"Shitty Teeth"

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. . (Andrew And The Pretty Punchers, Canal Street Tavern, 2008)


"Oh the pills, when they don't work
.in your Dad's shirt -
.eyein' me like I'm on your turf

.And the kid, with the shitty teeth
.from down the street
.was standin' there in disbelief"

.(A. Smith "Shitty Teeth")


With the power vested in me (virtually none, thankfully), I do hereby declare the rough mix version of the song "Shitty Teeth," from the upcoming album "No Longer A Lover," to be the greatest recorded performance of ANDREW AND THE PRETTY PUNCHERS.

As befitting the band's name, the song has tons of "pretty" and buckets of "punch."

In short, "Shitty Teeth" is in fact, the shit. It is a truly glorious anthem of a song - wonderfully arranged, and completely realized and delivered by the band.

As for the album in total . . . after approximately 20 listens (once again, of the rough mix) I can honestly say that the new ANDREW AND THE PRETTY PUNCHERS album "No Longer A Lover" is going to be well worth the wait, and then some.

Great melodies and songs, and simply outstanding performances by the band.

The album has managed to wrestle complete control of my car CD player from none other than my brand new Beatles remastered 15 CD box set.

Beatles . . . Schmeatles.

Gimme some "punch" . . . and make it "pretty."

Everyone is in for a real treat.

Trust me on this one.

:-)




[PLEASE NOTE: You can still listen to the world premier solo acoustic version of the song "Shitty Teeth" (complete w/a spontaneous ad libbed 2nd verse!) at the band's MySpace (upper right corner - scroll down & click on the song). It's an excellent vocal performance - one of my favorites, truth be told. Andy sounds like a choir boy, like an innocent 13-year-old slice of priest-meat. The recording is from a "Musician's In The Round" performance at the Canal Street Tavern:

http://www.myspace.com/andrewtheprettypunchers

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"Fishin' For A Good Time Starts With Throwin' In Your Line"

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. . . . .(my Dad, Eddie Liskowiak (a friend), and my Aunt Kate)


One of my favorite photos from days gone by.

More than once I heard my father deadpan something like "I remember that day - we didn't catch a thing" or . . . "We didn't even get a nibble that day" while looking at this picture.

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"EXTRA! EXTRA! **BONUS** BABY PIC!!!"

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("ocho-naughtcho"... baggin' some Z's ... lowerin' the lids ... cruisin' w/the sandman)

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A Picture Says A Thousand Words (At Least)

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A friend of mine gave birth to a bouncing baby boy this past summer. Above is a wonderful picture of the freshly hatched lad resting his noggin in his papa's big paws.

Whoever coined the popular adage "a picture says a thousand words" obviously wasn't anticipating this photo.

The little guy's face alone appears to be asking at least that many questions.

[NOTE: To those of you who may be thinking "Why that baby looks just like a guitar that I once saw," please refer to the blog entry for November 3rd, 2009 titled "Welcome To The Jungle"]
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Texas (a found poem)

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. . . . . . . . . . (Velma West with members of her legal team)



Texas (a found poem)

"Velma West was captured in Dallas after a five week long fling. West is serving a life sentence in Ohio for bludgeoning her husband to death with a claw hammer after he refused to attend a bridge party in Cleveland."
(Dayton Daily News, July 26, 1939)


I wanted to see some cowboys.
I'd been in jail the last 12 years.
The board of pardons told me
it was useless for me to seek

release. I found the world
changed. I bummed rides
mostly on trucks, and worked
my way south through Indiana,

Kentucky, Arkansas, then Texas.
I saw a lot of scenery.
I'd never been out of Ohio before.
I visited a couple of honky tonks.

I didn't get to see a talking picture.
I did want to see one of those talkies.
They weren't so much when I
went to prison in '28.

I don't know whether
I would call this a "fling."
Some of the time it's been
hard work. I believe

I could have rebuilt my health
though I don't know about my life.
I wouldn't escape again if I had a chance.
I just wanted one last adventure

before I am too old. I'm ready
to go back and be good.
What's the use in fighting my return?
No sense in making it hard on the authorities.

They always treated me real fine.
I just wanted to travel. See some
cowboys. But I am disappointed.
I haven't seen a one.









(from the chapbook STUNNED BY THE MOMENT, 1991 - also published in "The Panhandler")

[NOTE: See the "comment" below if you are interested in listening to me drone on and on about "found poems"]

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A Belated Happy Thanksgiving Day Wish

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I would like to offer my belated thanks to my new neighbor Arlene for both her inspiration and good cheer.

Arlene has told me several times that she, Pearl, and Hazel (my other two building mates) are always saying how nice it is to have a "young man" in the building.

I guess that they mean me. . . :-)

Arlene lives across the hall from me on the second floor. She celebrated her 90th birthday on Tuesday.

Arlene has had knee replacement surgery on both knees but insists on climbing up and down the stairs (very slowly) because "it's brighter up here . . . I need the sunlight."





More from Arlene:

"I was at a party when I was a young woman and a man walked into the room. I said to myself 'I want to get to know him better.' We were married for 54 years."

"A lot of time when it gets dark I go into my bedroom and read because it's lonely in this big room. I was up until 4:00 reading last night. I love to read."

"Kevin . . . if you ever see a bunch of morning papers stacked up by my door you might want to walk over to the office and have them call someone to come and get me."



[painting: Edward Hopper "Morning Sun"]
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Sadly Beautiful Song Series, Song #12

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I recently became the proud owner of the newly released 15 CD remastered Beatles box set. It contains each of The Beatles original 13 studio releases, plus the 2 CD "Past Masters" that consists of all non-album singles and EP tracks.

There are 217 songs in total!

There is also a small booklet for each CD, and a DVD that includes 13 "mini-documentaries" about the making of each studio album.

This mammoth box set has been an absolute treat. Just what I needed to bide my time until the new ANDREW AND THE PRETTY PUNCHERS album is officially released.

I hadn't heard the following Lennon/McCartney gem in a few years, but the instant George Harrison played that gorgeous "phased" guitar intro, the song had me clutching at my heart. And check out Harrison's harmonic "ping" at 1:26 of the song. It's nothing short of sublime. I'm not sure there has ever been a lead guitarist with better musical instincts for what an individual song needs. Or one who had a better understanding of the concept of "less is more" (check out his *four* note solo on "I'll Follow The Sun" . . . take *that* all you guitar wankers!)

So without further adieu, I give you #12 in the Sadly Beautiful Song Series . . . one of my all-time favorite goose bump inducers from the Liverpool lads:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-O-wmVqFD4w


Yes It Is
(Lennon/McCartney)

If you wear red tonight
Remember what I said tonight
For red is the color that my baby wore
and what's more it's true
Yes it is

Scarlet were the clothes she wore
Everybody knows I'm sure
I would remember all the things
we planned, understand it's true
Yes it is, it's true
Yes it is

I could be happy with you by my side
If I could forger her, but's it's my pride
Yes it is, oh, yes it is, yeah

Please don't wear red tonight
This is what I said tonight
For red is the color that will make me blue
in spite of you it's true
Yes it is, it's true
Yes it is

I could be happy with you by my side
If I could forger her, but it's my pride
Yes it is, oh, yes it is, yeah

Please don't wear red tonight
This is what I said tonight
For red is the color that will make me blue
in spite of you it's true
Yes it is, it's true
Yes it is, it's true

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Now Be Thankful

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This Thanksgiving I would like to give thanks to my son Andy, my brother and sisters, my friends and my son's friends, my nieces and nephews, my therapist, and my cat Marley.

I am a very fortunate man.

You have been wonderful to me and I am grateful.

Peace, love, and happiness to each and every one of you.

"Now be thankful for good things below
.Now be thankful to your maker
.For the rose, the red rose blooms for all to know"
.(Richard Thompson/Fairport Convention)

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Hey! Check Out My Package! or, What The Hell Is Going On With My Pants?!

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The photo directly above appeared in my November 22nd blog entry titled "Crunchy Gets A Slinky (I Thinky)." As you can see from the original photo at the very top, other than digitally zooming in on myself, I did nothing to alter the picture of me with my sisters Peggy and Monica.

Nevertheless, I must admit that folks are having problems seeing a Slinky in my hands and therefore they are not buying into my "Slinky demonstration" as an explanation for my rather odd stance. So it appears that we are back to square one: I don't have a clue what I am doing in the photo.

However, in lieu of a Slinky sighting, it appears that other "things" are being seen.

My younger sister Connie (aka Lil' Con aka Conkie Fizz) has independently corroborated seeing something in the photo that I initially saw as well, but was too freaked out to mention. Actually, she sees two unusual images, and I just very recently noticed a third:

What the hell is with the profile of the face directly in front of my crotch?!

And what about the extraterrestrial-looking, or cat-like, face on the left (near my right pocket)?!

And what about the almost perfectly shaped dark heart on the right (near my left pocket)?!


In summary: Screw the Slinky scenario! - I wanna know what the hell is up with my shorts?!

That's some weird ass shit right there, that's what that is.

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Jesus! That Looks Like Jesus

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"Anonymous" commented anonymously about the above photo:

"hey, is that Jesus or YOU . . . ??"

I wondered if anyone would catch that.

Believe it or not, it's actually Jesus' 11th grade class picture.

I was thrifting on Woodman Avenue last week and stumbled onto a Nazareth Bulldogs high school yearbook for the year 17.

Sure enough, the Big Guy was in it.

Jesus' extracurricular activities included: Glee Club 1, 2; Track & Field 3; Chess Club 1; Yearbook Committee 2; and Speech & Debate 1, 2, 3.

There was also a picture of classmate John The Baptist. Well, actually it was just a head shot.

The only other person I recognized in the yearbook was Mary Magdalene. Her lone extracurricular activity was Cheerleading 1, 2, 3. No surprise there I suppose.

I was a little surprised that Judas Iscariot wasn't included. I think that maybe by the year 17 he had already transferred to the school's crosstown archrival, the Jerusalem Lions.

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Sadly Beautiful Song Series, Song #11

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Welcome to the 11th song in the "Sadly Beautiful Song Series."

Song #11 is "Dimming Of The Day" by Richard Thompson, as sung by Linda and Richard Thompson.

I much prefer the original version of the song that appears on the Thompson's 1975 album "Pour Down Like Silver," but the version available on YouTube (see link below) is also very nice. Both contain the absolutely sublime and goosebump-inducing husband and wife harmonies.


Dimming Of The Day
(R. Thompson)

This old house is falling down around my ears
I'm drowning in a river of my tears
When all my will is gone you hold me sway
I need you at the dimming of the day

You pull me like the moon pulls on the tide
You know just where I keep my better side

What days have come to keep us far apart
A broken promise or a broken heart
Now all the bonnie birds have wheeled away
I need you at the dimming of the day

Come the night you're only what I want
Come the night you could be my confidant

I see you on the street in company
Why don't you come and ease your mind with me?
I'm living for the night we steal away
I need you at the dimming of the day
I need you at the dimming of the day


Please listen:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UlrZcovu6PI

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Dig It or . . . How Low Can You Go? or . . . Whoa Pal, That's Pretty Deep

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Dear hardcore kevin's myth blog reader,

I have two questions for you:

Question #1 - I own ye olde Smith mansion in deepest East Dayton. Included with the legal papers for the house is a diagram of the property, showing the width and length of the estate. Unfortunately, none of the papers indicate how far down I own the property.

Is it forty feet?

One hundred feet?

To the earth's core? . . . at which point the owner of the property exactly opposite of mind (globally speaking) begins ownership?

Which brings us to my second question:

Question #2 - When I was a young boy I was always told that if you dig a hole deep enough you will end up in China. Does anyone know of a website, or maybe a simple calculation, that would tell me exactly what would be on the opposite side of the Smith estate if I were to dig deep enough? I am hoping that there is a way to calculate this using the exact latitude and longitude of the house as that would also save me quite a bit of yard work. If possible, I would like to try to contact the person who lives directly opposite of me (once again, globally speaking).

I suppose if going directly through the earth's core and out the opposite side would not provide an inhabited land mass, I could forego the longitude, bypass the earth's core, and simply determine the exact latitude of the location directly opposite of the house (this is easier to visualize if you think of the world as a globe rather than a map). I assume that to actually do this (rather than relying on the calculation or formula that I hope to find) would mean digging a tunnel at an angle rather than straight down to the earth's core - considerably less physical labor, but probably more math.

I would like to add that these are serious questions. I feel compelled to mention that because a woman at the Dayton Area Board Of Realtors refused to help me when I called and asked her the first question.

Feel free to leave your responses, suggestions, etc. in the "Comments" section below. As always, you may do so anonymously.

By the way, retirement is still pretty cool. I try to remain active in the community.


Please listen:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jqrwXcOFotw


"dig it, dig it, dig it
.dig it, dig it, dig it"
.(t. beatles)

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Crunchy Gets A Slinky (I Thinky)

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"crunch came slinkin'
.by my house last night"
.(r. pollard)*


Pictured above is yours truly (aka "Crunchy," my childhood nickname). I'm not certain what the hell I am doing, but I believe that I might be showing off my new Slinky toy, or at least pretending that I am.

The photo is from the early 1960s, right before the Smith family moved to Dayton, and I distinctly remember becoming the proud owner of a Slinky just prior to the move from Piqua, Ohio to "the big city."

As a matter of fact, it looks like I may be demonstrating a very intricate trick that I was quite fond of called "Gravity," wherein I would hold one end of the Slinky toy at approximately eye level while letting the other end fall into my lower hand.

Pretty complex stuff.

Hey . . .

It was Slinky. It was Slinky. For fun the best of toys. It was Slinky. It was Slinky. The favorite of girls and boys.


Please listen:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EZL6RGkPjws



*OK - so the actual lyric is "crutch came slinkin'/by my house last night" . . . Robert doesn't mind - trust me.


[ED. NOTE: Let me know if you have a different interpretation of the photo above. As always - be kind please.]

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Photo Of An Ancestor (a poem)

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Photo Of An Ancestor

He died long before
you first kicked
& breathed the sour
air that spilled
from the Cargill plant
and still hangs stagnant
above these streets.
The yellow decay of time
has not colored the creases
that ate at his face
like a corrosive,
eyes flushed with pain
& joy that the years
had rubbed together
like sticks. Eyes
that now pierce
you with light,
like the sliver
of moonlight
inching across the floor
deliberately seeking you out.


(from the chapbook STUNNED BY THE MOMENT, 1990 - also published in Wind Magazine)

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My Sister Was Gangsta Before Gangsta Was Cool . . . My Sister Was Gangsta When They Spelled It With An "R"

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The above picture has always been one of my favorites from the incredible bottomless box 'o Smith family photos (click on to enlarge). It was probably taken in about 1952, two years before I was born. The photo features my Grandma Knapke holding court with her early 1950's grand-brood.

I have to be honest with you though. I don't know what the hell is going on in the bottom right corner. I am certain it is innocent fun, but as a young boy, when I looked at the image it always kind of weirded me out.

When I look at the group photo today I see something that I have never noticed before. The majority of the cousins are smiling. Four notable exceptions are my future siblings.

Hmmm . . . what does it all mean?

Probably not a damn thing, but I've been in weekly therapy for the past six months so I notice that kind of stuff now. :-)

But the absolutely coolest thing that I now notice in the photo is my late sister Peggy in the bottom left corner.

Hey! My future homies/sibs may not be smilin' - but they sure as hell be representin'!

I have no idea what this obvious "gang sign" means ("St. Boniface grade school 4 life?"), and the black & white photo doesn't help. For that matter, even if the picture was in color I'm not sure it would reveal much, because I am not aware of any gangs whose color is/was plaid.

Moral of the story/photo: You didn't mess with the Smith posse at Grandma's house, because they be comin' from Piqua - with frowns all around - and they probably be packin' heat.

Word up.

Peace out.

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Coming Soon . . .

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ANDREW AND THE PRETTY PUNCHERS
"No Longer A Lover"

Track Listing:

Some Good News
Everyone Is Not
Cloudberries
Le Petit Mort
Time Waster
Shitty Teeth
Storm Clouds
Hide And Seek
A Pale Comparison


*Right now* I am listening to the new album by ANDREW AND THE PRETTY PUNCHERS titled "No Longer A Lover"

Perhaps you are doing the same.

No - wait. That's right.

I have the only copy in existence.

I forgot.

My bad.


:-)

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My Mom & Dad Were Cool (a photo essay)

. . ... .. . . . . The . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . End

















(This blog entry is dedicated with love to my sister Peggy who could never get enough of looking at the Smith family's box of photos).

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