EVERYBODY'S KISSING IN PARIS

A salute to a most romantic city

Everybody's Kissing In Paris

Everybody's kissing in Paris
They're smoochin' under jealous gargoyles,
the chaperons of Notre Dame
Cupid's mates osculate at the Musée d'Orsay
where they rendezvous and neck
like the brushstrokes by Lautrec

Everybody's kissing in Paris
Snookums are havin' a snog
by the blushing Virgin of Saint Chapelle
There's lots of lovers locking lips
and steaming up the Louvre
where, I believe, the Mona Lisa seems to approve

Everybody's kissing in Paris
And nowhere do you see more sparking bliss
than Tuileries Garden by Rodin's “The Kiss”
People peckin' without inhibition
Pokin' 'round The Pompidou
by some new exhibition

Everybody's kissing in Paris
In, on, or around the Eiffel Tower,
it's a perpetual kind of Happy Pucker Power Hour
But my favourite place for tête à tête
is where my lover coos
we haven't kisses here yet

Everybody's kissing in Paris
Everybody's kissing in Paris
Ou la la, c'est nous (Wow, it's us!)

JP – vocals
instruments - Big Fish Audio: Jazz Quartet

THE DIAMOND INSIDE

A salute to the Jeromes, the first black family in a North Vancouver neighbourhood. This is also a salute to the present-day students who have transformed Ridgeway school from its racist past.
For several years I was privileged to hear Valerie Jerome tell her story to students. I put her narratives in this song as a thank you for her contributions.

The Diamond Inside

All train whistles blow to lullaby her family
that’s left alone to wonder when daddy will arrive
All eyes, behind closed curtains, can only see her as a problem
a nasty little coal lump on their perfect snowy lives
They’re blind to the diamond inside her
blind to the diamond inside
blind to the diamond inside her

All neighbours conspire to serve her a petition
There won’t be Welcome-Wagons or smiles with open hearts
All flocks around their clergy call out for brotherhood, fortissimo,
but whisper segregation to keep God’s clays apart
They’re blind to the diamond inside her
blind to the diamond inside

The first day of school is full of opportunity
and children dream of wonders, and hope their dreams come true
They don’t expect a nightmare in the day, a schoolyard battlefield
where your brown skin is the target for stones to smack you black and blue
They’re blind to the diamond inside her
blind to the diamond inside

But change comes like rain drizzles
on this west coast salad of a lawn
Your pain may never lose its sizzle
but this failure of imagination just can’t go on

All train whistles blow to lullaby her family
that’s left alone to wonder when daddy commin' home?

JP – vocals

Russ Batchelor – guitar, bass

Tom Neville – violin, harmony

Brian Samuels – cello

WON'T BE THE SAME

A salute to the family and friends we've loved and lost

Won't Be The Same

Oh, the time when Orion commands the back yard,

my lifeguard for one more wet winter

I shiver a wave where he wades in that river of light
that's the Milky Way

In our parkas we counted the stars in his belt

and his bow bent back taking aim

That hunter will rise in the sky again

but without you it won't be the same

Won't be the same, won't be the same...

The drone of the dragonflies madden my cat,

those angels announcing it's summer

So kite-like and frail, they sail on the currents of heat,

un petit cirque du soleil

And at dusk, in the alley, a feline so frantic

to launch himself into the fray, well that feline will jump
the horizon again, but without you it won't be the same

Won't be the same, won't be the same...

The slap of the bow

when you paddle around in the silver

your hydro-affinity puzzled the gulls

and put many a Pices to shame

Our last dance was to circle in fleece by the campfire
Like moths that are hard-wired for flame

Yes sparks will crackle and sigh again
but without you it won't be the same

Won't be the same, won't be the same...

JP - vocals, guitar, percussion

Russ Batchelor – guitar, harmony
Charles Knowles – bass

Brendan Ostrander - drums

Ron Cole – accordion

Anne Mullins - harmony

OCCITUNE

A salute to the medieval Occitaine culture, exterminated by Pope Innocent III's decree in 1209 CE.

Occitune

St. Cirq Lapoppie, c'est loin de mon pays

Et evidement les etoiles brilliant ce sont mes seul amis

La la la la la la la la la la la la

La la la la la la la la la la la la

Julliet est termine, et mon esprit en paraille

Et malheuresement en ce moment je me se sen abandoner

La lune illume ma voie comme les flacons de joie
Je ferme ma yeul et bouge le cul aux p'tit village en bas

Le chateau aux Moyaine Age il est délabré

une autre fois au nom de Dieu, une race est exterminé

Les grillons pret d'ici, ils adoucissant la nuit

Et sans dormi, les chauve-souris, ils vollent sans-souci

translation:

St. Cirq Lapoppie, it's far from my homeland

and, evidently, the bright stars are my only friends

La la la la la la la la la la la la

La la la la la la la la la la la la

July is finished and so is my spirit

and, unfortunately, at this moment I feel abandoned

The moon illuminates my view like flakes of joy

I shut my trap, and kick my ass to the village below

The Medieval castle is dilapidated

Another instance, in the name of God, a race is exterminated

The crickets near here, they sooth the night

And, without sleep, the bats they fly care-free

JP - vocals, kabossy, female vocal programming

Brian Samuels – cello

Michael Dunn - kora

NEWFIELAND

A salute to the people and places I encountered on Canada's east coast

Newfieland

When you get to heaven, or so the legend goes,
You can tell the Newfoundlander;
the one that wants to go home

A fluid horizon, cumulus sky, semaphore laundry line
Stunted stands of black spruce, puffins in the cliffs,
and peat under your gumboots, to spring down the road.

This sea bring everyone to her harbours;
icebergs and humpback whales
Fog rolls in slow-mo most days
You don’t leave, you tear yourself away from her

Newfieland, the new found land
Newfieland, the new found land

Silurian sandstone, erratics off shore,
Tableland moonscapes of Gros Morne
Carnivorous bog plants, lupine waving hills,
and peat under your gumboots

When you get to heaven, or so the legend goes
You can always tell the Newfie
the one that wants to go home
the one that wants to go home

JP - vocals, guitar, bass & FX programming

Brendan Ostrander - drums

Tom Neville – violin

ME

A salute to my sister. As a birthday surprise I tweaked her song about ego in a new style.
Her original version was played klezmer style on the piano.

Me by Kathryn Palmer

Compulsive noise maker

soul foresaker 

song baker 

me

Sneaky silence hider

I`m an exquisite spider

See the intricate web around 

me

Beautiful child faker 

soul forsaker 

whinin` pinin`belly-acher

me

Selective friend seducer

I'm a dreamworld producer

A god-damned crayon-eating rainbow factory

I'm an evil-sower 

a darkly-death-river-rower

an all and nothing knower 

me

I'm a sly self-desguiser

and a disguise despiser

an avid criticizer of me

Yeah, harmonizer, synthesizer, none-the-wiser
me

JP - vocals, guitar, bass, percussion, FX & instrument programming

LINES TO WRITE

A grudging salute to National Poetry Month, for each April my wife writes a poem every night.

Lines to Write
There’s a poet upstairs on a Mac in the kitchen
With a grimace she shakes her head t’wards the back
Winter’s litter of lawn-flotsam sullies her conscience
while she waits for The Muse to pick up the slack

She has lines to write before she can sleep
No pillow ‘til poetry spills and runs deep
She has lines to write before we can play
and before she can call it a day

There’s a poet reclined by her brick and board bookshelves
In her mind she is flippin’ the bird at that view
where the porch paint is screaming “neglect” in red neon
and she waits for chiraz to whisper a clue
She has lines to write before she can sleep
No pillow ‘til poetry spills and runs deep
She has lines to write before we can play
and before every ache is obeyed

A promise to keep was “...have and to hold”
And I’ve kept my part of the poetry warm
A man can’t hold on to what ain’t there to view
Get your couplets in here and your assonance too
There’s a poet running low as the glow on her laptop
In her mind it's an eon 'til ice-tea and sun
So she trolls her subconscience for flashes of silver
while she waits for the phrase that applauds that she's done

She has lines to write before she can sleep
No pillows ‘til poetry spills and runs deep
Always lines to write before we can play
and before I dive down her duvet
and before I dive down, onamatapoea,
and before I dive down this good day
Good night!

JP - vocals, guitar
Charles Knowles - bass
Brian Samuels - cello

SALUTE

A salute to my father, who survived the Normandy invasion to pass on more than musicality

Salute

All day, all night, I wail like you do

The sway in my walk and my razzamatazz salutes you

There you are when I drum on the dash when I’m driving

And the hustle and slide of every phrase I sing just swings
with your rhythm and good-time timing

It’s this baby-boomer`s dream to be light on my feet like you

when my hair is grey, and in Timbuktu there is somebody callin` me zada

All day, all night, I wail like you

The sway in my walk the farmer talk

and my razzamatazz salutes you

There you are in the double-talk tease at a party

and a spark in the eye for every curve I see`s a spotlight

for drama and punchline timing

It’s this baby-boomer`s dream to be bustin` a gut like you

when a face don’t fit, and they won`t let me drive,

and they all smile and say such a punim

You taught me life is a song, and I’m one damn lucky man,

And it’s good to jump into a chorus,

jump around in the leaves, yeah

Make a splash, have a blast, let her rip, yeah

Come on, full out in glory

just for the sake of the love of the feel of the whole damn thing

Am I right or am I wrong

JP - vocals, guitar,

Joey Turco - bass

Brendan Ostrander - drums

Peter Mclean - keyboard

JEWEL

A love song written for my wife

Jewel

Ah, when you walk up and whisper I love you

like you’re choosing me over the rest of the men in the room

You like the sun on your skin while I’m moon-cool, and

Evening with you is the crown of the day, you’re the jewel

Evening with you is the crown of the day, you’re the jewel

Once sleepy-heads hit the pillow, you dream of France

I’m always three decades back with no plans but to dance through Ireland

You like a morning sip while I’m midnight fuel

Evening’s the crown of the day, you’re the jewel

Evening’s the crown of the day, you’re the jewel

You never know whether you wake up together tomorrow

or hold to the promise you made to each other today

and who is to say if the balance is pleasure or sorrow

and all you can hope for is laughter

to mask or to master your pain

and know it right down to molecular level
the love that you gave is never in vain

Oh, when you wake me with migas and ’’I love you’’

like you’re starting the day with a song and I’m part of your tune

You would jump out of a plane, while I’m room with a brew

Evening crown of the day, you’re the jewel

JP - vocals, guitar, FX

Charles Knowles - bass

Tom Neville – mandolin, violin

Holly Denney, Suki Saggu, Anne Mullins - harmony

ONLY THE WIND

A memorial salute to a canine member of the family that we miss.

Only The Wind

He's under every table for scraps on my plate

His bone's in the yard looking well masticated

In the back of my mind something doesn't fit in

when the noise at the back door is only the wind

He's across every river from here to the Stein

And with each cat that is frozen in a pose that's all spine

it's gonna take me some time for my world not to spin

when the noise at the back door is only the wind

He tore along the landscape ahead of my truck

Covered 80 odd clicks to Penticton

He reminded the racoons not to mess with a wolf

'cause they're keepin' it gangster in his jurisdiction

Poor guy!

He's around every corner, it's like he's still here

His blanket feels cold but my nose swears he's near

It'll take me some time for it all to sink in

that any noise at the back door is only the wind

JP - vocals, guitar

Charles Knowles - bass

Tom Neville – mandolin

Russ Batchelor - harmony

ENJOY THE RIDE

A farewell salute to my daughter when she announced she would pursue grad work in the U.S.A.

Enjoy The Ride

I know you gotta go, you can’t stay

I won’t delay your debut, won’t rain on your parade

I knew this time was comin’, but man, does time ever fly

over two decades from your northwest skies

And I say, go with pride,

Make your mark , take broad strokes

enjoy the ride

Your brothers are out travellin’, they’re really on a roll

Your mystery will unravel as you move toward your goal

Goodbyes are such a hard thing, who said words could never harm?

And what about this vacuum where there should be you in my arms

Right now I’m loosin’ you to who knows where

I did the same to my old man

When this is over in a handful of years
may it fit like one more puzzle piece in a greater plan

But now father without daughter, what’s a daddy to do

But strum away and stir up all these memories of you

An empty nest is one thing, this is borders away

Though I admire the courage not to let ‘em stand in your way

JP - vocals, guitar, harmonica,

Charles Knowles - bass

Brendan Ostrander - drums

Tom Neville – mandolin

SANS PÈRE

Dedicated to the young Vancouver woman whose partner vanished when he heard she was pregnant. Since she is French Canadian I put her perspective in the title. Technically it should be sans le père. My mistake sans doute.

Sans Père

You know, it’s summer when you’re singing
You’re the cheese that stands alone and laughs at the farmer in the dell
Now you’re out in the cold of the Milky Way
The man who left you’s fancy free and far away
The guy’s in shock and can’t believe that he’s a daddy
At this time yesterday we held hands down “The Drive”
Now you’re a shaman up there howling
how a pregnancy needs care
and enlist the love at every table in collective prayer
This café is a clinic where your psyche gets prepared
to spend a life with every night sans pèreevery night sans père
every night, every night
every night sans pèreevery night sans pèreevery night sans père

Open Mic nights at 9

with a breeze of joie de vivre that leads your circus flavoured mind

This place is an oasis from a world gone awry

for you, it’s just another night on fire 

another night on fire

Your heart is on your sleeve and love’s tattooed on every cell

This room is just a refuge with a chill of Zinfandel

and you’re a carousel on fire 

a carousel on fire

JP - vocals, drum programming

Charles Knowles - bass

Brendan Ostrander - drums

Tom Neville – violin

Peter McLean – keyboard

Russ Batchelor and Anne Mullins– harmony

GULF ISLE GETAWAY

My wife and I saluted the end of the school year by heading out to the Gulf Islands to recover and rediscover. 

The verses are from a bliss wish-list I gathered from polling friends and colleagues.

Gulf Isle Getaway

For some it’s a circle of stones by a ruin

or a rendezvous at noon

or maybe that special tune that plays

when love attracts your eye,

the toast and taste of champagne,

Uclulet cabin in the rain

or all the games they games they play

in a car ride far away

But you and me on a Gulf Isle getaway

Hot tub under cedar trees

That’s got to be the right place for me

Mais oui, c’est la Tower Eiffel en Paris

or the sea in Galilee

maybe that spark when the energy flows

when two souls have been dancin’ a while,

the heat of flamenco and wine

where two Niles combine,

or it’s an Everest mountain to climb

to feel you’ve reached your goal

For some it’s winter anywhere but here,

ah for a hammock and cooler of beer

or maybe a scope on a night so clear

you see eternity

alone at a campsite by a Cariboo road

or Winabego mode

or Café Deux Soleils to unload

to friends who knows your style

JP - guitar, vocals, FX

Charles Knowles - bass

Tom Neville - violin

THANK YOU

THANK YOU !

This CD was simply conceived as a gift to my three young children for their adulthood.
But during the years this project lay fallow, or stalled, I gained a second family and an embarrassment of rich friendships, so, now this CD serves to express my love and appreciation for their support too.

This is a salute to my father, Nat, for passing on his musical nervous system, and to my mother, Bertha, for a love of language, and a bi-lingual perspective. Merci to my sister, Kathryn, for giving names to the chords that thrilled me as a kid, and for the emotion in melody. I'm tickled to have one of your songs on this CD. Thanks to my cousin, Si, for his big ears, precision, and generosity. A true mensch. Here's to all my first-cousins for supporting a childhood immersed in music (Mitch, Al, Mark, Michael, Allan), dance (Devra and Fran), and drama (John, Myra, Bev). Your childhood support was significant.

I salute the following family of friends who have supported my music: Joe Young deserves special mention. Back in 1977, when I was devastated at the lost my fingers, he handed me a maraca and said "Shut up, you're now a percussionist!" When I eventually relearned guitar and then complained that I couldn't play high chords positions, Joe said "one day I'll learn to make guitars and fix that. So, his guitar makes every song special. Love to Mel Gellner for his encouragement, in those rehabilitation years, to explore modal music. Cheers to Michael Dunn, Mark Dowding, and Jacques Khouri for Martian years of musical experimentation under the blue light. Michael, thanks also for the tasty instruments that you’ve crafted me. Mmmhar to Charles and Michael Hart for so much vocal harmonic bliss and attention to detail. Thanks, Holly Denney and Suki Saggu for your sweet vocal blend. Cheers to Ron Cole for your accordion vibe. Big love goes to Babatunde Olatunji, Dido Morris, Temba Tana, Jack Duncan, and Art Liestman for support of my paradigm shift into West African music. Art deserves special mention for his musical commitment and inspiration. A hearty toast to Charlie Knowles, Tom Neville, and Peter McLean, for a rich diet of tasty playing.  I have mucho appreciation for Russ Batchelor's contributions, encouragement, and “prefessional” finesse. Merci, Brian Samuels for your honeyed cello and humour , which is so theraputic. Thanks to Brendan Ostrander for drumming on short notice. Tzvi Tal, David Ross, and Steve Lustig, thanks for the brotherly council to navigate challenges and make music. Joey Turco mixed this project with a dedication as if it were his own, consequently, all sonic magic must be credited to him. I take ownership of any turds he was left to polish. I especially want to thank my Muse, best friend, and wife, Anne Mullins, for her musical and poetic advice that continues to challenge and inspire me.

I love you all

Vancouver 2012

The Salute CD: lyrics & comments

Hey everyone,
Welcome to my blog.
What follows are comments and lyrics from the Salute CD
I hope a tune or two resonates with you.
Cheers
John

                                                               THANK YOU !

This CD was simply conceived as a gift to my three young children for their adulthood.
But during the years this project lay fallow, or stalled, I gained a second family and an embarrassment of rich friendships, so, now this CD serves to express my love and appreciation for their support too.

This is a salute to my father, Nat, for passing on his musical nervous system, and to my mother, Bertha, for a love of language, and a bi-lingual perspective. Merci to my sister, Kathryn, for giving names to the chords that thrilled me as a kid, and for the emotion in melody. I'm tickled to have one of your songs on this CD. Thanks to my cousin, Si, for his big ears, precision, and generosity. A true mensch. Here's to all my first-cousins for supporting a childhood immersed in music (Mitch, Al, Mark, Michael, Allan), dance (Devra and Fran), and drama (John, Myra, Bev). Your childhood support was significant.

I salute the following family of friends who have supported my music: Joe Young deserves special mention. Back in 1977, when I was devastated at the lost my fingers, he handed me a maraca and said "Shut up, you're now a percussionist!" When I eventually relearned guitar and then complained that I couldn't play high chords positions, Joe said "one day I'll learn to make guitars and fix that. So, his guitar makes every song special. Love to Mel Gellner for his encouragement, in those rehabilitation years, to explore modal music. Cheers to Michael Dunn, Mark Dowding, and Jacques Khouri for Martian years of musical experimentation under the blue light. Michael, thanks also for the tasty instruments that you’ve crafted me. Mmmhar to Charles and Michael Hart for so much vocal harmonic bliss and attention to detail. Thanks, Holly Denney and Suki Saggu for your sweet vocal blend. Cheers to Ron Cole for your accordion vibe. Big love goes to Babatunde Olatunji, Dido Morris, Temba Tana, Jack Duncan, and Art Liestman for support of my paradigm shift into West African music. Art deserves special mention for his musical commitment and inspiration. A hearty toast to Charlie Knowles, Tom Neville, and Peter McLean, for a rich diet of tasty playing.  I have mucho appreciation for Russ Batchelor's contributions, encouragement, and “prefessional” finesse. Merci, Brian Samuels for your honeyed cello and humour , which is so theraputic. Thanks to Brendan Ostrander for drumming on short notice. Tzvi Tal, David Ross, and Steve Lustig, thanks for the brotherly council to navigate challenges and make music. Joey Turco mixed this project with a dedication as if it were his own, consequently, all sonic magic must be credited to him. I take ownership of any turds he was left to polish. I especially want to thank my Muse, best friend, and wife, Anne Mullins, for her musical and poetic advice that continues to challenge and inspire me.

I love you all

Vancouver 2012

The Salute CD: lyrics & comments