LORD IT SOUNDED SWELL • by Fred Cheney
Always wanted to live on the coast, so I come down here in — well, a long time ago — and opened this little bar. And let me tell you, I seen a lot of crazy things in them thirty… Continue Reading
Always wanted to live on the coast, so I come down here in — well, a long time ago — and opened this little bar. And let me tell you, I seen a lot of crazy things in them thirty… Continue Reading
There’s nothing wrong with Snug Harbor. It’s a classy, dignified, and orderly place. The shows start and end right on time. But of all the jazz spots on Frenchmen Street, it’s my least favorite. It’s just a little too orderly.… Continue Reading
Derek Hayes, Grammy winner and chronicler of the 70s and 80s, was an inspiration. At least, Sophie thought so, even if her classmates had never heard of him. Derek beat heroin addiction and several bankruptcies, but always came out okay,… Continue Reading
We could see straight down to the bottom of the Guadalupe river that day. There were turtles, minnows, and rocks covered in algae. We walked along the banks, scoping out the perfect spot to sit and pretend we were carefree.… Continue Reading
“What’s that sound?” asks my wife, Kadie. She and I lie in the loft of the barn, the wan light of a cloudy dusk making the world a shadow play through the unshuttered hay door on the west side of… Continue Reading
She liked it rough — she liked it with a rasp edging the honey in her voice. She liked to pretend that it made her songs profound, filled them with the angst so missing from her own life. But Mock… Continue Reading
Star Shaker’s scales glittered and shone with rainbow colors under the spotlights. Her barbed tail swayed, and she flapped her tiny vestigial wings as she sang into the mic. With the backdrop of stars behind her, she looked like a… Continue Reading
Lotta rain since Shanna left—weeks and weeks of it. It seems forever since I’ve seen a blue patch of sky. Drops of rain pelt the tall windows of the old Manhattan loft I call home, the occasional clap of thunder… Continue Reading
A musician was on tour in the south of England and played a little folk club gig in Eastbourne. As often happens that night he was invited to stay at the home of the organisers, an Australian couple, Jayne and… Continue Reading
I’m a friggin’ star, I tell Bev in a telephone call from Istanbul. She laughs just like I knew she would and I ask her to please wait for me. I’m coming back to you, doll, soon as I can.… Continue Reading