Thursday, April 26, 2012

D Note love letter 4/26/12

D motion, There is much we are excited about this weekend. The African music and dance Saturday afternoon is going to be awesome. If that won't lift your spirit, we worry about you. Then there's THE BAD FAERIE BALL/ BELTANE W/ Angus Mohr Saturday night! How often to you get an invitation to dress up as a bad faerie and dance to epic highlands rock and roll? Take advantage! Reverb and the Verse is playing tonight, Thursday, April 26, and they are super duper uper good local hip hop. And it's free! Also, heads up, there is going to be a Santana tribute band playing with a War tribute band next Saturday for Cinco De Mayo. For the rest of the scoop go to Love to you and yours, D mote Extra Credit: By request, here's a poem by Adam D. (Thanks Keriba and Rebecca) Music For My Child "I have seen it. What? Eternity. It is the sun matched by the sea." --Arthur Rimbaud 1. Somewhere inside the rainbow meant Rimbaud; the spectrum of color caused by the sun matching the sea, physics that you can trace. The mathematics are lost in the lattice work, in the infinite order upon chaos, where every opposite is a compliment. Think of the way the sea water evaporates in the sun and recycles itself in the atmosphere, and conversely, the way the heat of the sun is cooled by the sea and sprouts life, the endless showdown where the two meet, here, where life begins, where any two meet, where all difference becomes one, the paradoxes never ending, always begun again where the out breath meets the in. The sun matched by the sea. I imagine myself there, where the two meet, where the cool meets the heat, the wet and dry coming together, the feeling of that frisson starting from a singular point of thought and then spread instantly out over the wide sea. It reminds me of the feeling I get when a cool breeze caresses my skin on a hot day, that perfect synergy, except spread out wide over the massive surface of the sea. All that push and pull of drying up and wetting down is where the magic happens, the perpetual motion machine out of which life comes, a factory of life made of nothing but sun and sea, the life, the living, all desire for living, comes out of Thee, This, That, comes out of It, the Mother and Father, this back and forth, eternally, from external to internal, in to out. 2. Then there's where the sun matches the sea in the evening, via the moon, the sun reflected in the moon reflecting on the water, the moon glade, the shine of day upon night, reflected obliquely, just as, inversely, the shadow makes a little night in day, just as, likewise, good always comes from bad, bad from good, up from down, etcetera, this and that chasing each other around. We rolled around and had a ball. "It's kept together moving all around." 3. Shoot for the ball of clay. Roam time and space with your mega-zoom telescope until you have known the woman on the moon, golden, her mouth half open in ecstacy like Teresa of Avalon, or Marilyn Monroe, a moon crater for a mole, caught halfway between the sun and shadow, in the crepusculer joy of union. (Say it in Spanish and crepuscular sounds more like herself; crepusculario.) The dusk chasing his sister dawn, like the two lovers on Keat's Urn. Then magic hour turns into the witching hour; the phantom light is caught in a photograph on a southern Missouri night; like underwater light, wavery and wet, flickering like candlelight, in the glow of which everyone becomes suddenly themselves, and everything else becomes a blend of everything else. The music here is bewitching, the rhythm takes you with it, the rhythm is all of you, all of it. 4. Until we arrive at a future star, a dream, around which all of the planets dance. The music of the spheres entrance the occupants there like the relief of gravity does here, so that there is no choice but to dance. Already in language there is music, but what if language was pure music? the music of becoming, as if communication were eradicated except for the choir, become a gem-like flame of communion. That is what I want for you, a place where every word is sung, every step danced, everyone both with and alone, until, as a poet once predicted, you can no longer tell the dancer from the dance, the singer from the song. It would sound like this... 5. What Jonah said, "Please lift my withered friend." What Max said, "Here is you." What Piper said, "Don't throw away the good luck of being human." What Miranda said, "also a superhero." What Diane said, "See to business." What Kate said, "I'm moving in spirals to dust off the world." What Kate said, "Love is supposed to be something sacred." What Peter said, "For those willing to listen, this one is for you." What Mary said, "Never open bottles of love potion with your teeth." What I didn't say. It would sound like this...

Thursday, April 19, 2012

4/19 update

= D


Tonight, Thursday 4/19, after trivia, we get all 80s funky with a band called Youthineyes. So Walk Like an Egyptian, Micky, dressed in Black Velvet with your 99 Balloons, because We Are Family and we're going to Party like 1999 was the future tonight. $5

This Friday night, 4/20, we start at 6:30pm with Synergy and The Guests, 2 young rock bands with chops. $5. At 9pm we have the return of Soul Dive. Funk Jam Fun. $5. Then at 10:30pm we have Angwish (pop punk w/ psychedelic edge, from NC). $5. Then at 11:30ish we have DJ 4/20 Blackbirds.

Saturday at 4p we have even more of that tasty eighties music as the Music Train Family Concert Series presents: Raising Cain (80's Rock) $7 adults/ $3 kids

Then 7pm Saturday we go all Bob Dylan. Being Dylan fans we are always excited for this night. POSTCARDS OF THE HANGING perform an evening of BOB DYLAN with SPECIAL GUESTS $5

Sunday at 1pm we have the return of The Teaching, from Seattle. Jeremy Jones the amazing drummer of the The Teaching used to live in Denver and his shows at the D Note are always off the hook. Straight ahead hot blooded jazz. $10

Next Saturday we have African music and dance in the afternoon and A Bad Faeries Ball w/ Angus Mohr in the evening. Make plans.

Look forward to seeing all of your smiling faces

= D,

Extra Credit: Aram Saroyan, son of the famous novelist William Saroyan, developed a form of poetry in the seventies he called electric minimalism. Below are two of our favorite examples.



Wednesday, April 11, 2012

D Note love letter 4/11/12

D tourists,

We have such good music in store for you coming up this weekend. We almost can't believe it.

First, stop by and listen to the Clamdaddys on Wednesday nights. Or better yet, why not start a chess club? A crochet club? Bring it to Wednesday nights. There is no cover charge and The Clamdaddys' music creates a beautiful atmosphere. There are dance lessons by the incomparable Lark Mervine too, 7-8pm.

This Thursday night after trivia we have a house/dubstep/electro DJ in house named Mosik. $4. Come dance.

Friday night we have Andrew Wynn at 5pm (free), Dave Boyland Band at 7pm ($5). Then at 8:30pm 8th ElemEnt Entertainment presents Nancy Hubanks "Spy vs. Spy" CD Release, including performances by: DJ Mr. Willis, Y-Jay & Fame, Gamer Life, NexKin and special guests. $10 cover, includes CD.

And get a load of the line up on Saturday. We go Celtic to Flamenco to Indian to Afro-cuban all in one day. Whew!

Saturday at 1pm we have Tartan Day Festival Music w/ Skean Dubh (celtic acoustic). $5/ kids under 12 free.

Saturday at 6pm we have a Flamenco Show hosted by Natalia Perez de Villar. (flamenco music and dance) $12

Saturday at 8:30pm Creative Music Works presents Ravish Momin's Tarana. $15/ $9 students. There has been a lot of great press about this show and we're excited for it. Tarana's music uses live electronic beats and programming as the basis of improvisation influenced by jazz, East Indian, and Middle Eastern music. We're honored Creative Music Works is bringing one of their shows to the D Note. We hope there will be more. This will be a deep listening show.

Saturday at 10:30pm we have Rocktin Grove (funk, indie rock, blues, afro-cuban) $5

Next Tuesday will be a VERY cool local show at 7pm with Paul Dehaven (Eye and the Arrow/ Paper Bird), the Rorey Carol band, Birds Of A Feather (bluegrass) $5 suggested donation.

Next Thursday night we have the eighties retro tunes of Youthineyes.

Next Saturday we celebrate Dylan's B day w/ Postcards From A Hanging.

We are looking for a good idea for a regular event to bring in on Tuesday nights. If you have a good idea for this, please let us know.


D baser

Extra credit: Here are a couple of terrific poems for you this week by Eduardo C. Corral...

In Colorado My Father Scoured and Stacked Dishes

in a Tex-Mex restaurant. His co-workers,
unable to utter his name, renamed him Jalapeño.

If I ask for a goldfish, he spits a glob of phlegm
into a jar of water. The silver letters

on his black belt spell Sangrón. Once, borracho,
at dinner, he said: Jesus wasn't a snowman.

Arriba Durango. Arriba Orizaba. Packed
into a car trunk, he was smuggled into the States.

Frijolero. Greaser. In Tucson he branded
cattle. He slept in a stable. The horse blankets

oddly fragrant: wood smoke, lilac. He's an illegal.
I'm an Illegal-American. Once, in a grove

of saguaro, at dusk, I slept next to him. I woke
with his thumb in my mouth. ¿No qué no

tronabas pistolita? He learned English
by listening to the radio. The first four words

he memorized: In God We Trust. The fifth:
Percolate. Again and again I borrow his clothes.

He calls me Scarecrow. In Oregon he picked apples.
Braeburn. Jonagold. Cameo. Nightly,

to entertain his cuates, around a campfire,
he strummed a guitarra, sang corridos. Arriba

Durango. Arriba Orizaba. Packed into
a car trunk, he was smuggled into the States.

Greaser. Beaner. Once, borracho, at breakfast,
he said: The heart can only be broken

once, like a window. ¡No mames! His favorite
belt buckle: an águila perched on a nopal.

If he laughs out loud, his hands tremble.
Bugs Bunny wants to deport him. César Chávez

wants to deport him. When I walk through
the desert, I wear his shirt. The gaze of the moon

stitches the buttons of his shirt to my skin.
The snake hisses. The snake is torn.

Self-Portrait with Tumbling and Lasso

I'm drumroll and voyeur.
I'm watermark
and fable. I'm weaving
the snarls
of a wolf through my hair
like ribbon. At my feet,

and jigsaws. I'm
an autopsy on my shadow.
My rib cage a wall.
My heart
a crack in a wall,
a foothold. I'm tumbling

a French acrobat. I'm judder
and effigy.
I'm pompadour
and splendid. I'm spinning
on a spit, split
in half.

An apple
in my mouth. I know
what Eve
didn't know: a serpent
is a fruit eaten to the core. I'm
a massacre
of the dreamers,

a terra cotta soldier
waiting for
his emperor's return.
When I bow,
a black fish leaps
from the small of my back.
I catch it.

I tear it apart. I fix
the scales
to my lips.
Every word I utter
is opalescent. I'm skinned
and Orphic.
I'm scarlet

and threshold. At my touch,
a piano
melts like a slab
of black ice. I'm
steam rising,
dissipating. I'm a ghost undressing.
I'm a cowboy

riding bareback.
My soul is
above my head like a lasso.
My right hand a pistol.
My left
automatic. I'm knocking

on every door.
I'm coming on strong,
like a missionary.
I'm kicking back
my legs, like a mule. I'm kicking up
my legs, like
a showgirl.

Thursday, April 5, 2012

D Note love letter plus poem

Dean Otes,

Hello, do you have any extra time for poetry today? If so, be patient, we will get to it. If not, don't forget about it.

Meanwhile, lots of news.

First, let us just say that the bluegrass jam hosted by Martin Gilmore tonight at 9pm will be as harmoniously tasty as the Geeks Who Drink trivia event just preceding it will be hilariously zesty. And it is free. Bring an axe.

Tomorrow night we have the debut of a new band called Rim Of The Well. This new band is extra special to us because it is helmed by one of our musical heroes, Steve Mullins. The style is original flamenco-fusion and features guitar, marimba, violin, and percussion. $12/$10 students. This one will be a fine example of what the D Note is all about.

After Rim Of The Well we have Author Unknown and Bailout. Author Unknown features Mark Sundermeier, the man who books the Toad Tavern. The music can be described as a well wrought pop rock. And Bailout just rocks. $7

Saturday at 1pm we have The Guests, The Fizzy Lifters, Voltage (rock, free).

Saturday at 7pm Phoenix presents our Spring Fling Hafla. Featuring several dance troupes and the neo middle eastern-fusion band Yallah! More fusion! $8 adults/$5 kids under 12

After the Hafla, at 10pm we have the wonderfully deep funk of The Volunteer Funk Department. $5.

Sunday we are closed for Easter festivities until 6pm when we will open for a special salsa featuring the music of DJ Nelson. Only $6 this week, includes a lesson by the amazing Joseph Snowhawk.

Next Tuesday we have a special treat for you called My Old School at 7:30p- A Tribute to the Music of Steely Dan. This event, incredibly, is FREE.

Wow, that's a heck of nice job booking music there, bub. Thanks, not so bad yourself!

D Scribe

Extra Credit: Here's a thought provoking poem by our friend, the wolfman, Filip Marinovich.

Filip Marinovich

"We are all damned" the carpenter says
and "I'm a wood butcher"
when I tell him "You're a sculptor"
he says "A year ago at this time
I had surge—
surgery" with
hazel eyes
"surgery to remove a Christ
from my skull
I had dreamed about
since I was twelve."
The fact that Christ was there
without his apostles
explains nothing.

His cradle looked like the Christ
in the Christ of
the Virgin of Megalith
like the Della Robbia blue Virgin of
hanging in the

treetop aviary with the Evian
glass bottle wind chimes—

"I always say: if you can stab it and it doesn't bleed
it ain't my work."
If you can stab it and it doesn't bleed
nail a tree to it and nail me to the tree
the cradle I made the cradle I made
for one two three one two three
"Family family family!" on three.

The football team kills the family at kickoff
and the field goal makes it three like baby

it's war

the dead are here and
you don't know how to breathe
for their attendance
you have to attend
here they come
set the table
the cherry table you made
with the cherry wood
it has lights in it
"I only pick the trees that grow out of
the most difficult earth
because it makes them tough
and I want tough trees"
tough trees are me
tough trees are mean
they raise me
I am number one in the tough tree family
the only child in the tough tree
family tree you'll see
isn't that glory
a carpenter
we have to learn how to serve each other
to go under the people who would
put other people down and serve them
and make the good in them happen
and we are damned
to serve
this cradle a glyph a letter
this wood cradle is burning but the baby will
never burn in it.
The baby who will never burn in it
cut the umbilical cord and the telephone cord
with one sword. It's war