Tag: music

Wild West Bar

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If you ever find yourself in a wild west bar, the last thing you want to ask the piano player for is Madonna’s “Borderline.”
Sure, her baby is pushing her love over the borderline, but there’s no need to start a fight over it.
People have gotten killed for less.
No, it’s better to stick to the newer stuff, like Vogue or… or…
Okay, all she’s doing now is lame Karaoke-style covers of classics while dancing in her underwear.
No, that shouldn’t be a cue to dance in your underwear in the wild west bar singing Madonna tunes.
As if!

Drummer Boy

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I played my drum for him.
I played my best for him.
Did he like it? Did he smile?
No. He cried! He cried like a shrieking pig!
Why the hell was I playing a drum for a kid in a barn, surrounded by goats and camels and rats?
You don’t play drums for babies… you shake rattles. You pluck strings. Or play a flute.
You make goo goo noises in their faces until they clap and laugh and smile.
Stupid baby.
Probably won’t survive the night, anyway.
Hey, nobody’s watching the gold that old fart brought.
It’s mine! Sweet!

Speakers

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Ever have one of those weekends when everything goes totally wrong?
I download some music, click on the Play button, but I couldn’t hear any sound.
I turned the speakers on and off, but still, no sound.
Dammit.
Then I messed with the device settings in the computer, but I still couldn’t hear anything.
I spent the whole weekend changing out the speaker cable, then getting new speakers, and…
Wait a minute.
Are my headphones still plugged in?
Those mute the signal to the speakers, don’t they?
I’m sure my neighbors wanted to mute me for the next ten minutes.

Broken Notes

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Walter’s saxophone was tired of screaming out the same, broken notes every night.
Practice makes perfect, but in Walter’s case, it just made more noise.
And it made Walter’s saxophone utterly miserable.
One day, Walter tried to take the saxophone out of its case, but it had been locked.
He looked all over the place for the key, but he couldn’t find it.
He accused his neighbors of stealing the key, but none of them had taken it.
Walter didn’t want to break the lock, because it might damage the saxophone.
Never mind that the damage had already been done.

The Drummers

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The ghostly drummers are the spirits of the dead, a parade of the ancestors of this town.
Out of nothing, they appear from an alleyway, their slow steady beat echoes throughout the city.
Uniforms crisp and bright, they march proudly past their modern progeny.
“That is your grandfather,” whispers a mother to her son.
Ba-ba died before he was born, but still, the grandson waves to his grandfather.
The grandfather does not miss a beat, doesn’t look to the waving child.
He just marches on, keeps his place in line, and they all return to the dust of another alleyway.

Making A War

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There’s always that one person at a party, off in the corner, all by themselves.
Fred was holding the string to a red balloon, mumbling “All I need are ninety-eight more and I can start a nuclear war.”
So, we gathered up all the red balloons, but still came up short.
The party store was closed. We couldn’t buy more.
“Maybe if we paint the other ones red? I said.
But nobody had red paint, and the paint store was closed, too.
The next morning, I was drinking my coffee, when I heard the sirens.
Should have gotten a pinata.

Mr. Tambourine Man

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Hey, Mister Tambourine Man?
Get the hell out of here! Now!
No, really. Quit banging that tambourine and beat it.
You’re driving everyone nuts with that racket.
Oh, and maybe you should take a shower, too. I mean, you reek like landfill.
Then, when you’re clean, how about some music lessons?
Look, a guitar or a piano is a musical instrument. It takes skill to use.
On the other hand, a tambourine takes no skill whatsoever to use. You just smack it around and make noise.
Understand?
Good. Now put that tambourine in the trash and get out of here.

When the music’s over

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When the music’s over, turn out the light.
That’s what Jim Morrison said, but what happens when the music’s still going, but you need to turn out the light and go to bed?
Do you really want to be alone and in the dark with the music?
I end up turning on a light in another room so the music goes in there. Then I turn out the light in here and close the door.
The music tries to creep in under the door.
And so does the light.
I put a towel under the door and go to sleep.

Juel’s Fish

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The song’s over, now you’ve got your chance.
Ask her why she has a fish circling her head and she’ll point to the fishbowl on her counter top.
It’s a perfectly ordinary glass fishbowl, filled with water. There’s some teal blue gravel at the bottom and a nice little castle and sea diver in there, too.
“He’s claustrophobic,” she says, tickling the fish on its belly as it passes by her ear.
Sometimes, it’s orange. Other times, it’s blue. And then, when it’s really happy, it’s a rainbow of colors.
She picks up her guitar, smiles, and begins to play.

Space Signals

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We’ve been waiting centuries for the signal to arrive, and now that we have it, we can’t understand any of it.
It’s just digital jibberish flowing through the vastness of space, and we have no idea what any of it means.
But it’s out there. And we’re collecting it up, storing it in a digital library until we can figure out what it all means.
Sometimes I wonder if way out there in space, strange beings are gathering up all the crap we broadcast out into the void.
I’m sure the idiots at the RIAA will sue them for it.