“The Two Times I Loved” from Call & Response & Friends by Dottie Grossman, Michael Vlatkovich, Anders Swanson, Rich West. Track 11. Genre: Improvisation, Creative, Composition.
“Two Henny Youngman Poems” from Call & Response & Friends by Dottie Grossman, Michael Vlatkovich, Anders Swanson, Rich West. Track 8. Genre: Improvisation, Creative, Composition.
Michael Vlatkovich, compositions and arrangements
Harry Scorzo: violin
Jonathan Golove: cello
Anders Swanson: contrabass
Brian Walsh: clarinet
Jeff Kaiser: trumpet
Michael Vlatkovich: trombone/percussion
William Roper: tuba/euphonium/cimbasso
Tom McNalley: guitar
Wayne Peet: keyboard
Ellington Peet: cymbal
Mark Burdon: percussion
Recorded, edited, mixed and mastered by Wayne Peet at Killzone Studio
Cover art by Michael Vlatkovich; Photo by Tom Woodbury
Graphic design by William Roper
Artists: Los Angeles Recording:
Dottie Grossman: poems
Michael Vlatkovich: trombone
Rich West: drums/percussion
Anders Swanson: bass
L.A. Recording 7/09: Killzone Studio, Los Angeles, CA
Corvallis Recording (indicated by *) 11/05:
Dottie Grossman, poems; Michael Vlatkovich, trombone;
David Storrs, drums/ percussion, toys; Jim Knodle, trumpet
Corvallis Recording: Califas Studio, Corvallis, OR
engineer: Wayne Peet
producers: Michael Vlatkovich, Dottie Grossman
front cover art: Billy Mintz
design: Ted Killian
1. Benjamin Called (1:38)
2. I Wish (1:49)
3. Tumbleweed (:57)*
4. Early Wednesday morning (1:20)*
5. Veterans Hospital (1:18)*
6. Mendocino Coast 1967 (2:21)
7. Merry Christmas, Michael (1:12)*
8. Two Henny Youngman Poems (1:57)
9. This Winter (1:38)
10. Two Appropriations (1:39)*
11. The Two Times I Loved
You The Most In a Car (2:37)
12. Two Poems About Trucks (2:20)
13. Africa (1:29)*
14. Melting Pot (2:35)
15. Zoey Steps Out (1:18)*
16. Quotation (1:56)
17.Little Rock (2:03)*
18.Two More Henny
Youngman Poems (1:48)
19. Helicopter Noise (:50)*
20. This Is What I Do Best (1:33)
21. The People Who Hate Wind (1:22)*
22. Just Before (1:45)
23. Noon Concert (1:36)
24. Another Nose Poem (1:52)*
25. Definition of Happiness/
If I Were Directing This Movie (1:27)*
26. From Iceland (1:36)*
27. Alaska (1:49)
28. What Henny Youngman Loves
Most About America (:47)
29. Vince Salvino (1.16)*
30. Fortune Cookie (3:11)
31. Henny Youngman’s True
32. Sorry To Disappoint You (1:39)
33. Future Past (1:42)
34. Mark Weber-Type Poem (1:41)
from Long Beach Island,
I said, “I can hardly hear you;
the ocean’s so noisy.”
He put down the phone
for a second
“Atlantic, will you please
shut up? —
I’m talking to Dottie.”
I wish there was a town
It would be
a beautiful place,
in a valley,
where the only industry
Wouldn’t it be fun
to send a letter there —
Something is draped on a fence
until it is time to be tumbleweed.
In this room,
you are heroic,
tasting of summer and vitamins.
and the tumbleweed rolls.
Early Wednesday morning,
nobody’s kicked up any dust,
nobody’s made a dime, yet.
All the pet dogs
have left-alone faces.
The uniform white buildings
shine as pointlessly
as dead men’s teeth.
Here, everything is slower,
as they dance to mark
the time between the palm trees
and forget in the clean cut grass.
Mendocino Coast, 1967
Inland, where the grasses and grapes lived,
we could not have imagined
the rocks, the cold clouds —
the surf that would surround us
like a headache,
and those long tubes of kelp
from another world
where, with the music of foghorns
and wind chimes,
even the kind moon
Merry Christmas, Michael
You remind me of a dolphin,
navigating the waves
with your own mysterious sonar
that sounds a lot like a trombone.
2 Henny Youngman Poems
Henny Youngman On National Poetry Month
Henny Youngman hates National Poetry Month;
it gives him performance anxiety.
Henny Youngman To His Priest
Forgive me, Father,
for I have sinned.
I’m sexually aroused
by sacred music.
This winter feels colder than ever,
or maybe I’m just more sensitive
when the wind is
a fire engine
and the moon is sinister
I’m all bundled up for it,
stamping my feet,
counting the days
until the yellow flowers.
“A March 22 “Outdoors” article
about tuna fishing
inadvertently identified an angler
as Rusty Johnson.
His name is Frosty Johnson.”
The Rhythm of Commercials On The Discovery Health Channel
Will a new nose help Wendy
rediscover her self esteem?
The Two Times I Loved You the Most In A Car
It was your idea
to park and watch the elephants
swaying among the trees
at that make-believe safari
I didn’t know anything that big
could be so quiet.
And once, you stopped
on a dark desert road,
to show me the stars
climbing over each other
like an orchestra
thrashing its way
through time itself.
I never saw light that way
Tonight on the road,
the trucks are majestic;
they sashay like elephants
through the turns,
with jewels on their heads
The trucks are wearing rubies in their hair.
They are like beautiful movie stars,
walking carefully in high heeled shoes,
making whooshing noises in the dark.
its vowels are so seductive,
I get dizzy.
I’ve no wish to deplete
I only wish to eat the wildebeest.
Last year’s skeleton crop
set a new record.
The air is succulent
with lions and mahogany.
We were sitting around the melting pot
(which is what I call my hairdresser’s):
a Korean, a Vietnamese, and myself (the American)
discussing our homelands calmly
like three women anywhere,
with no mention of bloodshed or memories.
I told them I’d been reading
about Angor Wat
and the Cambodian jungles
where heartless nature
buried the ancient temples
and we all agreed
that could never happen here
in Santa Monica.
At eight months old,
Zoey steps out,
wearing a new tooth
and a rose
in her purple hat.
“I don’t own an exquisite way to move around in the night.”
Doug Benezra, 9/18/05
It occurs to me that,
when I die,
they might find the necklace
I dropped behind the bed
how long it was there,
and whether I’d missed it.
But will they care
about my favorite color,
my long-range plans,
or my habit of searching myself
for signs of rust?
“The town has several antique shops and fruit stands, in addition to restaurants and gas stations.“
…from the Little Rock, CA website.
No, not that one —
This one’s in the desert,
about a two hour drive from here
It’s the color of western movies
(blue skies, brown horses).
There’s even a mirage —
rare water and
big Medjool dates,
a fruit stand in the uncomplaining dust
on the way to Valyermo,
to Saint Andrew’s Abbey,
where the dead monks sleep
in the tight-packed earth
of The Holy Land
off the main road.
Henny Youngman doesn’t understand
why camping is not permitted
on the cemetery plot
he just paid for.
Henny Youngman On National Public Radio
Once again, I made it through the pledge drive
without contributing a dime.
When I remember
how quiet you used to be,
the helicopter noise
in my head
This is what I do best:
I phone you
and say Congratulations,
Merry Christmas, Happy Birthday,
Happy New Year,
How’s your sister?
Are you better?
Is it hot enough for you?
Thanks, I love you, too.
The people who hate wind
are insulated, inland;
they wear hats to keep them safe
Just before I killed that bug,
I had the guilty thought
that it might be you, reincarnated,
but I told myself that,
if you did return,
it would be as a much higher life-form,
maybe a hummingbird.
These frail, white widows
who get their hair done weekly
in tight curls,
like little flowers
bend their heads
until the applause
says it’s time
to be brave, again.
If the bridge of the nose
is really the seat of wisdom,
yours is The Britannica,
edited by Einstein,
illustrated by Picasso.
Definition of Happiness #302
Yellow plates on a black table,
and my new curtains,
dancing a tango
in the open window.
If I were directing this movie,
we’d be walking through clouds
wet as dogs’ breath.
Just a dot of pink, for excitement,
and no music, just ice where the wind was.
Since she was from Iceland
and didn’t know any better,
she said, “I miss the green of the east.
It’s so yellow here.
Of course, at home, we don’t have any trees.
Once, in New Jersey, I could see Manhattan
across the river,
as if it was a picture of Manhattan.”
Once, I got into a taxi
whose driver wore a turban.
We chatted about traffic and travel
and he said he absolutely loved Alaska,
where he’d worked on the pipeline for five years.
He blushed when he told me, “You know,
I’m a Muslim. We’re supposed to pray
five times a day, facing Mecca.
But sometimes, when nobody’s watching,
I face Alaska.”
What Henny Youngman
loves most about America
is that anybody can
grow up to be the Pope.
We were all sitting around,
talking about what kind of animal
we’d like to be,
and Vince said, “A gorilla,
because they’re the most like us.”
You are going to look exactly
like your father —
one of those draped,
semi-ecstatic old Jews
you see framed
on the mantel
in grandmothers’ houses.
you will lapse into Yiddish,
throwing your hands up
in mock surrender.
And your lips will move
when you read,
and your children will
Henny Youngman’s True Confession
(thanks to M.B.)
I think that, if I were to talk to a rabbi,
he’d listen and all,
but then we’d just end up
with him asking me
to explain the Internet.
I went to a palm reader,
said, “I’m in love with a straight guy
who can’t love me back.”
She said, “Why would you
want to do that?”
I’m, like, exiled,
all the best people are.
Sorry To Disappoint You
As the elder in your Chinese house,
I have almost no wisdom to offer:
A few books, a few poems –
I’m not sure there’s anything else,
except that I once shook John Coltrane’s hand,
and sex in the morning is more fun
The rest you already know.
If I had stayed asleep
I would have missed
the fun of speaking English,
the quiet satisfaction
of appointments kept,
the way dreams change
when you try to describe them.
Mark Weber-Type Poem
So my latest rejection comes from Iowa,
about a week before Christmas:
“Thank you for allowing us
to consider your work…”
I picture the writer
at a desk overlooking a corn field.
There’s a droopy plant
on the windowsill
and a volume of Yeats or Keats
It has been a tough day,
and here I come,
galloping into that landscape
with my palm trees and deserts,
coyotes and surfers.
BRAD DUTZ: mallet percussion, hand percussion
CHRIS WABICH: drumset, steel drum, percussion
KIM RICHMOND: Bb clarinet
BOB CARR: bass clarinet
SARA SCHOENBECK: bassoon
ELLEN BURR: C flute, alto flute, piccolo
JOHN FUMO: trumpet, piccolo trumpet
KRIS TINER: trumpet, flugelhorn #4, #8, #9
WILLIAM ROPER: tuba, spoken word
TREY HENRY: acoustic bass
DEAN TABA: acoustic bass #4, #6, #8, #9
ANDERS SWANSON: acoustic bass solo #1
JASPER DUTZ [age 9]: bass clarinet, Bb clarinet
1. Look at the pretty weeds…they’re dead 13:38
2. Rotted vegetables…too late to pick 3:45
3. Rotted fruit…infested with insects 6:07
4. Distribute fertilizer…evenly 5:56
5. I like brown leaves especially when they’re torn 11:54
6. Leaf blowers are stinky…and loud 2:31
7. Norbert rakes bark…and mulch 7:58
8. Wicked late for nite blooming…but not dusk 6:16
9. Plant the bulbs…frequently 3:47
all compositions by Brad Dutz • (c) 2005, leakyspleen music, BMI
recorded by BRAD DUTZ 2003-2004
mixed and mastered by WAYNE PEET at NEWZONE, july 2004-jan 2005
cover cartoons: JASPER DUTZ • layout and design: KAORU MANSOUR and JEFF KAISER
thanks to: YAMAHA, VIC FIRTH, PAISTE, REMO, MOUNTAIN RYTHYM
NINE GARDENERS NAMED
1. Look at the pretty weeds…they’re dead
Kim Richmond-clarinet [solo]; John Fumo-trumpet [solo]; Sara Schoenbeck-bassoon [solo]; Anders Swanson-acoustic bass [solo]; Brad Dutz-vibes, marimba, crotales, bongos, cajon bongos, gong; Chris Wabich-drumkit; William Roper-tuba; Bob Carr-bass clarinet; Ellen Burr-flute; Trey Henry-acoustic bass
2. Rotted vegetables…too late to pick
Bob Carr-bass clarinet; Ellen Burr-alto flute; Brad Dutz-marimba; Sara Schoenbeck-bassoon; Kim Richmond-clarinet; text created and spoken by William Roper-tuba
3. Rotted fruit…infested with insects
same as above plus Chris Wabich-perc; featuring William Roper
4. Distribute fertilizer…evenly
Chris Wabich-steel drum [solo]; Jasper Dutz-bass clarinet;
Ellen Burr-flute; Dean Taba-acoustic bass; Kris Tiner-trumpet;
Brad Dutz-repique jamau, vibes, darabuka, cymbals, crotales Hadjira, khol; Ellen Burr-flutes
5. I like brown leaves especially when they’re torn
Chris Wabich-drumkit, percussion, steel drum [solo]; Brad Dutz-xylophone, congas, bongos, darabuka, marimba [solo]; Bob Carr-bass clarinet [solo]; Ellen Burr-flute; Trey Henry-acoustic bass; John Fumo-trumpet; Sara Schoenbeck-bassoon; Kim Richmond-clarinet; William Roper-tuba
6. Leaf blowers are stinky…and loud
Brad Dutz-marimba, vibes; Ellen Burr-flute;, Dean Taba-acoustic bass; William Roper-tuba; Jasper Dutz-bass clarinet, Bb clarinet;
7. Norbert rakes bark…and mulch
Ellen Burr-piccolos [solo]; William Roper-tuba; John Fumo-piccolo trumpet; Sara Schoenbeck-bassoon; Bob Carr-bass clarinet; Kim Richmond-clarinet; Brad Dutz-piccolo snare, field snare, orchestra bells, bass drums, piatti, snare drum; Chris Wabich-piccolo snare, field snare, bass drum, piatti, snare drum
8. Wicked late for nite blooming…but not dusk
Sara Schoenbeck-bassoon; Bob Carr-bass clarinet; Kim Richmond-clarinet; Dean Taba-acoustic bass; William Roper-tuba; Kris Tiner-trumpet; Brad Dutz-vibes, crotales, cymbals, xylophone; Ellen Burr-flutes
9. Plant the bulbs…frequently
Sara Schoenbeck-bassoon; Bob Carr-bass clarinet; Kim Richmond-clarinet; Dean Taba-acoustic bass; William Roper-tuba; Kris Tiner-trumpet; Brad Dutz-marimba, xylophone; Ellen Burr-flute, piccolo; Chris Wabich-steel drum