The Ideas
The idea that
you were
fully aware
of how your
every move
motion
smile
and conversation
stirred me
left me weak
left me questioning
my need to be free
is truly
frightening
Habitus
The internet says, “In sociology, habitus refers to the deeply ingrained habits, skills, dispositions, and tastes that individuals acquire through their background and social experiences. It is the "feel for the game" that guides how we perceive, react to, and navigate the social world without needing to consciously think about it.”
I probably was reading something about it. I wrote these songs a while back and then worked with Stephen Ulrich (Big Lazy) again. We had some problems going between DAWs or perhaps my own parts weren’t convincing enough, but he did a typically tight, dazzling job on the guitars and basses. He asked me what style I’d want the parts in, so I said, “Andy Gil”, and he obliged.
I dallied on putting this one out as I thought my post-punk roots were showing a bit too clearly on it. About a dozen years back, I was preferring working with lots of talented friends instead of playing things myself. Well, the savings account starts dwindling pretty fast and I’ve had to course-correct a bit.
I write pretty compulsively and then finally decided to release a few of these “Guitar God” albums this summer before I highlight my current approach of playing the guitars, basses, and keys myself in a sound that sort of could be a native tribe of primitive Gaulkes trapped in a Bronx Co-Op with decent lighting. More to come on that front. If you’re curious about their meanings, here’s what I remember:
- Singing. I was hanging out with vocal teachers a decade ago while also visiting Brazil frequently; two groups of humans who sing at the drop of a hat. Why aren’t the rest of us like that?
- Social Work. Working in lower-income areas can be quite fulfilling and draining at the same time. This comes out in the form of a prayer.
- Misterbob. I taught adult basic education after being outed by the DOE for refusing to sign off on hours that weren’t delivered to kids. I really admired the adult students who were brave enough to go back and get their educations and put themselves in my hands for hours at a time.
- Untrained Eye. Sexual tension with an old friend. These nuclear powers make the planet spin.
- Daughters of Mars. Will humans ever evolve? How much longer will they continue being so stupid?
- All Dressed Up. I took a songwriting workshop with the great Martin Briley. One of the assignments was to write a tune based around a familiar turn of phrase or idiomatic expression. I like how this one came out and can see the video in my mind.
- Laughter. I read somewhere recently that people who take things lightly demonstrate a sophistication. About this.
- Habitus. Title track as a sexy scene in an imaginary sci-fi film.
The musicians were:
Stephen Ulrich: Guitars and Basses
Kevin Cerovich: Drums and Trombones
Leon Gruenbaum: Keyboards on selected tracks
Paulo LePetit: Bass on selected tracks
Emilia Cataldo: Backing Vocals
Martin Scian: Mixing and Mastering
Photos by Scott Nasburg
OK. I hope you enjoy these and can catch me live around NYC this summer playing solo, or with the band, “RobBanksWithLeon”
Best,
Bob
Tell Me
tell me stories
stories about yourself
I don’t care
make them up
I’m a character
in someone else’s
book I don’t care
we die in the end
but in the pages
we can be happy
illustrated and endings
are open-ended
what do you want to know
know about me
let me think
of something
can we begin with
once upon a time
don’t tell me
you’re too old for that
it happens all the time
I tell stories all the time
no, they’re not lies
if they’re musicals
Failed Meditation
what happens
if you stop
being busy
I think about pain
the pain has a shape
it’s the shape of the world
all fears and violence
flashing
and I feel sad for others
in their
ignorant bliss
and sad for myself
that I can’t achieve
that said
bliss
My happy place in a dying empire
we don’t get out of this alive
we don’t avoid the blame
all we can do is get comfortable
as we go up in flames
we have to participate
can’t stay in our caves
won’t be immortalized
like that guy in Pompeii
fight them in the streets
and on the barricades
but unless we suddenly evolve
those burnt seeds still remain
Thinking is hard
sometimes there
are no prompts
you’ve lost your
battery memory
you have to rely on
the invisible reality
above your thumbs
it’s always hiding
only mostly
from you
Hills
If I died today
I’d be satisfied with my tiny life
feeling that I tried things
my own way
there’d be some bills to pay
few things to give away
and the hope your anger
wouldn’t stay
knowing we worked at capacity
making our own mistakes
what felt like cruelty
were lessons with other names
if there was will involved
much as we got caught up
in something more than us
I just hope it didn’t cause much pain
Thatness
F$ck everything else
when it comes down
to it
there are a few who really care
one or two who make it
worth it
spaced like atoms in the air
and the ship sinks
with them and us
and we didn’t pay extra
we go down with the sharks
reborn as lions
Living and dying for ideas
fifty-fifty you’re wrong
technology might come
with a new solution
dissolving this dualism
you’ve helped
prop up
you were built to fight
you chose a side
after all how can you
have hate without love
what if we just
changed the subject
and help to make
something else up
Cargo Cult
Cargo Cult
we’re devastated
on our backs
bracing for
the next attack
still drinks
in the fridge
cheese
under the lid
packages sometimes
arrive unopened
another Mideast
massacre unfolding
currency’s currently
underwater
delivery trucks still running
our desperate orders
in this cargo cult
I’ve got you involved
Tarzan and Jane
in chanson
to this cargo cult
I’m enthralled
while time runs
in and out
I build this sarcophagus
brick by brick
by imported novels
and Blu-ray boxsets
I’ve decided to put Greg’s kid
in the will
I don’t know who else
would get it
good life is never
won by degrees
doctorates colonizing
your feelings
happy inside
my force field pull me out
well-done my pages
are burning