LNOYL » Dareck

No gimmicks

Dareck — Wed, 29 Dec 2010 00:00:11 +0000

No gimmicks

Jacky Terrasson at The Old Mill

Dareck — Tue, 28 Sep 2010 16:45:54 +0000

The view was spectacular. I could just make out Jacky Terrasson hammering away at the piano onstage. To my right, a closed circuit television was broadcasting a picture of the tables in front of him where an audience of zoomers were eating dinner. I could make out a Salisbury steak and what I think was a chicken leg.

My neighbor downstairs came up to invite me to the show. It was being hosted at the Old Mill. A Bavarian hotel/spa. My first impression upon entering the place was that Peter Sellers was going to trip out the door and plant a pie in my face. The wait staff all wore matching gold vests and carried giant trays of drinks and cutlery.

So much cutlery.

It clanged with the sounds of the piano. Jacky’s rendition of Somewhere over the rainbow coincided with a call from somewhere on the 4th floor where a gentleman was conveying his outrage over his asparagus. The kitchen door swung wildly with the syncopated rhythms of Mr Terrasson dry humping the insides of the piano. Pumping his violent fists about against the stringed core of the beast. He wrestled the keys. His enthusiasm was as much to inspire me to mount the dinner table and drive a steak knife through my own heart and pluck out the distractions.

Beneath the television a traveling salesman from Quebec was letting his dinner companion know what a “pussy” he was. Our host had seated us with a stranger couple from New-market. Hans and Evelyn didn’t like the salesman. In fact they left us for a table in front of the swinging door.

When the last song of Jacky’s second set was played the room stood in ovation. He played an encore. A quiet song to lull the pen salesman’s and Cadillac dealers to sleep.
Dinner bills and escorts were payed and soon enough I was outside enjoying the lovely rain. I was reminded tonight of what I have been missing a great deal of.
I have been struggling with writing new material for a number of months. Distractions and all. Jacky and his attention to the moment were inspiring. His music soared with the room and beyond. He transcended his environment and elevated the spectators to marvel in jazz’s ability to divide space and time and mathematically align itself with the rhythms of our hearts.

It ain’t always rainbows and we may not like our seating arrangement but that’s jazz man. That’s JAZZ!!(insert jazz hands here)

Where Jets go to die

Dareck — Wed, 17 Feb 2010 02:54:09 +0000

Upon visiting an aircraft graveyard I took these photos.
The history is immense. Fighter jets and float planes.
Each with a story. I may never fly again.

MALFUNCTION ! EJECT ! EJECT !

Its like going to a pig roast.

Seeing the skeletons of the crafts
that launch us
is both frightening and inspiring
at the same time.

Roncesvalles

Dareck — Tue, 05 Jan 2010 03:03:55 +0000

We’ve built a cooking nest in the kitchen at Roncesvalles.
After having watched “Julie and Julia” an inspiration came
over the two of us to recreate the warmth of Julia Child’s
kitchen that now adorns the Smithsonian. The freezing
temperatures were the perfect backdrop to bake banana
bread and get the fireplace going to warm our toes.
The bottle of Bailey’s kept the power tools primed and
before long the pots were hanging and the cupboards now
had the room to organize themselves.

Now that the album is out hanging on the Masonite, next
to the spoon and measuring cup, we can finally start
cooking. We can share the creative meal we’ve made with
friends at the kitchen table.

There is one empty chair and a decade of distance
between us. My step-father passed away. Interestingly
enough I learned of his death after building the kitchen
workshop. Neil Diamond’s “Hot August night” on vinyl
was playing. I thought of Reg and the turntable that only
I was allowed to touch. I found the strength to look him
up on the internet. Maybe I’d go visit him. Play him the
record. He’d be proud of me I think.

Reg passed away in April of 2009 at the age of 57.
He taught me how to throw a ball. How to make
a bow and arrow. How to shoot a camera. He taught
me how to drive a car though he clung to the dash-
board. He could outrun me when I was in my teens.

We do things for the ones we love. Sometimes its
not until after its done do we know how it functions
and recognize its purpose.

Don`t scratch the vinyl.

Hold it like this.

Place the needle down gently.

Close the lid.

Lie down
…and Dream.

Quattro Rock-o

Dareck — Sat, 19 Dec 2009 00:04:15 +0000

Oh my…tuning this thing is next to impossible. I have to balance the wrench on the neck then use the pliers to twist the string with my left hand and then use my right hand to tighten the Robertson screw tight. I know it isn’t E … that doesn’t matter… so long as nothing breaks and I don’t lose an eye. The whammy works although I worry what given the sounds of cracking and all.

I’m actually surprised that the neck action isn’t all that bad. The nails work awesome and theres only one spot on the 4th string that needs adjusting. Hmmm. I just might write something with this.

Love D

Quattro

Dareck — Thu, 17 Dec 2009 03:39:12 +0000

I was going to write a congratulatory note in here stating all the many wonderful accomplishments we’ve managed to achieve this year but its too soon. There’s still two weeks left in 2009 and I’m not ready to stop just yet.

I’m not all that happy because as productive as we’ve been what with the vinyl and the book and the C.D and the shows, I still feel like it hasn’t been enough. I haven’t written enough. There was a time when I’d get home and just write songs. They weren’t all that great but I was doing it enough that sometimes there would be a diamond in the rough. Something I’d be proud enough to share.

I was really into keyboards. I had loads of them. I taught myself MIDI and learned the joys of sequencing with early 80′s technology. What a nightmare. I did it though. There were some pretty interesting accidents that I know Kris wishes I could remember. Serendipitous adventures in cable knotting.

I’m craving the exploration. I can’t handle the PDF manuals anymore. It got too clinical and too cold.

I’ve got all this wood in my basement. Fragments of discarded shelves and drawers from forgotten dressers and furniture. I’m fastening the pieces together into a voice. Bits of aluminum to tighten the strings, a stained handle is a bridge to grip the body.

The Quattro has a whammy bar. Its fastened to two tongues on the inside of the box. The fret board is completely handmade with finishing nails. The neck is drying now. I haven’t been this excited in a while. Even if it sounds horrible. I just want to write a song. Maybe its charmed. Maybe it’ll come back to me. Maybe I’ll be inspired.

Love D.