Harmonicahelps.….. from a contented Busker.

  Whiplash: a look at conductor-performer warfare. J K Simmons is overwhelming. The drummer is like lightning. The profane use of words needs to be overlooked. If possible. This guy is monstrous. The final performance, shocking and redemptive, is worth the pain for both men. 

  Singular talent from Brazil.

  Ed Hopwood is "Harmonica Barge"

  Excerpt from the Green Book movie. Excellent saga. Much Oscar material. What is a Green Book? Travel guide “sensitive to delicate Negro needs”. Got to do his beloved Chopin, but then something happened. And ALL WAS WELL. And Christmas 1962 after their eight week musical tour down to the Deep South. Hostile as it then was. Performer. Chauffeur. Less than a year before Kennedy got shot.

In a garage, a basement, a back porch, a workshop, a church, a barn, or a stand of trees. If the desire, inspiration, gifting and time are there... Wimpy’s Hamburgers near Conestoga College, KITCHENER.

He pulled graveyard Shift again Clear autumn night So cold and moon full. On yonder crest One Yankee stood Backlit, like the fool he was. Enfield resting on a rock Steady for the kill. Thoughts of hostilities Still fresh, haunting. But Yank was singing! Rich, clear baritone. And the song was one Momma loved and Mastered. Spoke of soul Salvation... Years later and business booming Christmas holiday respite On a steamboat excursion. Entertainment imminent. Come join in the song And antics. The Reb felt disinclined. Gay lights, wandering river Notwithstanding. Persistent churning waterwheel. Like his anxious heart. Until a song issued  From the parlour. That Voice That recollection. His Momma’s words. The Yank saved. Somehow. Turns out the Yank Now travels with D L Moody Evangelists. Back from great responses In Britain, Scotland. Is God in all of this? Has to be...yup. (Soul saved by a song in the soupy mix of Grace.) *true story about Ira Sankey and one restored sniper.

  He took out the rocks Two months worth Now first winter  Was setting in. Crown land grant Had lured from Derry And a long straining Sea voyage with Agnes and sweet Young Matthew, in arms. New friends Highley Had rooms to Put them up Over the snows. Much obliged Filling in chores Wherever possible. Using anything To get warm. Matthew had a playmate In little Susan Of four years. Old Clem was hitched In the Barn. He had helped  With the stones. Would help with The ground breaking When thawed. Clem was a Champion. Worth three men. Never complaining As men do. Strange contentment With the reins. And Hector had slept With sweet visions. Of turnips, easily. Of bountiful barley Grasses Swaying, dancing In Canadian breezes. Peterborough neighbours. Good folk. New chances. New purpose. So very thankful. Ten years younger Seemingly. But now the real story behind the song. I went in a different direction with "hero". https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hector_the_Hero O, wail for the mighty

  2  I will say of the  Lord , He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust. 3  Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence. 4  He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and buckler. 5  Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day; (psalm 91)

 

  Hello All, I just wanted to say how great it was to see everyone at Gram's Celebration of Life today!  So many beautiful faces and stories about a truly wonderful woman who touched so many lives.  I've included below the link to the video that played during the celebration.  Thank you to all who contributed photos - it was a tough task to choose just a few!   Perhaps you might have time for one more story? During a late night of obsessing over my online video software, I became really frustrated.  Photos that I swore were saved started disappearing, frames were glitching...it was late, I was tired, and the swearing kept waking the dog.  Enough.  I deleted everything and started over.  I was thinking about what music to use, and I'd listened to enough sad songs to cry an ocean.  Nothing was right. Steve even listened to a "Funeral Top 100" list with me, and then we were both crying.  It was messy.  And also...who calls it "Funeral Top 100", anyway?  I h

  Involve the Audience.

  The song that my daughter Lauren and I chose NOT to use at my Mother’s funeral celebration. Mops in abundance would have been necessary. And that was not to be the tone of the event. Mt. Pleasant Cemetery, London ON. People stayed in celebration at the Golf Course; No hearse, procession or weepy graveside affair. Period. Mom’s remains were buried beside Dad’s On the prior Friday October 14th. (Harris Funeral Home. Attention Steve Harris)

  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ashokan_Farewell Does it ever get quiet? Fires crackling. Pulses calmed After yesterday. The booming and bawling And banging and bleeding. Yes quiet comes In a Brother’s strings. In a cadence calming With new hope, song brings.

  starting out with the Chromatic Harmonica

  With some moody stuff... Don’t know all Dass gonna come out But I will make You folks feel. Mebbe some spastic sounds. Un-practised. And wander wid me And my boys Down streets of hurting. Loneliness Abandonment Tight cash Quandary Lost love. Misplaced dreams. Some fine beauty In the recollect. Ride wid me Friends. Diss night is special. Appointed. Focused Vulnerable. Sharing what might Not otherwise be. You’n Me. (Cotton...changed our name...working fo’ dem white folks...Displaced...King Cotton, provider, purposer, painstaker, punisher, Providencer all in one...still the hot ole country and swaying trees and birds and campfires always in the blood, thoughts and yearning. Sing about it. Rhyme about it. Remembering always.) Out of West Africa. Captivity. The struggle. The near misses. At sea. In the States, Canadian Maritimes. Freetown Sierra Leone, Britain. Tales to tell. Troubles to change. One woman in true heroic grit. Written by a Canadian of mixed bloods. And written convincingly

  Tight clear notes in the melody.

 

  Lyrical, fun, floating, amazing muscle memory

  Doug, Hilary, Lauren and Jordan Much passed in blissful Closeness and humour Growing pains endless And table-talks fond. Little ones stand tall Their own kids addressing. Still they remember The hiking, sleigh rides Tales read and Bible The happy Duck Pond.

  I I don’t wake up angry at the mirror on the wall...

  The song is Prove It

  Tight harmony, exquisite timing and doses of humour.   Delighting in some funny things Mexican.  

October 09, 2022   How many ideas suggested here in rich tones and juxtaposition? She had some ideas Bunch of them Perhaps stream of consciousness Like some poet's musing Or a song taking shape. Not all in cohesive line But couldn't shake them  All the same. Brought out the colours For mixing  For slapping on Or washing for mood.   OOPS...coupla boo-boos. Stop and re-think. Paint it over Sister With some optionals In different textures. How much fun is this? Lotsa fun, yeah Girl. Satisfied...well sort of. Whatdya think? a link from another of our blogs http:/hil4dab.blogspot.com

  My first day at the Farmers’ Market Kitchener. The pleasant young girl wanted to talk, ask questions, listen to the tunes. She was born in Turkey. Plays piano. Wanted to stick around. Mother Aysenur Ayer Yalcin  made it all possible; took this shot with her phone.  I am always gratified to see the youngsters curious and happy about the music made by little shiny harps. The amplifier brings a surprising sweetness and clarity to a wide variety of tunes. But for a couple of the food vendors, complaints and trouble raised at the Market Office. My welcome there totally revoked. No more openings Sir. Very surprising. Oh well. Back to the streets. Where the smiles are. And the pleasant exchanges. Where numbers and money and a cranky voice will not be the bottom line...Doug  

  Roger Hodgson, syncopated genius and Supertramp Takes me back to the university cafeteria in the mid seventies. Jamie. Ian. Jim. Ken. Donnie. Dave. Bob. Henry. George. Steve.  You remember.

  Group performing in Kitchener (The Registry Theatre on Frederick) this November 5th.  Had a great talk with their alto sax guy, Tim Moher, when I was busking. Their music compliments the Emerald Isle. Very well done and with lotsa smiles. And toe tapping.

  Toby Mac

  Off to the busking.Glorious autumn tones now showing. Packing light without car, without amplifier.

  No not Ginger Or slim Cyd Or Debbie This one a redhead Who conquers the room. Rita the courage In paint on the war planes Thoughts of some sweet home And yes Va va voom. https://sites.google.com/site/conversationabove/conversation-blair?authuser=0