an old writer and his words

  • BUENOS AIRES ON THE GENESEE

    If this were Buenos Aires, if I were Borges, it would all make a great deal of sense. A man, older, and older still if you look closely, walks into an elegant hotel bar. A jazz quintet is playing, straight up, trumpet, piano, guitar, stand up bass, drum kit. The older man is wearing white…

    Lou Faber

  • IF ONLY I COULD

    I keep thinking about the songI would’ve writtenif only I had learnedto play guitar instead of piano.It is just that a melodyon a piano, for me at least,would always have leaned classicaland I truly hated Schubert’s leiderso I never even thought of trying.Still, even with my limited voiceI could’ve been Leonard Cohensave his time as…

    Lou Faber

  • GALWAY

    I remember it as thoughit was yesterday, not eight years ago,the evening cool, the streetcrowded, the pubs along High Street:Freeney’s, The Front Door,Tigh Neachtain, Sonny Molloy’sstill warming up as the nighttightened it grip, the Guinnesswashed the taps, filled the pintsand people sat along the streetsome with guitars, one a bouzouki,and all with a song whichyou…

    Lou Faber

  • AMERICAN IDOL

    He was well on his wayto achieving his dreamof being a musical idol. He had long since masteredthe air guitar, could shredwith the best, Hendrix,Clapton, and he had conqueredthe piano fingerings of mostof the Billy Joel Songbook,his paper keyboard worn flat. Clarence Clemons was provinga serious challenge, the air saxwas by reputation the mostdifficult of…

    Lou Faber

  • A SIMPLE SONG

    Much as every person is a Buddha every guitar can play a simple song. Some will lay it badly, some will break a string, some will play with an unspoken regret, but all have the capacity, recognized or not, to create a moment of memory. On this night there are two, both skilled, honed of…

    Lou Faber