TO ALL MY ANGELS AND RECOVERING VAMPIRES….:

The power that we apply in denying the truth of who we are is the same force of power which will press against us as our unseen nemesis for the rest of what remains of our confusion, as we wonder in bewilderment what life is holding against us. It is not what life holds against us, it is what we hold against ourselves

Controversy is to democracy as a whip is to a horse. It enlivens debate and insures more participation. It invigorates the circulation of ideas and opinions and rallies consensus. A community which polices itself against debate stagnates and witnesses its economy follow suit.

The world is to be celebrated if it is to be survived.

Linda Ronstadt has always had a powerful voice. She also seems to have much bigger balls than most of the timid and docile men in what remains of our business. We used to walk tall. Now we walk on spaghetti legs and have lost all of our meat balls. I don't care if she is a democrat, a republican, I care that she cares and will not stand to see her country dragged through the mud.

The inability or unwillingness to express the truth of our feelings leads to the confusion which presages depression. Sitting on top of your truth always leads to no good.

The implosion of emotional energy, energy greatly felt yet not expressed or acknowledged is a prime root cause of cancer.

…which in the future psychotherapy will have a larger role in helping to dissolve.

Anytime I hear the collaboration between the two giants Dionne Warwicke and Burt Bacharach, I am moved by mercy. Bacharach was our times Debussy of Pop, 
The effortless authority and sensuality of Ms Warwicke's was and remains unparalleled by anyone except her worthy peer Aretha. She was for the master Bacharach's songbook as was Ella Fitzgerald to Cole Porter. If goddess Aretha mastered her arena, goddess Dionne mastered sophisticated bedroom pop and it yet remains unparalleled.

I used to belong to an informal yet committed group of other songwriters when I lived in the bowels of Los Angeles called 'THE SONS OF BRIAN'. We identified ourselves as kindred spirits due to our mutual adoration for the 'poet of the tides' Master Brian Wilson. This was our jumping off point, we mainly gathered together on the informal now and then and did what other songwriters worldwide tend to do when they gather together under the influence of chosen elixir, which was mainly to pass commentary on pretty girls butts and dis other tired songwriters work.

…and yes we were called the S.O.B.s for short.

A man who apologizes for what his hard work has earned him is stealing from himself.

Adopting philosophies which apologize for poverty keeps you closer to it.

The first law of Grace is respect for what is. Its second law is respect for yourself in all circumstances. All other laws become self evident after recognition of the first two.

The more our understanding grows, the simpler our choices become.

Self loathing is a deadly form of arrogance.

The simpler we remain, the closer to our blessings we remain.

A smile speaks all languages!

A stubborn fool is someone who knows that they answer to a higher power, usually their wife.

The price we pay for impressing our friends is their envy.

The more we are able to find the balance of our emotions, the easier it is to balance our life.

The support of any system which does not in turn support your truth drains your energy and replaces it with anxiety.

It seemed fitting that masters Brando and Charles should return home within days of the other. They both greatly reinvigorated their portion of the arts with the natural genius both used to such great advantage to create more emotional space for others. I bet they are already playing poker together.

A man whose life deserves the full treatment is master Sylvester Stewart, otherwise known as Sly Stone. If Hendrix were the left hand, Sly was the right. Only Stevie Wonder among living masters can claim equal merit concerning the huge territory claimed by master Stone and his fusion of brilliant melodicism with Stone cold funk (which is itself but an urban update of the blues). History shall regard him on a par with Coltrane, Ellington and other protean pioneers of new paths of exploration. The harmonic implications of his choices are still being digested by serious students, of which I am but one. In the time he was granted to layer in his Gospel he left a deep cosmic noise all at once joyful and foreboding. 
And redefined as did Ray Charles before him and as did the Beatles along side him our definition of Pop and what it could be.

The fear of being loved is the greatest fear known to us and to conquer it is to conquer the world.

Cynicism is the underbelly of hope. For as long as we are cynical we yet retain some hope, though filtered through disillusion and despair.

We are haunted by many Ghosts because unloved by ourselves we are many Ghosts. Yet these many kites bouncing in the wind are still held by one hand, yours. If this hand is loving, then the Ghosts are serving. If judgemental, the Ghosts are haunting.

If there is any mercy in our Gods, we do not evolve out of our so called vices as we get older but more lovingly into them.

Small considerations become deeper love.

There is a young gentlemen, a wonderful songwriter and singer whose project trades under the name 'Ben's Brother'. He is a young 30 year-old Englishman with a voice strongly reminiscent of one of my all time favourites, Rod Stewart, yet he sounds like himself. He mines similar melodic and atmospheric space as Coldplay yet is still original. He has written songs successfully for other artists and now chooses to focus on establishing his own public identity. He is a good kid and he is not a dickhead. I hate comparisons which are mainly lazy. I am only trying to draw you an invitation to his website to check out his music for yourself: www.bensbrother.com. I am quite certain that you will be hearing more about him! The industry and what's left of its common sense can ill afford to let talents like these slip away……

If you love inspired ground breaking song writing please get a copy of the new double cd 'best of' of the late great Gram Parsons. A 'seed' Angel who dropped his seeds and returned home to his maker because more than likely in an inspired vision he could see the future of the music business and though that on the whole, death was the better option. In any event our industry, drenched in necro-worship finds it easier to market death than originality. Our southern soul brother of the Celtic branch was a bench mark in the fusion of country, soul and rock. No one did it better. The collection is called 'SACRED HEARTS AND FALLEN ANGELS'.

…and he was a very good friend and mentor to Keef and the Stones. 'Nuff said.

Hopefully one day our FBI will evolve beyond being the African-American messengers assassination squad and authors of a great deal of African-American dissent. It appears historically and continuing today that any 'movement' which involves as its goal the upliftment of the pained and stretched black spirit seems destined to be opposed by this our Federal Agency. The legacy of their Fuhrer J.Edgar Hoover needs urgently to be washed out of this academy in order to reclaim the respect of a community which reflexively despises them for the jack boot ever pressing upon the necks of this portion of my tribe. It is fundamental to their policy to hinder and halt black progress. They will serve themselves and our nation much better in the future were they to police their own attitudes with regard to more respect for earths first peoples. People who helped them build the very nation which still systematically oppresses them. Certainly they can be an agency for good and have done much good for our nation. Ruling by fear and intimidation gets old real fast.

§

Let's speak quickly Mercurio 
otherwise 
our wives will be crazed 
and their confidence is well worth keeping
I tell you this:
'your artists are weak
and over praised, 
your sister is weeping 
and her dress is raised 
above her knees 
to wipe away her tears
her eruptions, 
and to be ready if a breeze appears
choruses of corruption, once cheers 
arrive
dribbling through virgin lace 
(and in this case)
through virgin thighs

§

In fact 
Masters wait for thieves 
even harbour them
until the leaves
are swelling above the swollen mass
and ready to be taken down
dispersed and left for dead
this is where Master shine
in forgotten fields 
where little is said
but resurrection and its pantomime 
which spares the crust
but breaks the bread 
and leaves 
the crumbs behind