Bugolgi Apparatus

had a dream I was rich I adjusted  to it I painted people  struggling with it I became like  Marie Antoinette  mechanics of the system were brilliant latest things rarest species silences cover  the streets lawyers in dreams buy everything tell me  anyone can be an artist I was so white  had servants with accents pizza every night  topped with gold carats I decided  to sing hired coaches  from Brazil a child said I sucked I sued him and won I then decided  to make films

perfect  no words for it once distant  we now walk around it a golden childhood bites an adulthood quiet now-  don’t upset it summer vacations birthdays, cousins love if you were lucky and even if you weren’t growing up what were  they thinking nothing’s impossible someone’s watching like it was golden   pulled by the roots cleaned, cut up salted, and cooked you’ve never forgotten how sweet it tasted your stomach aches without explanation

we have to make a living  do we have to make a killing  think of what we're doing  in the one life that we live it can't be lived in fear we're not means to an end let's just be present now amongst our dozen friends In this struggle we are free others are watching  it's the cult of you and me in a world of feeling things we might never get what we need from these polluted streams If we don't become our dreams well then, what, then?

hold me wipe my mouth I get tangled in my thoughts I need to be reminded  what to do with myself another stain on my slacks I'll do better on the next task I made you a card   but the glue's still wet I feel up syndrome  when you're around I'm not functioning at all but I'm not ready to fall back down I feel up syndrome  when you're around I see you trying to help me now I can't help it it turns me on  kiss me blow my nose remind me where to go with these blue socks on I'm unequalled I know restrain me hold me down punish me really hard I don't know why  I do what I do I feel up syndrome  when you're around I don't trust the other ones they hurt me when I'm alone I feel up syndrome  when you're around we shouldn't question these thoughts just release them when the light's off tucking me in bed I get strange thoughts  I'm sorr...

I don't remember never said that really, I forget moment to moment is how I live these moments don't connect what were you thinking about how was your day yesterday what will you do tomorrow how have you been, really one day I'll shed my skin one day I'll open my heart one day I'll go traveling without taking anything with me

I've given up being saved  I don't need to buy anything I've narrowed my expectations they fit around my mornings I enjoy texts you send me I don't eat organic I write down every dream Instead of watching tv doubts are my companions now that fears have fled the beauty I've caught in glances Is enough for me, I guess sounds of engines and announcements, concrete symphonies your deep silences sound like melodies to me

  ...will ten people pay to see you play on a weeknight? You may never be rich or famous, but consider yourself a success if: 1. You are writing original material 2. You can get others interested in playing it 3. You don't have to pay them for the privilege 4. You can get a gig in a bar 5. The bar invites you back and... 6. You're adding fans that aren't your friends to your fb page and... 7. You haven't given up after the age of 28 when everyone's hormones and wallets are telling them, "Enough."

....we played everything too fast, but otherwise, ok. Photos by LC Varella:

...are three different people. It took me years to understand that they don't necessarily understand each other. Most commonly, musicians and singers view songwriting as something they can do between exercise workouts. Sometimes a well-written song is the last thing someone notices in the presentation of an artist. I've played with musicians that don't get me at all. I've sat through countless horrible modern classical pieces where someone has treated a poem as something that could automatically be "songified" as if they just had to apply some opera scales to it. However, a good song cuts through. I'm reminded of that old joke: Little  girl asks mommy, "why don't I have a penis  like Johnny?"  Mom  replies, " Honey, as a woman....you'll be able to have a penis anytime you want one."   A good songwriter can have good musicians anytime they want 'em...

You're a teenager and in love with music. You don't  know the how's and why's; you just want to make it. Someone suggests that you buy a bass- they tell you it's easy to play- no chords. And you've noticed the bass, particularly if you grew up in an era when funk and disco put the bass out front. For me "New Wave" (no one called it "post-punk" back in the day) was as much about white English kids responding to funk as it was about "softening" punk. My father was a music professor. He bought me a p-bass copy when I was a junior in high school and got me some lessons. The lessons didn't stick. I couldn't articulate what I wanted, but learning scales from a guy that looked exactly like your prototypical prog-fusion cover boy didn't seem like a direct line to anywhere. I just had a sensual attraction to the bass. I wanted to put my hands on it and start to chisel out simple lines. I thought of it like a giant pencil in my ...

Nerves… a sudden tightening around the throat heart's pumping double-time didn't you practice enough the lights are going down you miss some chords hands turn into claws looking nervously around the drummer's confused... keep trying to get into autopilot mode, the plane's taken off without you

Finding someone as passionate about your music as you are-and then finding you make a good fit together. With LC Varella in Greenpoint.

1. If you’re a friend, I’ll give you the art. It’s a postcard. It’s an extension of us and our friendship that has enriched the work.  2. If I like your stuff, i'll buy it. It’s a way of showing that something has resonated. Something has taught me about the world or myself. It'll actually be a pleasure handing you the money. It's money I would have wasted on a bad meal or another guitar. I probably won't be able to afford anything much more expensive than that, though. 3. If you’re a band, I’ll pay up to $10 on a weekend to see you. Some of you are professionals and have families; I respect that. $20 for a national. $25 for an international; I can’t afford more. The live experience has as much to do with non-music factors as the music.  4. If I'm hiring you for one of my little projects, I don’t expect you to charge me your corporate rate. I assume you’re working with me because you like my work. I recognize that you have bills to pay, too, but I’m not a co...

I still buy a fair amount of new music every month. Technology has allowed us the ability to swap whole music collections with friends- this is amazing. I believe that critical listening to the other artists is completely essential to developing as a songwriter. It sounds obvious, but what is also apparent to me is how many of my peers fall back on familiar sounds and motifs essentially derived from their earliest listening experiences. Books like This Is Your Brain On Music  have documented how the music of our adolescence is deeply imprinted on our consciousness. We'll always have the sounds we love the most, but there is a process of stretching yourself as a listener that is crucial. Helping you along the way is connecting with other music fans, reading up on writers, and being engaged in trying to get behind the illusive answer to the question, "Why something works and why it doesn't." Before I ever wrote a song, I spoke to friends endlessly about favorite t...

Sometimes it's better to wait. Let those babies gestate, grow into teenagers that cause problems. Wait for the people that get you, that are on your wavelength. The non-careerists. Then let those teenagers out into the world.

is the best. There are many great authors. Check out Modern Indian Poetry in English  by Bruce King (2001 Oxford India) for hints. Here is something by Vinda Karandikar (from The Sacred Heresy ): The Ganges of Sweat The Ganges of Sweat knows no pause. She flows on gaspingly from infinity to infinity, pounding rocks with the thrust of her head, breaking all the cliff and crags, skimming over hill and dale. The Ganges of Sweat knows no pause. She breaks all bounds and barriers of country, religion and blood. She waters soils, both black and white. Look, how she flows over the entire world, how the boat of life canes on her stream! The Ganges of Sweat knows no pause. She flowed in the past, flows in the present; flows day and night morning and evening; as much in summer as in winter. A fuming cobra as it were, She bites the one who stamps on her. The Ganges of Sweat knows no pause. She flows onward in sheer abandon. She flows behind those ploughs in the fi...

I have made friends with Brazilians. They have happiness technology. This is important for songwriting as there are many reasons to be depressed and they make for crappy songs. Brazilian artists for the most part have respected the division between the poet, musician, and singer, which has led to a very rich tradition. I first started listening to Brazilian music when I was in my early 30's. I had tinnitus so perhaps I was subconsciously attracted to softer sounds. I don't make Brazilian music. I'm not a wannabe, but I am constantly amazed by the culture's rich output. I befriended a circle of people through Suely Mesquita, an interesting writer with whom I've worked with in several roles. Now, I'm the Brazilian Songwriter Embassy in the Bronx. Bethi Albano visited me last week. It felt like a 4-day conversation that never flagged. She's a great composer and will finally be releasing an album of her own next year. "Collaboration lies at the heart ...

My name is Bob Gaulke and I write songs in NYC Matt Carrillo plays sax and keyboards. He's very good. I'm not a good musician, but I buy him drinks so he doesn't notice.