Speakin' The Queens... Pt. 10

As the release date for my new album, "Queens English", approaches (5/18), I thought it might be a fun idea (if only for me) to try and maybe dissect the record here at the old Blog space. A bit of a behind the scenes look under the hood so to speak. Since I've always dug reading about some of my favorite albums track-by-track, I thought that might be an interesting way to approach. Eleven tracks in eleven installments? Can I pull it off without boring even myself? Stick around, find out and meet my one boy cuddly toy, my up, my down, my pride and joy.

Track 10: "Ballad of M & LJ" -

In an attempt to add a little balance to the album when it came to the subject of parenthood, I thought it would be cool to include a track that would vouch for the sheer awesome-ness of being someone's Dad. As such, "Ballad of M & LJ", written for my son, celebrates life with my boy and also serves as my self-response to the polar opposite sentiments on child rearing offered up earlier in the album with "Camp Elmo".

From an intellectual standpoint, the writing of a tune like this can be kind of tricky - too overly sentimental and some folks will inevitably tune out; Not sincere enough and it can all seem disingenuous. Thankfully I quickly came to my senses, kicked all those conscious thoughts to the curb and just wrote from the heart. Seemed like the better plan.

Ultimately, "Ballad..." presented itself as a very simple narrative chronicling a day in the life of Mama P's two boys busy doing nothin'; highlighting those everyday little minutes that don't seem to count for much but, in reality, add up to it all.

Musically speaking "Ballad of M & LJ" features the fine French horn work of Rob Jost, the pretty backing vocals of LJ's Mom herself, Mrs. Bacino and yours truly on all other sonic embellishments.

Hey LJ, this one's for you, big; it's your song. Think of your ol' mom and pop sometime when you hear it. Love u.

Ballad of M & LJ

Hangin’ with Lee Joseph
It’s the greatest thing I’ve ever known
Just kicking cans and skippin’ stones
With you…

Hangin’ with Lee Joseph
No two finer pals the world has seen
A one and one half wrecking team
Us two…

We might eat three ice cream cones
We might even listen to The Kinks
When your Mommy’s not home

Singin’ La, La, La, La…

And there will come a day
When you say, “Daddy, aw go away”
That’s okay…

We might finger-paint the cat
We might even do a little dance
On that bubble wrap

Hangin’ with Lee Joseph
It’s the greatest thing I’ve ever known…

Next time on "Speakin' The Queens...", we come to the end of our musical word parade with Track 11, "Who Are Yous?".

Speakin' The Queens... Pt. 9

As the release date for my new album, "Queens English", approaches (5/18), I thought it might be a fun idea (if only for me) to try and maybe dissect the record here at the old Blog space. A bit of a behind the scenes look under the hood so to speak. Since I've always dug reading about some of my favorite albums track-by-track, I thought that might be an interesting way to approach. Eleven tracks in eleven installments? Can I pull it off without boring even myself? This week visit Middle Town and find out...

Track 9: "Middle Town" -

Leaving Manhattan and moving back to Queens in the fall of 2001, I randomly Googled the name of my new hood one evening if for no apparent reason other than late-night boredom; Having grown up within fairly close proximity, I knew a decent amount about the neighborhood but in reading the town's history I came to discover a good deal more. It seems this working-class area situated in central Queens was once considered by it's early English settlers to be the mid-point between the towns of Williamsburg, Brooklyn and Jamaica, Queens on what was then known as the Williamsburg/Jamaica Turnpike (now Metropolitan Ave). Tired farmers often spending the night in this hood during their long, horse-drawn commutes to and from market in Brooklyn and Manhattan. Given the serious middle class makeup of my neighborhood in it's current incarnation, this apropos bit of logistical history kinda stuck with me, hitting home over time, as a pretty cool metaphor.

A few years down the line as the writing of this new album progressed and began revealing it's core theme to me as heavily influenced by my current life in the outer-boroughs, I thought it might be cool to work the idea of my aforementioned 'middle town' into the mix. Springboarding from there, I started to think about a lot of the peeps I grew up with and a lot of the folks I currently live alongside; most of them straight-shooting, hard-working, hard-core locals who have no need for or interest in (beyond maybe their work life) what's going on in "the city" (aka Manhattan) making for one seriously ironic, near-middle American, small-town credo tucked inside one of the largest, most progressive cities on the planet.

As a teen dreaming self-absorbed, bright lights/big city dreams of rock stardom in his Queens bedroom, I judgmentally found this "provincial" mindset to be kind of lame and uninspired - the brightest and most creative minds from all points are gathering 20 minutes across the river and you'd rather hang out on the stoop and listen to the ballgame?!

Life's funny, isn't it? As you make that personal commute, all the square, unimportant stuff your parents filled your head with (if you were lucky) - hard work, family, a sense of place and belonging - it all, somehow, seems a bit less square over time. The act of simply putting food on the table and a roof overhead becoming a more than noble struggle.

Maybe, like every know-it-all teen and twenty-something before me, I needed to teeter on mountain's edge before I could come to value and respect the stability of some solid middle ground.

Middle Town

Hear the bells, hear the sound
Noon is coming ‘round, in this middle town
Took a break from the pace,
Left the rats to race, in that city town

Took the kids to school, I’m still their Dad,
Say hello to Mrs. Leary,
“Sit on the stoop with me lad”

I was born, I was raised
Seven blocks away, in this middle town
I never bothered, never cared,
Never chased the fad, in that city town

Happy just to hang with my boys
Standing around down on the corner
Yeah, you know we made some noise

There’s no shiny towers here
We built them in the city town
Just some kids and they’re running ‘round
Chasing Softee down…

Hear the bells, hear the sound
Evening’s coming down, in this middle town
The working day’s had its say, make your getaway
From that city town

Tired subway rides, half alive
Trying hard just to remember
How noble it is to survive… and hold your ground
In your middle town

In your middle town
In your middle town

Next time on "Speakin' The Queens...", people let me tell ya 'bout my best friend with Track 10, "Ballad of M & LJ".

Speakin' The Queens... Pt. 8

As the release date for my new album, "Queens English", approaches (5/18), I thought it might be a fun idea (if only for me) to try and maybe dissect the record here at the old Blog space. A bit of a behind the scenes look under the hood so to speak. Since I've always dug reading about some of my favorite albums track-by-track, I thought that might be an interesting way to approach. Eleven tracks in eleven installments? Can I pull it off without boring even myself? Got me. Stay tuned and find out... Hey, does this jacket make me look fat?

Track 8: "Blue Suit" -

Not quite sure what provoked such a random thought, but it occurred to me one day, likely while staring blankly into my closet, that a lot of dudes probably own only one dress suit (don't say you weren't warned about the randomness). Maybe I'm generalizing but I'd venture to guess that most non-corporate-raiding types, such as myself, usually have that one, all-purpose Men's Wearhouse sitting under the dry cleaner's plastic patiently awaiting it's call to arms like some sort of sensible, low-thread-count sentry. Riffing on these thoughts like a mentally disturbed haberdasher, "Blue Suit" soon made it's way out of my head and onto the rack.

As I sketched out the bones of this melancholy lyric, I found my lonely, well-dressed comrade becoming more character than metaphor. A manic depressive figure that only seems to materialize 'round the highest of highs and lowest of lows. Kinda like that old, grade school friend you only see at weddings and funerals these days who still knows you better than most, having seen you through your best and your worst.

Blue Suit

Saw it hanging there today
Neatly pressed and tucked away
Oh, my blue suit, my blue suit

Stood above my father’s grave
The sadness like a tidal wave
In my blue suit, in my blue suit

It’s kinda worn and frayed
It’s seen my worst and better days

Humbled by her wedding gown
The clouds gave way, the sun shined down
On my blue suit, on my blue suit

It’s never worn the doldrums of an ordinary day
Its only world, black tie and pearls, sunshine and gray

It’s kinda worn and frayed
It’s seen my worst and better days

Probably wear it one last day
Say goodbye and go our way
Oh, my blue suit, my blue suit…

Next time on "Speakin' The Queens...", I try and hit one to center with Track 9, "Middle Town".

Speakin' The Queens... Pt. 7

As the release date for my new album, "Queens English", approaches (5/18), I thought it might be a fun idea (if only for me) to try and maybe dissect the record here at the old Blog space. A bit of a behind the scenes look under the hood so to speak. Since I've always dug reading about some of my favorite albums track-by-track, I thought that might be an interesting way to approach. Eleven tracks in eleven installments? Can I pull it off without boring even myself? Got me. Stay tuned, find out and meet me 'cross the river.

Track 7: "Bridge & Tunnel" -

In keeping with the New York-centric theme of the album, "Bridge & Tunnel" attempts to take a classic Manhattanite snobbery and turn it inside out. Generally a pejorative term aimed at the residents of the outer-boroughs, my "Bridge & Tunnel" quietly reverses the subject of disdain via a lush bed of strings and the proud internal dialog of one B & Ter's late-night drive back home across the river. A hard-core piece of townie retribution for sure and to be honest probably a long overdue one at that.

Now to be totally fair, myself having lived on both sides of the East River, I can honestly say the derogatory B & T moniker is not entirely unfounded on occasion. I can tell you first hand that one truly hasn't lived until three custom Jeeps laden with kids from the Bronx and satellite dish-sized woofers all decide to park under your apartment window at 3am, tune to the same radio station and proceed to have an impromptu rave on a Thursday night. I get it. It's a bit much.

That said, there's still that defiant, little working-class voice of a kid from Queens inside of me that wants to yell up to that three-thousand-dollar-a-month apartment window and join the boogie-down chorus.

On record, "Bridge & Tunnel" features the multi-layered string work of Jacob Lawson, the cello of Steven Stalker and the upright bass of Lee Alexander, Norah Jones' longtime producer and bassist, recorded at Norah's home studio, The Coop. Many thanks to Lee for graciously lending his talents and doing me a solid.

Bridge & Tunnel

Bridge and tunnel
Take me where I long to be
The real NYC
Oh, bridge and tunnel

Disco queens
Hopes and dreams
The living and the dying
The laughing and the crying
In-between

Traffic might be moving slow
On the other side of the road
But I’m rolling like the river below
‘Cause I’m going where nobody wants to go…

Brooklynese
“Beater” tees
Struggling, surviving
Resourceful, enterprising
If you please

Bridge and tunnel
Make Manhattan disappear
‘Cause no one’s really from here
So give ‘em all a Bronx cheer
Just for me…
‘Cause the butt of all their jokes
Are the wheels and the spokes…of the city.

Next time on "Speakin' The Queens...", I try Track 8 on for size, "Blue Suit".