Throughout my life I have spent time with some great musicians, mentors, who had the ability to pass their wisdom, style and passion on to me and to others. This becomes a part of me. I internalize it. It allows me to continue developing my voice, building on my foundation and helps me find new ways to communicate my ideas. It creates a form of performing that goes beyond virtuosity, allowing freedom of expression, spontaneous composition. At a certain point we are able to abandon technique and trust the body and soul to remember what has been passed on. I believe that it is important to always pursue the persons and music that will lead us on a path; help us to blaze new trails and build on our foundations. It is important to surround ourselves with friends and musicians that allow us to feel like we are part of a community, sharing ideas, growing together, staying politically, physically and spiritually aware and conscious. In this ever-expanding world of rhythm, melody and harmony the drums have been and always will be a guiding force while on this path. There is nothing like following the sound of a well-tuned drum. COMMENTS WELCOME!

3:08:37 PM    comment []

Travel Log from last year:

Writing in Napoli 9/21/03

Well this keyboard is a little easier than the ones in Paris. Someday I’ll make a coffee table book of all the Internet Cafes in the world.

9/14/03 So we arrive in Venezia, nice chat with Sim Caine on the plane. Everyone is going to La Biennale. Zeena and Elliot arrive just before us and Mark Stewart was also on our plane. I’m here with Elliot Sharp’s Carbon. We get on a boat taxi to go to the hotel. Quite a ride, choppy and high volume. Of course Aunt Dolores calls my cell while we are on the boat. My first italian cell call. I am very excited to have my own Italian phone number. The phone is in my pocket ringing and it takes a while for me to recognize that it is my phone. I am tired, no sleep so I’m not quite ready to discuss my plans for the day. Aunt Dolores is tuff, she wants information and I don’t have any. Here I am in Venezia yelling back and forth on my mobile with Aunt Dolores. A true Napolitano. I ask her if she can call me back at 5pm. What is my family doing in Venezia? Touring Italia. I promised to meet them here and it has to be today.

I get to the hotel take a nice shower then a great walk. Finally at around 5pm I wander over to Piazza San Marco where I know the family is wandering. Know that I am giving up a great dinner with Massimo Ungari an old friend and big promoter in Venezia who always takes us to great restaurants. I get the big call and Aunt Dolores is yelling at me. She needs information and I better have it! Not only did I have it I was showered, suit jacket, fine haircut, feeling good and I had a plan. I chose the spot where we would meet and we did. We proceeded to have full blown, in your face, tourist fun. They had great stories about their trip to Castelanova di Conza (more on this later).

9/15/03 After a good sleep, next day, we rehearse and perform. Met old and new friends. Great food and great performing. You can’t go wrong when the band is Elliot, Zeena Parkins, Sim Caine and myself. What fun. It was so late after the concert that we had to have the after party in my room. Everyone else had small rooms with no light. Jim Pugliese gets big room with large windows overlooking the water. Elliot claims prejudice toward non-Italians, I agree. Tomorrow I am on my way to Napoli to meet with Marco Capelli (great guitarist) and also to visit the village where my grandparents were born. In conversation Elliot tells me that Max Neuhaus lives on the Island of Capri and that he can hook me up with him. As a young drummer/percussionist I idealized Max. His recording of Stockhausen’s “Zyklus” blew me away and is one of the reasons that I got into this avant thing.

9/16/03 I can’t believe that I’ve never been to Napoli. Napoli is fine. Difficult to describe but kind of what you would imagine old New York was around the turn of the century. A mix of new and old buildings, stray dogs everywhere, melting pot of the world and exciting. This is the central train station so I'll find more after wandering today. I could definately live here because the energy is incredible!! It's flooded with passion and petty con-crime and street vendors like you've never imagined. In Rome you have the old stuff mixed with new and here the old stuff is kind of static, not changing and I mean culturally not physically. Anyhows I have to run so will write more domani.

9/17/03 Yesterday walking along the Gulf of Napoli I've never seen the sky so blue or the sun so bright, hot sun healing sun, cool breeze off the water. Boats leave from here going to Greece, Tunisia, Corsica, Sicily, wow, the sun melts my brain dripping romance into my heart then my blood.

Last night, riding on the back of Marco's Vespa, stopping here, stopping there, red lights disappear, pedestrians, cars, vespas all become one big flow. The only laws are natural and they work perfectly together. Amazing Neopolitan dinner and then to a small quiet piazza. Every building a different color and in the middle an ancient church where on Friday Sept. 19th the miracle of San Genero will take place as it does every year on this date. His hardened blood will turn to liquid and thousands will come to see.

Now the moon is shinning brightly on the piazza and I'm sipping grappa with Marco and some new found friends, musicians, architectural historian, lawyer and again I smile, again as though you are here Christine. Tomorrow I rented a car and I will drive to Castelanova di Conza.

9/19/03 This will be long but you must read. I must write. I just returned from Castelnuovo di Conza the village where my paternal grandparents were born. I left very early this morning and the ride was fantastic but I'll start from when I arrived there.

The view is spectacular. It literally sits on top of a peak surrounded by cliffs. I looked around and yes everything looked completely modern. This scared me a little. Because of the devastating earthquake that occurred in 1980. Some of my relatives were killed. When I got there no one was around. Empty! No shops, things still being built, shutters mostly closed. I saw a sign for the cemetary and Centro Storica so I headed up there. I knew Guiseppina (my grandmothers cousin’s daughter) lived by the cemetary. I pass the municipal building on the way up. The sun is hot and still no one around. I go to the cemetary and Lot's of new marble and stones. Just a few old ones which scared me even more. I'm thinking, a lot was lost in the quake. The last names on the stones read like my high school year book. Uh oh, one very old crypt. I can see inside and there are stacks of ancient coffins with no bodies and a lot of votive candles. Uprooted from the quake? Chills! I snap pictures of the Puglieses and the Annichiarricos, say a prayer and leave. I feel my body transforming in some weird way, floating, losing my senses. For some reason I begin to walk back down the hill to the car as though I am going to leave. I have only been there an hour or so.I can't imagine meeting or speaking to anyone at this point. I arrive at the car and I am just about to get in when Centro Storica flashes through my mind. I look back up to the very top of the hill and see crumpled stone or some kind of ruins at the top. I turn and go back up. I reach the top and hear two men talking softly. They are standing at the very peak of the hill up a set of earthquaked stairs and crumpled stone. I'm a little scared to go up so I walk ahead just below them along an older building separated by the quake sitting on a clilff. It's abandoned.

Finally I get up the nerve to walk up the stairs. I greet the two men and they return the greeting. They seem to be in a pensive mood. One of them asks what I am doing here. I ask if they speak English and they say no. My Italian is much better now so I was able to tell them that I am Jim Pugliese and that my grandparents were from Castelnuovo. They ask for thier names and I tell them Emiddio and Rachela. One of them says “ah si”, he looks to the other signore and says "Donato". The other man says “si si”. I ask about the quake. One of the men is Michele, dressed nicely and seems to be somewhat well to do. The other is "The Padre" and what they are staring at and talking about is a bunch of crumpled stones that once was the The Padre's church. November 19th 1980, 87 people died and every house, every building in this town collapsed. Only a handfull were re-built the rest of the village is brand new. Michele wants to know where my grandparents house was. I say that I don't know. He says that he is going to show me pictures of the quake.

Michele, The Padre and myself get into Michele's car and are about to drive away when someone calls over "Michele" " Ah Louie ho un Americano in la machhina" (I have an American in my car) "Americano? Chi eh? (who is it?) "Pugliese" "Pugliese! AH!

Louie Grasso comes up and introduces himself. He lived in Bellvelle and Bloomfield, NJ for a while and speaks English fairly well. Now the fun begins. Louie is the former Major (mayor) of Castelanuovo. He gets into Michele's car and now Michele, The Padre, Louie and I head to the Municipal Building. I am going to meet the major, the head of the Polizia and Louie's brother who is in charge of the archives. Before I know it I am in the building and Louie is introducing me to everyone. As he introduces me one by one they all follow us upstairs and they are all talking about Lorenzo and Donato and Vincenzo and the earthquake. Louie's cousin goes into one room and starts looking through documents, meantime we all go to the Major's office. I have started a riot. Now all of the official pictures of the quake are spread out on the mayor's desk and everyone is yelling at each other. Lot's of different arguments about who my relatives are and then the picture of the church comes up, taken just after the quake. The only thing left standing is an arched doorway with no door and directly in the middle of the arch standing straight up is a statue of the madona. Now they are yelling at each other about what happened to the madona. No one knows where it is, meantime Louie's cousin is trying to Xerox birth records of my family on this old machine and Louie is trying to cut them on a paper cutter after they are xeroxed. None of this is working of course. By now there are 10 or 12 people in the office all talking and yelling about different things. True Napolitanos.

Finally things calm down and they take a picture of me with the Major under the official Coat of Arms of Castelnuovo. Louie says "adesso andiamo vedere Donato Pugliese" (now we go to see Donato). I ask if we are related and he says of course his father and your grandfather were first cousins. I say that no one knows about him. He says that is because he lived in Switzerland for many years and just returned 7 years ago.

So again Michele, The Padre, Louie and I get into the car and drive just around the corner. There is this beautiful little man with a trowel and some mud building this beautiful wall. Louie shouts from the window "Eh Pugliese I have a Pugliese from America here". Donato is a little startled, I get out of the car and introduce myself. I explain who I am and he tells stories about how my grandfather used to send money to his father and to Guiseppina from America. Louie says that Donato is a good man. Donato had heard through the grapevine that Dolores was here and he felt bad that they didn't try to find him. I explained that they didn't know about him. I asked if we could go to see Guiseppina. They all simultaneously made the sign of the cross and said "No!". (apparently she has lost her mind) Donato asked if I could stay for a few days, he had a house that I could stay in. I said that I had to get the car back to Napoli tonight and we agreed that the next time I come with my family and stay. He gives me his address and phone. After taking a picture together, with Michele, The Padre and Louie looking on we hug each other and kiss each other hard on both cheeks and tears run down both of our eyes. I cry hard all the way down the mountain but it's a good cry and now I physically understand "family"

Well, tomorrow back to New York. I guess there wasn’t much about music in all of these writings but then again maybe there was.

JP
3:06:52 PM    comment []