I woke up with George Harrison's "All Things Must Pass," swirling around in my head. Feelings of doom and foreboding. I put the double cd in the machine this morning and listen to George's masterpiece once again. It's still so powerful, beautiful, mournful too. Maybe more mournful because George is gone - really, a long time now. The album is a Phil Spector production, made when Spector was still considered just an eccentric genius, as opposed to his image today - EVIL MUNCHKIN!
Recovering from another Flaming Eyeball show - the actors are getting better and better, Masha did some new stuff that really cracked me up. My brother's band, the Banana Street Band opened for us last night. They were really, really good. A strange, Polish Gypsy blues, with some kind of middle-eastern drone, fueled by a strange, mad passion. Leadbelly meets Polanski. I see the same weird determination and drive in my brother's eyes that I sometimes see in the mirror.
We are both on some mad Don Quixote type trip, conjuring dreams and sounds and images for some unknown purpose. So as one of the actors says in the play, "our flaming eyeball is destined to flame out." 5 shows left. I think it's good work, I'm watching it slowly disappear even as it dances before me.
