Monday, March 14, 2016


Second installment of Live From California Hill, a music series broadcast from a bucolic mountainside studio in an undisclosed location near a large city in the East. More to come on an irregular basis.
"She's the Gun of Me" by C. Gibbs.
C. Gibbs - guitar and vocals
Kenny Savelson - drums
Frank Heer - bass
Mike Cohen - guitar
Camera and editing - Pierre de Gaillande
Audio assist - Mike Cohen

Sunday, February 14, 2016

Scalia died suddenly tonight. Awesome!!

Tonight, as I write this, on the night of February 13, 2016, I have just learned that Antonin Scalia died suddenly. My immediate reaction is one of jubilation. I am so glad that man is dead, eleven months before the end of Obama's term as President and in the middle of this weird campaign for the next President of the United States.
I am going to let my mind wander on this blog and let my thoughts run like a runny shit into the toilet or like a scared salamander into a crack under the basement.
First, let me repeat what I often say: The USA is one of the few countries in the world that doesn't have an actual name. "The United States of America" is a description that is actually false. We are far from united. Our unity is imposed by a federal government but we have completely different viewpoints and goals and values. Most people would agree that there are two or three or six or forty eight different USA's that could live very happily independently of each other. "America" refers to the entire continent and it underscores our arrogance when we erroneously use it to describe our nation.

I saw Scalia speak at an event at the University Club. It must have been around 2003. It was private lunch for about 100 people. It was right after Dick Cheney had shot his friend in the face when they were out hunting, and Scalia was present at the hunting party. Scalia gave a speech and then did a Q&A. Everyone in the audience lobbed him some partisan conservative softballs, until suddenly there was a question from a journalist from the "liberal elite." Possibly a writer for the New Yorker, I don't remember. He asked Scalia about his association with Cheney and if it constituted a conflict of interest. Scalia did not even answer the question, he just shouted the man down saying "I already answered that, you have no right to ask me that." The journalist kept pressing him but Scalia would not answer him. He just used his position at the mic to shut the guy down. I understand the need to shut hecklers down, and I've done it many times myself. But Scalia was an evil, backwards, shortsighted, fat, pencil-dick, ugly fuckface. I'm so glad he's dead. I will never pretend he was good for America. People who forget how evil Bush, Reagan, Cheney, and the whole crew were just because they get old and make some money should be ashamed of themselves.
I make more money than I ever thought I would. I'm still a lefty pinko liberal bleeding heart socialist. To be anything else is called SELLING OUT. Shame on you for being right wing. I don't care how much money you make. Being right wing means you are either stingy or you believe in the comic book. Shame on you. The only way out is to help each other. Did I mention I'm so glad Scaly Tony is dead? Lots of good people die and it is very sad, but when a bad person is a position of power dies it is a very very good thing. YAY! Short live ugly Tony the fat fuckface!
Now Obama needs to pick a new Supreme Court Justice and try to pass it by the pack of slimy warthogs in Congress before he leaves office. I know Barry can do it, he is one slick dude. This is the nail in the coffin for the OLD WAY. You are dead and dying, you old fat fuckers. Don't let the door hit you...

Tuesday, February 2, 2016


On December 16, 2016, my good friend Jessie Kilguss and her fantastic band made the journey up the Taconic to California Hill. They popped the cork off the champagne bottle and christened the ship, so to speak, that is "Live From California Hill." This was the very first installment of what will be an ongoing series of live performances from the studio in the woods.
Jessie is a vey talented singer/songwriter who I had the good fortune to meet while we were both performing at an event called the Bushwhack Book Club, hosted by Susan Hwang. The BBC is an ongoing musical book clubbing which every participant reads a book, writes a song about it, and then meets at a club or bar to perform the songs. It is a great time and a much better way to express one's opinion about a book, good or bad, if you ask me, than just yapping about it.
So here I present Jessie and her band doing "Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight" which also happens to be a song inspired by a book, or at least it's title. Enjoy!

Jessie Kilguss - vocals
Mason Ingram - drums
John Kengla - bass
Kirk Schoenherr - guitar

Tuesday, December 1, 2015

To Die For Your Ideas

This week I feel sick and sad and hopeless, and I'm trying to find a light at the end of the tunnel that is humanity. Why do we keep going backwards? Are we just destined to self-destruct? Why does violence continue to exist? Why do morally reprehensible leaders use impressionable young people and religion to terrorize and control innocent populations? Why don't we learn once and for all that war is total bullshit and violence is the cancer of our species? I have no answers.

We don't seem to learn from our mistakes as a species. Society is being destroyed by a toxic potion made of three elements: 1- Our willingness to accept and glorify violence. 2- Our inability to codify and cherish human morality and meaning outside of outdated expressions of authoritarian religion. 3- Our unwillingness to challenge, destroy, and shut down the military and weapons industries.

Here are the lyrics to a song by Georges Brassens called "Mourir Pour Des Idees" along with my English translation.  The song was released on the album "Fernande" which came out in 1972. It has never been more relevant than it is today. It's so fucking sad and pathetic that this song is still so relevant today, 44 years after it was written. Wake up, humanity.

To die for your ideas, an excellent idea
One time I almost died for lack of having it
When all the teeming hordes who had it before me
Ran screaming to my door in a murderous fit
My muse eventually caved in to their request
Lamenting her mistakes, she rallied to their cause
With just a whisper of regret giving her pause
Let’s die for our ideas, but make it a slow death
OK, make it a slow, slow death

Seeing as we are free to linger in this life
Let’s take our own sweet time reaching the afterglow
For, if we hurry up, we might actually die
For an idea that’s out of fashion tomorrow
Yet, if there’s one thing sure to make you feel depressed
It is to realize upon your dying day
That you took the wrong path, that you made a mistake
Let’s die for our ideas, but make it a slow death
OK, make it a slow, slow death

The fundamentalists who cry the martyr’s cry
Are usually the ones who linger on this earth
To die for their ideals, for whatever it’s worth
Is their main obsession, it motivates their life
In almost every camp, every holy domain
These are the ones who will outlive Methuselem
Which leads me to conclude their favorite refrain’s
Let’s die for our ideas, but make it a slow death
OK, make it a slow, slow death

Ideas which demand the famous sacrifice
Are endlessly revived by sects of every stripe
And every new victim wonders before he dies
To die for an idea is lovely, but which type?
And since they’re all about the same in most respects
The wise man, when he sees their mighty banners wave
Will always hesitate, as he sidesteps the grave
Let’s die for our ideas, but make it a slow death
OK, make it a slow, slow death

If a few killing fields, a few communal graves
Were all it took to do the trick once and for all
With all the nights of terror, all the heads that fall
You’d think by now the whole world would be saved
Alas, the golden age is constantly delayed
The gods are thirsty yet, they’re never satisfied
So death and death resumes, and still more people die
Let’s die for our ideas, but make it a slow death
OK, make it a slow, slow death

Oh all you firebrands, all you fishers of men
Please be the first to die, we’ll get out of your way
But, for the love of god, let the rest of us live
Life is the last luxury left us anyway
The reaper is a crafty type and needs no help
No need to speed his work by sharpening his blade
So stop your dance of death, you’re only giving aid
Let’s die for our ideas, but make it a slow death
OK, make it a slow, slow death 

Friday, October 9, 2015

Under the Guns

There was another mass shooting of innocent people last week in the USA. This time in Oregon. I've been following the reactions in the news and on Facebook, and I am seeing some promising headway in the manner the topic is being discussed. It seems like common sense is prevailing, even among politicians. The whole conversation is being conducted from a starting point of common sense, not in the vacuum of paranoia and 2nd Amendment ranting that usually prevails.

Here are some ideas around guns that have been flying around my head lately:

1. The 2nd Amendment was created to protect the militias that were organized for the sole purpose of monitoring and intimidating slaves and keeping them from rebelling and escaping. This article in explains it in great detail:

This makes perfect sense. The wording of the 2nd Amendment was specifically changed from "Country" to "State" to give the southern states the right to organize, finance, and maintain the militias with which they kept slavery alive.  Contrary to popular mythology, the 2nd Amendment was not drafted to enable Americans to arm themselves and fight against oppressive outside regimes like the British who might wish to colonize and oppress them. It was created for the express purpose of allowing states to maintain the inhumane system of slavery in existence, in turn keeping their entire economies afloat with free labor. In my opinion this is enough to shut down the whole 2nd Amendment argument once and for all. If we can make the courthouse in North Carolina take down the confederate flag in a show of solidarity with African Americans and a solid statement of commitment to reverse the tide of slavery and racism, then we can and must repeal the 2nd Amendment.

2. Almost every single one of the men (they are ALL male) who perpetrate these atrocious acts of mass murder are sexually frustrated single men who feel that they have been left behind by society. They have the exact same psychological profiles as the young middle eastern men who become suicide bombers with the jihadi promise of a phalanx of virgin brides upon martyrdom. The men who shoot up movie theaters and schools and army bases in the US have often left a very visible trail of frustration and disaffection on the various chat rooms they inhabit on the internet. They gravitate to online meeting places where men can vent their rage about their powerlessness in modern society. They usually have a clear pattern of failed attempts at achievement in employment and education. Most of all, they all feel that they've been shut out from the world of sex and love. They are horny, frustrated, and pissed off. They read and write postings in the cesspool of the lowest common denominator of hidden and disconnected thought, the internet. Their views get reflected and magnified and legitimized by others with the same sad trajectory. I am not describing any of this with any judgment, I feel compassion for these guys. Every living adolescent goes through this phase. To go from being a gawky, awkward pre-adolescent to being a sexually aware teenager, with all the desires and emotions that entails, is a nightmare for every living person. I was there once, all I thought about day and night was sex, i fell in love every two weeks, and I felt constantly depressed. Everyone has this phase, and the way we work through it, with the help of parents, friends, school, sports, social groups, churches, community, and any other instrument of support is the story of how we become who we are. So why are so many young men in America getting so stuck in this phase of development? I think there are a few main reasons.
Pornography is as available as air and water. Images of impossible sexual ideal are available to everyone who seeks them out. This reinforces the double idea that sex is always perfected by perfect people, and that you are not ever going to fuck these perfect people so don't even try. Instead of a sexual awakening based on reality and discovery and love, sexual discovery is cut off mid-stride by the impossible ideals of pornography.

3. The violent imagery and glorification of violence in our media culture is definitely one part of the problem. Everywhere we look, there are advertisements with guns in them for movies, TV shows and video games. The irresponsible and dull-witted people responsible for "content-creation" in our world today resort to the fetishistic image of the gun at every turn. Putting a gun in a movie is like putting a rock song in a scene. It is lazy and trite and shows that the narrative is too weak to keep the viewer's attention. Both are signs of unimaginative filmmaking at best. At worst, using a gun to spice up the action is contributing to the deluge of violent imagery that fuels alienated people's violent fantasies. A person who feels cut off from the world, spends all of his or her time online, and sees watches a parade of unrealistic killings all day long begins to believe that behavior is the norm. Video games train people to be desensitized to killing. Movies treat violence as a cool, sexy selling point. If your grasp on reality is tenuous because of a chemical imbalance or a deep-seated antipathy towards your fellow humans or both, feeding this shit into the mix will make you a killer. Not all the time, but at this point in our fucked up country, it happens about once a week.

Hilary Clinton has taken a real stand on the issue. She's ready to fight the NRA and the special interests who oppose sensible gun legislation. For that reason alone I will vote for her. If she or any other politician can take on the other two prongs of the problem, mental health and the violence of our culture, then we may stand a chance of creating a world that our kids can actually live in without fear of being gunned down like sheep.

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

Drowning in your shallow blues

I wrote this song for the Bushwick Book Club, a musical book club where all the participants read a book and write a song about it and perform it in front of a live audience. This was originally inspired by the book Moby Dick, but then it became about the musician Moby, and then about DJ's in general. It was performed live on the Frying Pan, a boat/venue in NYC on May 5 2015.

What’s another name for Richard
Or another word for cock
Can you paint a mental picture
Of a dolphin playing rock?
Are you wild?
Are you wild?
Are you tame?
Will you hunt the deepest ocean? And the village record bins
Find a needle and go poke it in a fat and juicy fish
If you are a deep explorer, you must take it all the way
Don’t just be a vegetarian, be a vegan and press Play
Are you mild?
Are you wild?
Are you lame?
Producer, DJ, collage, or pastiche
Sailing on semantics by a rocky beach
Why do we still feed on Leviathan juice?
Why do we survive off what others produce?
I’m drowning in your shallow blues
Can you stop your blubbering, stop rehashing what’s been hashed
Some things just cannot be conquered, quit harpooning on the past
From the port-holes of Nolita, to the dives of Chinatown
You can carve a little tea room so the models can sit down
Built a solid reputation as an electro DJ
Spend your every waking moment seeking treasure in the waves
Are you mild?
Are you wild?
Are you tame?
Why do I care so much? What is it to me?
Why do I give a fuck? I need to get more sleep.


Tuesday, April 28, 2015

Oh Death

Lately the issue of death has been poking its head into my conversations with my three year old twins and I'm not sure how to handle it. Last week our nanny's mother died, and I told the children they needed to be extra nice to her and give her a big hug. Then I let it slip that her mother had died. They immediately picked up on that word, and started using it in their games, saying things like "I'm gonna crush this truck and then it will died!" They have no idea what it means and they know it's a strong word. I regret having said that, and I let it pass and they seemed to forget it. i know they are too young to understand it.
Then a week later, I was reading the kids the story of Madeline, in which the little girl gets her appendix removed, is rushed to the hospital, and makes all the other girls jealous because of her scar. The twins asked me what a scar is, so I showed them a scar on my hand that I got when I was playing around a table where my mother was ironing. I had tripped on the cord and the iron fell on my hand, burning it and leaving a scar. The kids were awestruck and asked me a million questions about the scar, ironing, what my mother was doing, what I was doing, etc. Then out of the blue, Jules asked me "Where is your mommy?" I just said "She's not here" and changed the subject. I put the kids to bed, and I just wanted to cry the whole time, I felt my mother's missing presence so strongly it was an ache in my chest. I wish so badly that she could know these beautiful kids and they could know her. But I just hid my pain and acted upbeat till I could put them to sleep. The kids are not there to comfort me from the pain and loss that I felt as a child and still feel. I'm there to be strong for them and shield them from things like death and sadness for as long as possible. But it's not always easy.