The Goddess Lakshmi

SoM6ody's hOuse is buRn1ng, doWn, dOwn, dowN.

2011-11-08T10:02:00.000-08:00

Photo: Jafe Campbell

Last Sunday Elliot Pineiro showed up at Paris Blues and blew the house down on Calvo original "Leave Me." Pineiro and his band Sumba Swing have been fixtures in Harlem's latin jazz scene for some years and resident band The Goddess Lakshmi was honored by his presence.

The Goddess Lakshmi performs
Sunday evenings at 8pm
at Paris Blues
2021 ACP @ W121st
Through December 18th

Lakshmi featured in The Uptowner

2011-11-06T13:17:00.000-08:00

This excellent video created by By Elizabeth Harball and Yumna Mohamed was featured in The Uptowner.

A war is over.

2011-10-22T17:56:00.000-07:00

At long last the Iraq war is over with all of our troops set to be home in time for the winter solstice.

I did what I could. I signed and circulated petitions. I attended the few and far between protests that a generally disinterested public could muster. I emailed obsessively to my representatives. I composed and posted anti-war songs. I left home for Pennsylvania in 08 and campaigned for Obama (naively believing his anti-war rhetoric). I am proud to announce that all of my efforts amounted to zero.

I am happy this episode in American history is over. I will be happier still when things are wrapped up, allegedly by this coming summer, in Afghanistan.

I wish I could say that a lesson has been learned.

At least now it seems like the youth of this country have woken up. The OWS protest have provided me with faint a ray of hope. I have been down there several times now. It is inspiring to watch history turn once again on it's axis just a few hundred feet from it's last pivot point: The World Trade Center.

One of the most elegant and moving fixtures of OWS is the "mic check". It begins by the orator calling out "mic check". Those nearest to him repeat that phrase and each subsequent thing said after that. The outer circle does the same and thusly the content of the entire speech is disseminated in ever widening circles.

There is a repertoire of defined hand signals that are employed by the audience to indicate generalized responses such as; I like that, I don't like that, I'm confused, that is completely unacceptable and wrap it up.

I have heard varying reports on why the "General Assembly" conducts itself in this fashion. Some sources say that it was originally imposed by city restrictions against megaphones. Others sources say that it is an attempt to humanize the oratory in an Aristotelian fashion and consequently the decision making process as well. Either way, the latter is it's effect.

Some Enchanted Evening

This Sunday we will be introducing a coda that I wrote for I Want You For My Man. It will be sung rubato and acapella by The Sublime Miss Kosi. I liked how in the original version it ended so abruptly but after a few go's I began to feel like I was cheating the audience. I know the mechanical Broadway tricks of ending a song in a way so that applause is automatic and always endeavor to resist them. But, I also like it when the composer takes me along on the journey and gives me sufficient cues on where and when to show my appreciation. I thought and thought about how to do this. Eventually I took my inspiration from Rodgers and Hammerstein's score of South Pacific, specifically Some Enchanted Evening. After it crescendos, there is a lovely coda which has always moved me, even as a child. I hope you like my version of it.

Joey Get's Burned

2011-10-12T11:49:00.000-07:00

Photo: René Calvo

By 9pm the party had swelled to over 50 people. The dining room table was overflowing with offerings. The wine was flowing. The Apostles were rocking the house. Lakshmi was up next.

We played to a distinctly Harlem crowd. It was a diverse cross section of America. The youngest attendee was no more than three and the oldest into their eighties.

Our substitute bass player was a no show and Jeff Young generously offered to jump in and cover. With his eyes glued to my hands, as they moved over the guitar's ebony fingerboard, he deftly laid out a groove. The crowd cheered. They were primed.

I made the announcement that we would be marching to the garden. I asked everyone to take a piece of scrap paper and write down something that they wanted to let go of, a fear, grudge, loss, something that was no longer serving them.
"We will stuff them into Joey's pockets and free them in a puff of smoke."
Everyone got to work. The children were the most earnest.

With drums and hand claps we made our way out into the night and beneath the swelling moon. Joey was ignited. In a burst of fireworks he erupted into flames.

Video: Birgit Nagele

Much later, in the wee hours. Kosi emailed this poem to me. 

Dancing With Joey 

The crowd has gathered

with drums and bells and chants –

Joey dies today.

                        I die today.

My self loathing

my psychosomatic neurosis

my roadblocks and insecurities

are tossed into the fire.

I am tossed into the fire.

I am the dirty sacrifice.

I dance with the wooden demon.

My palms against his palms

our fingers lock.

My bare feet crack the kindling

and splinter

while the flames that lick my thighs

burn his clothes

and my clothes

            off.

naked…

He wraps flaming wooden arms
around my waist as I
breathe in smoke
the burning wood and sage and bitterness
from his lungs.
Flames scratch
            lick my neck and bare chest
melt my skin.

I am burning…

Joey dances.
His hips press my hips.
He pulls me down
into the ashes.

I am consumed…
                       ravaged…

Black diamonds appear where nipples were.
My pubis is burnt into rubies.
The music crescendos.
Charcoal burns my back.
My body screams.
                             I scream.
The music screams.
Flames lap between my jewels
to the empty spaces
where the rubbish things –
my bricks — are singed into ash
and dust
and Joey’s charred wood
falls away…

I am golden.
        I am precious.
               I am purified.

Out of the drawer. (or in Massachusetts: Draw)

2011-10-06T22:08:00.000-07:00

I wrote "I want you for my man." I think more than a year ago. When I first played it I was so proud of myself for having written such an upbeat tune. I thought it might be wise to have one or two. Jeff's immediate response was. "That's not upbeat, it's all whiny and complain-y." So it remained ensconced on my hard-drive in the "lyrics" folder.

I had written it in Brooklyn after going to a birthday party at a Mexican Restaurant in Sunset Park. I don't know if any of you have been out there, but it is out there. It was a warm June evening and the sun was setting late. Fireflies had just begun making their appearance. As I was heading home an impossibly lovely young woman agreed to accompany me on the long train ride. We spent more than an hour talking about everything. Nothing ever came of it. I was happy enough not being treated as if I was invisible. (Note: See Lakshmi tune "Invisible Man")

Then a few weeks ago I thought that maybe I could change some of the lyrics and have Kosi sing it from the opposite perspective. It would only take a little tinkering. Kosi liked it and like everything she knocked it out of the park. But then she suggested we sing it as a duet. So I fiddled with the text a little more and we changed it to a duo. I'm still fiddling with the text. Just ask Kosi.

I wanted a Mama and Papa's kind of sound and to that effect we added a lot of harmonies. We had a big Harmonic section that was supposed to be in the middle where one by one each band member joins in. While rehearsing it during a run through it ended abruptly. Everybody laughed.
"That was way cool." Amos said.
"Yeah. Lets keep it just like that." was my reply.

Cold Wind Coming

2011-09-29T16:42:00.000-07:00

Photo: www.seangilligan.net

I don't know if you remember the night of December 21, of 2010 but it was the winter solstice and it occurred simultaneously with a lunar eclipse, also known as a "blood moon". According to NASA the last time these astronomical events took place in sync was on Dec. 21, 1638, and it won't happen again until at least 2094. That was the night I wrote the original lyrics for Cold Wind Coming. The song opens with that setting:

Pale moon rising, through clouds of amber and grey.

I had set an alarm for 2:30am. I built a fire out in the back. The trees were bare and there was a thin coat of snow.

I didn't finish polishing the lyrics until I went to Santa Cruz the following spring. I knocked off 5 half finished projects there in one week with the aid of the magical coffee from LuLu Carpenters and daily sessions of Bikram Yoga.

When I returned to NY and introduced it to the band we had a hard time with it. I had envisioned it as a Reggae number but I had a difficult time singing and playing on the upbeat so it turned into like some kind of metal thing. I was fine with that for awhile and thought "well, lets explore it."

We struggled with it for some months and it never seemed right. About two weeks ago we discussed it and I reminded everybody that it was originally intended to have a Reggae beat. We spent about 15 minutes analyzing and discussing what exactly makes Reggae sound... like Reggae. Then we broke it down and each of us kind of spoke sang what we should be playing.

I told Kosi that she should sing it. She knew all the words already and it would make it a lot easier for me. (Actually, She knows the all of the words to every tune we do. She's just that way.) She looked at me blankly however.

"Are you talking to me?"
"Who elses job is it to do the singing in this band?" I asked her.
She shrugged.
"Everybody?"

We tried it in rehearsal right before the following gig. It clicked. I knew it was a good piece and we were finally on the right track. We even tried performing it that night. The sky didn't even fall.

This week I spent hours crafting a solo for it. My hands were so sore that I went down to Chinatown to see if I could get a massage for them. The brute assaulted me. He pounded away at my back and feet and didn't even touch my hands.

Despite the cramping I really enjoyed working on it. It's interesting to take the techniques I developed to learn other peoples material and apply them to my own work. Hope you can come hear it. -Rene

Sea Sex and Sun

2011-09-22T08:59:00.000-07:00

I am in Provincetown for the Tennessee Williams festival. We had a blast of pure sunshine yesterday and I spent the afternoon biking along the National Seashore. Today it is grey, heralding the end of summer, tomorrow.

Last night Lou, one of the actors in the festival, invited me to a little party on Captains Wharf. He and his partner are renting the weather-beaten shack where Williams fell in love with Kip. It is the very location of Something Cloudy Something Clear, the piece he is playing the lead in. We drank wine on the dock and traded theater tales. At one point I got to sit in the room where TW wrote The Glass Menagerie. Listening to the sound of the ocean beneath the floorboards and the laughter of the gulls, I could imagine one could get a lot of work done in place like that.

That is what the week has been like so far. Riding a bike along a starry sky in the charming narrow streets of P-town. Lots of little parties with actors and directors and producers in restaurants that are too expensive. Annka and I have been ruminating for some time about making a musical for TGL. I have an idea of something like a cross between The Odyssey and Help... only for the stage.

On Saturday I head back to NYC. It's a long drive for my little Smart. On Sunday we hit the boards again with The Goddess at Paris Blues. This is my last trip for awhile. Or at least so I think. I have a half dozen new pieces to work out with the band, all in various states of completion, waiting in my black mother of pearl embossed notebook. It is going to be nice having a long stretch of playing with the gang.

Last Sunday, our first back, we had a full house. The band played better than ever. Kosi's singing is white hot. It really feels like we are starting on a higher level. I can't wait to see what we build to this round.

The Goddess Returns III

2011-09-15T11:15:00.000-07:00

Its been awhile since I have posted my friend. In that time I have journeyed to California, and unlike the tune I have returned. From there I went to Reno Nevada and then onward to the Black Rock Desert in the north. I attended Burning Man. I was a first time "Burner". As a novice I experienced that special thrill only the uninitiated feel. It filled me with fresh inspiration. Not only musically but spiritually. I caught a glimpse of what our future could be. If only that contagion of generosity that permeated Black Rock City could spread beyond the dust storms of The Playa and onto the great expanse of the American continent.

I have in mind a Hip Hop song based on the experience. You need a lot of words to rap and I have a long tale to tell. Lets see how it goes.

We rehearsed for the first time in weeks. The A team is back together again. Most remarkably Kosi, who has not taken a day off since I left, has risen up another level in her singing. I can't wait for you to hear her and to see you all again.

The Mystery Deepens

2011-07-27T21:33:00.001-07:00

This is a tune I wrote during a jam session at The Harlem Flophouse. At inception it was a silly song with the opening lyric "I don't like your mother." There is a recorded version of it in the music section of my website. We were laughing like crazy when I penned it. But the tune stuck with me and in the following days and weeks I added lyric after lyric. Eventually I had to accept that it wanted to be something more than what I had originally intended. I had so much material by that point it was easy to cut out the jokes.

When Kosi joined the band I asked her which tunes she wanted to sing. The Mystery was her first request. She was curious about where some of the lyrics came from. Usually I like to be oblique in my answers about the origins of tunes. I like to leave them open to a multitude of interpretations. But the truth is that I have very well defined methods. One of them I call "the snapshot". A snapshot is a series of descriptions of what I am actually seeing and feeling at the moment. They often contain specific images which may appear to be unrelated to the content.

I told Kosi that "the picture" mentioned in the song actually exists. I dug it out of a drawer and showed it to her. I thought it would be nice for her to have a real image to go along with her performance.

Another method I use is stream of consciousness. This lyric came about that way.

I don't like the mystery
Or when it falls at night.
And just because it's history.
Well it doesn't make it right.

You have to be in the zone for ones like that. I thought it was beautiful when I first heard it. I didn't change a word, even though I have no idea of what it means. What I do know is that it conveys something I was feeling in such a powerful way that words cannot describe it. They can only define the parameters.

When things like that happen I stand aside and let them be.

Milestones

2011-07-12T12:09:00.001-07:00

Photo: Jafe Campbell

We are winding up our extended stint at Paris Blues. It has been a personal milestone for me. It is not a trivial thing to have a weekly gig in NYC that pays. Even my mother is impressed. When I first started studying the guitar a few years back my teacher asked me what my goals were. I told him then that all I wanted was to have a weekly gig at some dive bar that pays. He shrugged and said "That's certainly attainable." And here we are.

I have always had a knack for tune-smithing. It took me a long time to appreciate it. I was always the guy in theater pieces who played the character that played the guitar. I often came up with original material. Once when I was 17 I won the role of Feste in 12th Night at our town's little summer theater. A town called Chelmsford Massachusetts. The play was being staged as a Western. In a single night I scored the entire piece. At our first rehearsal, as we got to the first musical interlude, the director instructed us to 'just skip over this for now." I raised my hand and voiced that I had written something already. He raised an eyebrow and asked me to me play it. We went through the entire script just like that, pausing at each song and me offering: "I got that one too." Every piece save one was kept in the show, along with a completely original tune that was done as an encore. I am sure I stepped on somebodies toes that night but nobody ever said a word to me about it.

See. To me it seemed like a trick. I could never figure out why everybody didn't do it. If only they knew how easy it was. You just make it up.

I spent most of my life trying to do what was hard for me. I wanted to accomplish something. I wanted to be master of my own fate. It wasn't until I bought The Harlem Flophouse that I learned what it was like to feel the wind behind your sails.

The theater phase of my life ended when I bought that house and for seven years most of my creative energy went into realizing that project. During that era I had two friends who were professional musicians. One of them an international opera star. Whenever he was in town they would want to come over to jam with me. I could never figure out why. I wasn't much of a musical technician. I could do a few things but nothing like them. We would sit in the spooky main hall of that Victorian townhouse and I would channel music from out of the ether. Several of the pieces the band now plays like Love Monkey and Frankie and Ronnie came from those sessions. That is what they liked. That was why they wanted to hang with me. One day I woke up and realized that I had a gift and that I should embrace it.

I have to give thanks to my yoga practice for my enlightenment. Luckily I only had to learn the lesson of accepting what is offered to me a few thousand times before I could hear it. That is why the band is called The Goddess Lakshmi. She is the Hindu goddess of abundance.

After my epiphany I decided to seriously study the guitar. That is when I met my teacher, Scott. And that is when I began to really write and record music. I stumbled onto an online music community where I was able to share and develop new works. I received a lot of encouragement and positive feedback there.

While playing solo at one of the Flophouse parties I met Jeff. He asked me if I had a band. I told him, no, "but I am interested". He said the magic words "I play the bass." We started practicing and developing work together. We began playing open mics which pretty much sucked. Typically you had to show up at 6pm to get on the list. Then you had to wait until past midnight to play one or two songs. At that point you were performing to a room full of nobody listening. That is where I learned the trick of adding a 6th or 11th chord to the end of each tune. Given the right cue people will applaud almost anything. It's kind of like feeding fish. If you don't believe me just go to any Broadway show.

Once we played at a bar called The Karma Lounge. I had no idea what kind of place it would be. We got there and I found out that they catered to Hip-Hop spitters. These vampires charged $20 bucks for every tune you played as part of some phony contest. I wanted to walk out but Jeff said. "We're here and we have our gear, just pay the man." The hall was filled with the blackest negros I had ever seen. They came on the PATH train from the vast slums of New Jersey. They had saved their dimes for their big chance in New York City. I wondered what they would make of us but unlike everywhere else we had played they were quiet and attentive, laughing in all the right places.

Then I got the idea of playing at house parties. There was free food and drink. People actually listened before they applauded. We played at a couple of different lofts in SoHo. Hollis joined the band as a gift for awhile. I had met her during an Anusara immersion. She was used to drumming for much bigger acts (she plays for Boss Hogg) but she liked what I was doing. One weekend we had a gig in The Lower East Side at Orchard Ally park. Hollis couldn't do it. She was out of town for her mothers 70th birthday. That's when we got Amos. We knew it was a fit. Shortly afterwards when Hollis quit, he officially joined as the groups percussionist. He is also an experienced composer. He has more than once lent his expertise as we shepherded a new tune out of the gate and onto the dewy pasture of live performance.

Here's the part about Paris Blues. When I first moved to Harlem eleven years ago I was immediately drawn to this venue. But every time I went in I never saw more than three people in the joint. Eventually, despite the fact that the place was dripping with ambiance, I lost interest. Then I got the idea of making a gig there. It took me several tries to work up the courage before I went into that dark and silent place. I met Sam, the dapper and elegant owner who had presided over several decades there. Sam looks like the best dressed dude in a Blaxploitation Flick. I offered to play for free. He enthusiastically accepted. But this was the deal. Once we started drawing an audience he had to pay the band. He agreed.

A few weeks later during one of the snowiest winters in NYC ever, we began playing. Soon after we started the venerable jazz musician Les Goodson began a Wednesday Night open mic. Then Atiba Kwabena started playing on Thursdays. Now a place that was sinking into the mire of Harlem's forgotten history is alive and kicking. Unlike most spots it is truly multi-racial and multi-generational. Lakshmi itself has fans as young as 3 and well into the golden years too. This is something I am very proud of.

Around about February I resurected Love, a tune I had written in Germany ages ago. Amos and I talked about how much more effective it would be as a duet. So I went to one of Les's open mics. That's how I met Kosi. That whole story is in a previous post. And with that the band was complete.

Since then there have been nights where we have played to two or three people and nights when the joint was jammed. There have even been moments when we sang to an empty bar. Everybody in the band sings, by the way. After about eight weeks the bar started to pay us and they have stood by our agreement, paying us no matter what the house is like. Now I just have to figure out what our next step is.

My kingdom for a stove!

2011-07-06T08:43:00.000-07:00

The Black Orchid of Paris Blues: The Sublime Miss Kosi
www.seangilligan.com

We were working on a new song, called "I want you for my man." (Sadly, this song is not about a threesome.) The production was coming together well, complete with Mamas-and-the-Papas style harmonies and pretty girls with big skirts dancing on platforms in the background. However, it was missing it's single most important element: raised lighters.

Once I recognized the lack, I was forced to admit with embarrassment that I can't light a lighter.

Seriously, though. I can't.

As I spoke my confession to my band mates during rehearsal, the room went silent. I could feel six eyes peering at me in complete horror. I wished somebody would say something. Anything.

Finally, Jeff spoke.

"You mean," he stammered, "you mean if I were here dying, you couldn't light me a bong to save my life?"
"No, I couldn't."
"Not cool, man."

I wrestled with the disturbing image of our esteemed bass player slowly dying of marijuana deficiency while I stood by watching helplessly. Jeff was right; that was not cool. What kind of friend and band mate was I that I couldn't even come through with such a simple act of relief at such a critical time of need? The thought nearly brought tears to my eyes.

"But wait!" I gasped, suddenly brightening up with the glow of revelation. "I could light it on the stove!"

The tension in the room melted away like warm cotton candy. The potential crisis had been averted and all was right with the world again.

As I sit here now, warming my feet by a skid row coal stove, it occurs to me that a stove would be a useful thing to have handy in case I ever need to light an emergency bong. However, I've never brought a stove with me to a show. None of my dresses have any pockets and my breasts are not large enough to store one inside my bra. How unprepared I've been! How will I ever come through in time of need, should the situation arise?

As such, dear audience, I now leave the charge to you. If any or all of you would be so kind as to bring your stove with you the next time you come see the Goddess Lakshmi, you would be doing your part in preventing accidental death by marijuana deficiency.

But don't bring a lighter. Or matches. I can't light them either.

Sorry.

Rehearsal

2011-06-22T09:18:00.000-07:00

Jeff brought his step-mother to rehearsal yesterday. Given the cast of characters in our band one wonders why he didn't just bring a homunculus for us to stick pins into. Among the amusing nuggets we were able to mine was this gem of a tale about his first car ride as a ten year old with his new mom. Apparently he was not pleased with her presence and informed her by kicking the back of her seat for the entire trip. Now we know what to expect on tour.

We were preparing a new piece to present. It is entitled The Invisible Man. It has nothing to do with Ralph Ellison. It sprang from a conversation I had with a friend of mine during his visit to The City. He remarked on the remarkable number of outrageous beauties that inhabit our island. "Yes." I replied. That is a pleasure I never tire of. They come here from all over the world. Unfortunately they quickly master the art of making one feel invisible."

We had the usual amount of wrangling over form, feel, and harmonic structure. Its a struggle with these cats but well worth it. The tune unfailingly re-emerges much stronger.

Then it was Kosi's turn to present a new piece. It is entitled Uptown (as in I don't want to go-no-mo). It was nice to see somebody else wriggling on the hook. She did handle it admirably. A lesser man might have been reduced to tears. The cats quickly chopped it up but it is durable and I have a feeling it is going to be something to hear.

You can title this and post it whenever you want... or don’t, you know, whatever

2011-06-18T18:45:00.000-07:00

He was sitting alone in the corner of the dark bar, mysterious figure that he was, with one hand on a Sugar Hill brew and the other tapping a violent rhythm like thunder on the table in front of him. His hat was pulled down over his eyes, drawing a shadow over the man. Except for his nervous rhythm, he seemed cool and calm-- impervious to wiles. My first thought was to dismiss him and carry on my business of drinking until the drinking was through, but something about him made me curious, and from the way he sat, turning to face me every time I crossed the room, I could tell that he was curious too.

Finally, my curiosity got the better of me and I approached him. He invited me to sit beside him, which I did, reluctantly. He said his name was Rene Calvo, and removed his hat as I sat down. I could now see his eyes, which were dark, like coal. He inquired my name, which I told him. When he asked what I do for a living, I told him that I was an out-of-work jazz singer, but that these days I spend most of my time dreaming.

"Really?" he said, suddenly appearing more animated. "I have a rock band and I could use a female singer."
"Yeah, right," I said, rolling my eyes. "Everybody wanna be a rock star."

He showed me a postcard of his band, featuring himself surrounded by three well-dressed Nubian princesses. He was wearing a long suede jacket in a charming shade of hibiscus red and holding a guitar, while his princesses looked on alluringly. The top of the card read "The Goddess Lakshmi."

This was not enough to convince me, as anyone can have any mumbo jumbo printed on a postcard for distribution.

"Do you trust me?" he asked.
"Why should I trust you? You're a stranger."
"Yes, but I'm an open book."

Even as I was pondering these words, he pulled back the curtain in front of what I thought was a wall, and what lay before me gleaming was a twisted three-ring circus of activity. He stepped inside and beckoned me to follow. I froze, petrified but ever more curious. I watched as he approached the two gentlemen who seemed to be in the center of the activity.

"What's going on, boys?" he said, jovially addressing the pair.

One of them, a fascinating figure whose skin was as black as ebony on one side of his face and a titillating white on the other, was lighting up a bong. This character, I found out later, was called Amos Christ.

"Hey! Fucking a dude! Party's on!" he drawled, taking a hit.
"Yeah, baby!" the other quipped, pulling down on what looked like a chauffeur's cap. I found out later that his name was Jazzy Jeff. "Skeeze my pole!"
"Skeeze the pole; pass the bowl!" Rene laughed, and took a hit from the bong.

"Who's at the door, man?" Jeff asked after a second. I trembled like a king hemmed in by his pawn, wondering if now was the time to run.
"Yeah, man, let that sweet thing on in. Let her on in, man."

To be continued...

Juneteenth

2011-06-15T15:49:00.000-07:00

Juneteenth is a portmanteau of June and nineteenth. It is the celebration of a pivotal date in Black American history.

Abraham Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation on September 22, 1862, with an effective date of January 1, 1863. The proclamation had minimal effect on most slaves’ day-to-day lives. Juneteenth commemorates June 19th as the day Union General Gordon Granger with 2,000 federal troops arrived in Galveston Texas to take possession of the state and enforce the emancipation of its slaves.

This year Juneteenth falls squarely on Sunday and The Goddess Lakshmi will be celebrating with the traditional enunciation of the Emancipation Proclamation... set to a hip-hop beat. Rappers and spoken word artists are invited to take the mic.

The Sublime Miss Kosi

2011-06-06T17:26:00.000-07:00

Photo: www.seangilligan.com

I first met Kosi at an open mic at Paris Blues. Her striking silhouette immediately caught my attention as she sat at the bar quaffing her signature tequila sunrise. I was taking pictures of the Les Goodson Quartet for Paula to send out to the Harlem Blogs. I asked Kosi if I could take a picture of her and she asked me "What's it for? I told her that I was an aficionado of feminine beauty. She laughed and permission was granted.

Later when I heard her sing I was impressed not only by the quality of her voice but also by the intelligence she brought to the lyrics. Even the most banal standard becomes nuanced and layered by her interpretation. I asked her if she wanted to do a duet of a new piece I was introducing called "Love". It went well and since that night we have slowly incorporated her into The Goddess Lakshmi.

"What's a band called The Goddess Lakshmi doing with no chicks in it anyways ?" she recently stated to me.

The enigmatic Kosi is from Queens and nobody seems to know much else about her. Not even her last name. Unaccompanied she appears just before the gig and disappears into the night shortly after. Direct questions are parlayed by her Mona Lisa smile. I felt odd introducing her as just "Kosi" so I invented The Sublime Miss Kosi. It was a play on Lady Day and The Divine Miss M. Then Les picked it up on his Wednesday open mic night and began using it too. The other night Paula told me she wanted to make T-shirts with The Sublime Miss Kosi on it. So it appears to be sticking.

Mumbo Jumbo

2011-06-02T10:34:00.000-07:00

Photo: www.seangilligan.com

My original intention was to write a dance tune. I was imagining something along the lines of the Mashed Potato or The Twist. I began by strumming a nice Em riff . I added a simple yet elegant guitar hook rooted in the surf tradition. Then I began to think about lyrics. I had the idea for some time to write a song about chair dancing. Not the strip club kind of chair dancing but the office worker confined to their cubicle kind of chair dancing. I was improving lyrics over the riff with the refrain: " Chair Dancing, She got me, Chair Dancing Yeah!" ...and some bits about sexting with strangers. The undefined part of it was coming out like this:Um maka wanna nana
Ya ma neema nama
Oko poko say papa
Ahmalee mayana
Mama lingua no wannaO mi coco pata.I often use gibberish to get a sense of the meter and to figure out what the tune would be. As I went on like this I started laughing out loud. This is always a good sign. It reminded me of the kind of mumbo jumbo my little brother and I would improvise when we were kids. "These should be the lyrics." I thought. Instantly I came up with the refrain:What he say?
What he say now?
What he say?
What he say?

I liked the deliberately racist over tones. I googled mumbo jumbo and confirmed its decidedly bigoted etymology. It's always fun to mock and exploit simultaneously.When I first presented the tune to Kosi her eyes grew wide. I asked her to just improvise and she couldn't stop laughing enough to do it. So eventually I had to write it down and email it to her. She memorized them quite quickly to my amazement, faster than I was able to actually.The format goes like this. Guitar hook intro. I sing it. Refrain. I sing it again, Kosi challenges me. (We do an Ike and Tina Turner thing where we argue onstage) Refrain. Guitar Hook. Kosi sings it while I answer her. Guitar Hook outro diminuendo. The band picked it up quickly.

I did make the mistake of telling the drummer that the beat was getting mushy in the middle. I was rewarded with a 10 minute lecture on why it's not important for the drummer to keep the beat and that it was actually the bass player who's responsible for keeping the beat. This was concluded with a quote from Miles Davis ladled on top. That's band life. Note: I nearly neglected to mention one of my favorite moments related to this incident. As some point Amos was telling Kosi as she faltered, to just make it up. "It's just gibberish." He told her. "It's not gibberish." was her retort. "It's in a language we don't understand yet." This is the highest compliment I have ever received for my song writing.

Apocalypse Sunday Live at Paris Blues

2011-05-24T20:47:00.000-07:00

Photo: www.seangilligan.com

Last Sunday, despite dire predictions of apocalypse (or perhaps because of) The Goddess Lakshmi (band) performed on stage at Paris Blues in Harlem. The well known uptown venue provided a haven for those not raptured. Now, with six months of hell on earth before us, we invite you to join in the fun. Make merry. The beast is upon us.

Influences or what I listen to. And you can too.

2011-05-19T07:42:00.000-07:00

I often get asked what kind of music we play. We're a band. We play music. If you are curious then come and see us.

Sometimes I try to explain it as a rock band. Sometimes I say "blues-rock" but I immediately regret it. Nothing could be more redundant than that. Then there is alt-rock, art-rock, indy-rock and I am OK with that. But really, we're just a rock band.

If you are interested in how I am thinking about music then it might be helpful to know what I listen to. I have a lot of records and cds but I rarely play them. Mostly I listen to the radio. This is what I consider (here comes the tag) The Best Radio in New York City.

WNYE 91.5—I love "the morning show" from Kexp in Seattle and locally produced "wake up". UPDATE: I am so upset. Kexp has been replaced by the smarmy Djs of Wfuv with a show that has some idiotic title like The Underground Basement or The Secret Cafe.
WHCR 90.3 — various, my favorite... Sugar Treats Mondays at 8pm
WQXR 105.9 — Recently WNYC bought this banal, top 100 classical music station and turned it into an oasis of contemporary culture.
WFMU 91.1—Sometimes these guys get too silly for unbearably long stretches but you are going to be introduced to music here that you will not experience anywhere else.
WBAI 99.5 — Mostly talk but when they play music it is usually good.Check out Shocking Blue with Delphine Blue on Fridays from 8-10
WNYC 93.9 — John Schaefer's "new sounds" every night at 11pm What else can be said?
WKCR 89.9 — Yes Phil Schaap talks too much but he has a lot to say. Great Jazz programing, And a very cool Indian music show on Sundays.
WBGO 88.3 — Solid Jazz programing. Great blues show on Fridays.
WFUV 90.7 — I try to avoid this pseudo-college station except on Sunday Nights at 8pm when Rich Conaty does "the big broadcast" unforgettable radio

See you all Sunday. Rene

House Party

2011-05-18T17:29:00.002-07:00

Resurrection Day

2011-04-25T13:30:00.000-07:00

Playing the blues for Mr. Blues at Paris Blues

2011-04-20T07:49:00.000-07:00

Samuel Hargress Jr. is the owner of Paris Blues bar in Harlem, New York. While experiencing dramatic changes around him, Sam created a timeless place where regulars wear godfather hats, snakeskin leather shoes, and 1940's styled zoot suits. See the project at http://mediastorm.com/training/mr-blues

Testing the limits of stagecraft

2011-04-19T17:48:00.000-07:00

Rene Calvo returns, fresh from his travels in Africa, to perform with his band, The Goddess Lakshmi, for an extended stint at the legendary Paris Blues in Harlem. Calvo, a noted downtown theater impresario (Ailanthus Grove) and owner of renowned boutique hotel The Harlem Flophouse, fronts his latest venture the blues rock band The Goddess Lakshmi (named for the Hindu goddess of abundance). The band plays all original compositions. The Goddess Lakshmi features Jeff Bauer on Bass , Amos Fischer on drums and the sublime Miss Kosi as our featured vocalist.