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

  • TRIO

    I always wondered if the pianisthunched over his keyboard in the frontof the small club, reinventing a melodywe all thought we knew, the bassistsharing the stage providing support,stopped to note the lyrics offered upby the people in the audience as hecontinued to play, and if so, did henote them for future referenceor did he simply…

    Lou Faber

  • DREAMING OF FLIGHT

    As a child I, like so many others,imagined we might have wingsand could take flight at will, unrestrainedby gravity or parents, a freedomboth denied us: for our own goodthe parents said, silently by gravity.We would look at the sky, the clouds,the birds cavorting without seeming careas we were called in for homework,piano practice, household chores.Now…

    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

  • THE LOBBY BAR AT MIDNIGHT

    Ann Arbor a certain diffidenceButte born of three rum CollinsCarmel the Gucci show windowsDuluth darkened, forebodingErie escalator rattleFairbanks a sound coffinGrapevine grand pianoHilo the restaurant emptyIthaca seeking dinersJacksonville by the exit signsKalamazoo conventioneers droolLincoln and slobberMemphis over the ankh necklaceNatchez girl cross leggedOakland engulfed in smokeProvidence the ficus droopsRehoboth in the shade of the barSalem…

    Lou Faber

  • MANDATORY, FOR NOW

    They were not optional in our family,once a week, half an hour, that andat least 20 minutes daily, the youngestgot the choice of times. He quit after a year, his sisterwas three years in and went on anotherand I was eight years staringat the 88 keys, so many of whichwould never get used, uselessas were…

    Lou Faber

  • RECITAL

    The keys didn’t frighten me. 88 of them, but I’d never use the majority, probably. And the ones I knew were generally well behaved, although they did defy me from time to time, and then said it was my fault, they didn’t respond to wishes, just fingers, And even the audience didn’t bother me, not…

    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

  • PERCUSSION

    After years of going to live jazzI’ve honed my skills to a fine level.I still know next to nothingabout the intricacies of the music,five years of classical piano andI barely understand Bach and Mozart. But I know where to look, whobears watching in the combo,and it isn’t the trumpeter, hewith his ballooning cheeks, someclownish bellows,…

    Lou Faber

  • A CITY LIKE ALMOST ANY OTHER

    somewhere within three blocksof here a limo is disgorgingor swallowing up passengers a child is dreaming of takinglessons on a piano or violinof Carnegie or Alice Tully Halls a woman is rememberingwhat the touch of his fingersfelt on her cheek, tracing her jaw, not shattering it,a tagger prepares for battlecarefully loading his makeshift holster after…

    Lou Faber