Posts Tagged ‘accordions’
New music video and music on the stoop with Marlon, Charlie and Penny Arcade.
January 18, 2021There’s music happening. It’s in multi-dimensional realms with mythical creatures like in the new music video for Charlie’s TIGHTROPE. It’s also right here on the stoop in the East Village with special guest drop-ins like the magnetic irresistible Penny Arcade coming up to sing a few songs.
I’ll include the video clips here, and just so you know, there will be a live stream on January 23rd for 7MPR Dance Company on Facebook. Plus, the first Bushwick Book Club live stream of 2021 is coming February 13th for Kurt Vonnegut’s TIMEQUAKE. There are incredible songwriters chomping at the bit for this! Or rather, they’re chewing their Vonnegut and turning every bite into brand new literary-song GOLD!
On the stoop for Accordion Fridays:
It was great to have Penny Arcade there to do a cover of Marlon Cherry’s “Just How Beautiful (You Are)” with Marlon on percussion. She sang to all of 2nd Avenue… when she performs, she opens all of her heart. I felt like she was extending her love to everyone who passed the whole city of course. It was exciting to have her be our special guest for the live stream.
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October 10, 2013Sometimes when people ask me to do things here, I’m like, “Seriously? Do you know how boring that is? I mean, it’s really boring. Like inhumanely boring–as in human beings should not be made to do that. That’s what machines are for, and once machines gain any level of sentience, we’ll have to think of something else, because no one, not even a partially sentient machine should have to do that. It is a morally unacceptable level of boredom you are requesting someone expose himself to.”
I’ve never said that, but you know, it was an internal dialogue.
This place doesn’t have nearly enough accordions in it, and everyone goes around acting like poems don’t even exist. If a poem was found on the premises, they wouldn’t know what it was. They would think it was a bat that had sadly found it’s way in, and they would hit the poor, misidentified poem with a binder until it smeared onto the industrial carpet.
Bring Your Poem to Work Day would be a mess.Share