Archive for November, 2009

BOOK 3. A Birthday…

November 29, 2009 Leave a comment

BOOK 3. A Birthday…
Yesterday I fully realized and understood precisely why and how the best minds of ancient Greece, after centuries of the most serious inquiry and consultations concluded that the Gods made humankind, our suffering, our dashed dreams and disappointments, our wretched afflictions, our snot riddled grief, our eyeball popping, hair tearing, spittle soaked screeching, and soul wracking sobbings, just for laughs, just for their amusement and delight.
Yesterday was nothing but laughs. But today?

Jeff Medina “el maximo guitarra” (Of Trinidad and St. Thomas) is coming in from Las Vegas where he is gigging, to do leads on what we have managed to record to date. As I mentioned before, I am very disappointed with the quality of the recordings and I will have to find a way to redo many if not most of them.

I will have Jeff listen and select the ones that he thinks he can work with and we will move forward from there. I am on my way to the UVI library to see if there are any last-minute emails from Jeff before his flight is scheduled to leave Las Vegas. I’m scheduled to meet with Derrick at the studio at Eleven AM. We will be looking at what Dan has left us to work with in terms of tracks and track information and I will try to discover how we will proceed and with which engineer and so forth.

When I first imagined creating a musical of the “Virgin Island Songs” it occurred to me to utilize the original tracks from “Dreams Should Never Die” (The V.I. Songs VOL.ll) and I asked Dan (the co-producer and studio owner) to find them. He said that he would. I have checked with him all along the way about the progress and he has reassured me that he and his partner Derrick were steady on it.
At our first “production meeting” this morning, I asked Derrick if they had found the remaining tracks and was amazed to hear him say that he knows nothing at all about those tracks, and that he and Dan have never searched high OR low for the tracks, at all… ever.
Aside from the fact that Dan lied about this important element of the project, if some or all of them are lost, it throws into question the possibility of using those tracks at all. (Which in my mind is half of the score) this is a big big problem.

As the meeting went on, it came to light that Dan may not have left any tracking notes, or written information about what was what. That is extraordinary, and means that someone with the expertise to run the board and the recording program (a recording engineer) will have to sift (along with me) through everything that we’ve done to identify what is useless and ought to have been deleted during the recording process and what works.

We have fifteen additional songs, each consisting of many individual tracks (the drum tracks, snare, kick, tom tom, hi hat, and so forth, the Bass tracks, take one, take two, the Guitar tracks, the Iron, the Congas, the Guiro..The Vocals) the time that it will take to do this work is one thing, the out-of-pocket cost for the engineer, is another. These are dollars that Derrick does not have and neither do I.

I have made quite a serious mistake, in that I gave Dan all the money up front in exchange for his commitment to see the project through to completion. My understanding was that the studio was in trouble and our money would be very helpful. I was happy to do it. One, because I was so jazzed to have a working studio in St. Thomas and Two, I had a commitment from the studio to “see it through”. This kind of commitment from someone in the Islands has always meant hell or high water, shoulder to shoulder, til’ death do us part. And that is what I took the commitment to mean.

However, our off island friend is not grounded in these absolutes of local culture, and has his own cultural interpretation which in retrospect appears to make an absolute commitment conditional, and dependent on factors held secret until the shif hits the shan. Very disappointing development.

Derrick and the studio are in a tough situation, sinking in unpaid debt with at least five uncompleted projects.

I have been telling Dan and Derrick that Jeff is coming from Las Vegas for months and we were scheduled to start this morning, however, (not surprisingly) Derrick has been having arrhythmias and his Doctor has scheduled a stress test and then wants him to rest.
Jeff and I will go over what we have to work with this afternoon and start in the studio with Derrick tomorrow at 9AM. Additionally, Derrick’s wife is scheduled to give birth in two days.

Jeff’s arranged sleeping arrangements have fallen through, and we have spent the day looking for a place for him to stay, we have visited a number of hotels (five) and we are looking at a small boarding house out East called “25 Bolongo”. I smell “arroz con habichuelas” (rice and beans) con sofrito, in the air.
A smell that I know well because after all, I am “El Gringito De Las Virginas” It smells good good good and I’m wondering where it’s coming from when the nice “down de island woman” that we are transacting with, advises us that the only difficulty that Jeff might encounter could be the minor distraction caused by the number of young women also staying there.
A double handful of young women, that turn out to be the current batch of strippers and pole dancers from the notorious Club 75 in town.
We get a look at some of them hanging their wash on the clothesline outside, wash consisting of little more than soap suds, and perhaps a 1/4 ounce of hot tropical Day-Glo paint on a string and “wispy little gossamer dream halters”
Beautiful young calente Dominicanas, who look pretty sharp and pretty sharp. More than anything the impression is of zoftico y calente doctoral candidates. Any doubts that Jeff or I had about the suitability of the accommodation, has of course vanished. He takes the room, and I take my leave.

There is no sign of life at Tut’s house “Consuelo”, so I conclude that I had better see to something to eat. I’d like something wonderful considering that it’s my birthday and I’ve been completely broke for two weeks and today I have a little digit. For some reason I’m thinking rice and beans con Carne, with a little platano maduro and a big fat beso on the side, OR perhaps a plate full of good church picnic macaroni and cheese.
With that in mind I go into a local “Southern Fried Chicken” franchise at Nisky Center and having the opportunity to survey the menu for more than ten minutes (because of the length of the line) and time to reflect that in every single instance that I have bought stuff in this particular franchise, I’ve been completely disappointed, I actually turn around and leave.

This must be the first obvious benefit of becoming 64, because this pro-active discretionary behavior surprises the heck outta me. However, I can’t really give myself too many points, because everybody knows this particular outlet lost the Captain or Colonel’s magic recipe long ago, and even the poultry is suspect.
It’s almost universally accepted that most of these birds were drugged and dragged out of the pigeon flocks that populate the bus Plaza in Old San Juan.

I’m thinking that Tuts and Mary may have made some thing special, but they could also have been called away on a mission of some kind and I am starvin’ hungry. I don’t want to eat something and have had them waste their time, intention and food…so I get a cold cut sandwich and go back down the road. When I get home, I put the stuff in the fridge and go to see Tuts. He says that Mary had prepared something but that she is now stuck in a seminar at UVI…I am touched and want to hold off on eating so we can all eat together. She calls and insists that we go ahead, we do.

Categories: 1, Music

“Sandy The Bluenosed Reindeer” A Little Christmas Operetta!

November 25, 2009 Leave a comment

Sandy The Bluenosed Reindeer
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and I will be in a small sailing boat called “Stargazer” with Tuts, Captain Timmy Carstephen, Nicky “Mighty Whitey” Russel and The “First lady of ALL The Virgins” The Good Lady Delia. We will be on our way to spend the day with our old friend “Sir Foxy”, (recently Knighted by The Queen Of England, honest) in Jos Van Dyke, in the British Virgin Islands.

As Thanksgiving is the traditional start of the “Christmas Music Season” and because I am a sentimental fellow who really loves Christmas and further because a little sprite of a spirit did entrust me with the responsibility for bringing her story to you,) Here is “Sandy The Bluenosed Reindeer” (A little Christmas Operetta) (Both Music and Script) I sincerely hope that you and your little ones will enjoy “Sandy The Bluenosed Reindeer” for many many years to come. Here is the Music “Sandy The Bluenosed Reindeer” with The Script below. P.S. The young lady singing “Island In The Rainbows” is Tasha McCauley. Unbeleivably, she was only 10 years old at the time. Enjoy!

A Christmas Present for Santa
The story of
“Sandy The BlueNosed Reindeer”A Musical in One or Two Acts
Scott Fagan

. All Rights Reserved.
Scott Fagan Music ASCAP
St. Thomas, Virgin Islands

29:11 Minutes (Approximately 40 Minutes with 10 minute Intermission)

A Warm and humorous musical story about a little female reindeer sent to the North pole as a Christmas present for Santa, one Christmas eve a time ago, by the Girls and Boys in the home for almost forgotten children some where in the tropical Islands…

Sandy has been sent to Santa to help him with his warm weather routes, but she will have an awful lot of shiverin’ and shakin’ to do and an awful lot of wondering where she fits in, before anyone discovers the purpose and true value of this extraordinary Christmas present for Santa.

In the end, Sandy leads for Santa when it’s time to go any where around the world that it doesn’t snow, and becomes the perennial favorite of (and there’s an awful lot of) places in the world where all the Christmas’s are hot!

ACT ONE………………………Christmas Eve, a time ago

ACT TWO……………………….As time passed


THE NARRATOR (A colorful Tropical Island character, male or female)

SANDY THE BLUE NOSED REINDEER A young and very simpatico female Reindeer, with a Blue nose. She will progress in age from Baby to pre-teen.

SANTA CLAUS A right Jolly old Elf.

MIZ CLAUS A warm, maternal and practical Elf lady

THE CHORUS (As many as you like, they will double as…)

THE GIRLS AND BOYS (In the Home for almost forgotten Children)

SANTA’S ELVES (Lefty, Righty, Blackie and Whitey, Brownie, Yellow, Shorty and Longfellow

SANTA’S REINDEER (Dasher, Dancer, Prancer and Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner and Blitzen


ACT 1.

1. Opening scene The Narrator – Now you’ve asked me to…
2. The Home for almost forgotten children somewhere in the Tropical Islands
3. That ‘ol Pelican Pilot
4. When she woke up it was cold and dark
5. My name is Sandy and I’m Cold!
6. This looks like a job for Santa!
7. So Santa and his Reindeer got something that Christmas they didn’t really want
8. Sometimes somethings

ACT. 2.

1. Now remember it was Christmas Eve
2. Everyone loves Toys Toys Toys
3. Once Santa had wrapped his wonderful warm arms around her
4. So Santa had to…
5. As time passed…(Island in the Rainbows)
6. Santa and his crew knew exactly what to do. (Sing a Happy song).
7. It was HOT!
8. The Narrator to finale
9. Curtain Call and…
10. Merry Christmas all over the World


Narrator’s backdrop
The Home for almost forgotten children
Sweet Green Islands in the Beautiful Blue sea.
The North Pole
Santas’s Workshop
Santa’s Sleigh
In the West Indie


The Songs:

1. THEME Sandy the Blue Nosed Reindeer
2. A Christmas Present for Santa
3. Sometimes Somethings
4. Lefty Righty
5. Toys toys toys
6. Island in the Rainbows
7. Sing a Happy Song
8. THEME (Reprise) Sandy The Bluenosed Reindeer
9. Merry Christmas All Over The World

I would place The Chorus on stage and utilize parents, teachers or other interested adults in The Chorus as desired. The “magical transformation” from chorus singer to costumed character (when doubling) may add to the fun if it occurs in view of the audience
My staging suggestion is simple, have fun and lots of it!
Merry Christmas!


Act One
(Sung By Chorus, as stage is being set, and lights slowly come up)

CHORUS: And now they’ve made a place for her…
in Reindeer history too…

We’ve all heard of Rudolph, who’s nose was shiny bright
and how he guided Santa’s sleigh through the foggy night
But there’s a little Reindeer who’s nose is icy blue
and now they’ve made a place for her in Reindeer history too.

Sandy is the Reindeer who’s story’s never told
Cause who’d believe a Reindeer didn’t like the cold
Who believes in Reindeer who’s little noses freeze
Shivering and shaking and knocking at the knees.

Then one night it happened down in Port of Spain
the other Reindeer got so hot they started to complain
“Let me help you Santa” her voice was sure and strong
and that’s how Sandy found her way into a Christmas song

Sandy is the Reindeer who’s story’s never told
Cause who’d believe a Reindeer didn’t like the cold
Who believes in Reindeer who’s little noses freeze
Shivering and shaking and knocking at the knees.

Now Sandy leads for Santa, when it’s time to go
Any where around the world that it doesn’t snow
The Boys and Girls all love her y’know. there’s an awful lot
of places in the world where all the Christmas’s are hot

Sandy is the Reindeer who’s story’s never told
Cause who’d believe a Reindeer didn’t like the cold
Who’d believe a Reindeer who’s nose was icy blue
but now they’ve made a place for her in Reindeer history too…

Lights come up to reveal THE NARRATOR (Male or Female, characteristics are optional)
THE NARRATOR walks to the front of the stage and speaks directly to the audience.

NARRATOR: Now you’ve asked me to tell you the story of Sandy the Bluenosed Reindeer
and I will …But I’m thinking.. you could also call this story “A Christmas Present for Santa”
Cause she was sent to Santa one Christmas a time ago, by the Girls and Boys in the home for almost forgotten Children, Somewhere in the Tropical Islands.
HOME FOR ALMOST FORGOTTEN CHILDREN, SOME WHERE IN THE TROPICAL ISLANDS ( It’s Christmas Eve and a ragged but cheerful group of Girls and Boys are lovingly brushing and grooming a little Blue Nosed Reindeer, they decorate her with ribbons and bows as they sing.)


GIRLS AND BOYS: (Alternating lines)
All Because we’ve heard it’s better to give than to receive
Girls Because you never ask for much , except that we believe
All Because you’re such a good soul, and Jolly Jolly too
Girls Because we think that you love us as much as we love you

Boys Because you’re always giving and never never take
All except sometimes a little milk some cookies or some cake
Girls Because she’s so so special,
Boys because it’s Christmas eve
All Because a million times because, Merry Christmas Santa Claus

Girls Up in the sky with his flying Reindeer
Boys Going loop de loop like he doesn’t know fear
Girls Who is the man made of so much fun
Boys He’s willing to share his joy with everyone

Santa it’s you so we thought we would
Send you a present cause you’ve been so good
Kindly and gentle and dear old man, We know you’ll understand

Boys Because we’ve heard it’s better. to give than to receive
Girls Who do we don’t see to say thank you to

Boys Because you never ask for much , except that we believe
Girls Who’s like a dream in a dream that comes true

Boys Because you’re such a good soul, and Jolly Jolly too
Girls Racing the sun to a million places

Boys Because we think that you love us as much as we love you
Girls In every one leaving smiling faces

Boys Because you’re always giving and never never take
Girls Driving a sleigh that no jet is faster

Boys except sometimes a little milk some cookies or some cake
Girls First to get through natural disaster

Boys Because she’s so so special, because it’s Christmas eve
Girls Braving the coldest and hottest weather

Boys Because a million times because, Merry Christmas Santa Claus
Girls Who tries to keep the whole thing together

We’ve sent a Reindeer who’s nose is blue
because we believe she’ll be a help to you
Kindly and gentle and dear old man
we know you’ll understand.

Because a Million times because…
Merry Christmas Santa Clause

NARRATOR: I can just see that old airmail Pelican flying along with his little bundle, wriggling and rolling over to her tummy, foots sticking out front and back, kicking and learning to fly. Foots up, foots down, foots up, foots down, just like you do when you’re learning to swing in the beginning. Foots up, foots down, foots up, can you see her? She’s doing fine… flying along nice and easy and the warm sun shining down on her such a rich chocolate-brown. Shining down on those coconut trees and those sweet green Islands in the beautiful blue sea, just the color of Sandy’s nose.
Like I said I don’t know exactly where they were coming from, but they were going along in the warm for quite some while, and that little Reindeer was kicking foots as strong and as smooth as could be maybe even giving that old Pelican Pilot a rest now and then. Foots up, foots down, foots up.

CHORUS: Sandy is the Reindeer who’s story’s never told cause who’d believe a Reindeer didn’t like the cold
who believes in Reindeer who’s little noses freeze, Shivering and shaking and knocking at the knees

NARRATOR: Y’know, It’s a big and a wide wide world that we live in, and after a time that little Reindeer curled up in her little bundle and took a nap. Just like you little critters do. Maybe she knew where she was going and dreamed a dream or maybe not. I don’t know, but I do know she didn’t know it was going to be cold where she was going, and I do know she didn’t know it would be dark, and that’s just what it was, when she woke up it was cold and dark and she was scared too! Now there’s those Northern lights up there and they light up the sky kind of like a cosmic rainbow so it wasn’t too dark but there’s no electric heaters in the snow

CHORUS: (Comes up under NARRATOR)

Sandy is the Reindeer who’s story’s never told

NARRATOR: (Continues)
and no radiators around the North Pole, so it was cold

Cause who’d believe a Reindeer

and she was shivering and shaking and knocking at the knees

Didn’t like the cold

and if her nose was Blue before,

Who believes in Reindeer

boy, you shoulda’ seen it now

Who’s little noses freeze

That’s just how the other Reindeer first saw her

Shivering and shaking

Standing in the snow, shivering and shaking and knocking like a clock

and knocking at the knees

Her nose was the color of a blueberry popsicle.

Jumping Jet planes!!

NARRATOR: They said.

Look at this one, we don’t believe it.

This looks like a job for Santa!

Who believes in Reindeer, who’s little noses freeze,
Shivering and shaking and knocking at the knees

NARRATOR: So BLITZEN zoomed over to Santa’s house and got him!

SANTA: Jumping jet planes!

NARRATOR: Said Santa.

MIZ CLAUS: Oh Santa!


SANTA: I don’t remember asking for a Bluenosed Reindeer

NARRATOR: Said Santa

SANTA: I’ve never even heard of a Bluenosed Reindeer


NARRATOR: Said the other Reindeer

SANTA: Who ever heard of a Bluenosed Reindeer?


SANTA: But a Blue nosed one?




SANDY: (In a trembly little voice) My name is SANDY, an.. I’m Cold!

NARRATOR: Said the mizzable little critter

SANTA: Swooping satellites!

NARRATOR: Said Santa

SANTA: Who ever heard of a Reindeer that didn’t like the cold? I didn’t ask for a Reindeer that didn’t like the cold…

MIZ CLAUS: Santa , she’s cold

NARRATOR: Said Miz Claus

MIZ CLAUS: And her little nose is Blue, she’s shivering and shaking and knocking at the knees. What are we gonna’ do?

SANTA: Let’s take her in the house!

NARRATOR: Said Santa Claus

MIZ CLAUS: Poor little shivery shaking Bluenosed thing…

NARRATOR: Said Miz Claus.

CHORUS: (In background) Sandy is the Reindeer who’s story’s never told


CHORUS: Cause who’d believe a Reindeer


CHORUS: Didn’t like the cold

COMET AND CUPID AND DONNER AND BLITZEN: Santa didn’t ask for a Bluenosed Reindeer that doesn’t like the cold!

CHORUS: Who believes in Reindeer who’s little noses freeze

COMET AND CUPID AND DONNER AND BLITZEN: We wanted some rocket packs!


CHORUS: Shivering and shaking

DASHER AND DASHER AND PRANCER AND VIXEN: Say, where’d she come from anyway.

CHORUS: and knocking at the knees

NARRATOR : So Santa and his Reindeer got something that Christmas they hadn’t asked for, maybe didn’t really want, and sure didn’t think they’d ever need. That’s how it is sometimes, we don’t get what we want but we do get what we need, and don’t even know it. It happens to me ,
I’ll bet it happens to you too… sometimes.


Sometimes something happens in a funny way
something we think shouldn’t happen anyway
Sometimes something happens that we didn’t plan
Something sometimes that we barely understand

Sometimes it won’t help something to try and guess
Somethings we know sometimes happen for the best.

Sometimes something hides the sun and clouds the sky
Something passing as we let sometime go by
Sometimes something disappoints us bringing pain
Rainbows wouldn’t happen if it didn’t rain
Sometimes something happens to us we forget
Something sometimes we don’t know the good part yet.

End Act One

Act Two

NARRATOR: Now remember it was Christmas Eve, and Santa and Miz Claus and all of Santa’s reindeer and helpers and all of Santa’s friends, had quite a bit to do…

SONG # 4 LEFTY RIGHTY BLACKIE AND WHITEY (Sung by Santa and his Elves)

SANTA: Lefty Righty Blackie and Whitey

ELVES: Working together with Santa Clause

SANTA: Brownie Yellow Shorty and Longfellow

ELVES: Working together well just because

SANTA: They want to show it can be done

SANTA AND ELVES: Working together’s lots of fun

ELVES: Lefty Righty Blackie and Whitey

SANTA: If little elves can do it so can we

ELVES: Brownie Yellow Shorty and Longfellow

SANTA AND ELVES: Everybody’s one big family

SONG # 5 TOYS TOYS TOYS (Sung by Santa’s Elves)

Toys toys toys toys – toys toys toys toys
Every one loves toys toys toys

Way up here in Santa’s shop, when we start we never stop
Cause every toy’s a thing of joy and every body wants a toy
Arche wants an aeroplane, Billy wants a ‘’lectric train
Carrie wants more Star Wars stuff, Children just can’t get enough
Toys toys toys toys, Every one loves toys toys toys

Drucie wants a doll that walks, Ellie wants a doll that talks
Frankie wants a baseball bat, Sister Gale a football hat
Holly wants a new doll house, Izzy wants a rubber mouse
Jamesy wants a teddy bear, Katie wants a game that’s fair!

Imagine a world without toys, An awf-’ly boring place
not much fun for girls and boys
But don’t be sad cause it’s ok There’s something we could do about it
everybody sing and shout it! Toys..

LITTLEST ELF: (Just learning his manners yells to the others) Hey! Shouting’s not polite

dont’cha know that?

SANTA: Hmm… Ok then every body sing! Toys toys toys toys, all we want is toys toys toys.

Way up here in Santa’s shop, when we start we never stop
Cause every toy’s a thing of joy and every body wants a toy
Lele wants a two wheel trike, Maggie wants a three wheel bike
Nattie wants and ice cream truck, Orvil wants an Easter duck
Poonah wants a boxing glove Queenie wants a fish to love Roscoe wants a jumping rope, Sarah wants a microscope
Tito wants a frog that sings, Uta wants a magic ring
Virgil wants an oogie board, Wanda wants a pirate sword
Xosa wants a kite that hums, Yone wants a kettle drum
Ziggy wants a cash machine, a racehorse and a Limousine

SANTA: (Looking perplexed) A cash machine? a racehorse? a Limousine?

ElVES : Toys toys toys toys – toys toys toys toys
Every one loves toys toys toys!

NARRATOR: Now once Santa had wrapped his wonderful warm arms around her,
Sandy wouldn’t let him put her down for anything. So Santa had to
check all his lists, get his Reindeer reined,
Pack up his sleigh, thank all his helpers,
give Miz Clause her see you later kiss and take off.. With a baby bluenosed Reindeer in his arms.
Then he had to, drive his sleigh, carry his bag
climb down chimneys, fill stockings, sort and set out presents,
eat his cookies, sip his cocoa and get back up chimneys with a baby bluenosed Reindeer in his arms. If you saw Santa that Christmas you know that one Christmas a time ago, he had a baby bluenosed Reindeer in his arm when he came to your house.

CHORUS: (In background) Sandy is the Reindeer who’s story’s never told
Cause who’d believe a Reindeer… didn’t like the cold

NARRATOR: As time passed. nobody knew what in the world Sandy was doing up at Santa’s workshop. She wanted to be wanted but what good could she really do? Shiverin’ and shakin’ and knocking little Elves off of shelves and all, wherd’d she fit in? It looked like every thing she did was wrong.

SONG # 6 ISLAND IN THE RAINBOWS (Sung by Sandy and Santa)

There’s a place that I know
that I sure wish I could go
Far away, it’s an Island in the Rainbows
Somewhere far across the sea
I can hear it calling me
But I can”t go it’s an Island in the Rainbow
Rainbow days… far away,
Green and Gold and Purple too
Rosy Red, Yellow and Blue

SANTA: How I wish that I knew it were true

SANDY AND SANTA: Maybe someday you and me
we could fly across the sea
see if there could be
an Island in the Rainbows

SANDY: Rainbow days… far away,
Green and Gold and Purple too
Rosy Red, Yellow and Blue
I wish I could show it to you

SANDY AND SANTA: Maybe someday you and me
we could fly across the sea
see if there could be
an Island in the Rainbows…

NARRATOR: She sure was feeling bad , but Santa and his crew knew exactly what to do!

SONG #7 SING A HAPPY SONG (Santa, Miz Claus all the Reindeer and Elves and Joined by Sandy at the end)

I’ve got a secret that I’ll share with you
because it’s something that we all can do
when I’ve got troubles and my world is blue
I just sing a happy song.

Sing a happy song, then things won’t seem so wrong
sing a happy song
Sing a happy song, the world will sing along sing
a happy song

Great grand father’s bedroom drapes were drawn,
we thought for sure the dear old boy was gone,
but just as Grandma sighed “Poor Grandpa’s died
he cried… Sing a happy song!
SANTA: All together now!
Sing a happy song, one I can sing along
sing a happy song
Sing a happy song,then things won’t seem so wrong
sing a happy song


SANTA: And a one and a two and a three.Everybody
Sing a happy song, then things won’t seem so wrong
sing a happy song
Sing a happy song, the world will sing along
sing a happy song…

NARRATOR: By the next year Sandy’d gotten too big to carry all the time just like you have, but she still went everywhere that Santa did, so naturally she jumped shiverin’ and shakin’ right into Santa’s sleigh on Christmas Eve and off they went, and the further south they went the less and less she shivered, and the more warm it became the less and less she shook, and by the time they got to Port of Spain, Trinidad, in the West Indies , it was hot!



COMET, CUPID, DONNER AND BLITZEN: We’re worn out, we can’t go another step!


SANDY: (With Chorus) Let me help you Santa.

NARRATOR: (With Chorus) Her voice was sure and strong

SANTA: Jumping Jet planes!

NARRATOR: Said Santa

SANTA: Now I know where you belong!

Now Sandy leads for Santa when it’s time to go
any where around the world that it doesn’t snow

NARRATOR: (With CHORUS under) And the other Reindeer love her cause
there’s an awful lot of Reindeer that get tired when the goings gotten hot!

CHORUS: (Under NARRATOR) Sandy is the Reindeer whose story’s never told

NARRATOR: Y’know sometimes if we have a hard time when we’re little

CHORUS: (Under NARRATOR) Cause who’d believe a Reindeer didn’t like the cold

NARRATOR: It helps us to understand when others are having a hard time too, and then
maybe we can help them

CHORUS: (Under NARRATOR) Who believes in Reindeer

NARRATOR: That’s how Sandy is,

CHORUS: (Under NARRATOR) who’s little noses freeze.

NARRATOR: She knows how it feels to be cold and scared and lonely

CHORUS: (Under NARRATOR) shiverin’ and shakin’ and knocking at the knees

NARRATOR: and it makes her feel real good to help Santa bring happiness and joy

CHORUS: (Under NARRATOR) Sandy is the Reindeer

NARRATOR: to girls and boys all around the world

CHORUS: (Under NARRATOR) who’s story’s never told

NARRATOR: big girls and boys too!

CHORUS: (Under NARRATOR) Cause who’d believe a reindeer

NARRATOR: Santa doesn’t forget us just because we grow up you know.

CHORUS: (Under NARRATOR) didn’t like the cold

NARRATOR: So Sandy turned out to be

CHORUS: (Under NARRATOR) Who’d believe a Reindeer

NARRATOR: a wonderful Christmas present for Santa ,

CHORUS: (Under NARRATOR) who’s nose was icy Blue

NARRATOR: he didn’t know he wanted, NARRATOR:but he’s really glad he got

CHORUS: (Under NARRATOR) But now they’ve made a place for her

NARRATOR: Sandy the Bluenosed reindeer

CHORUS: (Under NARRATOR) In Reindeer….

NARRATOR: who’s happy when it’s hot!

CHORUS: (Up for big ending) history too…….

NARRATOR: I wonder how they knew Santa needed a Bluenosed Reindeer anyway…


We’ve all heard of Rudolph, who’s nose was shiny bright
and how he guided Santa’s sleigh through the foggy night
But there’s a little Reindeer who’s nose is icy blue
and now they’ve made a place for her in Reindeer history too.

Sandy is the Reindeer who’s story’s never told
Cause who’d believe a Reindeer didn’t like the cold
Who believes in Reindeer who’s little noses freeze
Shivering and shaking and knocking at the knees.

Then one night it happened down in Port of Spain
the other Reindeer got so hot they started to complain
“Let me help you Santa” her voice was sure and strong
and that’s how Sandy found her way into a Christmas song

Sandy is the Reindeer who’s story’s never told
Cause who’d believe a Reindeer didn’t like the cold
Who believes in Reindeer who’s little noses freeze
Shivering and shaking and knocking at the knees.

Now Sandy leads for Santa, when it’s time to go
Any where around the world that it doesn’t snow
The Boys and Girls all love her y’know. there’s an awful lot
of places in the world where all the Christmas’s are hot

Sandy is the Reindeer who’s story’s never told
Cause who’d believe a Reindeer didn’t like the cold
Who’d believe a Reindeer who’s nose was icy blue
but now they’ve made a place for her in Reindeer history too…

Curtain Calls

NARRATOR: (to audience) And now here’s a Christmas Present for you!



Merry Christmas all over the world
(Christmas time Christmas Time)
Yes it’s Christmas all over the world
North and South (night so different from the rest)
East and west (special night we love the best)

CHORUS: Ahh – ahhh – ahhh – ahhh – ahhh
SPOKEN: Gladelig Jul, Feliz Navidad, Joy-ah Noel

CHORUS: Ahh – ahhh – ahhh – ahhh – ahhh
SPOKEN:Sheng tang qui-lo, Bon Natale, Jeradvum Kristnovum

CHORUS: Merry Christmas all over the world
SPOKEN: In every corner of the Earth, Man celebrates a child’s birth

CHORUS: Christmas time, Christmas time
SPOKEN: and sings the heart of human kind, and shines the light of love divine

CHORUS: Yes it’s Christmas all over the world
SPOKEN: That the children who are the children who were and the children who will be

CHORUS: Christmas time, Christmas time
SPOKEN: Forever have in memory this magical miracle night so good that is peace and love and brother hood

CHORUS: Merry Christmas all over the world
Christmas time, Christmas time
Yes it’s Christmas all over the world
Every where the soft wind blows, every where that Jack Frost goes

CHORUS: Ahh – ahhh – ahhh – ahhh – ahhh
SPOKEN: Fraulacht Wil-nachten, Bly-gee Kirstdagen, Meli Kalekemaka

CHORUS: Ahh – ahhh – ahhh – ahhh – ahhh
SPOKEN: Hari Natal, Gaha Christnasto, Tanoshee Karitsumasi

CHORUS: Merry Christmas all over the world
SPOKEN: Faraha Malingi Karitmasi

CHORUS: Merry Christmas all over the world…
SPOKEN: Mara-id al-mi-lad, Alice Changa mi lad ha note sri..

SPOKEN: (All) Merry Christmas…We love you Santa!

The End

If you are interested, you will find individual MP3’s for the individual songs, at

BOOK 3. Sula and The Music Of Morning, As Some Of You May Know, Archie Faringhy

November 24, 2009 Leave a comment

BOOK 3. Sula And The Music Of Morning
On Sundays I make it my business to try and visit with Sula for two or three hours. I bring her a salt fish Pate (pa-tay) and two to four little cans of juice, depending on how much loot I have..
The pate is for her to eat, the juice is so that she has something to offer to visitors and guests during the week.
Sula is 107 years old and still pretty sharp (of mind AND looks) I am one of her “boyfriends” “de Whiteman who is a recording artist” she has three others (an ex policeman, and two Moravian Ministers) right off the bat, along with an ever-growing list of wanna be boyfriends. I have been her boyfriend for over twenty years now and she is yet another one of my sweeties that is hoping that I will make some money.

Sula lives in a little wooden house on the north side of Crown Mountain where she has lived all of her (amazing) life. When she was born (1903) the midwife took a look at her and told her mother that. “The best thing to do is to just leave her in the bush somewhere and forget about her, this little one is just too tiny and fragile to live”

Her Mother wouldn’t hear of it and eight days later, when little Sula was still alive, her grand mother took her in her arms (I tease her that her Grandmother stuck her right in her shirt pocket) and walked all the way to town (“In those days all we had was donkey and donkey cart yu’know and we did’n have none of dose”) to the hospital to see the Doctors.

When Sula was twelve she caught the Typhoid Fever and was not expected to live a single day. Her Doctor (The locally famous Danish Doctor, Knud Hansen) called her his little sparrow and said he refused to let her die. Somehow by the grace of the all-powerful, much prayer and the best medical treatment that the great Knud Hansen could provide, Sula survived Not only survived but thrived, she became a teacher at 13 in the Danish school system in 1915. She is now the oldest living Virgin Islander and may in fact be the longest lived Virgin Islander ever.

We are sitting together on her old red couch listening to the choir and the priest at the Roman Catholic Cathedral of St. Peter and Paul (Sula was born Anglican but joined the Moravian Church at Nisky after the Moravian minister extracted a promise from her mother to switch her if she survived the Typhoid Fever.)

The Moravians are a wonderful community with quite a history of activism here in the West Indies; they are the folks that snuck into the ‘cane fields to teach the slaves how to read and write and then provided the schools that delivered all of the education for centuries. My own childhood education at Nisky Elementary School was among the last echoes of their ‘cane field missionary work.

In any case, Sula is not particular about where her Sunday morning music comes from and together we will listen (in turn) to the choirs at Saints Peter and Paul, The French Town Evangelical Assembly, The Salvation Army, and The Anglican Church at Sugar Estate. I love the singing, Sula loves the songs.

As Some Of You May Know..
Some of you may know that I am a recovering person, for the rest of you, I’d like you to know, I’m a recovering person.
In addition to having a first class case of dipsomania, I am a child and grandchild of dipsomaniacs, by the grace of God, good luck and way too many good people to count on fingers and feet, I have been in recovery (as of this writing) since May 24th 1978.
Recovery was passed along to me at a New York City meeting on the upper west side called appropriately “Chock Full Of Nuts” (not the nice little coffee shops). I have been an activist for recovery ever since. I will write much more about it as we move along, but for the moment..

While living with my Bridey Annie and our twins Lelia and Archie up in the Mountains in San Diego County, it became crazy obvious that I had to do something to generate some kaboosh beyond my pitiful music royalties. consequently, I wound up spending two years and six months at UCLA (January 1987 to June 1989) for training and certification in Drug and Alcohol Counseling and Program Design and Management.

While there I designed and started a program called “BIZRAP” (The Music Business Recovery Assistance Program) “BIZRAP” in turn, divided into two programs “MAP” (The Musicians Assistance Program, run by Buddy Arnold, and “Musicares” (The NARAS-Grammys Program) under Michael Green.)
Since then, I have started or participated in the starting of a number of programs and non profits. I am telling you this because it is so and “things related” will naturally come up again and again..

While going to school in LA, I lived alone in a small residential hotel on Lafayette Street, in Culver City that I called “The Bombay Arms” I took city busses to work (at 4 AM I cleaned “The Kingston 12” a night club in Santa Monica, at 10 AM I took the bus to my second job, shipping posters from a garage in LA, at 4 PM, I took the bus to UCLA and after school, the bus back to the Bombay Arms.)

On Saturday mornings I would take the number 33 (Venice Blvd) to Union Station,in LA and take the train down the coast to Oceanside, then two more buses, (the first to Escondido and the second up the mountains into Ramona). There Annie and our little ones would pick me up in the little Datsun and on we would go to “Witch Creek” eight miles further out-of-town. Just before San Isabel, we’d duck off the old Julian highway, go two and a half miles down “Slaughter House Road”, over the bridge, across the Crik’ up the hill and under the Oaks, to the pad..ah Cabin..ah..pad.

When I think about it I don’t know If I want to laugh or cry, or tell it so you laugh or cry..I do believe that in this instance we could do both at once. It was the craziest juxtaposition of characters and circumstances.
The bright lights in this extraordinary mud pie were the children, our twins Lelia and Archie. Two of the sweetest most even keeled little people I’ve ever known, and there was not a single day or part of a day spent with them that was anything less than inspiring and beautiful. They were champions. We had much fun together. I love them completely.

Archie Faringhy
Annie’s Grandfather Archie Faringhy bought the 100 acre ranch (with cabin) in the late nineteen forties and had started two vineyards and orchards of Peaches, Plums, Apricots and Nectarines with a few Pear trees thrown in for good measure.
Maybe 10 15 acres were under cultivation and the rest of the ranch was still “wilder bush”.

We had (Annie, Lelia, Archie and I) come out from New York to California to visit Annie’s Grandparents a few years earlier, and came up to visit the ranch then. The living area consisted of four buildings three of which were original old-time wood slat constructions and a more modern one (the kitchen) that Archie had built himself in the early sixties. Grandpa Archie was quite a crusty and colorful fellow (and not just because he was a redhead)
He’d been born at Fort.Wachuka, (Thunder Mountain) down in Apache territory in Cochise County, Southern Arizona. His father was a Cavalry man and his was mother was a full-blooded Navaho lady. Archie’s Grandfather Faringhy, was a young man from Flanders who had stowed away on “The Mary” and wound up in South Africa, became a Doctor (medicine, not witch) shipped for America and came west as Kit Carson’s Medical Officer.

Kit and his crew participated in much wild west action and were big time good guys or bad guys, (depending on which side of the fray your people were on)
In any case they had passed this way with Gen. Kerney in the time of The Californios, and seen the beauty of these mountains and valleys. Somehow many years later, his Grandson Archie had found/made his way back and bought a small piece of it.
Archie loved this piece of wild world and so did his redheaded grand-daughter Annie.

Book 3. The Point Of Points..

November 20, 2009 Leave a comment

The Point Of Points
It’s August 19th but I’m not finished with all I had to say on the 17th or the 18th so with your permission I will finish up some of that before getting to this (the 19th). Oops It’s now August 21 and I’m not finished with the 19th yet..hmm..It’s Wednesday night, ok,.now it’s actually Friday morning but I’m trying to catch up with the date and days and it’s getting tricky) , I’ll have to figger this out..Ok Mowedsday, “Wednsfrieday” “Motuewedthurfrisatsundoneday” Hmmm.
I thunked it through and I’m dumping the favor of the data, I’m quitting, quashing and kaboshing the calendar, in favor of quality and content. Yep!

Ok, lets see, I’ve just come from playing my friend Nicky’s open mike night at Tickles, a popular open air bar in the Crown Bay Marina
Six weeks ago I had a meeting at Tickles with David Edgecombe (the director attached to “The Virgin Islands Songs”). While we were meeting, my friend Nicky (AKA The Mighty Whitey) and a sweet but very juiced slide guitar player named Jack, (a fixture at the Tickles open mike,) thought that I was there to sing..

I was there very specifically to talk business with David, but I promised Nicky and Jack that I would come back as soon as I was free on a Wednesday night. Since then I’d been in the states for four weeks with my little one Holiday, tonight I showed up to keep my promise.
Walking down the dock I can hear a sweet soul serenading the bar with his most sincere rendition of “Leaving On A Jet Plane” now I see his girlfriend dabbing her eyes with a coaster/napkin. and empathcize with all, in the most sung and wept over song in the history of the West Indies, since Brown Skin Girl)

At the entrance I’m greeted by a rolling eyed stateside crazy boy, who looks at me and my guitar and wants to know if I know how to play “bonk a bonk a bonk a” ‘cause he’s “The baddest bongo man in the world” and he’s gonna play with me. I ask him where Nicky is..”Nicky?” He says “Nicky? I don’t deal with names man, I’m gonna play with you!”

I start scanning the room, frankly hoping that someone would pop up with a Day-Glo sign saying “ Hey Scottie, Nicky’s not here and open mike has been canceled forever” so I can turn around and split.
However, in escaping the lad with the roiling reality, I dove deeper into the throng and there my fate was sealed..
An imposingly tall lady shot up from somewhere below and with her lovely face inches from mine said “what a cute fellow you are” she towered over me like “The Christ of the Andes” I felt an almost irresistible urge to fall face first upon her mercies, and confess my sins over and over again.. Then it dawned on me that this goddess was Mighty Whitey’s, Mighty Wifey, Janet Reiter, a wonderful screechest and guitar strangleist in her own right.. I asked if she were here to screech and yowl she said “yes and was I?”
I allowed as I’d be screeching and a yowling too and we agreed there was some screechy yowlin’ just around the bend. She then pulled me to her tender mercies delivering what surely has to be among the kindest and most charitable hugs ever. Changed my whole attitude about open mike night and left me feeling downright up-spired..

Waiting to go on, I began to suss out the patrons. We’re in an open air bar in the islands and most of the types are very familiar to me. It’s like “Ghosts of Barrooms Past meet Ghosts of Gigs Gone By” hard luck drinkers living in the melting hulls of old fiberglass schooners, (very much like an “upside down in the water” version of “Trails End Trailer Park”) deluding themselves that their “lives of high adventure” are something more than the predictable symptoms of mid to end stage alcohol addiction. College age crews of the mega “stink pots” that fill the marina, along side their (sweatered and Bermuda shorted) privileged bosses. A few taxi drivers (their wives and children at home) “yanking” and posing as they squire the perennial goofy stateside chicks who come all the way to the islands to get banged by a married taxi driver. A few bright-eyed seekers with their beautiful true-believer girlfriends, discovering that “traveling broke don’t make it” and your standard interchangeable loud and tipsy groups of flowered shirted tourists. I’m hoping that somewhere among them beats a heart still seeking a song well sung, while thinking “Scott, what the hell are you doing back in this situation? You rode this pony to ground thirty-one years ago,” and answering, I promised my friend.

I hear my name, I jump up on the bandstand and I’m on. There to my right is Morgan Rael steel pan at the ready, there to my left is the REAL best Bongo man in the world, Richard Spencly. To the front the best piano man in the Islands Danny Siber, and behind, a bass (Matt) and drum (Perry) rythem section that is ready! Fortunately some of my songs are fairly well-known in the Islands, so with Nicky, Janet and classy flute Lady Dawn Dobson standing by, we were able to launch right in to LaBiega Carosuel/Tutsie and Cherrigo altogether, we did six including SOON Where My Lover Has Gone The Virgin Islands Song and Captain Creole

The long and short of it is.. that after all was said and done, playing and singing together with these folks for those folks, was simply, the greatest fun. We had an absolute blast, ya shouldda been there…. Another reminder that Music is most certainly transformational in the most wonderful ways, and that is the point of points.. tonight.

Saturday. 6:59 AM Today is one week back. It’s a bit confusing. I’ve been awake on and off since 1:30 dreaming about a “Star Wars prequel Episode” titled “Someday, A Better Way” The story is about a generation of idealists who are gently but cynically persuaded that using a harmless mind/spirit stimulant will help them to further their agenda for a world filled with peace and love. Yes indeed it is the story of the sixties, only in the rocket world costumes of the galaxy far far away rather than the blue denim glory of the galaxy far far out.

BOOK 3. Hidaway..The BLOOK!..Lindbergh Bay and The Texas Chili Queen..

November 16, 2009 2 comments

The BLOOK!..
Lindbergh Bay and The Texas Chili Queen..
August 17, 2009
It is pouring rain this morning and it is beautiful.
Tuts is at the window with concerns about the junkyard in the jungle just behind the house. He says that the “Domincano” that rents the little house in the jungle, has been going to the dump and dragging scrap metals back to his (rented) house and now, because hurricanes are headed this way and the scrap metal will become murderous missiles, (killing at least four neighbors if one of them hits)
Tuts wants us to go to The Daily News and use my “celebrity” to get the editor to make a reporter come down to the house, climb up the rickety ladder to the roof, take photographs and do an expose about the junk in the jungle which will then stimulate the local environmental agency to make the guy get rid of his junk.

He is disappointed when I question (considering all the other important things that he is passionate about, like getting public bathrooms at John Brewers Bay, which I have promised to move on the moment he wants me to) whether this is the best was to use my “mojo” with the editor of the Daily News, or whether there might be another way to get this done. I suggest that we take photos of the things that he his talking about, Tuts agrees, he will get a camera from his son Marcel and all together, as a little mob, we will take the photos to the Daily News. Let’s hope that the Hurricane passes somewhere north of Greenland.

The world is a fifty dramatic shades of gray with clouds on the mountain and still, heavy air every where. It is completely evocative of the feelings that I tried to capture in “Hidaway” all these many years ago.

Rain Clouds cover the mountain
Raggy Ann Cinderella
Spaniards search for the fountain
Drifting for Isabella
Boys that lie on the bathroom floor
looking for Hideaway

Silk and silver and satin
All the secrets of a stranger
Crying crystals and laughing
All the dangers of the Ocean
Still I try and catch your eye
looking for Hideaway

It is beautiful out in the weather, I’m on my way down the road and up to the College ne University. The shades of grey, strong pungent smells and great gusts of wind are fantastic and exciting to me. After parking, I pick up a flower, fallen from a flamboyant tree, so that I can someday accurately describe it for you

August 18th 2009
I need my publicity photos for a story the local paper will be doing on me. So, I started searching for it on my computer last night with no luck, and resumed searching here, there and all over the computer at 6AM this morning. I am surprised and confused to discover that I can’t find it.
I have so much stuff in the poor thing that it takes half of forever to get it going.
How can it be that I can never find the important stuff, which is why I save all this stuff in the first place, and why I lug the blasted little suitcase every where I go. The photos were here we made posters from them and have utilized them in a variety of ways.

Ok, so now I’ve found one but not the right one, which just further emphasizes the quantity that are missing. I want to maintain a positive attitude about the computer but this is not good. If they ARE in the box and I can’t find them that’s one thing. but if they were somehow lost or deleted during some disc cleanup or automatic self-maintenance process that’s another, and that’s what I’m afraid has happened.

I spend an awful lot of time with the magic box, to the point that I sometimes think that my thinking and behavior is being “reconditioned” (which is interesting because I’m not saying that our thinking is all that marvelous to begin with), but if the blasted things are not reliable and are inconsistent and are reconditioning us to even more dysfunction, then that’s not good.

I am further frustrated with this time gulping photo search because I have an important meeting at the studio to prepare for.
I will tell you frankly, I don’t know how in the world I am going to be able to do this thousand words a day when you consider the fact that I (after 15 years on the qwerty) have not yet broken twelve words a minute.. (lets see…that’s 720 minutes an wonder this is taking so frigging long!)

My experiences in the studio recording “The Virgin Island Songs” so far (and we are only half way though) are like a twelve tome (or should I say tone) A to Z encyclopedia of the unexpected. Sometimes trying to communicate in a recording studio (meaning trying to turn competing crescendos of non-verbal impressions into intelligible sounds that two or more of us may recognize) is like trying to stuff and seal two Hurricanes in a thimble, or jam a heard of mango drunk West Indian Elephants into a DC 7 that’s already taken off and is halfway to Puerto Rico. Yes, yes, I think that’s an accurate description

Anyway, the aggressively judgmental, angry white Canadian fellow that owned the studio and ran all the customers away, has left the Island. His business partner, a local “true believer” has taken over. I did my preparation, held my projections to a minimum, spoke little, listened much, and to my absolute delight and surprise, I could not be happier with the meeting that we had.
You will come to know more about the studio story over time, but believe me, it was not a good or happy scene. We are scheduled to spend two hours on the 25th in preparation for worlds champeen guitar man Jeff (Medina) who is coming in from Las Vegas on the 26th..

After the meeting ,I went to the University to check my email and found one from a good fellow that I’d met while doing a gig at “Sparkys Waterfront Saloon” in St. Thomas, in 1981 and who had recently expressed an interest in doing a book about my Rock Opera SOON..
Here is what he said.:.

It took a little longer than I thought but I heard from Fulcrum.
They won’t buy the book on a proposal- they want to see several
chapters. That’s reasonable but I’m not sure I want to do this on
spec. I’m feeling a little like a poorly formed hurricane, wobbling
this way and that. But a lot less dangerous.
I’d like to keep approaching and avoiding this project, if you don’t
mind- continue to see where it leads.
If you have no objections to me proceeding, I’ll be in NY in September
and if I can sneak away to the library I’d like to get back to the
Duberman archives and see what else is there.
Also- I know you were connected to Steve Paul’s Scene. Did you know
Havens? I may have someone who can get me an interview. And I believe
you knew Bob Lenox. I will be in Berlin in October and, if he’s still
living there, I’d like to sit down with him.
I don’t know where, if anywhere , this is going but if you don’t want
me to continue, let me know.
Hope all is well and all the best.

Dear Steven,
Thank you for the kind words.
That’s (Duberman) an interesting idea. If you don’t find it, I recently got a copy of a live bootleg cassette recording of SOON that may reflect his changes. We can listen to that and compare it to a SOON script that I have that belonged to The great Kookoolis. (Kookoolis was a beautiful and simpatico ultimately “hard luck” fellow)
I would imagine that Martin Duberman was/is embarrassed to have taken the job with SOON as he had no “artistic right” to do so (particularly considering that he was “slid in” as a “unilateral” producers solution while we were in the midst of the natural conflicts flowing out of “art and Commerce”) and likely knows that he contributed nothing. SOON is an ambitious musical creation and Duberman among others, (in my view) missed that point completely.

Bobby Lenox was at the Scene as part of my band “The Fantastic Inner-Galactic Tomorrow Cathedral Tamarind Orchestra” Jimi Hendrix came to the Scene after Monterey Pop. At first as “The Jimi Hendrix Experience” and then hanging out and jamming perhaps essentially because (I suspect) of the quality of the chicks. The chicks (and Groupies) at the Scene were the best. They are why many of us stayed around. Steve Paul was always broke, there was next to no money at all ( well..the chicks had some, and that is what we lived on)

To my knowledge, David Clayton Thomas was only there with BS&T. Some of the other gents from BS&T (Including Al Cooper) had been more of a presence because of their prior involvement with “The Blues Project” which played The Scene a few times. Danny Kalb (Guitar with the BP) was a really decent fellow.
Tiny Tim was there in those days as well and (for his own special reasons) held me me in a place of “high esteem” always coming to the pad for advice on (of all things) relationships with girls. He was a real sweetheart. Steve Paul was quite an interesting fellow in his own right, very bright and creative. Mort Shuman and Kookoolis and I recorded Steve Paul doing monologues, or what he called “rapping” against music that Mort provided. They were really unusual, full of ideas and imagery and quite good. Lord only knows what happened to them. I hope that Steve has managed to save them somewhere.
Looking forward!

He said..

That’s great stuff. have you thought about writing your own story?

Here’s what I said

Dear Steven,
For most of 65-66 I was the “House Singer” at the Scene, Richie was the House Singer at the Au Go Go.
What is your interest in Martin Duberman?
Looking forward!

He said..

I’m looking for a copy of the Soon script in the Duberman archives. I’m curious to see what changes were made between the time you were fired and the opening. The last time I was at The NYPL I found an angry letter to Duberman from Greenwald supporting you and Kookoolis, suggesting that changes had been made.
According to my reading Lenox, David Clayton Thomas and Hendrix were at The Scene too? Is that right? I remember seeing Havens in the audience at The Au Go Go wearing a beautiful, flowing dashiki at a BS&T show shortly after David Clayton Thomas joined the band
The note you sent the other day was wonderful. Have you thought about writing your own story?

I said..

“Dear Steven,
Richie and I were on the same bill at the Cafe au Go Go for quite a while in the winter of 65 or 66 It was Richie Havens, Scott Fagan, David Clayton Thomas and Jimmy James and The Blue Flames. As I recall we got something like $5.00 a night each (from Howard Solomon) and all the macrobiotic rice you could eat (from the waitresses). One cold winter night I was “Discovered” there by Herb Gart, signed with him, came back to the islands for a quick turnaround and went directly from Duffy’s and Trader Dan’s to “The Cafe Lena” in Saratoga New York (where it was 25 degrees below zero).Down right balmy for you folks in Minnesota, still..
As you know “Jimmy James” was also “Discovered” at the au Go Go around that time by Chas Chandler, taken to England to be returned to us as Jimi Hendrix, and David was “Discovered” there by Al Cooper and taken into Blood, Sweat and Tears.
We thought that Richie had missed the boat, however…

Bobby Lenox and I email back and forth all the time. He is in Berlin, his health has not been good of late so don’t tarry. We were in “The Fantastic Inner-Galactic Tomorrow Cathedral Tamarind Orchestra” (which is what I called my band) together in 66-67 and have co-written a few pretty good tunes. We were put on the bill at The Rheingold Music Festival at The Wollman Rink in NYC in the summer of 66 or 67 with Flatt and Scruggs and Doc Watson..I was out in front in my Neru Jacket doing our heavy protest thing when I thought I saw the biggest, most beautiful gossamer butterfly flit by..then another and another. The bass started playing funny and Bobby’s Hammond Organ made a weird crashing sound..I looked back over my shoulder to see the boys all scrunched down behind their amplifiers yelling to me to “Look out, Look out” just then one of the butterflies exploded against a pole and I realized that they were throwing whisky bottles at us.
We have much in common Bobby and I. Yes, push ahead by all means, I am very hopeful.
I am currently in St.Thomas working on “The Virgin Islands Songs” and will be looking forward to hearing from you.
Break A Leg!

He said..

That’s great stuff. Really-have you thought about doing this yourself?

So my dear amigos, this “BLOOK” (which is sorta what I really call the blog/book/(with music) hybrid) that I am writing and you are reading, is the direct outcome of those communications.
Lindbergh Bay and The Texas Chile Queen..
After a potted meat and mayo sandwich I went over to Lindbergh (The Beach)
I have been going/coming to Lindbergh since we first saw it in 1951

It is our first morning in the islands and I am looking down at Lindbergh Bay from the breakfast balcony of The Caribbean Hotel. There are flowers all around and Humming birds and Banana Quits are darting in and out of everywhere. A cool morning breeze is moving gently, the air seems edible, it smells so good.
I am watching a young boy and an old man holding hands as they walk together.They are slowly zigzagging along the strand of ivory white sand. And I say to myself, wow….

Back in the present, I am disappointed to see that my favorite shady spot under a certain sea grape tree is completely taken up by a line of plastic tourist chaise lounges, upon which a number of classically “palest of the pale” people are reclining,
This of course means that I will have to fling down out in the blazing sun (well it’s four O’clock in the afternoon, so while not actually blazing, it is still hot)
Anyone who has been going to the beach in the islands for close to sixty years knows one thing if nothing else in the world. You gotta find some shade!..
I continue looking around and realize that the wise local gentleman, working for the hotel on the beach, has (using his OWN experience in these matters) placed all these frigging plastic chaise lounges in the exact spots that HE would choose for himself) this is a problem.
One would like to think that personal experience in these matters would provide some reliable advantage; however, these touristas are enjoying instant benefit from experience not their own. Some would say, “it’s the American way” others “The early bird gets the worm..or shade”
I hope this hotel is paying this local elder gent well for selling out our secrets.

I immediately begin to suspect that the mental meltdown promised to us all, is starting to manifest in me, because contrary to everything I know and believe, I fling me stuff down right out there in the blazing (well not quite blazing, but still pumping a good if spotty sizzle) sun.

Anyway. The water is cool and refrescante and just beautiful.
I have discovered recently that I can lie on my back in, or almost, in fact probably, ON the water for the longest while, and I’ve been wondering if I ought to try spending the whole night lying on the water to see how well I might sleep. (no rolling over though,). I’ve discovered that if I turn my palms up just beneath the surface of the water I can feel just enough resistance from the “plane” to “push” against it, and that way maintain an even keel. I’m thinking how interesting this discovery is, and what I ought to do with it, when I hear very strong Texas accents heading my way.

Two “top heavy” older folks are stepping gingerly through the calm clear Caribbean Sea, it looks like these folks may be used to tip toeing around broken clam shells, tar balls and Lord knows what else, However, this water is so clear your big toe looks like a football and you can see the sock lint beneath your toenails.
Still as every tourist will tell you ”ya gadda be careful never know what’s hiding underneath the sand, could be a hungry 60 foot parana shark or a mean bushwackin’ flatkindafish with a pointy whatchamacallit waiting ta slam ya right inda fandango” or worse. Anyway, they looked like simpatico folks and ’cause me mudder taught me to be polite , I said “Howreyeh liking that water?”

The man said “Luuvin it” and just like that, we were conversatin’. “Were you here for the Chili Cook off last Sunday?” he asks, and I say that I had just come back from the states on Saturday and had promised to visit my 107 year old girlfriend up in the mountains on Sunday, so regretfully, I had missed it. He then said “Ah won fourth place and mah wife there won third, she mixes all the spices”.

We had a great chat about Chili and the various cook offs around the country, it turned out that they are pretty consistent winners, and she is sort of “super chili champ” and in fact He had won this trip by taking first prize (using her recipe) at a big Chili event in Texas just last week.

I asked about the water in Brownsville Texas., and they said it was brown. That it was brown all along the Texas coast. I added that in fact the water was brown all through Mississippi and Alabama too, until you got just east of Mobile Bay. Then, it becomes the most beautiful iridescent blue reaching an absolute peak of perfection in Destin, Florida

He wondered how hot it got down here in the winter and I said “it varies just a few degrees one way and the next”..I said I’d been in this very same water on Christmas day a number of times. And further, that one of the hottest places I’d ever experienced was Dallas Texas, but that the theater group I was in Dallas with, took me to an Ice skating rink to cool off and it was wonderful. They said yep, that must be the Galleria and I said yep that sounds about right.

Anyway, our Chili chat turned out to be one of the most surprisingly refreshing conversations I’d had in the water at Lindbergh, ’cause first of all I am not in the habit of talking to people in the water, I am much more used to lieing on my back talking to the sky and secondly, I’m afraid folks have gone a bit sour on Texans in this part of the perdinales. These days there are possibly more Texans on the Island than Palestinians and while the Palestinians in St. Thomas are seen as unpleasant, arrogant and wealthy, the Texans are seen as just plain old unpleasant and arrogant

.There are bumper stickers on the island saying “Somewhere In Texas, A Village Is Missing It’s Idiot” However, I think people who are promoting anger and intolerance for one another, are no less than village idiots themselves
Doody and Babs (their real names) were nice regular folks from Texas with all the qualities and faults of nice regular folks from anywhere. We had a nice little moment in time together. Godblessem.
Back at the pad, Tuts reports that the son of a lifelong friend of ours has been shot to death.
Tuts is rightfully upset and on a rant about the Godawful proliferation of guns and shootings in The V.I.. As he says (and often) “”We have not and do not manufacture any guns here in St. Thomas so every one of them came in by boat or plane. You can’t tell me that The Feds don’t know that the Arabs are bringing in these guns to sell to ignorant young black children, what I don’t understand is why do they allow it? Why don’t they stop it?”

All I can do is remind him again that he habitually overestimates the intelligence of white men and expects too much of them. I say (as I always do) “The people themselves have to take the action to bring about change” but it sounds (even to me) like the lamest of Okee Dookee responses.

The fact is,it is beyond belief that the Feds would allow the island to be flooded by guns and drugs and illegals from every corner of the earth. The island has somehow become inundated by Palestinian merchants and associated young men. Local folks are convinced that they are all disrespectful of black people and practice overcharging and short-changing as a way of life.. The local folks also believe that these are the people that are smuggling and selling the weapons.. I of course, am trained and inclined to prejudge no one (except Texans) and so am more on the “wait for proof trail” do know that I’m joking about the Texans right?. Godblessem..and all the rest.

Book 3. Chapter One, Continued..

November 15, 2009 Leave a comment

BOOK 3. Chapter One, Continued..

Now the question is how to arrange that and all the rest of etcetera. (The land of etcetera is surely where must promising universes go to wither and disappear.) you’d think we would have heard much more about avoiding falling into etcetera at any and all costs.

It might be a good idea to let people know that any idea ending with etc. is to be avoided like the plague, because it announces itself as incomplete and in immanent danger of collapse. The ideas that come springing back from collapsing in etcetera, are probably few and far between. (Perhaps I ought to stick the study of the etcetera phenomenon in my pseudo-lab; alongside the question “Would you rather know a lot about a little, or a little about a lot? Or it’s first cuz and even better question, “would you rather know nothing about everything or everything about nothing?” I’m the kind of nut that says “all of the above” because, ahem.. “it’s the knowing that’s noble” Oh yeah….

In any case ten years is not a long time, (particularly when you look back. Counting forward, well, that’s another story) count back ten and the ten before that, and you can see that they really do fly…The great fun for me has been in being with my little ones. A great joy, in a meaningful (although melancholy) way.

Melancholy because the little ones that were, are continually growing and moving on. Only I am (or feel like I am) frozen in time. Ever ready to play, ever ready to say the same sweet silliness over and over again. Ever ready to stay in yesterday, ah but alas, yesterday’s gone and “done took the chillren dem wid it”.. And so blasted quickly.
Thusly and therefore, with my newly minted deep (and ever-growing) appreciation of the ever accelerating whoosh of time, ten years forward presents none for the wasting. Which is/was as noted, the primary reason why I need to jiggle, jostle and jam the memory wars somewhere in between song one hundred and seventy-eight and the end of the set.

I thought to meself “Hey! If I can do 250 words a page, times four pages (a thousand words) a day then in forty days I could have one hundred and sixty pages…that’s almost substantial, and then if I set it all to one glorious melody. Now we’re talking…

I soon discovered that 250 words are only half a page. Well… one hundred and sixty pages in 80 days, that’s almost substantial and if I add lyrics and poeticals, then one thousand words a day would mean that I’d have a pretty good book in ninety days.

Ninety days is a very auspicious unit of time for me, I have learned through experience that I can do almost anything, for ninety days…

This morning I went to a recovery fellowship meeting out in my front room, or rather,the living room of the house known as “Shaky Acres” (which is where I am staying while working on recording “The Virgin Island Songs”).
After the meeting I spent a little time with Tuts and then drove to the gas station and put the last five dollars in my bank account into the tank of the Blue Beauty razzamatazzle mobile that I am driving. (I looked at the gas pump announcing that regular gas is $2.99 a gallon and wondered how the heck a gas pump 40 miles away from the biggest gas refinery in the frigging western world (The Hess Oil facility in St. Croix) could be charging $2.99 a gallon, And how the people in the states would feel if they knew about the “gouging as a way of life” that goes on in their name, down here in the Bongo Isles.
When I started the car, the gas gauge didn’t even bother to move beyond empty.
I swerved out onto the road called “doung de road” and somewhere between thirty or forty competing memories later (about three blocks) I turned right and started up Crown Mountain Road, my first memory of which was as clear as a bell.

It is March 1951, and Mother has decided that it would be fun to go exploring, so her New York City “beat painter” boy friend Justin, her twin sister Lea, my six and a half year old sister Gale (who our father Frankie, way back in the states, wants us all to call Abigail) and little five-year old me, are trying to walk up this very same road, trying to walk up Crown Mountain.

It is very hot and very steep. One of the grownups has learned a trick from a local friend and is encouraging the rest of us to believe that zig zagging back and forth across the road will somehow make it easier.
We are talking about an older boy who has befriended me, a boy with the beautiful name, of Leslie, who lives “up Crown” and along with his sisters and brothers walks up this hill all the time. I guess we all started out with the naive idea that if they could do, it we could do it. That optimism has faded fast and I am hoping that somehow, someone (preferably Mother) will realize all by themselves that it is very hot and very steep and impossible.

It may be that I tried to hasten the dawn of that realization by whining just a bit, but heck you can’t be expected to remember every single little thing, it was fifty-nine freakin’ years ago. Still, I do confess that I was accused of whining from time to time “fer Chris’sake bonehead stop yer blasted whining!” and although I’ve always denied being a whiner, this little expedition might have presented the perfect occasion for “humming” about one’s discomfort. Clearly, that’s not the clear as a bell part. The clear as a bell part is that it was too hot and too steep and impossible. AND the point at which an eternal question too fraught with danger to verbalize first popped into mentis. The question being “Good God all mighty, what is the matter with these grownups!”

There! The car has just passed the spot where we stopped and turned around.
Where (as we turned to face down hill) a little refreshing pufflet of the timeless trade winds rewarded our good sense by kissing every one of us full on the face.

As I note every time I pass this way, it’s a good thing that we turned around when we did, because not one of us would have survived the ascent to a point where we could have enjoyed the view. It was just too hot, too steep and we were too new and citified tender.

I am on my way to see my girlfriend Sula, way up at the top of Crown Mountain and then over on the other side. She is One Hundred and Seven years old, and lives in Estate Neljtburg, on the North side of Crown. I have been away in the states for four weeks and although I have called her almost every day, she misses my company and has been impatient for my return. I am bringing her two bags of her absolutely favorite treats, she calls them “Silver Tops” we call them “Hershey’s Kisses”

Sula also likes “Cherry Herring” (a liquor that we associate with Danish times) but she is not encouraged to drink it for any number of reasons, first of all, she’s a hundred and seven, but close behind is the fact that alcoholism runs through her genetics like rum through carnival time, so I am bringing her some “Cherry Silver Tops” to make up for it along with the good old-fashioned kind. Sula will be very happy her likes are sweet and simple.
Sula (and the large family that she is a part of) are the product of three young brothers from Germany and three ex slave ladies from Tortola. She was actually teaching school when the Danes ruled the land. She has known and raised so many children (beyond three of her own) that she is known to all as Aunt Sula. Even her own children call her Aunt Sula, however I, as her boyfriend, (well, one of her boyfriends) am free to enjoy certain privileges, the first of which is not having to call my girlfriend “Aunt Sula” and to persue the delusion that she and I speak as equals.

Sula and I have many many interesting conversations, she is as sharp as a tack and feels quite strongly about many things, especially about the difference in the quality of life that the people of the Islands enjoyed under the Danes and lost under the Americans…
Of course some of that is romanticizing the past, but there is no denying the impact of American racial prejudice and the crazy crazy violence related to the proliferation of guns and automatic weapons. Sula is very concerned about the gun violence as is Tuts, as am I..
consequently, I wrote a letter to the local papers about it, which stimulated such insulting and dismissive responses from some gun advocate statesiders that I wrote another one. Here they both are.

Let’s Make the Virgin Islands a Gun Free Territory

The Virgin Islands is a territory of the United States of America; this unique relationship gives us the freedom to take a stand within the United States, and beyond if necessary, to demand that our home, these beautiful Virgin Islands, be designated, recognized and supported as a gun free territory.

Arguments that gun lobbyists use in the states have no validity here…
Virgin Islanders don’t need guns to defend themselves against invaders.
Rest assured that if anyone tries to take away their hard-won freedom, Virgin Islanders will meet them and defeat them.
We don’t need to have our beautiful Islands, our families and our society racked, riddled and torn apart by gun violence, in anticipation of that “someday” when an invader may arrive on our shores. Virgin Islanders defended themselves and won their freedom without guns before, and if necessary, will do it again.

Gun lobbyists who would argue for a “so called” right to hunt in the Virgin Islands, are out of step, particularly when you consider the game. What shall we hunt? Sparrows? Trushie? Mongoose or Iguana? The sad little deer? Tragically, in the modern-day Virgin Islands, the primary prey is human beings, young men hunting young men, our young men, our children.

Virgin Islanders know that if you let children play with dangerous things (and guns are dangerous things and the people playing with them are our children) sooner or later, they will hurt themselves or others. We know that. We also know that ultimately, no one, not the United States or anyone else, should have the right to force us to have guns in our territory, if we the people have decided that we don’t want them.

It is time that Virgin Islanders (I, you, we) take action and make a stand…
What will it take for us to make our territory gun free? Our absolute commitment to stand together to make it so…that is all my friends, that is all.

Let’s get started and let our community leaders, our Senators, our Governor, The United States Congress, our President and the whole world know, that the people of the Virgin Islands have decided. From this point forward, we intend to be a gun free territory.

Let us reject any philosophy that would force or impose guns on our society and be united in our commitment that “no matter what it takes”, our Virgin Islands could be, should be and will be, free of guns and gun violence. Let’s make the Virgin Islands a gun free Territory, and let’s get started right now!

Scott Fagan,
St. Thomas, Virgin Islands May, 2009.

Further to.. “Let’s make The Virgin Islands A Gun Free Territory”

I’ve read with interest the recent dismissive responses to my suggestion that Virgin Islanders join together to “Make The Virgin Islands A Gun Free Territory” I would point out that the gun violence that we are experiencing has little to do with the registration of fire arms, and that we have no interest in denying anyone their constitutional rights.
The fact and reality is that young men in the Virgin Islands are involved in a classic turf war and arms race, and that unscrupulous people are willing and eager to sell these young men new and ever more murderous weapons, guaranteed to further escalate the conflict and the causalities. All concerned citizens of our community want and need to find a way to put an end to it.

The question is how? The interesting suggestion that I have offered, is that “we the people” make (by voting on it of course) our Virgin Islands, a nationally and internationally recognized “gun free territory”.

One reader responded by saying “Its not for him (Scott Fagan) or anyone else to deprive US citizens of this (or any other right) because you don’t like it or because it is not part of your particular cultural orientation.” It is true that it is not my right (or intention) to deprive US citizens of their right to own a gun. However, US citizens willingly accept the suspension of that second amendment right, (in the interest of public safety) when they travel to most of the civilized countries of the world,. Cultures that do not have a history of glorifying guns (which includes the Virgin Islands) are well within their rights to discourage the availability of guns exactly because they “don’t like them” and they are not part of their “cultural orientation”

I know that my suggestion sounds like blasphemy to some statesiders who are not accustomed to viewing the Virgin Islands as having quite a separate history and cultural orientation from the US, and may further, be unaware that The Virgin Islands did NOT participate in drafting or ratifying the US Constitution. Overall a fine document, but one that has repeatedly (27 times to date) demonstrated the need for corrections or amendments. Consequently, Virgin Islanders have no reason to feel inextricably bound to articles or amendments that (while exalted as a right by some people in the states) may be wrong for us.. Particularly considering how murderously destructive firearms have become to OUR culture and OUR community.

That is why my letter “Let’s Make the Virgin Islands a Gun Free Territory”
begins with the reminder that we are a territory, in a somewhat unique position. We were bought and sold in a political transaction between two sovereign nations “lock, stock and population” against the protest of many Danes and without the benefit of a legally recognized majority vote, by the general population of the Virgin Islands. Consequently, we may have a certain moral leverage (even if only in pathetically obvious questions such as “must we allow the United States or anyone else to insist that our Islands be flooded with firearms, even if we don’t want them?”) a moral leverage that I believe our current President and the world at large is likely to recognize and support.

Yes I realize that reasonable people in dangerous times would like to have a defensive weapon available. Yes I understand that our peace officers and Judges will have to do a much better job of protecting us all. Yes I know it will be quite difficult to clear our Islands of the arsenals of weapons. And most importantly, Yes, we are all afraid.
But Virgin Islanders have sufficient courage to stand together in the face of adversity to bring the end to the gun violence that we so desperately want, need and deserve.

All Virgin Islanders want a Virgin Islands in which the current crazy universal access to guns and ever escalating gun violence is a thing of the past. We are not talking about disarming the police or the National Guard, we are talking about voting to outlaw the manufacture, Importation, sale, distribution and use of firearms among the general public.

What a positive and inspiring effect our declaring the beautiful Virgin Islands “A Gun Free Territory” would have on businesses and potential travelers all over the world,
not to mention our own children and community.
What a negative impression the current reports of our ever escalating gun violence make. One extraordinary way for Virgin Islanders to shape our own destiny and accomplish our very own quite improbable dream this year, is to take a stand to “Make the Virgin Islands a Gun Free Territory” starting right now. We can do it..yes we can.

Scott Fagan,
St. Thomas, Virgin Islands May, 2009.

Opps, before I get to the top of Crown and over to the other side and Sula, I will be passing my childhood sweetie Annalee’s ah..ah..I mean Patricia’s house, and that my amigitos, is another story. Volcanic. Much of which shows up in my songs but most of which is still in the steaming hot plasmic stage, sufficient to vaporize words and music right off the paper or out of the air..

Around every corner, a Flamboyant Tree is in full bloom an orange red tree top savanna of extraordinary intricate flowers that are so bright and beautiful, that you just feel like yelling with happiness. Around every Flamboyant tree is a view of the Harbor, or Little Savannah or Lindbergh Bay, or Saba, Water Island, Hassel Island, Buck Island, St. Croix, Culebra, Vieques and in the dream mist beyond, the mighty and majestic Borinquin..

At this elevation the breeze is ten points cooler, the tangly jungle up and down the mountain side is deep and dark and green, promising, exciting and inviting.
A familiar question comes back to me.”When will I have one of these hillside houses?”
A cozy little one, in a collection of cozy little ones, a home for each of my duckies and their beautiful Mamas.
I thought for sure it was in the bag, guaranteed 45, 35 even 20 years ago. Me? A boy like me? It was destiny, a done deal. A mere fiffle, nothing to it. Yep.

Categories: 1

Introduction..P. 1 and Book 3. Chapter One.

November 13, 2009 1 comment

Introduction..P. 1
Book 3. Chapter One.
August 16, 2009
My name is Scott Fagan, in ten days I’ll be sixty-four. It’s time to get on this so..I’m getting’ on it. In fairness, I think I ought to tell you right now, that this mem.wa? is GA (General Audiences) (or as GA as I can make it) I am writing it with the idea, indeed the hope, that my Daughters and Grand Daughters (and Sons and Grand Sons too) will someday read it. I have avoided including any lurid hot panting and dribbling or things of a titillating procreative nature. To get an eye-popping look at that stuff you will have to see my upcoming tell all, “The Secret and Salacious Adventures of Don Wha?.n.

This mem.wa? is (or ought to be) in roughly three parts,
1. The warm up, or Prelude.
2. At the Plate, or “Inderlude” and
3. Afterlude or ‘in der Postulude”..or
Book 1. Book 2. and Book 3.
I know what I mean even if you don’t, but you will before it’s all over.

Further, we (I say we because there are people backstage urging me to “git im Scottie” who are an essential part of this activity) are working or intending to work in a newish medium that I like to call a Blogitto or a Blogette, or somedays even the blasted Blogummy, but probably best of all, I like to call “my cheap dimestore virtue-paper novellito with magical underlinings that make it ok for the reader to be “hearing things” while shum (that’s new speak for she and him) is reading”.

For example (tho we can’t afford to demonstrate it here) one may be reading some horrific passage (and believe me there will be a few, especially for those folks who are sticklers for proper or even acceptable grammer) when the hair may begin to rise and shum is suddenly stricken with a panic attack and flings the medium down upon the cobblestones while running lejardo-ly out of the room (see what I mean?) and then weeks later may realize that there was spooky music underscoreing the misuse of a dangling parasail or handful of semi psycho grammaticals. But like I said, don’t worry about that stuff because with my operating capital, aka “my little budgie”, we can’t afford to do it..yet

I’d have to whistle the spooky notes and believe me, it doesn’t have the same effect. (we know, we tried) BUT what we may be able to do, is something that I’d wished for, in every dark and stormy hour between midnight and morning of my formative years spent reading Micky Spillaine and Shell Scott.
That would be the ability to also”hear” the song being referred to or referenced in the literary text. Can you imagine? “Through the stinkin’ smokey haze in Salingers stinkin’ swill shop, I could see the boozy old broad in the bluevelvet dress standing on the table and starting her bump and grind. She was grunting and moaning as she moved to a slow (¾ time with sections in 5/8 and 9/13th time) blues. My buddy the rogue cop, Captain Gunn grabbed my arm and said “Good Lord Mike, that’s your Mother!”)

Yeah, yeah, I know we’ve been able to poke a chicken and hear ‘im squeek for years in children’s books, but this is big time, important grown-up stuff.
I’m thinking that it may be important also to note that I am writing from a prospective (not to mention a plane) other than the one that most Americans (and Canadians) and I guess just about any old white folks from anywhere, are used to. Particularly where color, what it means, the roles that it plays, music, customs, language, rice and beans and points of viewing the universe (front and back) are concerned.
Please allow that there may be things other than have hitherto or heretofore met your eye, and that you may meet and greet, some of them here “in de mem.wa?” I do hope that you will have fun and enjoy the experience and the book/s. Thank you for reading it/them..

So let’s see.. let’s start with…
Chapter One..Yep!
I am living rough. Writing in St. Thomas, beginning in mid August 2009, in a 12 by 10 concrete block room, in a house owned by my good friend “Tutsie”, I am staying here while recording my new musical “The Virgin Islands Songs”.
There is a fan (no not that kind, an electric one) on the wall facing me (just above and to the left of the lamp with the bare light bulb almost directly in front of me, which is just above and to the left of the lap top, which is just to the right of almost directly in front of me. What is directly in front of me is a wall sitting mosquito the size of a fruit bat. But believe it or not, they don’t bother me, I don’t bother them.
I can almost hear the light bulb sizzling the hot humid air, I figger’ we’re probably no more than two degrees below the boiling point. The electric fan is swirling the hot air around a bit, otherwise it would be boiling and boiling hot air swirling around your head is almost intolerable, even for me.

I say “even for me” because where physical comfort is concerned, I am fairly tough, and take some pride in my ability to “do without”.
Others might say (females primarily, and they say it often ) that I’m too willing to “settle for less” but honestly, I don’t even grok the concept.
It may be that you will come to recognize this (as females primarily, often do) as one of a number of curious blind spots that I possess. Things that you/they will see, but I won’t/don’t..

It’s 20 to eight on a Sunday morning and I’ve been awake and thinking since 6:30 am.
Thinking about (it seems) some of everything under the sun, and ruminating on the idea that my genetic line’s electric animation juice seems to run out between 74 and 76 years of age. Will it for me? I sincerely hope not because however difficult it may be, I love being alive.

In any case, it is surely time for me to try and change my living circumstances as a man and as an artist. What the heck does that really mean? you might ask.
As an hombre, it means improving my ability to respond financially to the physical and material needs of my family (yes, ok, and my self).
As an artist it means the ability to afford the tools to represent my work well (good microphones, instruments, amps, computers and recording equipment) the working capital for quality productions and world class promotion.
The general wherewithal to write, play and sing successfully at the level that my potential and ability would allow.

I don’t believe that art ought to be a competition pitting one sensitive human being (artist) against another sensitive human being (artist) for the amusement of a desensitized public and the obscene profits of corporate sponsors,
I think that music (and every other art) is naturally above and ought to stay above that kind of vulgar exploitation.
Oops there, I’ve done it again. That’s the kind of think/talk that contributed to my present difficult circumstances in the first place…(Oh I do hope this kind of talk is what they mean by “git’ em Scottie!”) (Although I’m kinda “plumb tuckered out” with fightin’ words)

I actually applied the “Hey Scott, so what do you see yourself doing for the next five and ten years question” and even after forty five years before the mast, having a hit record and singing it all aver the place, was of course the first ting’ that popped up.
However, as I am presently right in the middle of recording a musical and I have all these other projects lined up waiting to be recorded (and interestingly, no way to record them) and still others jumping up and down on me brains wanting to be the heck do I think I am going to manage all of that?
Then, I’ve got to factor in the fact that I have never been able to sing every night of the week without going hoarse and losing my voice (but don’t forget, I hasten to remind my self, that’s from doing three or four hour long sets, full of maximo screeching an yowling) and further remind my self that perhaps if I behaved and sang like a blasted gentleman, with a nice romantic song for a hit record. I probably wouldn’t have to sing sixty or seventy five scratchity yowlers to find one the boss recognized sufficiantly well to pay me for) however, I’ve calculated that if I scheduled my performances for lets see..Tuesday, Friday and Saturday, I could do it. We are gonna see..

Categories: 1

A sample

November 5, 2009 Leave a comment

Listen to a sample from the from the “The Virgin Islands Songs” The Musical.

Surrender to The Sun