A Christmas Day Poem

The church songs are sung
and the eve turns to morn.
A gift for my love
then we're off to adorn
our family's fine tree with our presents.

We feast on eggs
and bacon and laughter,
with hot cider and cinnamon buns after,
young and old gathering to know each each other.

Everyone takes turns
as the gifts make their rounds,
An eager drawing nephew
makes animal sounds,
and grown-ups recall being young.

Wearing silly hats
and making silly faces,
people too long seperated
resume familiar places.
Then we listen to the quiet hush of the falling snow,
the first time in a generation, on Christmas.

After food, family and presents settle,
we travel through the snow
with all of our many gifts
and joy in tow,
hurrying carefully on.

At last, our own fire,
blazing from the bellows,
is giving it's heat
to our - until just recently -
quite chilly feet.
It's good to be home.

On this day when so much is given
and so much is taken,
I gaze at my wife
while the black chai is steeping,
and I know it's Christmas we're keeping.

Street Pianos Project in NYC

From the "Play Me, I'm Yours" official website:

"Touring internationally since 2008, ‘Play Me, I’m Yours’ is an artwork by artist Luke Jerram

Street pianos are appearing in cities across the world. Located in parks, squares, bus shelters and train stations, outside galleries, markets and on bridges and ferries, the pianos are for any member of the public to enjoy and claim ownership of. Reaching an audience of over 1,000,000 people worldwide, Jerram has installed 273 pianos in 11 different cities so far.

Who plays them and how long they remain is up to each community. Each piano acts as sculptural, musical, blank canvas that becomes a reflection of the communities it is embedded into. Many pianos are  personalised and decorated.

Questioning the ownership and rules of public space ‘Play Me, I’m Yours’ is a provocation, inviting the public to engage with, activate and take ownership of their urban environment."

I first heard about this on NPR's "All Things Considered" as I was driving around to piano lessons sometime around Tuesday, June 27th. I loved the idea of creating spontaneous community around pianos in unlikely places. I believed in it. It captured my imagination, and I immediately wanted to go up to New York City and play them. It seemed like a crazy idea. I didn't realize at the time that it had just been installed when I heard about it, and that the installation was only running 2 weeks, I just remembered the end date, and that I only had two weekends left to try to go, if I was gonna be able to do it at all. I had never been to NYC and it seemed scary, too expensive, and simply out of reach. But I started talking about it, and before you know it, Jamie was on board, my bandmates were interested in going with me, and my students started sponsoring me with donations toward gas money. Everyone seemed to want me to go too, and wanted to help make it happen. A community was developing around my attempt to participate in the community this artwork was creating. It hadn't come together by the first weekend, so the weekend of July 4th was all that was left. It was either then or never, so Saturday, July 3rd, we hit the road.

Three of us packed into my van. Jamie, my wife brought all her cameras, and extra memory cards, I had a clipboard with some classical music and some song lists on it, and Chad had his late father's guitar in a backpack case.

We stayed with my cousin Melanie about 45 minutes north of the city in a beautiful little town that was basically in a state park. The mountains up there are interesting. They are covered with trees like NC mountains, but the sides are often steeper, and the humps more unpredictable. There are dark blue lakes at the foot of the mountains, and they look deep. It felt foreign, but beautiful.

On Sunday, we got started right at Mel's house, because De, her husband had a beautiful Yamaha baby grand tucked into a little music room in their very old farmhouse (I think it was built in the 1860's). A little Chopin and we're off to the city! I was a little nervous. Not about playing the pianos, but about actually going into New York City. I had only seen it portrayed in movies and TV and in the news. I was ready to run from mobsters, to dodge homeless vomit, to fearfully cling to a map getting lost, to be yelled at by rude people with accents, to get hit by lunatic drivers, and to get violently mugged. "Doink Doink"

But swallow the fears and take an antacid, we're off. We rode down the Pallisades Parkway (sounds like a song doesn't it?) to the George Washington Bridge and crossed over the Hudson River. I can't describe how beautiful the city and the river were. The Hudson is so big! It was this beautiful shade of blue. The sun was bright, and the water sparkled across its surface, dancing with little choppy waves. But the city, oh the city! The buildings, the windows, looking like the way brickwork should. Pick your favorite downtown building, and then multiply it out as far as the eye can see, in infinite variety. I could record my emotions about it all day and you won't really know till you've seen it. It was like walking into a picture and really being there. I wasn't prepared for how it would instantly capture my heart. I guess it was love at first site.

We parked underground and hit the street. We were close to one of the pianos on my list, so we walked just a couple of blocks to Columbus Circle. The piano was called Central Park: Merchant's Gate on the "Play Me I'm Yours" website.

We had to wait for a while, because some students were filming a black and white art film at the piano. There was guy running around with a little light meter device telling the director where he could shoot from. they hogged the piano for a while, but it was fun to watch too. Kinda got the impression that the filming was more fun to watch than the movie would be... 

While they were filming, a wandering guy sat down and started playing his comb, talking to the crowd.

Anybody can play and instrument, but only one man can play this comb!

And then we got our chance. Oops! The pedal doesn't work on this piano, so everything was different. Notes would not sustain after you let them go, so I had to do all my harmony work with what's called "finger pedaling" where you keep things things down with your fingers, sort of like how you have to play an organ, and then also just play around it. I couldn't build up a sound in the pedal, as I usually do, so things became more rhythmic, and I had to just adapt. One cool thing: this was an unpaved area, and even though the pedal didn't work today, there was a little hole dug out of the ground where all the folk's heels had rocked as the piano was played. There were a lot of people at this place, just sitting around, walking by, resting in the shade. It was the southwestern edge of Central Park. We were close to all the rich people's high rises that overlook the park. I thought about John Lennon while we were here. 

Several people listened to us while we played, and we got into a conversation with a few.

As we were leaving, a choir showed up and started singing "No one's gonna rain on my parade" to everyone's delight.

Time to hop the #1 train and go north, to 111th street, to the Cathedral of St. John the Divine. I was really excited about this one. It looked really cool in the pictures, the piano and the cathedral. It was.

When we arrived at the site, it was just off the street, in a kind of garden. We entered a gate and suddenly we were in a quiet circular alcove, surrounded by tall green trees on most sides, except to our left, where the cathedral towered up in what can rightly be called splendor. In the center was an amazing statue of God knows what. I think it was also a fountain. There were several stone levels around the right side of the garden, like large steps, mostly in the shade of the trees, and several people were perched there, relaxing and reading and eating lunch. Once through the grown over gate, It felt like we had gone back in time. It was almost medieval. I could hear the street traffic, but it was in the distance. There was continual bird song from the trees. It was peaceful. I knew this was a special place. The piano sat quietly unattended halfway around the garden.

I couldn't wait to get to the piano, so I left Jamie and Chad behind as I quickly skipped around the statue to the brightly painted piano I had seen on the website. I loved the look of this one. It looked like melted wax, and it was bright yellow and orange. When I first sat down, I found that the pedal on this piano wasn't working either. But this time I wasn't going to give up so easily. The piano lids were locked, but the bottom plate that comes off for the tuner to access things like pedal mechanisms (wink wink) was accessible. I didn't know if I could fix it, but I took off the front and crawled under there to see. The dowel had slipped out of place, and after a few minutes of tweaking and a splinter (ouch!) I got it to stay in place. I left off the bottom of the piano because it really helps a lot of sound escape the instrument, sort of like opening the lid on a grand.  We were in business! 

The sun was bright and hot, and we were a little tired from our walk and our packs, but I was too excited to rest, so I decided to get right to playing. Unlike the Merchant's Gate piano, this piano was more in tune (hooray), the pedal now worked (hooray), the notes themselves sustained longer and projected (hooray), and it was in a quiet place so the music played on it could really be heard (hooray). This was a piano I could work with. I planned to start with a Chopin Prelude I had prepared, no. 4 in E Minor. It is a beautiful little plaintive song that felt right at home at the foot of this massive God house. The music feels like something small crying out, and so do I, here in this place. I bet the architects designed it to help you feel your relative smallness.

Then the church bells started to ring! I hunted on the keys and found the bell notes (G, A, B & D for all you music geeks) and started to play along. As they subsided, it felt like it was in the key of G, and I just let the swirl turn into Autumn.

Most of you don't get to hear me play classical pieces that often. So, how about a couple of little melancholy preludes whose sadness somehow makes me happy? Here's some Chopin and Scriabin.

Then Chad and I proceeded to just play a lot of songs. There was applause from the onlookers, and people heard the music as far away as the Hungarian Pastry Shop (insanely good baclava!) and wandered into our garden. I say "our" garden, because for the hour or so that we hung out there and played music, people were stopping by and talking to us, clapping for songs, and there was no distraction in the lovely little alcove. It was like we had a chance to give a private party to strangers, and they received us. Chad suggested that we play "Don't Let Go" (the song Chad wrote for his father as he was dying from ALS), which I hadn't played since his dad passed away earlier this year. Beside the big church, under the big sky, and at Chad's request as he held his dad's guitar, it seemed right.

We met a cool guy named Mike, and he was a musician too. He liked our version of the Avett Brothers' "I and Love and You," and we got to talking about them. He had seen them, and was a fan as well. Chad then let him play his guitar, and Mike and I fell into an easy blues jam, like we were old friends.

We decided it was time to leave and went over to the Hungarian pastry shop across the street, and had some insanely good baklava. Bet you thought there was going to be more detail than huh? But what more can you say? It was small inside the restaurant. They let us fill our water bottles from their tap. Oops! I forgot to put that bottom panel back on the piano. I definitely didn't want to leave the piano like that, so I rushed back across the street and put it right. Lured again by the peaceful moment, and the content onlookers, I played a couple more songs, just for the people, no tape rolling. Chad and Jamie came back, and there were some nice people listening, and in a moment or two Chad realized they were from his beloved Spain. They didn't speak any English, but Chad is fluent, and just lit up at hearing Spanish in their accent, which is apparently pretty different from western hemisphere Spanish. Talking to them reminded him of where he grew up. There were two couples, and they had just run into each other a little earlier in the day. So, five Spaniards got to feel the bond of belonging to Spain around the piano at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine on the fourth of July in NewYork City, totally by chance! They wanted to hear a song, so we sang Chad's song "The Monster" totally in Spanish. I say "we," but really I just played a bass line on the piano while Chad did all the work!

All in all, we played a lot of music at this piano. If you want to hear more of it, we have these songs also posted on our YouTube channel: Weight of the World, Answer Man, I Can't Be Falling in Love, Brown Station Wagon, I Miss the Explosions, I and Love and You (cover of the Avett Brothers).

Joe Next Door's YouTube Channel

We parted ways with our new Spanish friends. A nice older man who had been reading in the shade the whole time we were there, and being complimentary towards us, told us he lived nearby. By this time, baklava notwithstanding, Chad was hungry. That boy eats while he is out and about! Anyway, the neighborhood local sent us down the block to Milano's Market, maker of the best best Prosciutto sandwich in the universe (I can personally vouch for this). Before we headed to the market for a sandwich, we wanted to go inside the Cathedral. It was Sunday, and we had just had some pretty great experiences at the foot of this building, and they had allowed the piano to be on their grounds. We were in the mood to appreciate this house of God. We walked out of the Garden and towards the front steps. It was a very wide entrance with the several sets of the biggest doors you've ever seen. They had to be at least 20' tall. Maybe more. They were as tall as a two story house, easy. Most were made of rich mahogany colored wood, but the the center ones were some kind of dark metal, like tarnished bronze. Every inch of the huge doors was carved and ornamented with different reliefs, lots of animals that don't exist, you know, like lions with wings. The huge black cast iron handles looked like they were from a movie set in the year 1200, and I walked up and pulled on them to go inside. When the doors wouldn't budge, locked as they were from the inside, I pulled harder. No luck. I wasn't the only one trying to get inside either. Others were walking up and turning around. I felt that in my stomach. I had a moment of feeling left out, of being excluded. It could also have been that the doors only open for giants. Perhaps we were all too short. Jamie shot a few photos and we walked down the steps to 111th St. and left the Philistine doors behind us.

It's entirely possible that the feeling in my stomach was just the lack of a sandwich. After Chad shared his magnificent sandwich with us (and believe you me, that sandwich was a glorious culinary achievement), we headed to the subway. On the way, still hungry I suppose (did I mention that boy can eat?), Chad bought some delicious, huge, juicy dark red cherries at a sidewalk market. We trumped down the steps to underneath the street, and on the subway platform we saw a guy playing light jazz on one of those keyboards with the speakers built in. I got out my melodica, and played along while we waited for the southbound #1 line.

The previous piano and the Lincoln Center: Alice Tully Hall piano were two of the primary ones I wanted to visit. This one looked so awesome online, and on this one the keys were painted solid colors, so the left side was white and the upper right side was black. I wanted to see what that felt like to play. It was weird! I actually relied a lot on not looking at the keys. But when my eyes were open, I really had to concentrate. I only have split seconds and slight glances to aim at notes while playing a song, and the loss of contrast was like trying to walk on a trampoline for the first time. Gotta get your sea legs, so to speak. This one was painted by Henri Matisse's granddaughter. (For those of you unfamiliar with him, he was an important early 20th century modern artist, along side Picasso. His name above is a link to his Wiki.)

I didn't expect to like anything better than the Cathedral, but this turned out to be our favorite place to perform. The piano, like the entrance to the hall, was probably 6 feet down from street level, and there were steps down to a wide flat area where you could enter the hall. The building actually created an overhang, and the piano was underneath it. It was at the left corner of the building and at the steps turned with the sidewalk, and this concrete pointy thing shot up into the air at the corner, making a kind of amphitheater. The acoustics were terrific. Alice Tully Hall is actually a part of the Julliard School building. 

There were a lot of folks hanging out here. When we arrived there was a little kid, couldn't have been much more than 10 years old, playing real classical rep. At first it was what sounded like a spiritual adaptation, and after that he played Jeux  d'eau by Ravel. We didn't get footage, but here's a link to someone playing it on youtube. Now imagine a little kid doing that. It was pretty cool! 

Chad and I waited our turn and started singing. The people loved us, and a crowd gathered. We got the most enthusiastic response here, and played many songs. We met this cool singer/songwriter from Montreal named Nadine. She heard Chad and I singing from down the street, and was "captivated" to quote a very nice note she subsequently sent me. She listened and cheered us on, and then we played along on one of her songs (top left photo in the collage above). You can check out her youtube here. 

Mid-performance at Alice Tully Hall, our video camera battery died, so we don't have a lot of  footage till later in the evening when Jamie had a chance to plug in. We got lots of audio though, and we will have an inexpensive, probably handmade CD of all our best street performances available at shows.  Here's one of the few videos that we do have from this piano.

Not more than a block away was Avery Fisher Hall, and the next piano on my list. As we walked up a couple of girls were walking away. One of them was obviously a dancer, and the other was wearing a shirt that said "Ask Me To Dance." I inquired about her shirt, and turns out she is a swing dance teacher. Her name was Mary, and she had cool sunglasses, and had quit her job as a corporate lawyer to teach dance, and her friend was Fanilla, a professional modern dancer from England (super cool accent!) who had been hired by Martha Graham Company to dance over the summer. We got to talking about music in 3, like waltzes, and before you know it we were playing and they were dancing to our music. Since our video camera battery was dead, Jamie was only able to get stills, but as luck would have it we also ran into professional photographer Nan Melville who was on the scene shooting photo and video for Sing For Hope, the official sponsors of Play Me I'm Yours! She loved that we came up from NC to play the pianos, and she interviewed us on camera and shot video of the girls dancing while Chad and I were singing songs, including our Avett Brothers cover of "I and Love and You." Below is Nan's footage that she sent us, and it inclues a few songs with the interview in the middle. The Avett Brothers song is at the end. I'm so grateful to Nan for capturing this, and also sharing it with us. Our camera was down, and I forgot to start the audio recorder at this piano. But through her kindness, even though the audio is a little distorted at times, you can still hear what we thought was our best performance of this song.

Zoo Chad at Avery Fisher-H.264 800Kbps from Jamie Zeoli on Vimeo.

Nan talked to us and walked us to the next Lincoln Center piano at Damrosch Park and shot some stills there. Chad and I recorded "She's Got a Living" (audio only) at this piano, and you can hear the helicopter, either providing news coverage or security for the approaching fireworks display. By this time we had been out of water for an hour or so, and we were downing the cherries for their juice!

There was one last Lincoln Center piano to hit, and that one was just on the corner of Columbus and 62nd St. We left Nan, and rounded the corner. The sun had set and it was starting to get dark. The fireworks were only a few minutes from starting, and people were beginning to throng towards the river to get a view. As we approached the vicinity of the next piano, we heard music, and when the piano came into view we saw Nick, a happy white surfer hippie with long blonde dreads playing Bach! He was sitting in one of those canvas director's chairs tearing up the keys. The piano bench was upside with a broken leg next to the instrument. Nick was visiting from San Diego, and had just happened upon the piano. He was fun to talk to, and very excited about pretty much everything. I played some Chopin for him, in spite of how low the chair was. Presently, another guy walked up to listen. I learned that he is the musician who scores the Garfield cartoon for Comedy Central. He arrived while I was playing "I Believe" for Nick. He introduced himself and wanted to know if I could take the song up a half step. He was trying to see if I had the chops. I'm pleased to report that after a few moments of thinking, I played "I Believe" in E (instead of E flat) and he was satisfied that I was the real deal, and had ears enough to be easy to work with in the studio. It didn't occur to me till later that had I not been able to come through with the "on the spot" transposition, I may have felt embarrassed (funny word, caused to have a bare ass!) and might have even thought the comment rude. But I had the goods, and I didn't notice that it was a test. We had a nice discussion about how we both are getting to make a living through music, and he told stories about doing a project with Bob Dylan's band where he had to score and arrange a bunch of Bob's music for them and an orchestra. While I was engaged at the piano, Chad had been caught up in a conversation with a guy he described as crazy, who was a guitar player, but who went on and on about how local New Yorkers secretly all felt the end was coming, that doom was approaching the city, and that they had started to quietly jump ship and leave town. Then, BANG! BOOM! Fortunately it wasn't the end of NY: the fireworks started! Nick ran with us towards the river.

I wish I could post some awesome photos and tell about how amazing the fireworks were, but alas! We hardly saw anything. The crowds got thick as we got close to the Hudson, and the thing about New York is that there are tall buildings everywhere. We were 60 blocks from where the fireworks were being launched, and only occasionally saw a few blooms above the buildings in our way. That said, we sure heard the fireworks! It was like a war zone. There was no missing these explosions (wink); I felt them concuss the air around us; it actually made my chest vibrate. By the end of the display, we were parched, out of cherries, and trying to beat the crowd away from the river. The smoke from the fireworks was wafting all the way up where we were. It was hanging in the air, and it smelled good, like happy memories. 

We were trying to develop a plan of action to quench our thirst, and were near the van, so the thought was to get back to the van and get the crazy intense Greenpeace essence I had made (just 12oz turns a gallon of water to Greenpeace, sweetened and everything, it's like a magic potion!) and then try to find somewhere we could buy a gallon jug of water. As we were coming up 57th St. away from the river, we saw a little stone church in the night with it's red doors propped open and light streaming out. I could see that it said Trinity Presbyterian on the sign, and since we were all Presbyterians, we thought it might be a nice place to rest, and maybe get some water, and meet some believers. We walked in and saw three people inside. There was a sax player packing up his horn. We didn't get to hear him, and he couldn't stay, but he was a cool black guy in a late night NYC church, and he just looked like jazz. The other two guys cleaning up were a young olive skinned guy with dark hair, and an older man with a bright red button down shirt, and an even brighter red tie.  They had just finished a service. The older man was putting away the sacrament; the younger man was putting away his classical guitar. We asked if we could sit down and pray for a bit. They welcomed us. After a few words we learned the older man was Reverend Wolmar, and the young man was Johann, the music director. The let us use the bathroom, and fill our water bottles in the sink. 

Let me interject here that NYC tap water is fantastic. I'm not kidding. I drank it all day long, and loved it. It is very clean tasting, with a little mineral hint about 2/3rds of the way through. So, a sink to fill up at was a real blessing! Rev. Wolmar informed us that some testing had revealed that there are traces of antidepressants in NYC water. Whatever it was, it was yummy!

It was very peaceful and quiet in the church. It felt good to sit down, and relax in a safe and friendly place. We weren't scared out in the city, but the church had a comfortable feel to it that was allowed us to let down our guard. Johann was 18 years old, and had just graduated high school. We all got to talking about music. I wanted to give them something, and basically all we had was our ability to make music, so I thought they might enjoy it if we sang some praise songs while they packed up. Chad and I both help out with music in our respective churches, and had done house church together for few years. We were feeling the hospitality of the people of God we had just met in a foreign place, and we were also in good voice, ready to sing. They had two pianos in the front of the church, an upright pushed "keys to the wall" on one side, and a small grand on the other side, covered with a white sheet, and being used as a table for the sound equipment, and some flowers. I asked permission to lift the edge of the sheet and play the grand, and when I did I discovered that it didn't have any front legs, and was being supported by an old organ bench (they're taller than piano benches) and it didn't have a proper pedal either, but it did have a totally jerry-rigged pedal mechanism made out of nailed together pieces of bamboo. I kid you not! I pulled a chair up to the half visible organ bench, slid my foot under the supports to the bamboo piece, and reached my hands across to the keys, and it worked! I had found another NY piano, not on the map, that had obviously seen a few things, but it let me play it, and that was enough. 

As we all talked about music together, we discovered that they also (as we do back home) create new music to sing in their church. Johann excitedly got out his guitar to show us a song he had written for his church. It is a setting of the Lord's Prayer. It has cool chords. He taught it to me and Chad, and we sang it around and around for a bit, just praying the Lord's Prayer in song. After we finished, we turned around and 10 people had come in off the street through the open doors and sat in the back to listen to the music! Then Chad led "Grace Flows Down" (my favorite song from when we used to do house church). During that song, a young man with a cool hat and long curly hair and rolled up jeans walked up and sat in the front pew right behind Chad. After the song, we talked to him. He is a musician named Marc Solomon who had just moved to NYC three days earlier, and was walking back from the fireworks when he heard us playing music. Chad gave Marc his guitar, and Marc played us a few of his songs. He is a gifted player, and a good songwriter. He came to NYC to go school for music production. 

I took a couple of minutes and taught Johann an old hymn that our pastor, Randy Edwards (read his awesome blog) reworked the music for, called "There is a Fountain." He then showed me an oldtime hymn that they do in a deep blues version of, called "I'ma sing." At two places in NY I was able to play with people I had never met because of the blues. I have a new appreciation for the instant community that can happen between stranger musicians just because they share this musical vocabulary. Right away there's structure, flow and form decided, and you get to relax into a comfortable familiar place, and listen and react to to the way your new friends are resting in it as well. There's something to that.

We were there for well over an hour, playing, singing, and sharing stories, and talking about the gospel. We learned that Rev. Wolmar is a actually a leader of small Brazilian congregation that meets in this building 2 nights a week, and leads his service in Portuguese. He had prayed earlier that day for someone to help them with the problems with their sound system, and Marc gladly offered to help them get the problems sorted out. Rev. Wolmar was just delighted about this! He felt like we were all a direct answer to prayer. If we had not come in and played music, Marc would not have wandered in off the street to listen, and plugged himself into their problem. I thought back to the big cathedral, and it massive, ornately carved doors; doors that were locked (on a Sunday). And I though about how God used our thirst and our faith that believers would welcome us, and light falling out of an open door to pull us in. As soon as we were inside, we felt like they were blessing us, only later to find that we also were the tools of God blessing them. God is a master of the maneuver. He makes it look and feel easy. Every now and then you get a glimpse of the crazy beautiful Kung-Fu he's actually spinning out all the time. Can you imagine what it will be like to appreciate the whole when we no longer see through a glass darkly? He's like the cosmic Bruce Lee

As we were about to leave, we gathered in a circle and held hands and prayed, mostly praise for fellowship and provision, and community. Rev. Wolmar insisted we fill up our water bottles again, and also offered us the rest of tonight's communion grape juice! We all drank before we left. He said several times, in his thick accent, that it was OK for us to drink it because it had not been blessed during the service. Chad and I got a kick out of that and exchanged smiles every time he said it. He prayed as he poured it for us though, and we all shared. It was funny, 'cause he was out of cups, so he just drank from the bottle after he had served all of us!

Now, guess who's hungry? Us. That's right. It's just after 11pm, and Marc was headed our way, at least as far as the subway, so we decided to find some pizza together. Within a block of the church, there's this little "hole in wall" looking place, and I wasn't keen on going into there at first, but as we walked towards it, this amazing aroma surrounded us. I warmed up to the place as we approach. Two girls walked out and we asked them about it, and they said it's terrific, so the deal is sealed. It was called Mariella's. It was tiny inside, and hot, and almost every surface was covered with this kinda ugly yellow granite, but wow, the was pizza terrific! It was only $2.50 a slice, not much more than home, and it was awesome. They aren't kidding when they say NY pizza is good. NY pizza is good! The guy behind the counter had a thick eastern European accent (I think) and he was one cranky fella. Apparently, the street traffic had kept him open, but he wasn't getting paid overtime. He had 3/4 of a huge thin crust cheese pizza left, and we all got a slice. He wouldn't make any more, or put any toppings on, but as soon we tasted it, nobody cared. Cheese pizza this good doesn't need flash. We bought the last two slices and split them up. He didn't charge us for the last slice. He just wanted to be outta pie so he could start telling people he was closed. After he turned off the light and muttered around grumpily, we took off, full of joy, pizza, and camaraderie. A short walk to the subway, and we said goodbye to Marc, and decided to go to Times Square even though the pianos were going to be locked up. They were only available from 9am-10pm each day. I figured we could sing at each piano, even if I couldn't play it. I had my voice and my melodica, and Chad had his guitar. the midnight was young, and our day wasn't over yet!

We arrived in Times Square a little after midnight, but midnight there isn't like midnight here. There were people everywhere. There were lights flashing ads for all your favorite stores and national chain items. It was like watching TV on the sides of buildings, but with no actual show between commercials. After the initial spectacle of so many cool looking screens, you got tired of looking at them, because who cares about a bottle of Zyrtec that 10 stories tall? Seeing a Target ad 300 feet long didn't change me much, I already like Target. You get the picture. Times Square itself was intense looking, but all the screens were like a band with no song, a painter with no subject, or a dancer in chains. I immediately wanted to see that crazy unique overwhelming display put to some real purpose other than to peddle stuff that everyone's already gonna buy. It's a one of a kind spot. If it were used for something meaningful, now that  would be something to see.

All the drama and life was on the ground. It's like a plaza, with some permanently blocked off streets. It has a kind of "fair"-like quality. Right in the center there is a neon lit up NYPD remote station. It's like a big ticket booth (maybe in more ways than one!). But it makes the police presence clear, and everyone feels totally safe. There are street vendors everywhere doing caricatures, quick photo edits of you on magazine covers, even one place where you can buy your picture on one of the big screens above. I don't know what this guy was cooking in his little cart, meat chunks on a kabob (I think it was goat) but it smelled so good! We were still full of pizza, but otherwise, we may have been full of goat!

We wandered around and eventually saw the first piano, at Broadway and 42nd St. We had been warned earlier in the day that one of these pianos had keys that didn't play anymore, but it was way past closing time for the pianos it was locked with a couple of padlocks, so it didn't matter. These last two pianos were basically a gathering spot for us. I got my melodica out. It's a little instrument that I can blow through that has reeds in it like a harmonica. It sounds somewhere in between and harmonica and and accordion. Right next to the first piano were these nice ladies lounging in some chairs. As we played the first song, one of the ladies with her back to us got up and moved a few feet away. We apologized for bothering her, but it turns out that she was turning around because she wanted to be able to see us. She and her daughter were from Virginia, up for the holiday, but really they were from Jamaica. Her accent was awesome! They liked us, and several people here (and throughout the course of the day) took out their cameras and phones as the passed by and filmed us singing.

After a couple of songs we migrated to our final piano, Broadway between 45th and 46th St. Here we met a Syrian couple in town for a wedding. They were resting after a long day in some chairs near the piano, and really enjoyed our music. They tipped us, asked about us, and wanted to hear more songs. At every stop along our way, we played music, encountered new people and formed instant rapport over the pianos, and our songs. I had hoped that might happen at one piano. It happened at 10, including Mel's house and the church. We saw the power of music, the power of performance, the power of art in public places, the power of the city, and the power of God. 

I'd like to offer a special thanks to Jamie Zeoli, my lovely wife for carrying around the bag of camera equipment all day long in the hot city, being ready at all times to snap pics and shoot video, many times simultaneously, and then doing mountains of editing and tweaking when we got back so that we could make this blog. I play the music, and write the words, but if you see it, it's because of Jamie's dedication and skill with her tools. Thanks for all your hard work on the trip and this blog! Thanks to everyone who helped us get there, my students (you know who you are!) for sponsoring me, cousin Mel and De for putting us up and letting us play their piano, the comb man for breaking it down and going to work, the Spaniards for taking Chad back to Spain in his heart, Nadine for listening to our CD all the way back to Montreal, Mary and Fanila for putting the motion in our poetry, Nan Melville for sharing her video with us, Rev Wolmar and Johann for welcoming us and giving us water to drink when we were thirsty, Marc Solomon for sharing his music and some delicious pizza with us, all the nice people we met in the city who gave us a listen when they had no reason to, Luke Jerram for creating this event, and God for making the beautiful everything with it's built in potential for music. We are only ever at play in in the romper room of God's cleverness, such cleverness that we often take it so deeply for granted that we don't even see design, since we couldn't envision it any other way. Imagine a universe where nothing could vibrate. See what I mean? Even the name we give it all means "one song."

It's almost done!

Our NYC street pianos blog post (it's a biggun') is almost done! There's a lot to tell, and lots of pics to include, and lots of video to embed. I can't wait to have it up, and we are scrambling and working hard on the details so that it is just right!


Oh, and Chad, worship, while nice, is not going to make it get done any faster.
I'm just saying...