Ocean Avenue

I’ve been taking occasional breaks from this novel-in-progress to mess with some music. Not exactly a reinvention of wheels… more like some late-night blues written last year while living way out in Flatbush, BK. Turned out to be a time or hermitage, fat rusty bars on the windows, occasional break-ins, no sunlight, sirens and all night sub-woofer thumping, and a voracious roach season come spring. Cruising Flatbush Ave in the wee hours gave city walking a whole new dimension and made my tenth year in NY seem brand new, not always in a good way, but it felt like legitimate city life beyond whatever we transplants claim while residing amid the cafes and Citibikes. I came down with pneumonia last winter and was cage-bound for almost three weeks, the brain too foggy to write prose, so I cranked out thirty or so bummer songs and managed to record a couple with some friends. Finally mixing those down. “Get Light” was mean to be Fleetwood Mac—meets—Fugazi but these ideals never add up. Was a time when—to me and my friends, at least—guitar solos were for wankers, but given that kids these days don’t like guitars anyway I figured I’d indulge with a little Crazy Horse. It’s in the white-boy blood. More of this stuff sitting on a reel (uh, computer) waiting to be finalized for my musical pen-pals. Why do we still make this stuff? Oh, only when life stings and it’s what you know to do…