Petrichor Dreams

Lost River Reflections

Lullaby of a lost river, spectral tides of night,
Gentle caress of a zephyr, childhood dreams of flight,
Illusive and transitory senses, yet these things endure

Mazama Zephyr

Petrichor Dreams (Afternoon)

Marcus Duke, keyboards

Steve Mostovoy, trumpet

Ernesto Pediangco, percussion

The late afternoon thunderstorms of August often are followed with brilliant sun breaks that turn the earth into a steam bath, releasing vapors from the oils, or ichor, long stored on the baked earth and rock. These fragrances can at times conjure a dream-like state that takes us well past sunset, into the evening. Years ago, my wife, Chris, and I thought there must be a word to describe this sensation, and that's how we found petrichor.

Lost River Lullaby

Marcus Duke, keyboards, nylon-string guitar

David Gordon, harmonica

Robby Morshead, drums

Oren Sreebny, bass

There are so many sensations that bring such peace and tranquility to us when we are in the valley—the visual beauty is obvious, but in my music I chose to convey other sensations such as zephyrs and petrichor. No less striking is the sound of the Lost and Methow Rivers (in late summer, that is!) as they lull us into a sense of rightness with the universe. The murmur and burble of the rivers are an excellent prescription for peaceful naps!

Manhattan Moods

Beer with a straw,
Jeff "Jedi Master" Johnson,
Walking slow, walking fast,
Yankees and Mets,
Politics, music, women talk,
Two blind guys, Bernard Purdy*

"That's What She Said," Said Big Red

Dedicated to Nava-Jo Bob "Big Red" Hansen

Jim Coile, tenor sax

Ian Duke, bass

Marcus Duke, keyboards

Robby Morshead, drums

Steve Mostovoy, trumpet

Dave Nolet, guitar

Ernesto Pediangco, percussion

Gary Shutes, trombone

Bob Hansen was the acest VW mechanic we ever knew. He helped a friend do an entire Beetle engine rebuild by phone when she was stranded in Oregon. He was one of the core group of "buds" with whom we spent much time recreating and gathered in each others' homes over fine food, drink and companionship. Car mechanic he may have been, but he also had a taste for classical music and a talent for filming the great outdoors.

He was a good friend and we miss him. In this piece, I tried to convey some of his essence: sassy, witty, and unable to resist applying inuendo to the most innocent of phrases or events—which of course is what any self-respecting auto mechanic would do. Wouldn't you?

Warren, Carlos & Me

Dedicated to Jerry Solomon*

Warren Benbow, drums

Jim Coile, tenor sax

Randy Clere, bass

Marcus Duke, keyboards

David Gordon, harmonica

Steve Mostovoy, trumpet

Gary Shutes, trombone

In 2009, I went back to NYC for my 40th high school reunion—Performing Arts High School, that is. Classmate Warren Benbow kindly put Carlos Alejandro and me up in his apartment overlooking Times Square—talk about a contrast from the wilds of north-central Washington, yeaux! We went to the several organized affairs for the reunion, but then afterwards, we stayed up 'til 4-5am stompin' 'round Hells Kitchen, reminiscing and otherwise catching up on 40 years of our lives. That experience was so memorable, so enjoyable, that I had to name this song after Warren and Carlos (pues, … y me, por supuesto!).

*This song's name reflects my time with Warren and Carlos, but it is dedicated to Jerry Solomon—and his wife, Pat, and two kids, Alex and Skyler—who was one of my favorite musicians ever. When I left NYC, I didn't see him again for 10-15 years at a time over some 4 decades. But each time we got together, we'd play music (he played bass) and it was akin to picking up where we had left off in a conversation from yesterday. He and I had radar: we never talked about key, tempo, meter, chords…none of that. It was just "bada-boom" and off we went, sometimes so far out we needed radar to find our way back, but man oh man, what a blast we would have. He reminds me to this day why I enjoy nothing more than unbridled improvisation. Jerry was supposed to play bass on this song, but he couldn't make it. I plan to re-record it when I meet up with him again somewhere down the singularity. It'll be a gas and it pro'ly won't sound anything like this version!

Put Yo' Phone Away

Featuring Skywheel

Norman Baker, bass,
Randy Neal, guitar,
Marcus Duke, keyboards,
Naphtali Rashid, lead vocal and editorial comments

Plus

Warren Benbow and
Robby Morshead, drums

Jim Coile, tenor sax

Cynthia Dean, harmony vocal

Steve Mostovoy, trumpet

Dave Nolet, harmony vocal

Jye Paet, harmony vocal

Gary Shutes, trombone

I was working in my garden when I heard a mighty shout
I ran into the street to see what it was all about
Everyone was standing ‘round with their eyes shut wide
I asked someone what was going on here and they cried

Where’s my cable?

Where’s my cellphone?

I’m unable

To find my way home

Walking down my street I took a look around
It was the strangest thing … no one was a making a sound
People everywhere, they were frozen in place
There was nothing in their eyes but empty space

Where’s my twitter?

Where’s my beeper?

I am so unstable

I’m falling deeper

Deeper…deeper…deeper
Y'all, I'm goin' deeper now, deeper than I ever been before
Y'all gonna need a shovel to get me outta this mud,
Yeah, get me back up on the ground.

Hang it up                           
Put your phones away

Turn it off                               
You’re gonna be okay, just

Step outside
It’s time to change your space, so

Look around
And get face to face

Doo-dop bop bop bop

Doo-dop bop bop bop

Last Song

Far and Back

The Infidel

© Marcus Duke 1992

There's the remote wilds of the Pacific northwest, the arguably wilder environs of Manhattan, and then there are the really far horizons that I've experienced both in person and in my imagination. One such place that has always struck a chord with me is Africa, especially for the gift of its diverse and wonderful music.

I've never been to Nigeria, but thanks to the music of Fela, King Sunny Adé and other juju musicians, I feel like I have at least been able to experience Nigeria, and other African countries, sonically. Those experiences inspired me to write the Infidel in the early 1990s. When we had the fortune to (too-briefly) visit Morocco in 2008, the intense experience of being in a truly different, and African, world motivated me to finally finish this tune.

I thank Randy Neal for helping me to bring this tune to fruition, both in his advice about aspects of the composition and his crucial pedal steel contribution.

Petrichor Dreams (Evening)

Photo courtesy of NASA.

Norman Baker, Nigerian night sounds

Ian Duke, didgeridoo

Marcus Duke, keyboards, percussion, waterphone, singing bowl, tingsha

We finish up in Nigeria, pass over Australasia and cross the Pacific, and the dream within a dream ends, bringing us back to north-central Washington. We are transported into the evening, and its inhabitants—bats, nighthawks, meteors, the Milky Way, the International Space Station!—stand and deliver. The dream goes on…

Comin' Home

until we awake from it and are home at last.