Pierce Turner Srings into Action
Today for some reason or other the sirens on First Avenue were in harmony with my activities. I am in the process of recording a talking book, and it’s weird because the First Avenue traffic usually fits in okay with my songs-but not so with the spoken word through, every little sound is noticeable. It was driving me nuts, looking out the window, waiting for the traffic lights to change to red and trying to get a take in there before green! I refused to give in and kept hammering away-but I must confess that I was beginning to feel like I was peeing in the wind.
Then today everything changed! I came into the sitting room and the sun was cutting a sharp triangle across the Hopper print of “The lady in a Summer Dress”-I opened the window wide to see if the cars were being loud. The apple blossom tree outside my window on the Avenue was looking splendid in her spring dress-all pink and soft she was smiling in the sun- she reached in through the window to me, and coooed “What are you up to?”
“Oh all kinds of things, really”
“ Are you playing around at all?”
“Yes in fact, I’m playing at Joe’s Pub on Friday April 30th”
“Oh that’s great-what on your own?”
“No I’m playing with the Scorchio String Quartet-the group who backed me at Carnegie Hall”
“Oh ‘m sure they sounded great with you-I don’t get out much of course”
“I’m also trying to record a talking book-but the noise on the Avenue has been very disagreeable”
“Well we’ll have to see what we can do about that-give it a go today!”
I pulled my head in-turned on the machine and began to record-the traffic came through the lights-but they moved slowly making very little noise. Nothing jittered and nothing clanged-nothing beeped and nothing banged-I careened through the piece with precision and poise-and was really surprised at the lack of interruption. I looked out the window to see how come? And there they were all mesmerised and calm- moving slowly so that they could take the time-to admire the pretty flamingo in the pink summer dress-covered in the blossoms of Spring standing outside my Window with the wind blowing through her hair.
It’s time again my New York sausages to celebrate our love for each other-come out with the flowers of April and relive the Carnegie hall Moment with The great Scorchio String Quartet.
I love your little cherub button bottoms!
A Letter From Pierce Turner
I If I was more confident about my spelling I might write more easily and more often. But the spell check has wrecked my confidence about the standard that I had set for my own level of incorrect spelling. This bloody thing seems to get confused sometimes about the most elementary words; words like ambition or aptitude-you never know what word it’s going to yellow out and then have no answers when you query for alternatives. I am almost certain that I’m dyslexic-but then again so are two thirds of the planet. If almost two thirds of the planet thinks backwards-why is forward the norm?
I have written a song called Philip Glass is a class act .. And then it goes….
Famous people can be such a pain in the ass like
But not Philip he’s a class act!
I have written this song because Philip has been so good to me it’s insane. I said to him recently “thank you so much for Carnegie hall” he replied “ I’m a friendly guy, but I’m not that friendly, I’m doing it because I like your music” Of course I am like all human beings in that I can’t believe that’s completely true. As Sandra Bullock said when she got the Academy Award “ Did I deserve this or did I just wear you down?” That’s the way I feel with Philip. This week I nailed him down to come into the Studio with me on April 16th to record the song that we played in Carnegie Hall. The New York Times said that it was “a cross between Joni Mitchell and Opera.” Rolling Stone said that it was “soaring and reminiscent of David Bowie” Regina Spector said “Wow” and I wonder what the character in the song “Yogi with a Broken Heart “ would think of all this?
I have one more New York gig before I go back to Ireland. Joe’s Pub on Friday April 30th at 7pm. I am honoured (that’s the English spelling) to have the Scorchio String Quartet from Carnegie Hall for the occasion. It will be a repro of that Tibet House moment and I am so delighted this great Quartet can be there. Sorry Iggy (or Piggy) is elsewhere. This may well be my last gig in NY this year I’m sorry to say. So please get out of work at five and take the drive down to the lower side.
I love you more than you could ever love me.
Kome out of de hoose.
Abandonment letters - Part 1 and 2
Part 1 Abandonment
It doesn't matter what our specific fate is, as long as we face it with total abandon! Apparently Don Juan once said this to Carlos Castaneda while they were both out having a pint at the local pub. I have been trying to brainwash myself with this philosophy lately and no question about it there has been ample opportunity for me to call on these words for guidance.
On December 29th 09 I played a gig at the Sugar Club in Dublin. When I woke up that morning I sensed almost immediately from the sound of the wind and the pallor of the grey daylight, that it could be a dodgy day. Right away the phone rang a little bit earlier than musician - time. It was my friend Pat the piano man. Hello Piersh it's Pat here. Hello Pat , howarye ? Oh not too bad Piersh how are you? ye remember I was telling you about the trailer jackknifing above on the Glynn road the other day? Well I thought everything was secure and sound, but when I shtarted up the jeep this morning the hand brake was frozen and she wouldn't budge an inch! shit dass bad news alright Pat. I tried driving her anyhow, but shur the smell of burning was nottin only dire! Absolute dire! I'm not coddin ye now! Maybe if I can get someone to climb under her or something we can fix it, but I'd be having me doubts!
Now I just want to say here that Pat is not very easily put off! He would bend over backwards to keep his commitment. So if he's in doubt, there must be a real reason. would you !.. Ever consider playing an electric piano Piersh? (deja vu!) Don Juan comes to mind -total abandon! Jays Pat. I hate the fuckin tings, they sound so small! Then I look out the window and notice it is the worst weather since Noah took out the Arc, wind blowing in four different directions, up, down, left and right! Dark and leashing rain trying to wash our house down the hill, cars driving by with full beams cutting through the dark day like searchlights seeking bombers in a black out. And I think who in their right mind is going to leave the fire tonight and come to my gig? They're all nesty enough with their big Christmas bellies begging for more bread wine and cheese. Now they have an ally in the weatherman whom I'm sure is saying with savour don't go out unless you absolutely have to! I think of the cost of the electric Piano versus the Acoustic! It might be wise to keep the over-head down just in case. And then I think of Pat pulling the trailer up through Co Wicklow with the wind blowing in four directions and that's only IF he can get someone to crawl under the jeep and fix it!.
Tell me Pat are the keys weighted on the electric? Yis they are Piersh, she 's top of the range! But I might be still able to get this oul jeep going ye know ! ah don't worry Pat, I'll go with the electric! Whatever you think yourself Piersh, shur ye kin come up and take a look at her, can't ye!
That day we were bringing our friend Barbara to the Airport as well, she had been staying with us for Christmas and was heading back to England. So the little black Alpha Romeo was going to be pretty full with my equipment, Barbara and her very large case, Clare and myself! Where would this Piano go? Don Juan comes to mind again. It turns out the back seats collapse on the car so we were able to slide the piano in sideways and fit the lot of us in with reasonable comfort. There was only one snag, the heater wasn't working in the car and it was bloody well freezing, even with the blankets and the hot water bottles!
Was God trying to tell me I should cancel this gig? Something I really, really hate to do! No! I was going to carry on with, well, maybe not total abandon, but at least with some!
Part 2 of the Abandonment letter.
The last time I played at the Sugar club I had a sound engineer that was difficult to work with, I was nearly driven demented. The previous time I had had someone who was brilliant! and I had now told the manager if I couldn 't have the good one this time, I would have to bring my own. He assured me I would have the good one and confirmed that nothing had changed just two days ago when I double-checked, to be certain-sure.
Assembling the stand for the electric Piano was a feat of engineering which required one to think from the inside out and to pull legs in a direction that felt as un-natural as bending your shins forward at the knee! But up I got her! And it was only then I realised that there was no Piano stool, something that usually comes automatically with the acoustic. I got myself a nice red velvet chair, but it was very low! The Sugar Club is not like most venues, there are no superfluous yokes lying around for improvising around moments like this. So I had to find things. I had a towel in my bag, which was a bright blue. Garvan Gallagher (bassist) gave me a black amp cover, which went over the towel, still not high enough! Clare suggested adding the hot water bottles .good idea!. stuck them into the mix, still not high enough! Found a large black cardigan in the cloakroom, wrapped that around the whole thing and decided to lower the piano a couple of notches. It was passable, ! but it was not looking great I must say.
A young bespectacled gentleman in Doc martin boots comes up to me and introduced himself, just as I was coming to terms with another request for abandonment regarding the make-shift Piano seat. Pierce? Yes Hi. I'm mixing your sound tonight! I abandoned all reservation with my expression of disappointment. But what happened to Ian? All excited about his Brother being in town tonight, ye know, rock stars and all that! His Brother is the lead singer in the Script ye know! (I couldn't give a shit if his brother is God almighty himself-imagine if I was to send in someone else to play the gig tonight! Don 't people realise that it 's not just A sound engineer! They are not all the same! I want a specific one! This is not a casual matter!) Don Juan throws me a very dirty look now sorry wass yer name again? I noticed that he 's serious enough to bring his own special mics for the absent acoustic Piano (a sign of someone who cares) I decide he 's a nice guy and appears to be a professional. Still because he doesn't 't really know my sound and I am already up against it anyhow with the electric Piano being a stranger to me; the sound check is a laborious time consumer, which barely finishes in time to open the doors to the poor soldierly sausages huddled outside in the leashing, horizontal rain.
There were people! I was really shocked and relieved to hear them coming in. I decided to pull back the curtain in the dressing to peek at the audience for a rough assessment of the attendance. It looked decent, someone noticed me gawking, I jerked back quickly and BANG! The loudest racket you ever heard in yer life, it was the acoustic guitar falling from a very tall cocktail table for what seemed like an eternity and hitting the floor with the drama and finality of a train falling off a bridge into a cavernous valley. oh fuck! said I, and Garvan concurred. I picked it up like a dead baby, there was a rattle. At this point I wanted to strangle Don Juan- all the abandonment in the world is not going to bring back my guitar! I suppose you think I should play the piano all night and just leave out the guitar songs! Well tell that to those people out there who will only get half a show! I was now having fully fledged arguments with Don Juan. While Garvan was attending to he funeral of my guitar I said (hopefully) ah it 's only the battery that 's broken loose from it 's mooring (hail mary to hell with Don Juan) after holding it upside down and trying to maneuver the loose object through the sound-hole for what seemed like an eternity, I finally copped the idea of loosening a couple of strings so that I could cup my hand and reach in to claw the battery out (thank you Mary, it is the battery!) and put it back where it belonged.
We go on stage to enthusiastic applause. I softly run the back of my hand across the guitar to make sure it was working and it blood well wasn't. Oh no! I quickly explain to the audience that it did have a terrible fall in the dressing room- they could feel their show dwindling away- I fiddled with the controls-an eternity had passed, I could feel my body heating up-what a way to start a show! After me turning it off and the sound-man turning it on and me turning it on and the sound-man turning it off a couple of times, it turns out that I had been panicking because of the fall and had merely only failed to turn it on in the first place. Now when we both coincided in the on position, the sweet sound of acoustic strings emanated from the house PA. Everyone cheered and I joked that I was only kidding in the first place as I dragged my arse over to the piano for the first song, but Don Juan wasn't finished trying me yet! Ironically the first song in the set is called Mayhem. I start to sing the first line; Try to be bland and plain while my whole worlds in a hurricane and then PICHOO***/? '@// as soon as I put my arse on the hot water bottle/blue towel, cardigan combo, the microphone transmitter in my back pocket made an absolutely ear-splitting electronic bang,. I made some kind of inane remark, knowing that it was way too soon for another joke. Mayhem in my flat and tanks out on the heath PICHOO***/? '@// This time I chose to say nothing and stood up instead, lifting my behind up off the seat and stooping over the keyboard in a half standing-half stooped position, and acting like I was completely comfortable, desperately hanging on to total abandon.
After that I explained to the audience how I had written the next song in New York on a depressing Monday and that when I sing I think I 'm drowning in a pool of Mondays rain, they should answer, he thinks he 's drowning in a pool of Mondays rain. Knowing how much Dublin audiences love to sing I was really looking forward to this. I started the song and came up to the chorus, stopping the drum machine in preparation for the audience participation; I think I 'm drowning in a pool of Mondays rain. He thinks he 's
PICHOO***/? '@//. I accidentally sat on the precarious pile, through the huge electronic bang I could barely hear the audience singing their hearts out (fuck, fuck .feck it! I thought to myself) another perfect moment ruined!
But I kept going and eventually it was a great, even brilliant gig, with the longest request for an encore I have ever had. So I do believe that I deserve a Don Juan meddle now. A couple of people came up afterwards and said that it was a great gig but that it started off a bit rough. I joked that I like to start rough so that I have some room to improve.
For the life of me I don 't know why. But it does seem that this kind of stuff happens to me an awful lot. I'm sure to the person out in the audience that I come across as being not that fussy or very laissez faire. But it 's not true! I spend hours and hours going over all the things that I would like to do and the prevention of things that might go wrong. However I do like to keep things interesting by changing the set a lot. And I like to have a wireless guitar and microphone so that I can abolish the constraints of the stage-I can choose to sing wherever I like in the room. I suppose if you add these things up, they also allow for more things to go wrong.
When I was touring America in 1988 to promote The sky and the ground, Members of my backing band pleaded with me regularly to nail down a set so that we could work up a really slick show, this is what bands normally do! I would get bored very quickly and I'm sure the music would become cold-but slick, and less mistake-prone! If anything I suppose that is the problem. I would rather have an exciting flaw than slick predictability. Is this a bit of a death wish or am I just naturally inclined towards Don Juan 's philosophy.
It doesn't matter what our specific fate is, as long as we face it with total abandon!
A Christmas Story from Pierce Turner
Pat is going to meet me in Enniscorthy with the horsebox. He called me this morning and said “God Piersh (that’s how Pat speaks) it looks fierce shlippery out dere! Did ye ever tink about the electric Piano? Ye know I delivered that Piano to that Woman in Glynn and while I was goin up that small road into her place, shur the ould trailer did a bit of a jacknife, Jaysus she shlammed right into the arse of the jeep and rightly fucked the back lights! Mind you it’s not too bad, the lights on the trailer are shtill operating”
But Pat the gig is not until tomorrow! “Oh be gob is it not Piersh? No Pat it’s the 29th this is the 28th! Oh shur it could be gorgeous tomorrow Piersh! Dass no problem! Listen Piersh, what time will you be going?” “I was thinking of leaving here at 2;30 Pat, and then I’d be in Enniscorthy at around three!” “Jaypers weren’t we late the last time after I had that blow-out on the trailer? Remember we had to stop somewhere and change the ould tyre? What if I were to go on ahead of you Piersh and meet further up the road?” Great I idea Pat said I (after all it was Pat’s idea to be chaperoned from Enniscorthy as he was nervous about finding his way around Dublin) how about meeting at the Silver Tassie? “dat’s the idea Piersh, exactly!” “Talk to you tomorrow”
Last year our rendezvous at Enniscorthy was fouled up by a small misunderstanding. Pat said to meet at a garage on the left going out of Town. There was none, it was on the right. We went up to the roundabout on the edge of Town and knew something was amiss. I called home on the mobile and he said that we went too far; he was in a garage on the right! I bit my tongue and waited for him. Ten minutes later he sped past us, eyes fixed forward without any concern for waiting musicians on his right. I got out of the car and waved frantically. No use! We sped on after him as quick as we could and eventually apprehended his awareness. At that point Clare said “take a look at the reservation list for tonight and count how many there are!” Couldn’t find it anywhere “What? Try under the seat!” “Nope, it’s not anywhere to be found” “Fuuuck! We have to turn around, it must’v blown out when we were waving at him!” So we flashed the lights and got Pat to pull over, as I walked back to explain what happened another man who had been stopped at that exact spot in the middle of butt fuck nowhere, was sliding a dead cat out of the middle of the road with his foot. “Hello Pierce” said he “Gor I haven’t seen you in ages!” me being in an absolute panic about the loss of the list, was not in the mood for this kind of casual small talk and was struggling to stave off rudeness. “You must remember me I met you at such and such a Party at your Brothers house in Wexford!” “Oh yeah” I said and kept walking back towards Pats Jeep, he followed me and said, “Hello Pat how are ye?” like this was no great coincidence at all! “ Gor John !” said Pat casually “ Long time no see! Where are ye headin for? At this point I barged between their “we’re no hurry at all chat” Pat! “We’ve lost the reservation list! We have to drive back about twenty miles and pray to the all merciful God on high, that we find it on this very windy day!” “No problem Piersh, we’ll carry, we’re driving so slow that you’ll catch up on us anyway” I rushed back to the car and just as I was hurriedly clipping my safety belt, the other man stuck his head through the window and said casually “ do ye ever play up the Cavan way at all anymore?” Clare annoyiedly just stuck her foot on the pedal and left him in a stooped position. I stuck my head out the window and shouted back “No! Not really!”
By some miracle of the highest order we found the list blown up against a bush where it was stopped on it’s journey towards a field that was housing a massive bull with great big panoramic hungry eyes.
Phew! I have to get ready now for tomorrow. Pat’s putting the Piano in the horse box.
Merry Christmas from Pierce Turner
Have you got the time to read this? Did you do your Christmas shopping yet? And have you got the office party coming up?
There’s the house to clean, the groceries to buy, yourself to wash and maintain, the phone to answer, emails to read and write, the TV to watch-who’s got time to listen to music? Or to stop and dream? And do we want to dream and laugh and cry and drop the ball when we have been told to pull up our socks because we have been enjoying ourselves too much?
I saw a guy on the street the other night and he said that he was in a hurry to go home to bed! He was in a lather of sweat as he rushed along the by-way at the far side of my footpath. I envisioned him scrambling through his front door, hastily discarding his coat across the kitchen chair and leaving a trail of clothes along the floor as he frantically raced to his bedroom so that he could leap into his bed as quick as possible and squeeze his eyes closed with great determination and haste for a nice restful nights sleep, phew! Do you think he pulled it off?
I played in Wexford last Saturday and it was a fairly special gig in many ways. But the most important thing for me was the musicality of it and the newcomers. I need new sausages to take the pressure of my old ones who seem to have an awful lot of distractions. “Oh I thought it was next Saturday!” or “my Sister’s husband had their office party” Give me a call shur and I’ll come play in your house, you would just have to remember to stay in that night??? I’m a sarcy bugger aren’t I?
I hope Santa brings you hope and happiness and don’t forget spare a thought for the poor buggers who have no homes, food or money. A kind word costs us nothing. And I love you more than you will ever know. Merry Christmas. Pierce.
Pierce Turner Christmas
Christmas is coming again I can feel it in the Irish rain. My summer house is soaked, the paint may not hold. Yesterday the budget came down hard on almost everyone, time to paint the Town red!
Next Saturday Dec 19th I'm goin to play my annual Wexford Christmas gig here in Wexford appropriately. And I enclose the lyrics for my Christmas song in case you're around and want to sing along.
Let's knock back the grog and port at the Wexford Art Centre. It'll be brillo.
I'm your slave.
ALL WE WANT FOR CHRISTMAS (IS TO BE FAMOUS) by Pierce Turner
We really don’t care how it goes
If we’re Johnny Cash’s or Nora Jones’
Just give us the dosh and the fancy clothes’
But don’t let it take too long
We’re in a hurry to prove them wrong
We really are someone
Oh God it would be so much fun
To be some kind of star
And drive a fancy car
Arrive in a big black bus
Have everyone fancy us
All we want for Christmas is to be famous
We don’t care where it comes from
Louis, Simon or Sharon Osborne
EATING Ant and Dec’s creepy crawly insects
But don’t let it take too long
We’re in a hurry to get it on
We really are someone
Oh God it would be so much fun
To be some kind of star
And drive a fancy car
Arrive in a big black bus
Have everyone fancy us
All we want for Christmas is to be famous
AND WHEN WE HAVE YOUR ATTENTION
WHEN WE HAVE YOUR EAR
MANY’S A MAG WILL MENTION
HOW WE WALK
AND HOW WE TALK
HOW WE EAT
AND HOW WE DANCE
OH GOD IT WOULD BE SO MUCH FUN TOOOOOOO
Pierce Turner Words
Time for songs!
There outside on the bright and early
Lies a heart that’s light and cheery
The bird’s put on a morning song
From roof to roof
And branchin on and on and on
To the Russian Ivy
Growing on the garden wall
The garden is a concert hall
For all who turn on
When the world insists on squawking
When the tone deaf have the floor
Close your eyes and open your mind
Listen to the first song you find inside
It’s tax free and in your own key
Arranged by you to suit your mood
Follow it through to a glorious landing
A priceless perk for those who can imagine
It’s time for song R
Pierce Turner The Returner
The things I did today
Woke up,got out of bed
Dragged a comb across my head
Found my way downstairs
And bought some milk
Looking at my watch
I noticed I was late
Grabbed an egg and had a bath
Made the bus in seconds flat
Made my way uptown To 10th and 53rd
To a well known studio
Where people do record
Met a bunch of other men
Learned a song
That was not too long
The man who sang lead Is famous an all
Goes by the name Of Will Ferrel
Everyone was real impressed
That I was different than the rest
We were all supposed to be
From the holy ground
And the only one who was
Was me they found
Wednesday next at 6 AM
Me and Will will be shooting a filim
All day long till the sun goes down
Checking my watch
To see how much I’ll earn
Thanksgiving day I’ll be on the plane
Flying through the air to play in Kildare
December Three let me see, let me see
Leixlip Village is the place I will be
The Courtyard Hotel In it’s Piano Bar
Slick environs to have a jar
Turn the lights down low
And the piano up loud
Next thing you’ll know It’s a manic crowd
Hit the floor and kick the heels
Up on the tables
Dance on the keys
Brand new songs
And songs of old
Down from Drumsna Comes Duignan Noel
From New York Town
With Police cars screaming
To little Leixlip
With the Guinness streaming
It’s really true though
The tale I tell
I’m Makin a filim with Will ferrel
And while I’m awake In the middle of the night
Let me just say what’s wrong and right
France used a hand To beat Ireland!
Pierce Turner Christmas comes early Thurs. Dec 3 at 8.00pm The Courtyard Hotel,
Pierce Turner at Carnegie Hall
I slept like a bugger last night. Woke up in the middle as usual, around 4am, the time that half the world is supposed to be awake. Read a little bit of my new book Ian McEwan’s “on chesil beach” he found out that his Mother was brain damaged and I went back to bed. Dropping half a calmex to make sure I stay there.
And stay there I did, be Jasus I found it hard to get out of bed at half nine! Had the tea and decided to take a yoga class to find me centre. I’ve been waiting for two or three weeks to hear from Philip Glass about playing at Carnegie hall in February, it was taking so long I thought it wasn’t going to happen. Maybe I was a little bummed and that was why I was going to the Yoga class. So I put my gear on, loose fitting clothes, coat and sun glasses and was on my way out when Clare handed me the phone with Philip on the other end. “Yes, you are on for February 26th, we’ll have string quartet there or you can use the Patty Smith Band, Lenny Kaye and bass and drums rehearsal is on the 25th. Would you like me to play with you on Yoga with a broken heart?” Yes, yes and yes said I.
I am ready for Carnegie hall, I have practiced enough! Thank you Philip, God bless you all belonging to you. It’s the Annual concert for Tibetan house organised my Robert A .F . Thurman (Uma’s Da) A very glorious affair which in the past has had people like Ray Davies, David Bowie, Sufjan Stevens, Damien Rice, Michael Stipe and on and on. Add my name to that list of sausages for next February 26th go look at this site, when you have a chance. www.tibethouse.org Anyway one way or another it will be thrill to play to a sold out house in Carnegie Hall.
Pierce Turner Should....
I’ve been getting a lot of advice lately, sometimes very good and sometimes not a whole lot of use. But I always appreciate it! I notice now that I’m at a ” you should” phaze. It inspired me to write this piece below. which “should” put your brain in a knot!
Turner © 09
Before they thought I did and I would,
Do all that I could
But now they think I should!
But sure I would if I could!
Just because I couldn’t
Doesn’t mean I didn’t
And just because I didn’t
When you all believed I wouldn’t
Doesn’t mean I can’t!
And now you say I should!
Like as if I had
Then I would be more like What I could
But if I did what I should
When I did do what I could It would’ve meant doing what I should
When I did do what I could It would’ve meant doing what I should!
Instead of being who I am And doing what I can
Pierce Turner performs 3 min world entirely
Well for the first time in my life I am going to recreate one of my own albums from beginning to end, live. It’s the kind of thing that I don’t like to hear other people do usually. Todd Rundgren did it recently at one of his gigs in New York and I hated it, but it was a new album that I hadn’t heard yet, and I’m not sure I ever will like it. Although I love Todd.
However I would say that not many albums could be played live in the sequence that they were recorded in and work. I can tell you none of mine would….except 3 Minute World, Which I know, is a thematic album. But that’s not only why it works-it just has the right ups, downs, mood changes and tempo variation. I was really surprised when I sang it through one day at the piano-how well it worked. I’m pretty fussy about putting myself on the line in front of people, so I wouldn’t go near it if it didn’t feel right….regardless of how dramatic the idea sounds.
Who knows where this will lead, but maybe a re-release is due. Upon re-learning it-I was even impressed myself how much work had gone into it and at best it is our secret, it has never really been out there. I have a whole new album ready to record, but this my baby too! It’s one of my CD sausages. For those of you who don’t know. 3 Minute World was released in 2001 (or there about) It was a basically a statement of anti-greed and anti-overwork. And it cry’s out for the world to give more attention to humanity, spirituality and to sloooow down and smell the flowers “ what about the five day week? Or aimless walks on Saturday’s! what about the Sunday drive? Or a pint at night in a pub where people speak! And….. “Sunday being a day of rest, confused me with an after taste And a caution for the killer fish, taking too much communal dish!” (Check that out Bernie Madoff!!) And of course it features the ultimate lazy song “Life in a day” If you get the album all the words are included. But for now I am announcing that I will perform 3 Minute World in it’s entirety from beginning to end in sequence with a few story’s here and there, at the Courtyard Hotel Piano Bar this Thursday for the first time. Hope I’ll see you there.
Love Pierce.xxxxx Pierce Turner
Letter From Pierce
The Cat is in the tree, way up at the very top almost touching the sky. She has never seen a tree before.- nor has she seen the sky from this perspective. She has seen the birds through the gates of our Manhattan window and at the sight-always made a funny kind of rattling sound, even when was only 5 months old it was clear that she was a bird-Cat!
If fish could fly she wouldn’t be interested-although I personally like the idea of flying fish-it makes no difference to us-we will kill it and eat it-in the sky or in the sea there is no escaping us. I am eating so much fish That I have become a better swimmer! If they could fly would I be a better flyer? If so wouldn’t I be thinner?
Cows walk so very slowly Doing nothing but chew If we are what we eat then No wonder……many moo! Some sausages tried to book for Leixlip the home of Guinness ??? And they got lost Clare tells me because I made a mistake in the adress on one of my moody missives. So here it is again I’ll write it slowly. To book for the Piano Bar in the Courtyard Inn by the glorious stream with the ancient turrets contact email@example.com I have been running the whole of 3 Minute World and it really works, I am seriously thinking of doing it-maybe everyone should take it out and dust it off so that you can remember the lyrics. Thanks to all of you who wrote such concerned letters after my moaning mail. But it was partly laughing at my misery-however the truth always surfaces through the sarcasm, and you read through me. I am now filled again with hope, based on absolutely nothing! But hope just the same. I love you more than sushi.
Pierce xxxxxx Pierce Turner
Letter From Pierce
Ah, droll oul day today! Of course it’s probably just my take on it, based on my point of view. Ah I don’t know! I’d say that I have some company around here. I know that somewhere up there beyond the sheet of grey, sits a sun, shining away! And that grey is what leads me to believe that I have company in my mediocrity. But other than the fact that logistically all of us ‘round here have a huge grey slate above our heads right now-there may be no reason for us to share the same mood? I can’t assume that if leave the house now that everyone I meet, will think this is a horrible day, just because I do. So maybe I’d better wait until I fix my head before I leave the house-might be in here all day…..could be.
I don’t really know if it’s the weather! I’m more inclined to think that I need a good kick up the arse! Or a challenge…or a tragedy….or a fright! Oh I can think of loads of challenges, I am never short of ideas. But between me and every challenge stands a fierce competitor called FEAR. I have talked to myself a lot about this, asking the question.”fear of what?” Often times taking a book and writing the answers down! The conclusions are nearly always the same, old staples like “fear of rejection” “fear of failure” or (in my head) seeing the action all the way through to it’s unhappy ending, without moving a finger. They say that failure is merely part of an editing process, when you have X amount of failures you can then deduce what it takes to succeed. I think that this is true! But the process means that you need to accumulate a certain amount of failures in order to accrue one success! As you get older - the failures begin to mount up next to the successes and by far out-number them. It’s not unreasonable, then, to feel that you have failed more than you’ve succeeded!
If someone is still eternally positive after all that, they are not just living with a “half full glass” they have cut the glass in half and are in complete denial of the other half! I am ready now for a three quarter full glass-this is not a good day for me to argue with myself about the bottom half or top of that STUPID glass!!! Can we please have it close to the top for a change, so that I don’t have to philosophise!…….especially with that great big-grey slate in the sky between me and the sun!!!! You know having said all that, it doesn’t take much to cheer me up. Moaning to you, my dear sausages has definitely helped. Do you want to moan to me? Or just give us a kiss! Write me your moan or kiss firstname.lastname@example.org I can almost go out now!
Love and xxxxxxxxxxxxxssssss Pierce.
Pierce don't want 2 b famous
I don’t want to be famous so bad that I would cry for it! When I was a teenager I would, but not anymore, and I’ve become comfortable with the bed that I made. I sleep well and I can sleep anytime I choose to. If I wake up so what? I’ll wait until I’m tired and then go back to bed.
I had a big time manager once and he called me up one day to lay out his future plans for my career. It was everything that I had ever wanted in a manager at last, and when I got it, it scared the shit out of me. I took off all my clothes, put on my sleepy shirt and went straight back to bed. I love my bed too much to be famous. Sometimes I have lots of energy and I make loads of elaborate plans. I get on the phone and book a bunch of gigs, residencies and all kinds of stamina testing events. But inevitably between the sound check and the show, usually around the hours of 7 and 9, I start to get depressed and begin to wonder why am I doing this to myself, I could be at home all tucked up and watching the tellee in bed. I can’t imagine that Madonna thinks like this!
I love music and I love entertaining people. But unfortunately most of them live elsewhere and I hate the discomfort of travelling. Don’t get me wrong, I have done it! Once I had a major record deal and I travelled all over the country in a bus. It was incredibly disruptive. Do you know what a phoner is? It’s an interview on the telephone. Even though I was hardly setting the world on fire, I still had three or four phoners everyday. Often times when the rest of the band were asleep. And then we would get on the bus and drive hundreds of miles to the next venue. I hated having a band and a road crew. Young good-looking shites still getting a kick out of looking at each other’s passport photos. The tour would try to get hold of my passport so that he could check me in at Airports-I told him to get lost. Then he got wind that I was into Yoga and a sort of a health food type-so he ordered me a vegetarian meal on the plane. I was livid; you know the shite that they serve to shut up veggies! Everyone starts to overthink-treating you like you’re someone-when you’re no one. It’s very strenuous!
At one point we had been on the road for two weeks I hadn’t done my laundry yet. This English guy who was in the band had been on the road far more than me and he would get to the Motel washing machine before I was finished stretching my arms and saying “thank God we’re here! I was getting really desperate. I had to become sharper and think ahead. The next time we stop I will forgo all normal activities-like checking in and taking my bag to my room. I must sit as near to the bus door as possible and get off with only one objective-find the washing machine! So that’s exactly what I did. The only detour that I made was to enquire at the desk about it’s whereabouts? I dragged my big brown suit bag-stuffed to the gills with smelly sweaty stage clothes plus T-shirts and underwear down the winding hall way past the vending machines to the little closed off laundry room. At last, I thought to myself I’ve had some savvy. But when I opened the door I was greeted with the familiar sound of a washing machine in motion-that familiar whir with little mettle things banging off the glass. I turned in disbelief to gaze into the suddy little gold fish bowl and there they were-the English guys tiny coloured thongs spinning around in a frolic of bubbles.
This Saturday I will not have far to go! Just five minutes away is the Wexford Art Centre originally the Town hall-a dance hall from over a hundred years ago. It has a Yamaha piano and great sound and lights. I will check the sound and then come back home for a shower. Upon my return the place will be filled with wine drinking chatter. And at 8;30 Garvan Gallagher and I will take the stage, and the Victorian hall, filled with songs and story, off on a trip to outer space. I will be spoilt for choice on what to wear; Clare and I share the same machine. What a life! And what a lot of love I have for you.
Subject: Pierce Turner is in Ireland
Hello my little dumpling,doodoo, sausages. I write to you from the republic of Ireland, upon and antique chair acquired from Clare's parent's way back in Brighton fair city.
We arrived her two days ago all three of us, the cat (Girlie) Clare and myself. The cat cost more than the two of us put together and she didn't even get fed on the plane. The choice of food on the plane was Chicken or Beef, just for a change. And they charged seven dollars for a bottle of very sweet, warm sauvignon Blanc. That didn't stop us from trying it over and over again though. I was chastised a couple of times for going to the toilet while the seat belt sign was on. But it was never actually turned off, so when were we to go? However being chastised on Aer Lingus is not uncommon, they are trained to use the Stockholm syndrome on the passengers, make them afraid of their captors and they will grow to love and obey! They had me so pinned down I was afraid to ask for water. And I am going back for more! I love them! They are my masters!
Thanks to everyone who came to Tracks it was a special one, and thanks so much to Bruce for producing it. And congrats to lovely Jamie and her lovely friend on their book deal xx. And Copernicus on his fab new CD "Disappearance" which I worked on as musical director.
Now the first Irish date is coming up at the great Sugar Club in Dublin on Sat June 20th. And again the owner in his generous spirit has allowed me to offer a special deal to my sausages. If you book here with us, it will be a mere 20-euro. It's 23 at the door and more from ticketmaster. So write here to email@example.com our normal gmail address is problematic right now. Please, Please honour your reservation, this is all based on trust. Most of you do honour it, but some didn't, and it will ultimately kill the system if people don't treat it like a real ticket.
I have the piano coming up from Wexford, I have the band booked and I will be in right form, as will you. And we will sing our praises of summer and life. I love you so much I have to pinch myself.
Cork is on the 28th at the glorious Pavilion, come on Cork boy, like, ye know what I mean? The last gig there was tre-tastic. XxxxxxPierce.
Pierce Turner missive
After five days of dark dungeon rain here in New York, the sun came up above the red brick school at the back of my house this morning, and even the cat made a rush for the window.
I did think for a while that I would need a boat to get to my gig in Riverdale tomorrow night. But no! Shan't need that! The sun is promised for the whole weekend -we've washed away our worries. Although it did constipate the cat, and now she's gone off to the vet in a bag with Clare. God help her, soon she'll have a thermometer up her bottom.
John Rokosny is about to put the Video of "How it Shone" live with Philip Glass at the City Winery up on You Tube-watch out for it. It's got something momentous about it. It was shot with the house camera, which is not as good as John's own work. Although it was shot with a HD camera, and cost both Joe Prieboy and John Rokosny a lot of time. Still we have it and it was a real thrill to be on stage with Philip.
I'm not coddin I'm not kiddin now! if you are in New York and you don't come to one of these last two gigs before I go to Ireland, you're a louser! I don't want to hear your puny excuses! Come out of that house-newly weds-newly parent-newly TV addict-newly recluse-newly depressed-newly lazy.......whatever....I will be there for you!!
Like the true love that I am.
Love xxxx Pierce.