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January 24 - Sharing 

We share the air and sunsets and sudden storms, we all know darkness and the glowing moon.  Rain soaks us and the sun light warms us.  The impending end and the confusion that it creates – we share it all. 

We share the road and restrooms.  Street side diners and take out. The suddenness of birth and the struggle to dream. 

The mystical body – so ancient, so sacred – it’s a privilege to be a part of such a beautiful living dream. 

I used to share songs I’d heard with my music buddies, especially new albums.  The ritual peeling off of the plastic, the gentle squeeze to open the cover and the soft pop of the needle touching down.

First time I heard, “You’re going to lose that girl” I immediately called a friend and we got together and listened to it. Sharing listening – who knew? 

As a guitar player, I love the counter play with other players, sometimes the assist and sometimes the melody, sometimes the groove and sometimes the third above voice. 

That’s great music – people sharing, at a high level of love. 

Sharing – here’s someone I want to share with you, a nice man and a wonderful writer, blues singer and bassman -

C R Burgan

Keep sharing

So this is Christmas  

Thank God for the songwriting, otherwise this has been a rather thin year for encouragement.  About thirty songs this year with about eight of them worthy enough to be heard – the rest are just soul food for me.  C R Burgan has kept me going with gigs and open mic’s and a generous heart – it’s good to have friends like that. 

2018 is my seventieth trip around the big yellow star – and the number does get a bit daunting.  I have a recording project in the works for next year, my second CD.  I had no idea where I was going to record it and then Stephen Bigger stepped in and shined a light.  I feel strongly that this will be a good collaboration as he and I are both centered on the most important element on a CD – the song.  I may need a little financial help on this one, hopefully some of you will be receptive. 

The cover band I play in, the B Movie Kings finished out the year with two gigs just before Christmas.  Does it get tiring to play the same songs over and over?  Well, it would if that was what I did.  I always put a little different spin on tunes and some of the classics are just fun to play. 

My trip to Austin, Texas was a little tough – most of the folk who attended are gigging and me not so much, so oftentimes I was playing in rooms with only the moderator present – long way to travel to play in another living room (I hope you’re laughing).  I did get a chance to play at Threadgills and that was memorable. All the attendees were kind and supportive but rather busy with their own careers.  Totally understandable.  I’d like to try this coming year to play out a lot more. 

I auditioned for a ladies singing trio as a guitarist and I made the cut so I have another opportunity to perform – YAY!  Their harmonies are tight and they are nice people – win/win! 

I hope for you and yours, this past year has been a happy one.  More days dancing than worrying, more time laughing than crying, more moments full of love and peace than emptiness.  May the coming year be a year of good surprises, new friends/lovers and many oh-my-god epiphanies. Every day is a gift, please unwrap them carefully and remember to be grateful for every kindness received, it’s easy. 

From my Christian tradition to yours – a blessed, peaceful, joyful Christmas and an interesting but not too disturbing New Year –

Wet Day 

It's raining - I love the rain - especially when I'm dry and warm. The earth is nurtured, the sky is scoured clean and the sun shines a lot brighter afterwards - and rainbows, oh yes, rainbows.

There is also the wonderful wet and spongy feel of water falling all around you as you saunter through the woods.  The dripping branches, the splashy puddles, the soggy kisses on your face and hands and the dampness that creeps in on you, like that hug from that one Aunt who always surprises you.

No wonder that we are baptized in water, we bathe in water and we drink copious amounts of it - we are water. Big soggy bags of it, slogging around this great green rock of ours, gobbling up all the things around us that are filled with water - the plants, the animals and the moist life giving air we breathe.  The patter of rain on a roof, snuggled up in a warm comforter, with a mug of something wet and hot, simply listening to the gentle rat a tat rapping of it dancing above us.  Today, I will give thanks for the blessings that rain brings and pray that the storms to come do not fall too heavily on anyone.

 

 

My name 

For my entire life I've heard my last name pronounced so many different ways. I can't fault folks, it's an unusual name and I've been easy and understanding regarding their attempts to say it.

So, let's review - my last name is Italian. That's right, Italian.  Just like Amerigo Vespucci - do you remember him? How did you pronounce his name? Do you realize that this Italian name is where America comes from? Funny, huh?

Dolciamore:  Dole - chee - ah - MORE- ay   - go ahead, say it a couple of times. First time I heard it said properly was in Sorrento, Italy - boy, that's a great memory.

It's actually two Italian words combined - "dolci" - something sweet, like a sweet dessert and "amore" which means love - Sweet Love.

Man, that is a classy name.

I've been told by well meaning people, relatives, strangers - that I need to change my name to be able to have any success in the performing arts. For a time, as an actor, I did shorten my last name but as I grew older I kept asking myself, " Why? It's a great name. Greatest gift my father gave me beside life itself." 

The best thing for me to do is to gently educate as I'm attempting to do here. During the course of a show, if the audience is paying attention, I simply explain it to them. Without any undue emotion or emphasis. Life's a box of chocolates, but you can't cram them down someones throat.

In the spirit of my name, I offer you this brief explanation. Ciao!

Blog Thoughts Open Mic 

A stage with a mic, amplifiers, cords, stands, stools in front of tables, people, children, dogs, talking, laughter, living room living legends, divas, campfire captains, karaoke kids, singers, players, real dealer show stealer, doodlers and screamers, twisted faces feels it, excusers or apologizers, not ready freddies, unpolished gems, 

Playing for nothing but a few moments of magic that sometimes works but often times it kind of comes up short. Paying for the beers, while the owners fill their till. Cheap entertainment, best, zero is a great fee to pay for this potpourri of people, hangers on, family, friends – ka ching! 

But songwriters, singers, players and other with similar ailments need to exorcise their demons, bringing them to the attention of people who aren’t paying attention, all phones and babble, distractions sucking up focus, and the struggle to play and sing the song as realized is real.

(You mean I need to worry about it being understood/liked/hated, too?) 

A clam or two falls out some times and for some whole bushels are dumped on the heads of the inattentive, unsuspecting mob. What's wrong with chowder?

clap, clap, clap, clap, clap… 

At best, they are sanctuaries where the pilgrims can visit and share their souls, refreshing their spirits and buoying up the faint of heart. 

At worst, a billboard where you can slap up a quick handbill or two, don’t worry about the spelling or the neatness, they don’t count, only real feel here. The ripe odor of beginning compost brilliance – and the reward of the occasional polished performer(s) who need to keep up their chops 

Gotta put it out there, any nobody gonna come a knocking on my door – 

“Hi, I’m Marty from Ben Lomond, Marty Dolciamore. Thanks for coming and supporting live music - it's way better than dead music.”