated?

A. Elation is an ephemeral state.  It won’t last, you know.   I just happen to be elated right now.   

Q. What about?

A. Something really great happened, and it got me feeling good.

Q. What happened?

A. I figured out how to pay the phone bill in time to keep the service on before they disconnected it.

Q. You figured it out?

A. Yes.

Q. What is so hard about paying a phone bill?

A. Well, I don’t know.  Have you tried lately?

Q. What do you mean?

A. You got to get the money off of one card to the other card, switch accounts, deal with voicemail loops, get it to revolve on the day when you have the money, deal with them lying to you, trying to get the money out of you earlier, shortening the days in the business cycle, hoping you won’t notice, not to mention —

Q. STOP!!   Are you having a manic episode?

A. Not at all, sir.  I’m merely elated.

Q. Just because you were able to pay a phone bill?

A. Well, you should have seen me last month and the month before.  It isn’t easy these days for me, given all that goes on between my ears, to pay a phone bill.   Both of the previous months they turned off the service until I could manage to get to the office and have the guy there take my card and go through the motions for me.

Q. So you paid the phone bill, and proceeded to feel elated?

Q. Overjoyed, man.  Happy, chipper, and high.   

Q. High?

A. Figuratively speaking.

Q. What about literally?

A. Literally, no.  In fact, I resisted that one.

Q. How so?

A. Well, when I became elated, I wanted to celebrate.  I felt myself cycling over toward the marijuana dispensary three miles down the road.  

Q. Marijuana?

A. Yeah.  This stuff:

Marijuana high: Strains, smoking, vaping, and edibles

Q. Why would you want to smoke marijuana?

A. Psychological association.   There was a time when I would reward myself with a celebratory bowl, every time I accomplished something noteworthy.

Q. Such as pay a phone bill?

A. You got it.

Q. But this time you resisted?

A. Yeah – I felt myself headed in that direction.  So I took a different turn.

Q. What turn was that?

A. I located a local homeless boy and gave him five bucks.

Q. How did that keep you from smoking?

A. Oh it made it easy!  It was the last five bucks I had left after paying the phone bill.

Q. You’re that broke?

A. Again, an ephemeral state.  I won’t be broke at all come Friday.  End of the month, you know.   Poverty Culture.   We kinda live month to month, fend, try to enjoy life, the best things thereof being free, and all that.

Q. Isn’t it a bit crass to be broadcasting your personal financial situation?

A. Not where I come from.   I’ve been in some societies where it’s crass to bring up money at all.

Q. And in your society?

A. You mean Poverty Culture?   We talk about money all the time!   We talk about small amounts.   We loan each other fifty cents and back.   How can we even co-exist without talking about money?   There’s only so much to go around.

Q. What are you driving at?

A. Nothing really.  Just shootin’ the breeze.

Q. What about COVID-19?

A. Sheltering in place.  

Q. Wouldn’t that be the perfect place to smoke your weed?   Where nobody is watching?

A. It’s been done.  But believe me, I like myself better without it.

Q. But aren’t you way more hyper than you used to be?

A. Is that a problem?

Q. I don’t know.  Is it?

A. Not for me.  Not home alone.  Not here all by myself.   Who’s to complain about my level of energy?   Who’s to call me manic?   Who’s to call me on anything?   I’ll be as manic as I want!   Any of you psych agents wanna try to medicate my precious mania out of my system, you go right ahead.  I’m an Artist!! I will generate a manic episode if I think it’s going to help my work!    But WOAH!!! WOAH!!!!!

Q. Did you just feel an earthquake?

A. Yes I did.   

Q. Aren’t earthquakes pretty rare in this part of the world?

A. Maybe.  I don’t know.  Gotta check Facebook.

Q. Facebook?   Why not check USGS?

A. Good idea.   Somehow I assumed Facebook would be the more authoritative source.  Hang on a minute . . . no, nothing at USGS yet.   Oh – here it is!   6.3!  Wow!  

Q. Did you actually just have an earthquake right while you were writing this post?  

A. Sure did.   Check the link.   

Q. Still elated?

A. Naw.  I think I blogged it out of my system.   It’s a good thing, too.   Elation can be very deceiving.   There’s a cooler, steadier energy at work here, slowly creating finer facts and fiction — but it works behind the scenes.   

The Questioner is silent.

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Cold This Season

Something made me put all this together, at some point.  First, this is my song “Cold This Season.” It goes into something Old English, then some Sondheim, and then finally the song “On My Own” from Les Miserables by Claude-Michel Schönberg.  It may be stuff you’ve all heard before–in some form–but there’s a certain flow and applicability here.  Hope you enjoy it. Andy Pope at the Baldwin Grand.

By the way, this is a cut off of my newly released Suspended album.   Hit me up for details if you want to buy it.   

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Love is Blue

This French ballad was composed by André Popp.  (For real!  No pun intended, and he was not a distant relative.)  Lyrics were originally composed in French by Pierre Cour, with English lyrics by Bryan Blackburn.  References to the 2nd Movement — the “Allegretto” — of Beethoven’s 7th Symphony throughout. Andy Pope at the Baldwin Grand, March 12, 2020.

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Gratitude List 1397

This morning’s daily gratitude.

(1) Though I slept only four hours sporadically, I did get a solid afternoon nap yesterday and also have confidence I’ll sleep more deeply at some point in the near future.   I’m grateful for a light schedule these days that doesn’t hassle me or make me too uptight, and I’m always thankful for the power of needed sleep.

(2) Grateful to have a nice quiet apartment to myself, where I can enjoy the quiet hours of darkness before the dawn, and usually get a lot of writing done, unhindered by interruptions from others.

(3) Nice to hear the rain pitter-pattering outside my window.   After so many years of sleeping outdoors, it’s nice to be inside.

(4) The six-piece praise ensemble at my church really did an outstanding job premiering my first-ever worship song, “I Want to Worship You,” yesterday.  They were so gentle and genuine with it, I was so honored for them to have selected it.   They put their hearts into it, and I was blessed.

(5) I’ve been faithful to meditate twenty minutes daily, with a few days off here and there.  It’s helping me to effect a better balance in life, and not be so self-destructively driven in the area of creative output.  Also, a local math professor gifted me with a copy of The Cloud of Unknowing in contemporary English.   That’s the book that influenced my pastor’s meditative practice, and it’s helping to inform mine, as well.   

(6) I also just found a free pdf of the book Please Understand Me online.  Eager to delve back into David Kiersey’s unique Myers-Briggs type descriptions, from which I learned so much in the 90’s.

(7) Today marks three and a half years that I have lived indoors after many years of struggling on the San Francisco Bay Area streets.  I’ve paid my rent on time every month, and have mostly lived alone here, with a few house guests here and there.   Between my music and writing gigs, and a healthy retirement income from the government, I have not had to suffer for bread.  Everybody thought I was going to die a pathetic, meaningless death in a gutter.  And now, in the midst of life’s trials and setbacks,  I am nonetheless happier than I have ever been in my life.

(8) Been walking about seven miles a day lately, briskly.  I even did fifteen push-ups in a single set the other day.  I’m thinking I can get by on running just twice a week, and still do the Eugene Half Marathon in April.  It will be a rush to run at sea level again after training at such a high altitude here in North Idaho.

(9) Very grateful for the community of artists, writers, and musicians that I prayed for so desperately for so many years, when I had found myself instead surrounded by hustlers, hookers, and thieves.   The community has come together even more in the wake of the death of a dear friend — a musician named Paul — one of the most vibrant and magnanimous people I have ever met.   He will be remembered in his glaring absence at the Open Mike on Friday.   May Paul Anders rest in the same joy and peace he brought to us all.

(10) God is Love.  

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Troubled Water

My improvisations toward — and away from — the classic themes of “Bridge Over Troubled Water” by Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel.   Unlike recent recordings done with an iPhone 10, this one was made using my pastor Norman’s old Motorola.   It gives it a nice effect — I hope you like it.   

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Bubbles Defined

This is probably about the 4th version you’ve received of this one same song of mine.  Heck, I never do play this one exactly right from start to finish!   But this one might well be the most “definitive.”  

Anyway, this ought to tide you over.  I’m waiting for clips from last night’s Open Mike to surface in my inbox.   It might be a while, so enjoy . . .  

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Gratitude List 1350

Did this one Saturday morning immediately on awakening.   I’m glad I’ve given up the concept of a “morning ritual.”   Things have been working out a lot better with my new “spontaneous” approach.  (Helps with the holiday blues, too).

1. Really interesting, obviously meaningful, vivid dreams.

2. Slept almost 8 hrs between 10:30 and 6:30, getting up briefly at 4 to take my thyroid medication.  Surprised I slept so well and so long.

3. Made it to the Food Bank and this time they gave me coffee too. Walked two big bags home and nothing broke.

4. Heard from T. three times yesterday, like late at night.  She seemed to want to interact, but I was too brain-dead. Then I dreamed about her all night, and it’s interesting that I’ve gotten to No. 4 (doing this first thing on waking up) and still remember the dreams.

5. I even stopped to make coffee in the meantime, and I still remember the dreams.  Moreover, this time the coffee’s at the right strength — it’s Winko’s Classic Roast — and it tastes so good. Nice to have a coffee maker and good coffee, when it’s so cold outside. Nice to be inside. Nice to be out of the cold.

6. Heard from Jennifer, the God Thru the Arts lady, whom I believe is a music teacher back East. She liked my We Three Kings.   Sorta made my night to hear from her.  

7. I don’t seem to have a big urge or craving to smoke, or any desire to go out of my way to get any.  For me, this is a good thing. I just want the issue to be out of the way so I can stop tripping on it and be more effective in life, without it always tugging at me. And that seems to be happening, though I feel a void.

8. Thankful for those two theology groups, and the way I met them just because they were entering the reserved reading room to the right of the Round Table, and I sort of merrily joined in. The one from St. Mark’s has turned out to be a real blessing. 

9. Read all of 1 Peter and 2 Peter when I came home last night. I should read the Bible more, it has a way of making me humble.

10. Okay, so I’ve been depressed lately because it seems I don’t quite know how to love or be loved.  The things that most people seek after escape me.  They don’t interest me; I don’t understand what they think they’re going to receive from all these situations that almost invariably cause them pain.  The dream was all about that too, combined with me being in a stressed out leadership position and winding up crying on some lady’s shoulder at the end. But you wanna know what? It’s my Karma. Time to Embrace It. My lot in life, my portion – could have been a lot more meaningless.  Let God Be My Judge.  I am grateful for who I am.  

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New Piano Album”Suspended” Now Available

suspended-5.jpg

============ Forwarded message ============
From: Andy Pope
Date: Thu, 05 Dec 2019 22:38:22 -0800
Subject: New Piano Album “Suspended” Now Available
============ Forwarded message ============

Greetings –

I’m writing mostly to people I know locally who have purchased my piano CD’s in the past.  But also I am including people from afar whom I suspect might like to have one.   I have a brand new one I have named “Suspended.”  It’s full of twelve songs, as follows:  

1.   “San Francisco” – Scott McKenzie 

2.   “Try to Remember” – Tom Jones & Harry Schmidt 

3.   “Shenandoah” – Traditional 

4.   “Cold This Season” – Andy Pope 

5.   “Dark Holly” – Traditional 

6.   “Send in the Clowns” – Stephen Sondheim 

7.   “On My Own” – Claude-Michel Schönberg

8.   “Kum Ba Yah” – Traditional 

9.   “Bubbles Taboo” – Andy Pope  

10.  “Who Will Buy?” – Lionel Bart 

11.  “California Dreamin” – John Phillips and Michelle Phillips 

12.  “We Three Kings” – Traditional 

If you’re around town and would like to hang on to five or ten bucks to help me out in this endeavor, I’ll be up and down Main Street peddling my newest wares within the next few days or so — you can’t miss me.  If you’re afar, I really miss you, and I’ll send you one for $12 USD if you reply with your postal mailing address.

Hoping you’re all having a happy holiday!  I look forward to hearing from you — 

Cheers,

Andy

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Resolve

I dug this up the other day, thought I’d lost it.  It’s “Resolve” from my concept album, Abandon.  Thought it was worth sharing, if for no other reason than you get to see me without my beanie on.   (Believe me, that’s a once-in-a-lifetime appearance.)

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A Day in the Life

The holiday threw off my plans to record a new piano piece, but I would like to offer my very dark version of “A Day in the Life,” the famous Beatles tune by John Lennon & Paul McCartney, as recorded using a Samsung Galaxy J-1.  Andy Pope at the Baldwin Grand, January 10, 2018.   Hope you enjoy it.   

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On My Own (Take Two)

Take One is on my YouTube channel, and Take Two is the result of a hunch I could do this lovely song a bit more justice.   But the visuals turned up flawed.   So I uploaded it to mp3 and posted it on my SoundCloud.   This is a song from the musical Les Miserables, with music by Claude-Michel Schönberg, and English lyrics by Herbert Kretzmer.  I adjusted the lyrics to suit my orientation, (as is common practice), then commenced to daydream thoughout the latter portion of the song.  Whoever feels like jotting down the exact minute/second spot where the daydream begins, be my guest.  

On my own
Pretending she’s beside me
All alone
I walk with her till morning
Without her
I feel her arms around me
And when I lose my way I close my eyes
And she has found me

In the rain the pavement shines like silver

All the lights are misty in the river
In the darkness, the trees are full of starlight
The trees are bare and everywhere
The streets are full of strangers

I love her

But every day I’m learning
All my life
I’ve only been pretending
Without me
Her world will go on turning
A world that’s full of happiness
That I have never known
I love her
I love her
I love her
But only on my own

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The Unforgiven in the Eyes of Man

I found this “plea” in my Zoho Docs folder, a folder I rarely open.  I had long ago forgotten writing this on March 18, 2016.   I was homeless at the time, and had been homeless for quite a few years.   Little did I know that my exact plea was to be answered, four months and nine days later.   Not only did I receive the “lock on the door, window, and power outlet” for which I was pleading;  I even received the “community of like-minded Artists and visionaries”  that I was hoping would replace my homeless community.   So I cannot help but post this plea — verbatim and unaltered, in all its raw and fervent appeal.  The only thing that has been changed is that the words now appearing in italics were once in caps, since it was written on a Facebook timeline.  

I apologize for my recent mania. Although — I’m thinking. What exactly is wrong with mania? What is there to apologize for? People tell me I “exhaust” them. But to me, almost everybody else seems to be moving in slow motion. Is it morally wrong that I think and move so quickly? Of course not.  But I begin to develop a chip on my shoulder. I do not know how to express this dynamic clearly or articulately, or in a manner that would be persuasive of my case. My “apology” — such as it is — is placed before your eyes in order that it may be held distinct from the mania that was placed in another venue. I am banking on your objectivity to help me to believe that I can find words to express my position in such a way that will incur the empathy of the powerful.

This is because I, despite an empathic nature, despite an articulate presence, have been robbed of my natural power by a set of conditions and circumstances that have persisted far past the point of the conscious choices that initially set them into motion. That set of conditions and circumstances is called, in a word, homelessness. It has been going on for eleven years now. I do not know how I have made it this far. But I do know that I am not going to make it much farther without real help from someone who has the power to help and who cares to help.  So: let’s get real.  

I cannot live outdoors any longer. I mean – I can, but we may expect my life to end within the next two years at best. From eleven years of Homelessness I am finally breaking down. I, even I. No one can take the overwhelming conditions of homelessness for long without breaking in some way at some point. That I have endured this long is miraculous — especially in combination with the fact that every single person who is homeless understands my issue completely – whether they can articulate it or not – and every single person who lives indoors believes that my issue is something other than what it is.

Initially, this dynamic fascinated me. It fascinated me on an academic level, sociologically, as an item of analysis.  But it has grown to disgust me. Not on an emotional level — but on a revolutionary level. Let me articulate my issue as clearly as I can. I know you love me – and I know you have had your own overwhelming issues. And I am proud of you. But please hear what my issue is. Every homeless person I know will echo this issue. I might as well speak in the editorial “we.” I speak on behalf of the Homeless People of the United States of America.

Our issue is that we feel unloved.

Much as I know that you love me, much as I know that my brother loves me, much as I know that my best female friend loves me – and if I have a remaining male friend who has not rejected me totally, he probably loves me too, whoever he is — I do not feel loved. None of us do. We feel unloved because it is not possible for us to grasp the disparity between the love that we see in the eyes of those who profess it – the love that I hear in your voice and in the voice of my brother and of my best female friend – and the other side of that dynamic, which is that none of the people who love us so will let us into their homes, much less agree to rent rooms to us, even in exchange for good money that we promise to pay. This is a universal homeless phenomenon.

Apparently, it is thought that we do not bathe. That our clothes are filthy. That we cannot manage. We will do something horrible in your house. If this were not the case, then why are we not in houses of our own? Although we know that the demand for affordable housing far exceeds the supply – in America – we still feel somehow blamed for the fact that we are the one who got left without residence.  It’s as though we’re all in a competition, we are the ones who lost the game, and the booby prize is homelessness.

Rather than look at us as “losers,” why not view us according to reason?   Because of high demand and low supply, somebody had to get left. It just happened to be us. We feel like lepers. We are the ostracized, the rejected, the pariahs, the untouchables. We are the perennial round pegs who did not fit, despite ourselves, into the square holes of the society that has discarded us.

We feel unloved because we do not understand how all these people who love us are permitting us to persist in a pattern of life that we have pleaded with them to help us to escape.  For some of us, those pleas have been sent out for years.  In my case, for eleven years.  During that time there have been brief oases of residence that have lasted in some cases as long as six or seven months or more, before — before what? Something happened, and we are out in the wilderness once more.

What is that happened?  Why did we lose those short-lived residential sites?  It is because we didn’t want to sell used cars for our landlords, nor trim their marijuana plants. The housemates didn’t like the way that we paced the floors, or perhaps we were possessed of an annoying tick or snore that kept them awake at night. When asked to put something in the microwave, we who were absent-minded put it in the broiler oven instead. When it was discovered that we had been homeless, that somehow explained everything in the eyes of the potential landlord, and those eyes moved on to the next applicant — the one who had references and a credit rating, the one who either had not been homeless, or else was remarkably good at hiding the fact that they had. If the latter were the case, and one would possess that depth of discretion (I, by the way, do not), then one would probably have been shrewd enough to have avoided homelessness altogether in the first place.

In my case, after seven years of struggling, I finally became homeless by choice. That choice was made long ago.  Made gladly, as you know. The problem is that it is no longer my choice. But I am having the devil of the time acting on the new choice – which is not to be homeless – because the stigmata that is Homelessness radiates from my forehead like a scarlet letter, as though warning everyone who crosses my path that I, like the others, having dabbled in the darkness that is homelessness, am thereby marked and branded. I differ from Cain only in that I have not yet killed a man. But I am just as marked, living in the awful place of confusion wherein the love of God so fills my heart that I know I am forgiven, and yet I know not what it is for which one must forgive me. I know that only God has forgiven me, and suspect that only God can.  For we are those whom Man cannot forgive: The Unforgiven in the Eyes of Man. Not only that, but we do not know what we did that they won’t forgive us for. Ask ten people, we get ten different answers.

Homeless? You must be lazy. You’re not? Then you’re a loser. You’re not? Then you’re a dead beat. You’re not? Well then, shall we say, scum bag? Dirt bag? Piece of shit – that’s it! You must be a piece of shit. No doubt you are seriously drug-addicted. Hard drugs, the kind that ought never be discussed, much less indulged. You must be an alcoholic. Or severely mentally unhealthy – yes, that’s it. You’re a wing nut. Homeless? What do you mean by homeless? There’s got to be a reason for it.

Well, yes there is a reason. By definition, a person is homeless because he does not have a home. Whatever those other problems are – and believe me, if you’re homeless for long enough, you’ll encounter them all- they certainly cannot be solved until the problem of Homelessness that preempted them is solved. Otherwise, they will only recur again and again, because Homelessness feeds them. They come with the territory. We not only are homeless, but we will always be homeless, and we should always be homeless. We not only will never have a place to live indoors again, but we should not ever have a place to live again.  Through the impaired vision of America, homelessness is seen not as a temporary state of affairs, but as a permanent and insoluble, incurable condition of the soul.

It is not that I happen to be able to withstand cold temperatures and inclement weather. It is not that I sleep in thunderstorms without a bedroll, shouting “Bring it On!” and exerting mighty pelvic thrusts toward the stars with each successive lightning bolt or thunderclap. It is not that I have not worn a jacket since 1985, or that I ran my half-marathon PR in 35 mph gales high on LSD flanked by local city cops. It is not that I am gonzo. True – I got exactly what I asked for, and if my book on the subject, the book that has needed to be written for years now, the book that explains the conditions from homelessness according to an author who actually is homeless and not according to some detached liberal social worker or socio-economist or some other form of clueless ivory tower bleeding heart do-gooder – but from the card-carrying, gun-toting homeless bro in dick mode, the real homeless man, AKA Yours Truly. That book is being written faster than these words are being penned, however spontaneously. And people tell me I exhaust them?  Ha!  They ain’t seen nothin’ yet.

That I have pleaded persistently with people who do have the power to terminate this way of living for me and help me into dignified indoor situation  – not a “shelter” – nothing to do with “services” – nothing to do with a “program” – nothing to do with agencies, facilities, or institutions, but an actual living situation that entails outside the realm of homelessness, that (unlike the others) does not simply lead the homeless back to homelessness.   A dignified living situation, where it will not be assumed that I am a criminal, that I plot crimes when so visibly preoccupied – I do not – where my writings of music and text and script on all levels will actually be met with a supportive environment of like-minded Artists and visionaries,  rather than with further attempts to transform the vibrancy of this particularly uniquely gifted Child of the Most High into an impassive robot clone who serves the purposes of a sterile society consisting of those whose claim to fame is neither to threaten, not to make waves, not to cause wrinkles in time or similar anomalies that would disrupt the deluded flow of a culture gone awry.  I refuse to join the ranks of those whose brains have been suspended until further notice so that they no longer can think for themselves but only serve the purposes of the State and of spiritual wickedness in high places when I AM A CHILD OF GOD! I AM A CHILD OF THE MOST HIGH KING! I AM BORN OF THE UNIVERSE THAT IS UNFOLDING ACCORDING TO DIVINE DESIGN, and I HAVE A RIGHT TO BE WHO I AM!

And I’m tired. Believe it or not, I — even I — tire. I exhaust even myself. So I close.

These could be the words of an asshole. But they are not.  They are the words of a person who has been chosen to receive a message that he will articulate with precision and persuasive power. It is a message that America needs to hear – and that the nation, yea the world, has not yet heard. It is not that the message has not been delivered. On the contrary, it has been submitted en masse. It is that those to whom it has been spoken either have not listened, or they have not needed to hear it. Who has not listened to the message? Those of you live indoors. Who does not need to hear it? The homeless people of America who, ironically, are the only ones listening to it.

I can no longer abide the fact that only other homeless people are hearing the message that needs to be heard by those who are not. Somebody somewhere please grant me a place to live indoors that contains three prerequisites:

(1) It must have a window. I will probably need air from the outdoors at all times.

(2) It must have a lock on a single door, and a hide-a-key under a stone outside.

(3) It must have at least one power outlet.

I will provide the rest. I will pay up to $460 a month. But no more, because I will need to have a grocery chain like Safeway deliver food to my door. If somebody wants to kick down a new pair of Size 11 1/2 New Balance running shoes, it will be greatly appreciated, but not necessary to the task. I need – obviously- to write.

To write – the Homeless Message to the Mainstream of Modern American Life. What we want – is to be heard. What we want – is to be understood. What we want – is to be believed. What we want – is to be respected. We could care less if you say you “love” us — because, we cannot believe that you love us, and yet never let us in your home to so much as take a shower in exchange for money. We will believe that you love us when you begin to listen to what we have to say.  

It will take me approximately five months to finish the book which currently is outlined in a 12 – page single space outline in standard outline form which I will submit to anyone interested.

My daughter, I love you. And I am proud of you. My brother, my sister, all of you — I love you.  But I have something to say and I am going to get myself into the position where I will be physically and technically able to say it. Somebody get me out of the situation where I have to spend 90% of my time searching either for outdoor power outlets or chump change for North Berkeley coffeehouses with attitudes.

Here is the ninth and of last of my speeches on the Homeless Phenomenon in America. It is called “A Parallel and Opposing Culture.” Please – don’t just listen to it. Believe it.

And whoever happens to have gotten to the bottom of this, if there’s a God in Heaven or Beyond, that Power will bless you richly.

AMEN.

Andy Pope
Berkeley, California
March 18, 2016

A Parallel and Opposing Culture

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Piano Player

Hey I’ll post something tonight, I have something in mind, the dude with the iPhone is coming over at 11:30, it will take a while for him to get the file to me and for me to upload it.

I’m kinda bummed with my playing lately, haven’t been practicing, seem to be in a rut, and don’t really have my chops in line.   The song “Kum Ba Yah” came up in my philosophy class yesterday and I thought of an arrangement of it when I was neurodivergentally contemplating the concept and spacing out Mortimer Adler.

We’ll see what happens.   I’ll try not to hit the keys too hard.  It’s been brought to my attention that the piano keeps bouncing up and down.   The tuner came, so I talked to him about it, worried that I might break a string and lose my privilege. (I mean, a key to a building with a Baldwin Grand Piano is a heck of a privilege, in my book.)

The tuner guy tried to console me, advising me that in all his many years in the trade, he had only met three pianists to have ever broken a piano string.

“Well!” I said. “My name’s Andy.  Now you’ve met four.

Anyway, get ready, I’ll be with you at around 6:30pm PST.   My “Kum Ba Yah” should be live by then.

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Gratitude List 1310

This one’s from last Thursday morning, Halloween in fact.  

1. Slept five surprisingly solid hours between midnight and 5 am, was surprised it was already 5 when I first woke.

2. Took a long hot shower before bed. It still blows my mind how I’m able to do that now, without having to interact with multiple other men, many of whom have been suspicious characters. I still remember my friend George getting his Ibanez custom ripped off during the 5 minutes he was taking a shower at Multi Agency Service Center. Thankful those days are gone.

3. Meditation service was nice. It was gentle. Thomas mentioned liking the Prelude. I didn’t think I was playing very well, but sometimes that’s the best.

4. Did the door last night and got a $20 gift card to use at the cafe. Just used $5.50 of it on a doppio and blueberry muffin. Breakfast at the Courtyard is now obviated, and money saved.

5. The singer-songwriter, Julien Kozak, was also gentle. Very good guitarist and singer, reminiscent of James Taylor. Stopped on his way to Seattle. I am reminded of a gentle period in the 80’s when I used to tour different cafes in the Bay Area. Makes me want to do a tour.

6. You know, I have a really good church now. I’ve been at the same church for over 3 years. This is unusual, in my experience.  My church is a gift from God.

7. Got to talk with Danielle first thing in the morning, and we had a great conversation. There were so many spiritual insights, I was taking notes, and just finished writing down a whole bunch of stuff in my journal, lest I forget.

8. Not having heard from her for a while, I just got a substantial email from Lynne that looks very supportive and insightful. I skimmed it by reading the topic sentences of several paragraphs and am eager to see what all she has to say.

9. Had a nice conversation with Vern yesterday — not Vern the bus driver, but Vern the trumpet player. I’m grateful to be living in a town where everybody knows me as Andy, and where, whether it’s Vern the bus driver, Vern the trumpet player, or anybody else, Andy is ALL RIGHT.

10. God is Love.

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Turns Toward Dawn

This was fairly spontaneous.   We decided, more-or-less on the spot, to film this, more-or-less rehearsing. Kelsey Chapman and Brady Ross-Minton on vocals (no mikes) — singing the parts of Taura and Winston (respectively) in their song “Turns Toward Dawn” from EDEN IN BABYLON Copyright © 2019 by Andrew Michael Pope, with Andy at the Baldwin Grand. 

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An Open Letter to the Community

Sun, 13 Oct 2019 8:17:54 PM -0700
From: Andy Pope
To: Heart of the Arts
Subject: An Open Letter to the Community

To Whom It May Concern:

I’m sensing from everybody’s non-response that everybody thinks I am making a mistake.  If so, everybody is wrong.

Nobody but me is in my head and my body when the peak of unmanageable anxiety strikes.  Why should I risk running out of the church screaming after throwing all my messed up attempts at organizing my work onto the floor?  True, you guys are tolerant.  True, my friend the church secretary was right when she said that very few people would have done what she did afterwards, which was to pick up everything and sort it back together after I threw an apparent tantrum.  But nobody but me is inside my head and my body.  Nobody but me knows that the “tantrum” is an effect of uncontrollable levels of anxiety that are solely produced by a failed attempt to manage vibrations from multiple human entities while trying to focus on the single task of vocal-directing for musical theatre as I always used to be able to do so prior to the Summer of 2017.

I know what you all are thinking. You’re thinking that Opportunity has knocked. You’re thinking that here’s a way for me to “give back” and make a contribution to the community. Well! I would make a much stronger contribution to the community if I sat here at home and finished the vocal score — which is nearly done, honestly, just a few glitches to correct — until it was in such a condition that somebody of the calibre of [Name Withheld] could interpret and direct it (if he wanted to) and somebody of the caliber of [Name Withheld] could actually play it. And they don’t have the problem dealing with the panoroma of discontinuous non-myopic autistic dyslexic blah blah blah that I do. I know everybody else is a nice person and tolerant and a good Christian but if so, why is everybody making me suffer?

It’s because nobody understands the autism spectrum, you all think it’s a moral problem, and the notion that I personally do not have any God-given desire to interact, other than in a superficial way, with any other human being again -let alone two or three or more — is unfathomable to all you social animals.  I’m an Autistic Artist and I Need My Space.

Now about the Summer of 2017. I was already speeding up the tempos before I lost the church job. But I could still VD – I just could. I remember one time taking over a Choir rehearsal and doing it. It was musical theatre style as per high school students as per my experience but the fact was I could do it. I tried the same thing last year, with my own music even, and I could NOT do it. It had to have been what happened throughout the summer of 2017 at the Friendship Apartments.  It hasn’t happened since then — but it left its mark.  PTSD is real.  You guys have gotta grasp that I’m not just whining.

I failed to help my ex-wife, I failed to help my daughter, I failed at vocal-directing my own show last Summer, and I will fail at everything I set out to do henceforth if I don’t wholeheartedly go about doing the one thing I seem to be doing right, which is write.(Other than a play a piano, and that sure isn’t making the O.G. any money. Not in this neck, and not without a car, and I’ll be damned if I try to start driving again after 15 years. Can any of you even imagine it? I’d wipe out on the first day.)

Mortimer J. Adler - Wikipedia
Mortimer Adler

To me this is a no-brainer. Now I’ve been trying to read Mortimer Adler and my reading of even the Prologue was hounded by these thoughts as-yet-unexpressed, so I have expressed them. Hopefully this has not been at the expense of the health of any of the recipients. Anyway this is easy reading and engaging compared to most Philosophy.  I think his thought is very important. I wish my daughter would read it — but this is not about my daughter. It’s about my musical and the heart failure I will have if I re-enter the exact same stress that I couldn’t handle last Summer.

We don’t have a Stage Manager. We don’t truly have a Vocal Director who can handle this score. We don’t have a rehearsal accompanist. All we have is a playwright trying to do five people’s jobs. We don’t even have but four people committed in the cast! How can I pull this thing off with only Kelsey and the Three Girls? It is not possible. I will just be going through the same junk as last Summer.

I’ve already talked to Dave and the deal is off. This show will be produced when it’s good and ready and not a moment before. I am not Superman.

Yes, scoring a piano-vocal score will take forever. Maybe I can find a piano-playing music student with perfect pitch and send them the recordings.  They’ll probably need to get paid.  And that’s another story!  But somebody has to sometime give the O.G. a break, I’m sixty-six, I’m retired, I want to write at home and live a quiet life.  I didn’t write a musical so as to get all wrapped up in its production and have the same kind of nervous breakdown that caused me to become homeless in the first place in 2004.  I do not need to become homeless again.

I wrote a musical so I could make a needed statement to America on an important issue using a medium with which I have a wealth of experience.  My role should be restricted to an occasional show-up at a production staff meeting and a show-up on Opening Night with a date.

Seriously,

Andy

P.S. And this weird idea floating around town that I’m supposed to have a lady friend or some kind of wife or girlfriend has got to be the most preposterous proposal ever propounded. Talk about adding stress to stress!  You guys act like I was born yesterday.  Really!

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Tuesday Tuneup 56

finest work

Q. What are you doing here?

A. Getting ready.

Q. For what?

A. For a change in policy.

Q. Why does your policy need to change?

A. Because it’s ineffective.

Q. How is it ineffective?

A. Why don’t you just ask me what the policy is?

Q. Why should I ask you that?

A. Because you will then be able to determine for yourself why it is ineffective.

Q. Very well, then.  What is your current policy?

A. Reckless Abandon.

Q. With respect to what?

A. With respect to Art.

Q. How so?

A. I create continuously.   I create without letup or rest.  I create like a crazed maniac.   But I only create at random.  There is no order, nor rhyme nor reason, to the manner in which I create.

Q. Can you provide a specific example?

A. Yes.  The talks I gave recently, and the blog post I wrote as to how PTSD relates to the Homeless Experience.   This was random.  It was not something I intended to do according to a concrete creative plan.  It just sort of — happened — when I was moved to do so.

Q. And a second example?

A. The piano album I created, called Abandon.  It resulted from a comment someone had made that intrigued me.  I took off on that comment, until an entire piano album had been produced.

Q. Is this a bad thing?

A. Not in and of itself, no.

Q. Then why do you need to change the policy?

A. Because these creative endeavors have been keeping me from fully engaging a far more important creative task.

Q Which is?

A. The 4th Draft of my musical Eden in Babylon, and the 2nd draft of its musical score.

Q. Have you been procrastinating?

A. Yes.  But I prefer to frame it a bit differently.

Q. How so?

A. It’s not so much procrastination as it is preparation.  

Q. How can procrastination be preparation?

Labor of Love – A Semester’s Reflection | Kelsey BrannanA. It’s like so.  When I procrastinate, I engage my creative energies in a way that pleases me.  It is not what I have to do.  It is what I want to do.   In doing so, I practice creating out of desire, not out of obligation.   Then, when I cease to procrastinate, the desire to create remains — for I have practiced it.

Q. Do you mean to tell me that when you implement the new change in policy, the Object of your Creative Desire will immediately be changed?

A. Yes.  When the clock strikes midnight tonight, the Object of my Artistic Affection will be altered. It will no longer have anything to do with homelessness, or PTSD, or even blogging, for that matter.  Nor will it involve my piano playing.  It will instead return to what it was before I deviated off onto those artistic tangents.

Q. In other words, at the stroke of midnight, you will immediately reactivate the desire to work on your musical?

A. Not exactly.  It’s already been activated.  I just haven’t begun to do it yet.

Q. Why not?

A. Because it isn’t time yet.  It happens at midnight tonight.

Q. Why?

A. Because it’s been scheduled that way.

Q. Why adhere so strictly to the schedule?

A. You want the whole rundown?

Q. Why not?

Funny sublimation designs downloads quote funny Not | EtsyA. Very well then.  To be honest with you, when we suspended operations on the project, I became depressed.  I blamed myself for falling short.   I remained depressed for eleven days.  And I accomplished nothing.

Then I decided to deal with the depression in my typical, lifelong fashion.  I would hurl myself full force into various artistic endeavors.  But I wouldn’t work on the musical, because it was too depressing to think about it.

In the process of working on these less pertinent, less relevant side projects, I became happy again.   And now that I am happy, and longer depressed, I will resume working on the musical, and be happy doing so.

Q. So you’re trying to tell me that the same project that earlier depressed you will now make you happy?

A. Yes.

Q. Why do I find that hard to believe?

A. Probably because you’re either not an Artist, or you don’t know me very well, or both.

Q. May I ask a question that might insult you?

A. At your own risk, ask away.  

Q. Why do you think you can pull it off?

A. Because my name is Andy Pope.   Any further questions?

The Questioner is silent.

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Abandon: My New Piano Album

My new piano album Abandon is now available on Bandcamp.   The seven movements of the piece are each for sale for $2 or more, and the entire album is on sale for $7 or more.

Abandon

abandon.jpg

Abandon is a musical collection of feelings. All music is improvised around classical themes and motives. Original music of my youth is referenced throughout.  Also referenced are themes of Edward Elgar, Henry Mancini and Jim Morrison.

Abandon is also available in hard copy CD.  The CD’s are currently being distributed locally for a suggestion donation of $5 to $20.  I will mail CD’s to anyone outside of the local area for a $10 to $25 donation. Donations may be made by PayPal on the DONATE link below each page on this site.  All proceeds will go toward further funding of our concert reading of my musical Eden in Babylon, to be scheduled for a three-night run at the Kenworthy Theatre at a future date TBD.  David Harlan, the Artistic Director of Moscow Art Theatre (Too),  will be directing, as well as providing sound and lighting design.  I will be the rehearsal accompanist and orchestra director.  We are currently seeking a fuller staff, including a competent stage manager (a paid position), and vocal director (also a paid position.)  I urge you to support this worthy cause by purchasing my new piano offering, either online or by hard copy CD.   

Abandon © 2019 by Andrew Michael Pope.

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Bubbles Revisited

Here I am at the Baldwin Grand, a while back. This one was done on an iPhone, best sound quality yet. Good visuals too, so I’m saving up to get one. Let me know what you think.  “I Know Who You Are” & “Bubbles Taboo” from IN LIES WE TRUST Copyright © 2019 by Andrew Michael Pope. 

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Portrait of Betrayal

This is the 5th movement of my recently completed improvisational sonata, Abandon. The concept album consists of approximately forty minutes of completely improvised piano music in a classical and romantic vein.  Original songs of a former day are quoted, amid numerous references to Jim Morrison, Edward Elgar and Henry Mancini. Please message me if you are interested in purchasing a hard copy CD or an online piano album on BandCamp. 

“Betray” Copyright © 2019 by Andrew Michael Pope. Andy Pope at the Baldwin Grand, August 27th, 2019.

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Tuesday Tuneup 55

Q. What are you doin’ here?

A. I’m havin’ a great time, man!

Q. You’re kiddin’ me!  Really?

A. Really!

Q. What’s goin’ on?

A. I’m doin’ the door for a great jazz duo  who just rolled in from San Diego.  Guitar & bass, tight harmonies — what a great gig!

Q. You makin’ any money?

A. A little bit.  Same as I made last night.   Flat twenty dollars for me, all proceeds go to the band.

Q. Who was it last night?

A. Some jazz piano guy.  He did “Round Midnight” and “Pure Imagination” — among other nice charts.

Q. What about tomorrow night?

A. You got me.  I’d have to look it up.

Q. And the night after that?

A. Andy Pope Live.  Check it out:

Image may contain: 1 person

The Questioner is silent.

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Tuesday Tuneup 53

Q. What are you doing here?

A. Waiting for you.

Q. What do you want from me?

A. Questions.

Q. Why?

A. Because your questions always lead to interesting answers.

Q. Like what?

A. Like what I should be doing this morning.

Q. What should you be doing this morning?

A. In my opinion, I should be staving off depression by hurling myself full-force into an artistic project.

Q. Why should you do that?

A. Because I’ve been doing it all my life, and it usually works.

Q. Have you ever considered facing the depression directly, rather than doing something to avert it?

A. Sure I have.

Q. And how does that work for you?

A. It usually only makes me more depressed.   

Q. And then what?

A. Then nothing.  Stagnation.  Inaction.  Futility.   

Q. But if you stave off the depression through Art?

A. Then everything.  Motivation.  Action.  Meaningfulness.  

Anger-management-quote

Q. Why then would anyone ever want to face their depression directly?

A. Probably because they deny it.  If one is in denial, things don’t work too well.

Q. Are you in denial?

A. If I were, I wouldn’t know it now, would I?

Q. I don’t know – would you?

A. No, I would not.

Q. But do you feel like you’re in denial?

A. Maybe a little bit.  Nothing serious, though.  Nothing that would land me in jail or in a psychiatric facility.

Q. Where would your level of denial land you?

A. Probably on a piano bench.

Q. What do you mean?

A. When I start to suspect that something is internally amiss, I usually play it out on the piano and see what happens.

Q. What happens then?

A. I channel my feelings.

Q. And this is?

A. Healthy.

Q. Anything else?

A. Not off the top, no.  Oh wait a minute – I’m going to be posting a new talk tomorrow.  It will still be called “The Perception of Inequality” just like the talk I removed earlier this week.  It will just be a lot more thorough, more purposeful, more academic, more informative.

Q. Has working on this new talk helped you to be less depressed?

A. Yes, it has.

Q. But won’t all the depression return as soon as you’re done with your project?

A. It might.  It might not.   

Q. What now?

A. Calling my friend Danielle in about ten minutes, as per usual.   Waiting for the sky to get light.  Lacing up my shoes, going on a run.   

Q. And after that?

A. Planning on enjoying the day.  God’s blessings are new every morning.  Great is His faithfulness.

The Questioner is silent.

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Got to Get You into My Life

Another clip from the Beatles show, very early on.  Obviously, I’d not yet grasped that I don’t need to hit those electronic keys quite as hard as the keys on the Baldwin Grand.  (Not that I exactly need to hit the Baldwin keys as hard as I do either.  I just like it like that.)

Dave Harlan is the sound man, the guy who helped put the music stand back on the piano after I hit the keys so hard it fell over onto the floor.  (He also happens to be the director of Eden in Babylon.) Paul Anders on the Cajon, and one can even detect my pastor Norman in the audience, as well as the very kind woman Marilyn who gave me my Howard upright piano for free.   Even covered the piano moving.   Lots of nice people in da hood.

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Norwegian Wood

The event  of the All Beatles show turns out so far to be a very warm gathering of medium attendance.  The Town Elders are there, a great rare appearance.  Then mostly my homeys whom I can identify among the visible audience members, if you wish.  I believe these videos are coming at me in chronological order, and these first two, Can’t Buy Me Love and Norwegian Wood, definitely took place before things got out of hand.   

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The All Beatles Show

For those of you who have been anticipating a musical offering right around now, you will not be disappointed.  I’ve only been waiting for a relaxed moment to report what’s been happening.

Beatles Logo Clip Art – Cliparts

I just returned from a two hour show where I and multi-instrumentalist Paul Anders were joined by the special guest arrival of vocalist Kelsey Chapman, who harmonized with me on a performance of nothing but Beatles songs for two hours.   Although we didn’t get a video of the entire show, Brandy Sullivan has told me that she has captured four or five key sections.  

My first response was: “Tell me you caught Eleanor Rigby!”  

“That I did,” smiled Brandy.

“Whew!” I breathed a sigh of relief.  It was too magical, between me and Paul when he was on his violin, bowing smooth arco passages throughout.   And the voicings Kelsey and I intuited into our harmonies, and the dynamic peaks and valleys of the piece.  It was one of those times that all musicians live for, when everything comes together, however mysteriously, and by surprise.

It was all in all a very high-spirited, warm-hearted occasion.  At one point the entire building was singing the chorus to “Yellow Submarine” repeatedly.  They got softer and softer, until I suddenly shouted “One more time!”  At that, everybody starting singing “We all live on a yellow submarine!” at the top of their lungs.  It was priceless.

Kelsey did “Imagine” — technically a John Lennon tune — and Dave and I sang harmonies, another one with an almost mystical ebb and flow.  “Lady Madonna” was one of the more rockin’ numbers, as was “Gotta Get You Into My Life.”   Then came “For No One,” “Nowhere Man,” and “The Fool on the Hill.”  Maybe you get the picture.  It got kinda dark.

We closed with “A Day in the Life.”  This, by the way, was a fundraiser, that happened to go quite well — in fact, even better than hoped.  I’ll be posting clips and videos as I receive them from Brandy throughout the weekend.  

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Rosy

Happy Independence Day, to whomever it may apply.   It applies to me in numerous ways, not the least of which is that I finished  a working script and score to my musical Eden in Babylon on Independence Day, exactly one year ago today.  And now, may I present you with a third version of my song “Rosy.”  This is from last Friday’s open mike.

Andy Pope on the Yamaha at the Open Mike
at the One World Cafe, Friday June 29, 2019.
“Rosy” from In Lies We Trust.
Copyright © 2019 by Andrew Michael Pope.  All Rights Reserved.  

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Simple Love Song

Before we go much further, I probably ought to let my close followers know how the radio show went.  It went great.  And not only that, but a couple of very interesting events occurred immediately before and after the interview.  

Not having done a radio interview since 1987, I was extremely nervous.  I was so nervous, I had a hard time praying before the show.  I was grabbing a bite to eat at the Courtyard, when I prayed: “Lord, please let me run into another believer who will pray for me, because I cannot pray.” (Ironically, when I said, “I cannot pray,” I was praying.) 

I believe that prayer was heard.   I had barely taken one step out the door of the Courtyard, when someone locking their bicycle said hi to me.  But I didn’t recognize her with helmet and haircut.  As she took off the helmet, I realized she was Amanda from my church.

So I explained the situation and asked her to pray.   Then I got to the studio right on time, and the entire event flowed beautifully.   It wasn’t perfect, of course.  But it was a lot better than I’d feared!

Immediately after the three hour event was over, I went to the bathroom and thanked the Lord.  Then I asked Him what I should do next.  (I’ve been doing that a lot lately, because I’m such a space case I often don’t know what the next logical thing to do is.)

The still small voice clearly said: “Relax and rejoice.”  I’d never heard that combination before.  But it sounded right to me.

As I left the studio, an incredible peace came over my entire being.  It was the most peace I had felt in my spirit since the day when I played the entire score on the piano of Dan Bukvich, the noted composer and percussionist.   His reply had been: “We gotta get this thing staged!”

After that, I was at peace for about six hours.  I’m not a person who ordinarily experiences that depth of peace.  (In case anyone hasn’t noticed, I’m one of those “high strung space cases.”)

This time, the peace was not quite so enduring.  But while I was immersed in a blissful peace, approximately five minutes after I had left the studio, I saw a fellow with a backpack, and I heard a familiar phrase.

“Hey, you dropped your smile!”

This expression was used a lot by panhandlers in Berkeley, during the years when I was homeless there.   Sometimes people were offended.  In this case, the young woman merely smiled.  You see, we have only one visible homeless person in this entire town.   So it’s very unusual to run into a homeless chap up here. 

Smiling, I asked him: “Did you just say, ‘you dropped your smile?””

“Yeah!  Are you homeless?”

“Not anymore.”

“Me neither.   I just got myself a small house on the edge of town, after being homeless in Seattle for years.”

After a brief but warm conversation, we parted ways.   I then reflected on how this sudden radio show had come about.   I had played a song at the Open Mike which we hold on the last Friday of each month in the quiet little Art-positive hamlet in which I dwell.   Then I found myself shooting the breeze with one of the other participants in the event, and it turned out he needed somebody for his radio show the following day.

The song that he heard, by the way, was this:

“Simple Love Song” © 1976, 2019 by Andrew Michael Pope

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A little bit goes a long, long way.  

 

Superstar

The song “Superstar” popularized by the Carpenters (featuring the beautiful voice of Karen Carpenter) was originally called “Groupie.” Contrary to popular assumption, it was not written by Karen, but by Bonnie Bramlett (of Delaney and Bonnie), and Leon Russell. Leon sang a much less “sanitized” version than that which was made immemorial by Karen Carpenter. 

Superstar is of particular meaning to me as a musician, as sadly I recall my misspent youth, when groupies abounded in the aura of the Eighty-Eight, and I was too naive not to confuse their fascinations for true love.   I hear Beethoven had the same problem when he was a young runt, so I suppose I’m in good company.  Andy Pope at the Baldwin Grand, June 27, 2019.

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A little bit goes a long, long way.

 

Pinnacle

If anyone has use for a CD in this day and age (and I’m almost sure there are those among us who do), my new Pinnacle CD is on sale for $10 on the local market and $15 if I have to mail it to you.

And just in case you don’t happen to have any particular use for a CD in your hyper-modern mode of existence, my music doesn’t cost a whole lot to access in general.  As a matter of fact, here it is.

pinnacle cover

One way or the other, your kind donation is always appreciated.   Here’s to the “Heart of the Arts.”

Please donate to Eden in Babylon.
A little bit goes a long, long way.