APRIL 22, 2008, Just got back very early Monday morning from my "2008 New England FlashTour", a weekend affair in Worcester, Massachusetts from 4/17-21. I traveled 750 miles - yes, I know about gas prices!! - to make improvised and composed music with friends, eat well, dig into some 10-year old missed fellowship, and perform at a CD release party at a club called Vincent's.

There were six acts at Vincent's and about 15 more spread out at two other Worcester clubs at the same time. Somewhere in Worcester, every band on the CD was gigging. My set was broken into three parts: 3 songs ('Soldier's Joy', 'Workin' on a Batteau', & 'Very Old Gator') with my dear friend Bob Jordan on 2nd guitar; 2 songs ('Pull Over and Write That Down' & 'Marcel Duchamp') with Jaws of Glee [BHH: guitar, Steve Blake-bass, Pete Zolli-drums, Greg Sullivan-slide guitar]; and 3 songs ('Build a Bridge', 'Want What You Have', & 'Monkey at My Door') by HipBone [BHH: guitar; PZ:bass, Keith Prescott: drumming], who reunited for the gig. HipBone worked like the devil to legitimize odd-lyrical music in Massachusetts between its genesis in 1992 and acrimonious break-up in 1996. It was simply excellent to gig again with Pete and Keith, two of my oldest music pals, who can intuit my idiosyncratic songwriting instantly. Awesome people.
"WANT WHAT YOU HAVE" is from our afternoon HipBone rehearsal (BHH-guitar/voice, Pete Zolli-bass, Keith Prescott-drumming) did at Toad Hall getting ready for the April 19th gig at Vincent's in Worcester, MA. Engineer, Steve Blake, videotaped the HipBone rehearsal at his Toad Hall Studio on Saturday afternoon (the audio of which was also grabbed through discrete mic'ing into a digital hard-drive) and the gig that night.
The synchrony of Pete's 'haircut' riff (during our performing days, Peter VERY OFTEN ended my songs with this riff) and my cough at the very end was accidental, and cool. I'll be giving y'all heads-ups as more of this stuff becomes available. In particular, the live version of 'Monkey at My Door' is something I'm very anxious to see and hear. It was blistering. These videos will eventually all be collectively embedded on my MySpace music page as well. http://www.myspace.com/brethhart
Peace now,
Bret

BHH: voices and instruments, recorded at home during 1999 for the (unreleased) 'Faced' CD by "Blind Pineapple" Phillips

The I Like Toast Blues

I like toast...I like toast
wheat toast...buttered toast
I like toast...the most
TOAST!

I like hash...I like hash
grill-fried hash...toast and hash
I pay cash
'cause I like hash
JUICE!

I like ham...home-smoked ham
eggs and ham
with toast and jam
Sam I Am, you the man!
HAM!

I like toast...I like toast
wheat toast...buttered toast
I like toast...the most
toast
TO-TOAST!

[This is a cut from HipBone's 'Decoupage' CD; featuring Peter Zolli on bass, lots of other things, and production, & Keith Prescott on drums.]

STEREO BIRDNESTS
Bret H. Hart 1998

stereo birdnests on our porch
in big ol' ferns where the sun don't scorch
one to the left
one to the right
homesteads shaped like cups inside

cats can’t reach ‘em,
up too high
and we asked the kids not to give ‘em a fright
one to the left
one to the right
little cup-shaped homes inside

our little finch couples seem to trust us some
and our baby daughter likes to watch when they come
getting’ it done ‘cause there’s eggs to lay
time’s a wastin’, no time to play

feels kinda nice they’ve chosen
we’re a family,
too,
and we won’t cause a fuss
livin’ in harmony,
side-by-each,
listenin’ to what the animals teach

life can get crooked
and throw you off-track
I walked myself in,
gotta walk myself back
pack up a sandwich,
maybe something’ to drink
sit up on a rock where there’s room to think

stereo birdnests on our porch
in big ol' ferns where the sun won't scorch
one to the left
one to the right
little cup-shaped homes inside

An early HipBone analogue studio recording (1994) that I think we did at Toad Hall with Steve Blake engineering. HipBone was Pete Zolli: bass/bk vox., Keith Prescott: drumming, BHH: guitars/voice

KID
(by Bret H. Hart, 1992)

sun shining through the window
tells the kid that it is day
a long yawn and a stretch
he's off and on his way
pj's off, blue jeans on
little sneakers for his feet
watch him shuffle to the kitchen
for something good and warm to eat

so he goes outside on the green grass
and decides to shed his shoes
running on the cold dew grass of morning's
something he just loves to do
he's only 3' tall
but he don't feel small
standing by flower, only 2 foot-3
and buzzing around it's a honeybee
"doin' sumthin'"

(AND WE SAY)
"A bee will sting and a sting will hurt..."
"That's Life, boy, can't'cha see?"
"Lissen whut I'm sayin' when I'm talkin' to you!"
"Don't look away from me...Don't look away from me!"

(but the kid says)
"But, that bee has yellow fuzz on his face
and he hums a happy sound."
"His body's bigger than his wings...
howcum he don't fall down?"
"And does he fly from one flower to the next
to find the one he likes the best?
"Or is it only cuz he's got nuthin' better to do?
"Does the flower mind when the bee's on top...
and if it does, does it ask the bee to stop?
and, howcum flowers are narry colored blue?"

(AND WE SAY)
"Go ask your mother."
"Go ask your dad."
"I'm tryin' t'watch the news!"
"I'll tell ya tomorrow" or
"Just because ... Now take off those muddy shoes!"

the kid goes outside and plops down in a lawnchair
and he looks up at the sky with its clouds up there
and he laughs when he sees one the looks just like a horse
but the horse is soon gone and a puppet floats in
the a man, then a car, then "a skeletin"
...he begins to see how a life can run its course

we all grow older
it's a God-given fact
and there's nothing we can do
but, usefulness ain't measured in years
youthfulness ain't measured in years
youthfulness ain't measured in years

BHH: slide and electric guitars/bass/voice; Mark McGee: percussion/production

I served two 4-years tours in the Navy during the 80's. I was a translator, for lack of a better or more permissible job description. At year eight, the USN was endeavoring to get me to reenlist again. I almost did. This song is about that.

A home recording on my new Tascam ("test drive") 8-track digital unit. This song jumped out of me after my father-in-law spoke about getting a deal on a suit. BHH: guitars/voice/etc

On The Theme of Getting Old

It can be a sad and painful time, I have been told
A time when memory fails and…. uhhh….
When your grandchildren are sneezin’ and sniffin’ with a cold
Here’s a little tale to tell on the Theme of Getting Old

I walked into a clothing store, on the rack I saw a beaut’.
“40% OFF!” - On a new Harris Tweed suit.
I took it to the counter, with a new shirt and a tie.
She was ringing up my stuff, when this gray hair caught her eye…

“You’re IN LUCK! It’s ‘Seniors Day’,” she said,
and paused to cough
“So, I can also take another 15% off.”
(Tho’ I was never good at Math, I knew the odds were good
That I could, maybe, save some more,
with the right facts … knock on wood)

“Hmmm.. I served 20 years and 6 days in the Army, and then retired.”
“I’m over 65, and lost a toe
when my huntin’ gun misfired.”
“My teeth are bad, my eyes are weak…
but, today’s my birthday.”
(She darn near broke that adding machine calculatin’ what I’d pay.)

“OK… AARP knocks off 10% more,
and ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Have a shirt.”
“We give Veterans ties for free
and let’s not forget your disabili.T.O.E….

It can be a fruitful time, I have been told.
Don’t let no one tell you that ‘it’s hell getting old’.
I walked out of that clothing store, feelin kinda rich.
In addition to a nice free suit,
they gave me ten bucks and a sandwich.

Then, Go Away
by Bret H. Hart
written in Eden, NC (1999, from the album 'WALRUS')

YOU FOLLOW HER LIKE A BIRDDOG…
SNIFFIN’ EVERY WHICH WAY
LAPPIN’ AND POINTIN’,
ALWAYS IN THE WAY

HEAD-ON COLLISION WITH A TELEPHONE POLE
IF YOU WANT TO BE LEFT ALONE,
THEN GO AWAY

YOU’RE LIKE SATAN’S PET FOOL AND THE HAT FITS WELL
BUT YOUR JUGGLIN’ NEEDS SOME WORK
IF YOU WANT TO SPITE YOUR FACE,
PLEASE START WITH YOUR TONGUE

HEAD-ON COLLISION WITH A TELEPHONE POLE
IF YOU WANT TO BE LEFT ALONE,
THEN GO AWAY

JUDGEMENT’S COMIN’,
THEY’RE GONNA CUT THAT STRING
YOU’RE GONNA MEET YOUR MATCH AT LAST
USE YOUR BONES FOR FLUTES
AND YOUR HEART TO PLAY CATCH

HEAD-ON COLLISION WITH A TELEPHONE POLE
IF YOU WANT TO BE LEFT ALONE,
THEN GO AWAY

THEN GO AWAY
OR TURN YOURSELF AROUND AND STAY
THEN GO AWAY
OR TURN YOURSELF AROUND AND STAY
THEN GO AWAY
OR TURN YOURSELF AROUND AND STAY

"Some Mill Thoughts of Charlie Poole" is a song of mine written on 11-14-2005 on my porch in Eden, NC. I'll bet Charlie Poole absolutely HATED shiftwork and found music in the machine sounds around him....

To the rhythm of the bobbin
and the snappin’ of the yarn
in my head, I’m pickin’ banjo
with some friends behind the barn
the machines are crowded ‘round me
like the grain around the stalk
my feet are numb as dead men’s,
but I’m fixin’ for a walk…

To the rhythm of the bobbin
and the whistlin’ of the steam,
I’m far from Spray and Leakesville
on the wings of my dream
my wife’s brother has a fiddle,
and I just know that boy can play
got a neighbor with a flattop box,
and a map that knows the way…
a map that knows the way

William Byrd, he nevah knew,
and Guv’nor Morehead couldn’t say,
But the rhythm of the bobbin’
surely take your soul away
I’m thinkin’ ‘bout that wax-papered sandwich in my pocket,
My Reidsville tobacco,
and her picture in this locket…
In this locket

The rhythm of the bobbin
and the ache in my back
has me thinkin’ about the company team
and when I’ll be at bat
the uniforms have stripes,
and there’s fine ladies in the stands
and when the game is over,
a bottle changes hands…

When I get some breathin’ room,
I’ll turn my life around
Won’t be nobody’s ‘boy’,
I won’t let my deal go down
Posey, me, and that strummer’s
gonna leave this heat behind
‘stead of sweat drippin’ off our brow,
clear water’s what we’ll find…
what we’ll find

To the rhythm of the bobbin
and the hummin’ of the mill
my heart taps out a beat
like a banker’s pennies in a till
I don’t see no Fame and Fortune
in this dust and dirt and pain
my feet are numb as dead men’s
got them Walkin’ Blues again…
got them Walkin’ Blues again

I don’t know where I’m goin’
But I know for sure I will
End up underneath some headstone
on some outta town hill
‘Til my liver turns to wood
and I’m called up to My Lord
I’ll thank you for another pull
On that ol’ drinking gourd.

William Byrd, he nevah knew,
and Guv’nor Morehead couldn’t say,
But the rhythm of the bobbin’
surely take your soul away
I’m thinkin’ ‘bout that wax-papered sandwich in my pocket,
My Reidsville tobacco,
and her picture in this locket…
In this locket

BLESS THIS MESS
by Bret H. Hart 7/11/07

GOT SKELETONS IN MY CLOSET,
COBWEBS IN MY HEART
DUST-BUNNIES UNDER MY SPIRITUAL-BED,
I JUST DON’T KNOW WHERE TO START

THE DEVIL RAN OFF WITH ½ MY SOCKS
AND I’M ALMOST OVERDRAWN
WHEN I LOOK AT THE LANDFILL OF MY LIFE
I WANT TO BLINK AND SEE IT GONE

BLESS THIS MESS – WHERE CAN I BEGIN?
BLESS THIS MESS – WASH AWAY MY EVERY SIN
BLESS THIS MESS – LET ME DO YOUR WILL
BLESS THIS MESS – PUT MY SHOULDER TO THE WHEEL

GOT A DUSTPAN FULL OF ANGER
AND I’M SWEEPING-UP SOME SPITE
GOT SOME APOLOGIES I NEED TO MAKE
ON THE TELEPHONE TONIGHT

I’M STILL KNEE-DEEP IN YESTERDAY,
WITH LOTS OF JUNK TO DITCH
BUT, THE MORE I LET-GO OF THIS WORLD,
THE MORE THAT I FEEL RICH

BLESS THIS MESS – WHERE CAN I BEGIN?
BLESS THIS MESS – WASH AWAY MY EVERY SIN
BLESS THIS MESS – LET ME DO YOUR WILL
BLESS THIS MESS – PUT MY SHOULDER TO THE WHEEL

BLESS THIS MESS – WHERE CAN I BEGIN?
BLESS THIS MESS – WASH AWAY MY EVERY SIN
BLESS THIS MESS – LET ME DO YOUR WILL
BLESS THIS MESS – PUT MY SHOULDER TO THE WHEEL

“Who was Charlie Poole? Charlie Poole was a musical maverick; a creative iconoclast who developed ways of successfully insinuating his unusual and soulful art into the world around him. Charlie enjoyed life’s blessings and curses with equal relish. The blueprint for the rough & tumble country music artist - the hard drinking, wandering, haunted, rambler - was more or less drawn from direct observation of the life of Charlie Poole. In this program, we will reminisce with one such music scholar, Charlie Poole expert, Kinney Rorrer. Kinney is the author of the quintessential biography of Charlie Poole, Ramblin’ Blues-The Life & Songs of Charlie Poole and his grandfather – Posey Rorer – played fiddle in the original NC Ramblers with Charlie Poole.

I was born on August 14, 1959. Lots of cool people died when I was a kid and teen. How would America see and value this president today, had he not been killed, had served out his term(s?), and was yet displaying intellectual vigor, as Jimmy Carter does {love him or hate him}, today?
The WUNC 91.5fm radio snippet was accidentally and auspiciously obtained and found to be extra fantastic and synchronous, given what my students and I were working with (1950's-60's Birmingham & Civil Rights) in school at the time. This was created on my Boss BR-8 a while back, but I never wrote down the date.
NPR would know.
Become a member of your local public radio station. Hang onto what objectivity and decency still can be found on the real airwaves.

Which Commandments?
(by bret h. hart)

Keep your finger on the pulse
Don’t kneel before no idols
And keep the Lord’s name in your mouth
Bust your tail 'til Sunday
Then, call your folks on the phone
And don’t be puttin’ no-one six-feet-south

And which Commandments are you livin’ today?
Is this the Word that Moses brought?
I’ve searched and I can’t find a single word from Jesus
On reasons for a war to be fought

Got four more ways to get the job done
Let ‘the missus’ know she’s the only one
Don’t steal… don’t lie

And when you see your neighbor’s stuff
Just lyin’ there for the takin’
Let's let those sleeping dogs lie

And which Commandments are you livin’ today?
Is this the Word that Moses brought?
I’ve searched and I can’t find a single word from Jesus
On reasons for a war to be fought
On reasons for a war to be fought

On reasons for a war to be fought
On reasons for a war to be fought

"IT'S A DAMN OPUS, AND I DON"T HAVE TIME FOR THIS." - Ms. Bel Flotto ...................

As Chief Dietician for HipBone, my 1996 menu usually offered drive-thru McDonald's, Parmalat milk or Milwaukee's Best in cans, corn curls, and beef jerky. We, usually & collectively, went with the swineburgers. I am almost certain that this cud-knawin' power-improvisation shortly followed such Bacchanalia. . . . HipBone was in its third year as a wayfaring and sometimes vituperous power-trio; trying to figure out what kind of band we were (because people would ask), what to do next (rather, which of the 10 new songs since last month NOT to play), how to best record ourselves using a cassette 4-track, and why we were still batting away like Hank Aaron at near-absolute indifference in the 2nd largest city in New England. . . . Prior to recording some demoes and unbeknownst to Rev. Keith and I, our recordist/bassist, Peter Zolli, rolled tape on this straight jam . . . . Everything is as real and heartfelt as Dick Cheney's sneer . . . . Listen for nods to 'Within You Without You', Rachmananov, Wetton-era King Crimson, Henry Mancini's 'Pink Panther Theme', and 50's sci-fi soundtrack music . . . . At this time in my life, I was quite divorced, making decent salary writing curriculum for dangerous people, residing in a self-built residence /rehearsal space/painting studio in a Fitchburg, Massachusetts WWII-era ex-munitions factory, and making art in four dimensions . . . . Life was really EDGY for me, beer, tobacco and non-perishable foods were staples, and I was, for the first time in my 37 years, totally and completely free to do anything I imagined with my life, and was indulging, perhaps a bit headily, down that very steep trajectory . . . . This is a slice of that time. . . .I'm playing the one and only (thanks Pete) BARSTOOL-O-CASTER, a one of a kind brute cobbled together by a NYC fringe-luthier named 'Gino'. It's got an actual maple barstool (legs sawn-off) body, Mosrite neck, Grover tuners, 70's Telecaster pickups and electronics--through a Digitech pedalboard, a Whammy II, and my trusty DOD analogue delay. Peter's playing 5-string fuzz-bass (a la Soft Machine), and Reverend Keith Prescott is being doing the resident Drumbo-cum-Bruford thing he excelled at . . . . I hope your ears and mind-bones like this. TRY LOUD WITH SOME HEADPHONES!

This is the showpiece composition on the record. I am fascinated with how Eric, Greg, and Peter took a potentially ethnic sounding structured-improvisation of mine and orchestrated it into this epic. I've enjoyed progressive rock for almost thirty years and couldn't be prouder of this group of collaborators for craeting a piece that does for me what my favorite LPs of the 70's used to do. Awesome! This Middle Eastern-sounding co-arrangement of 'Exodust' travels through several oasis-strewn deserts, over a Leviathan and mutant creature-populated sea, and into the very blood-stained fabric of a flying carpet. HEADPHONES RECOMMENDED!

Track 1. (untitled)

In March of 2006, Three Channel Switch reconvened to produce a second album of jazz-satire-audio collage-studio improvisation. Like its predecessor "The UN-Real Fake Book", "Hi Neighbor!" runs with a central comic theme: early 50's and 60's children's recordings of "World Music", which Bob has cut/pasted into the trios. SILLY, in the nicest way.
Bob Jordan: ukes/sitar/piano/guitar/vocal ejaculations
Eric Wallack: upright bass
Bret H. Hart: tenor banjo/'Can-Jo'/banjo-uke/bass-banjo/'Plickett'/Vietnamese moonlute/aeolian harps/'StrumStick'/1950's KAY parlor guitar/metronome

Jeff Sampson (MA), Eric Wallack (OH), & Bret Hart (NC) collaborated in 2003 to produce a record of gentle post-progressive music. This is an excerpt. Hart: 'Volcano' (electrified steel sculpture/mallets) Wallack: Chapman Stick Sampson: voice The CD may be obtained from Jeff at: http://www.burningshirt.com/caustic.html
Ed Shepherd took the photograph of the owl-towel at the Eden Drive-In (in beautiful Eden, NC). I manipulated it -w- Photoshop above. Ed and I have been collaborating on an extensive audio-graphic project entitled 'The Journey is the Reward', based upon a fascinating series of photographs Ed took of the 'owl towel' in uniques locations all around America.

My Dear Old Friend
By Bret H. Hart (8/25/06)

I walked around your house
I listened for the phone
I could hear your radio in the kitchen
And I fed the three cats you own

And I can’t call my wife
to know if you’re still there to call
because the ER is a place
where I can’t reach a cellphone at all

My Dear Old Friend
You called to say your sight was fading
I can feel your life unbraiding
Here come the tears again
My Dear Old Friend

My Dear Old Friend
I pray that you’ll be with us tomorrow
And even if you rise into the everlasting arms of Jesus
I'll still feel sorrow

And I can’t call my wife
to know if you’re still there to call
because the ER is a place
where I can’t reach a cellphone at all

My Dear Old Friend
You called to say your sight was fading
I can feel your life unbraiding
Here come the tears again
My Dear Old Friend

I walked around your house
I listened for the phone
I could hear your radio in the kitchen
And I fed the three cats you own

[Yvonne Easton, 6/22/1931 - 8/31/2006]

The quilt pattern is Yvonne's.
The 2nd guitar is played by Timothy Pitt.

"Herbie-Blood-Sharrock" is a wild and funky bit that was recorded with the help of my multi-talented friend in Ohio, Eric Wallack. The sax and Les Paul you hear are him. The other guitars and so forth are me, simply sitting down in the studio and thinking about three of the artists that so impacted upon how I hear and think about music.

Many folks have heard keyboardist Herbie Hancock's music (http://www.herbiehancock.com, The Headhunters) , some before MTV brought his 'Rockit' into our living rooms. Herbie's played with everyone, and brought the concept of 'jazz fusion' light years ahead.

James 'Blood' Ulmer (http://www.hyenarecords.com/james.htm) is a remarkable guitarist whose 'Tales of Captain Black' was a seminal influence on me. He played with Ornette Coleman, Joe Henderson, David Murray, and many others. Ulmer's playing can be really frenetic and pointillistically funky, like sonic fractals chipping off his guitar neck. His brand new acoustic Blues record simply kicks ass.

Sonny Sharrock (http://www.sonnysharrock.com/thepress/quotes.asp) is another guitar hero of mine, who I first heard with MATERIAL on their great 'Memory Serves' record. Then later, my pal Bob Jordan played me (on flautist Herbie Mann's 'Memphis Underground' record) Sonny executing the most mind-blistering slide solo anyone's ever waxed. To describe this recorded guitar moment cannot be done. FIND THAT RECORD, it's on side B.
Anyhow, this piece is a tribute to all the things I think about when these great jazz-cats come to mind. Enjoy!

"reflection on parenting"
bret harold hart: "bowed things" (processed acoustic guitars)
Tony Trischka: banjos

During the 10th Annual Charlie Poole Music Festival in Eden, North Carolina I had the pleasure of meeting and talking with banjo legend Tony Trischka (who's played with Béla Fleck, David Grisman, the Violent Femmes, REM, William S. Burroughs, Leftover Salmon), who was one of our headliners.
Turns out T.T. is from Syracuse, New York same as me, and knows where all the great pizza joints and record stores used to be in the 70's! Very cool.
On the freak chance that he might have time, I asked whether Tony could stop over at my studio the day after the festival and record something with me for an album I have been working on ("Finding Grace in America") for a few years.
Serendipity smiled.

I was able to capture Tony improvising against my song 'Daddy Only Did the Best He Knew How', TWICE!
Yup, a spontaneous banjo duet with himself.
During the recording of the 8-track arrangement of the song, I welded two tracks of "bowed things", a blanket term for a particular effects configuration I like that makes everything sound like a bowed instrument (very slow attack, no sustain, very slow decay) onto it. Here, it was a 1950's Kay acoustic through an electret condenser mic into a Boss BR8 digital platform.

the instrumental "reflection on parenting" is a later minimalistic mix of only my "bowed things" and Tony's banjo playing. listen carefully and you can hear a continuous deconstruction of John Newton's hymn 'Amazing Grace' occurring.