My first love was a castle in the sky
I never thought I’d make it till I had the guts to try
Then I sat up in my tower while the whole world passed me by
Yeah, my first love was a castle in the sky
My first love was a fearless driving rain
Scared to death I thought I’d never see her face again
They say God was crying so I guess he felt my pain
My first love was a fearless driving rain
My first love was a wild sinful night
I ran out with the big dogs
Guess I had more bark than bite
I know I won the battle but in the end I lost the fight
Yeah, my first love was a wild sinful night
My first love was an angry painful song
I wanted one so bad I went and did everything wrong
A lesson in reality would come before too long
Yeah, my first love was an angry painful song
My first love was a wicked twisted road
I hit the million mile mark at seventeen years old
I never saw the rainbow, much less a pot of gold
Yeah, my first love was a wicked twisted road
My first love was a wicked twisted road

The musical thread:



“Normally, things are viewed in these little segmented boxes. There’s classical, and then there’s jazz; romantic, and then there’s baroque. I find that very dissatisfying. I was trying to find the thread that connects one type of music – one type of musician – to another, and to follow that thread in some kind of natural, evolutionary way.”
-Jerry Lee Lewis-


LifeForms with Chris Crocco: Beacon, NY



-Miles Davis-

Crocco has ideas…Chris Crocco,Fluid Trio Friday night in Beacon, NY at the Howland Cultural Center with Evan Gregor playing bass and Ian Froman on drums; produced by Nelson Conde.

To Learn More about Chris and purchase his music GO TO

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Chris Crocco: ALL THAT JAZZ

If you have to ask what jazz is, you’ll never know.

-Louis Armstrong-

What does a young boy with a tin ear growing up in Klamath Falls, Oregon know about jazz?  I can assure you absolutely nothing.

But for some reason I loved the music of Louis Armstrong and did a pretty good impersonation of Satchmo, handkerchief and all that kept my grandmother pretty happy…Ohhh Yeah.

Keep an eye out for this rising star, Chris Crocco will keep us all happy!


Still Here:

The autumn colors seem to be changing before your eyes on the hillside behind the small band stage at Tymor Park in New York Saturday afternoon for the “Family and Friends First Annual Picnic”.

“We’re STILL HERE and so are you!” was the cry from Still Here lead singer, Jimmy Lee.  The band comprised of Lee; George Turner, guitar; Mark Morano, guitar; Mike Iovino, Base and Rick Pinkston on drums were also the producers for the event picking up the cost of the park and sound system.

Several area musicians were on hand including Father Noize who just started performing together for their debut.

Just another reflection of the music and art scene in the Hudson Valley area and the artists that love and are committed to what they do.

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The Blue Cloud:

Blue Cloud One


The Cloud is not a hard place to miss arriving just this side of midnight, it’s the only doorway with the glow of light at this hour.


There was a single street lamp about a quarter of a block down pushing a ribbon of light along the brick wall that holds the door frame. It was just enough to show a bit of the texture allowing the beer sign to shine like a beautiful holiday decoration.


I was warned that the area could be a bit sketchy at night. But when you’re thinking a blues bar, sketchy is just what you’re looking for and after all it was Des Moines.


The beer was flowing much earlier in the afternoon and given the volume of the voices that filtered to the street with the cigarette smoke,things were well underway. 


I’ve often wondered why drinking seemed to impair one’s hearing.  It might have been the smack of the stick working balls around the table that added to the audible confusion.


Blue Cloud Two


The door was heavy and solid with a brass knob and appeared to have seen better days.  It had the look of a piece of wood that had touched a number of visitors, some that maybe left with a little help.


The group was down from the north and this was “Chicago Blues”.

You can tell the difference from the blues played in the Delta because there is nothing acoustic about it. 

It’s amped up and the harmonica is blown hard and loud against the microphone.  You could say it’s almost orgasmic, but there was no almost about it!


This was the music of Little Walter, Charlie Musselwhite, Howlin’ Wolf and Muddy Waters. These were the sounds of the “Great Migration” when poor southern blacks moved north to find a better way in the industrial cities.


It was just yesterday that a photographer and musician friend and I were talking about the richness in this type of music.


“I’d sell my soul to play great blues guitar.” I told him.

He laughed and started for the door.


“Hell, I’d sell yours too!” the laughter faded.


Blue Cloud Three