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March 3 1973
Bubbling Under the HOT100
"Gypsy" #122 Buddah
340 |
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ADVERTISE WITH US FOR ONLY 10.00
A MONTH. REACH A NEW TYPE OF CUSTOMER |
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All songs published by James Bert
Publishing Words & Music by Jimi Bertucci "Shake"
Words and Music by Jimi Bertucci and BB Gabor. |
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1965
It was 1965 I became alive
20.000 voices echoed the Gardens
The heroes performed
Flashes of Kodak lightning blinded our eyes
Some cried out of joy
King Edward was smiling
The trolleys would ring their bells
When they went passing by
They smiled and waved hello hello
Smoked my first in the back seat of a Vauxhall
Couldn't wait to come down
Salvatore admired his Plymouth Savoy
While stealing kisses in the park
Mustang Sally cruised the Yonge Street
If ever a demon on wheels
There was something in the air I was there
A teenage awakening
I'm sure God would agree this time with me
We were immune tomorrows would never come
We howled at the moon from our virgin box
When she touched me my senses ran wild
Cliche poetry of woman and child
And forever seemed to short time
For the brave hearts
All the signs were challenged all the time
There was something in the air I was there a teenage awakening
I'm sure God would agree
There was something I was there no one cared no one heard a thing
There was something in the air I was there a teenage awakening
I'm sure God would agree |
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 Shake:
Words and Music by: Jimi
Bertucci and B.B. Gabor. - It was another one of those uncertain
autumn Toronto nights The rain was falling lightly as I looked
out from my basement window, in perfect time as it spilled into
an old rusty tin can. I heard a faint knock on the door and slowly
and hesitantly attempted to energize myself from my comfortable
seat. The knock got louder. Perhaps it was their way of saying
"Are you deaf?" I opened the door and was confronted
by a piercing look and a drenched body from head to toe. He entered
moving to the kitchen with its pale green walls and shook his
wetness all over the linoleum floor. The last embers flickered
in the old fireplace. I glanced at the black and white "Felix
the Cat" clock and noticed it was almost 11:00 pm. I turned
to my Hungarian friend, "What the **** are you doing here?"
He laughed in his usual Béla Lugosi
way and threw himself on my dry bed. We were never short on schmultzy
intellectual conversation and fine herb. Late at night we would
sometimes retreat with herbal tea and maybe a shot of whatever
was available. BB and I had an interesting co-writing relationship,
as most partners do I assume. At times it was almost abstract,
a musical self-indulgence if you will. I began to tell him about
a new song I was composing, in a weird time signature. This perked
his ears. He picked up my vintage black Harmony acoustic and
started jamming along with me. At first it seemed a bit contrived.
After all, how many songs are in a 7/8 feel...not many. The more
we jammed, the more it grooved, building to a syncopation that
was almost tribal. We took a short break to entertain our lost
senses only to notice it was now 6:00 am. The topic or the lyrical
aspect of the song was obvious. We were writing the moments and
trying to capture the realism in a dark room under the influence
of our surroundings and other things. The lyrics began to flow
like red lava. They were real, edgy, revealing, scary and at
times moving. Shake was the evil tempter, the hidden coward,
an imaginary friend convincing you to reach for heights of grandeur,
only to fall hard. We both experienced life through our writing,
whether it was fictional or telling.(listen
to Shake) (learn about another song) |
 CNE - Upon
entering the grounds of the Canadian National Exhibition (CNE)
we passed the Bandshell. A wave of nostalgia ran through me.
The memories of victorious melodies and white-noise teenage curiosity
were as vivid now as they were nearly 35 years ago. We pulled
up to the main doors of the Liberty Grand and were greeted by
a welcoming committee with clipboards and sharpees. OMG, between
the tight swimsuits and the delicatessen runway of tempting eats,
my eyes bulged in every direction. The annual CHIN press party
was an event in itself. Lenny Lombardi you have huzpah. Ok enough
patting on the metaphorical backs. As I strolled the flagstaff
floors of the Grand garden sipping on an Aquafina orange something
or other, I sighed in awe of the wonderful stone monuments that
lined the walls of this old building. This suave affair in the
middle of a workday afternoon was definitely worth playing hooky
for. The speeches were made, the wine runneth over like waterfalls
of joy for some and the flame was lit for the 43rd annual CHIN
Picnic. This cultural carnival of ethnic groups is a gathering
of celebration bringing language, tradition and color to a city
that represents unity. Johnny Lombardi was visionary as well
as bright. The CHIN picnic is more than entertainment, food and
sun... it is appreciation for each other as people. |
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The Sun Smiles
Soft spoken words linger in my
head
Your touch walks the veins of my body
The visions are powerful
Full of vibrant landscapes
Time has gifted our love
With strength and hope
I run towards the energy that calls
Swiftly not to miss a moment
Hidden are the spirits of our wants
Dancing in hearts unseen
I choke without your music
Paralysed in tightened restrain
My freedom is within your soul
I feign not I have tried
To push you aside without memory
You blanket my unity
The sun smiles with soothing rays
Into my flesh the warmth awakens
Your presence I swallow to live BUY THE
COLLECTION OF POEMS |
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Delicate Flower
She is a delicate flower
Flawless in beauty and color
Soft whispering musical wind
Confesses her love and sins
Gentle touches of vibrant realism
Wayfaring the body she desires
Giving from her inner self freely
Warm she comforts me from the cold
Holding the stems of my desires
She reminds me to be secure
We are confluent in spirit and body
Flying above the endless universe
I am madden when eyes undress her
Drawing my weapons ready to slay the felon
In the beauty of her silence I awaken
Grasping the breath of a soulful life
I abide in her serene soft arms
Never to feel unwanted or lost. ORDER THE
COLLECTION OF POEMS. |
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Listen to
the New Country from BNOrecordingUSA newest artist Juliana Bertucci. |
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Harvey is still
pursuing his comedy schtick and Maury is there to support him.
Although his humor needs work or perhaps a writer.Harvey insists
that he made the right choice.
A WOW2210
PRODUCTION |
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DYK
that Jimi that sat in
when Rick Wakeman was mixing The Six Wives of Henry the VIII...his
friend George Semkiw who happen to be mastering the recording
invited Jimi to meet Rick. |
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MY DINNER WITH LIBERACE Sittng on the edge of the bed in my Toronto
apartment, I pulled on my black jeans and Beatle boots. Looking
in the mirror, I combed my long hair and straightened the collar
of my black leather jacket...(more) |
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THE BLOG |
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Blogger: It could be argued that
the church split was a long time coming. Many Englanders resented
Rome having so much power and control over them.
VOV Many Englanders resent
that we have better teeth...(order the book) |
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Cafe Martin |
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Pates Baroni, c.1921 |
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