A collection of photos and poems interacting with each other in ways both mysterious and obvious.
Clouds move
like thoughts—
shapeless, then clear,
then gone.
The wood beneath me
leans and softens.
A crab—small, rust-red—
clicks past
without meaning.
They say
the notion of emptiness
was understood here once.
No sermon.
No symbol.
Just the tide
covering what it could.
Not loss.
Not absence.
But space
for the self
to rise—
shadow and light
together.
The sea
keeps no stories.
It lifts,
it leaves.
I sit,
and let it.
Peaks Island, Maine
Dear Friends,
This week Next To Silence enters the electric labyrinth of fusion jazz—music that rewired the language of jazz with power, groove, and spirit.
Fusion was born the moment Miles Davis plugged in. In 1969, *Bitches Brew* blurred jazz and rock into something primal and strange. But its deeper legacy lives on in the musicians who played on it—and then carried its wild DNA into their own bands.
This week’s show, “Fusion: Sons of Bitches Brew*” features these legends. Each track is a chapter in the unfolding story of electric jazz.
Playlist for the week of June 2, 2025:
00:00:00 Weather Report – Black Market (Live)
00:11:34 Herbie Hancock – You’ll Know When You Get There
00:21:47 Mahavishnu Orchestra – Meeting of the Spirits
00:28:36 Return to Forever – Medieval Overture
00:33:51 Weather Report – Birdland
0:44:03 Herbie Hancock – Ostinato (Suite for Angela)
00:57:10 Billy Cobham – Spectrum
01:02:58 Return to Forever – Captain Señor Mouse
01:11:15 Mahavishnu Orchestra – Birds of Fire
01:22:17 Keith Jarrett – Improvisation #4 (Live at the Cellar Door)
A Reminder:
Next To Silence streams live at:
1700AM and on the web at PeaksIslandRadio.com
On:
Mondays Fridays @7:00PM
Tuesdays @Noon
You can find the archives of past shows at PeaksIslandRadio.com. Click on SCHEDULE – scroll down to NEXT TO SILENCE
Thanks for listening,
Dave
This week Next To Silence drifts through the cinematic world of Paul Thomas Anderson—not through his scripts or his directing, but through the songs he chooses to haunt them. From the aching retro-pop of Boogie Nights to the vulnerable crescendos of Magnolia, the stoned California sprawl of Inherent Vice, and the bittersweet sunshine of Licorice Pizza, Anderson has a rare ear for popular music that deepens character, suggests the unsaid, and lingers like smoke after the scene ends. These aren’t just soundtrack choices—they’re emotional engines, ironic mirrors, and secret narrators.
Playlist for the week of May 19, 2025:
00:00:00 The Emotions – “Best of My Love”
00:05:19 KC & The Sunshine Band – “Boogie Shoes”
00:07:28 Melanie – “Brand New Key”
00:09:51 Rick Springfield – “Jessie’s Girl”
00:13:03 Three Dog Night – “Mama Told Me (Not To Come)”
00:16:18 The Beach Boys – “God Only Knows”
00:21:14 Aimee Mann – “One”
00:24:06 Aimee Mann – “Momentum”
00:27:33 Aimee Mann – “Driving Sideways”
00:31:19 Aimee Mann – “Wise Up”
00:36:37 Jonny Greenwood & Ella Fitzgerald – “Get Thee Behind Me Satan”
00:40:21 Jonny Greenwood & Jo Stafford – “No Other Love”
00:43:40 Jonny Greenwood & Helen Forrest – “Changing Partners”
00:47:26 CAN – “Vitamin C”
00:50:57 The Marketts – “Here Comes The Ho-Dads”
00:53:10 Minnie Riperton – “Les Fleurs”
00:56:26 Kyu Sakamoto – “上を向いて歩こう”
00:59:33 Chuck Jackson – “Any Day Now”
01:02:56 David Bowie – “Life On Mars?”
01:06:42 Chris Norman & Suzi Quatro – “Stumblin’ In”
01:10:38 Gordon Lightfoot – “If You Could Read My Mind”
01:16:42 Shelly Duvall – “He Needs Me”
Watch the incredible tracking shot that begins Boogie Nights to The Emotions “Best of My Love” –
She came through the lobby
in heels that sounded like secrets,
dragging a suitcase that probably held regrets
neatly folded
next to a book of spells.
The clerk said she had
that look—
like she’d once been painted
on the side of a bomber plane,
or whispered about
in backseats and divorce papers.
They gave her Room 237,
because of course they did.
Where else would a woman like that stay
but down the hallway
that never quite ends?
She ordered champagne at midnight,
left no tip,
and signed the bill
“Love, Karma.”
Some say she rewrote dreams.
Others, that she stole them.
Mostly, she just waited—
watching time melt down the window
like candle wax.
Men dropped around her
like poker chips at a rigged table,
grinning through the gamble,
and left with their names
misspelled in the mirror.
When the flowers stopped
and the world got bored
of her perfume and promise,
she slipped into the velvet-lined box
beneath the lobby gift shop,
a mannequin saint
with sale tags on her sins
and a crucifix worn
like costume jewelry.
Now tourists lean in,
take photos,
whisper,
"Wasn’t she someone?"
And somewhere—
behind the front desk,
or in the static of the lobby jazz—
the universe clears its throat,
adjusts its tie,
and laughs,
quietly,
into its infinite hand.
Scarborough, Maine
1.
The moon said:
“Your shadow has been impersonating you.”
The crow cocked his head,
pecked once at his feet,
and stared behind himself
like betrayal might be hiding
just past the tail feathers.
2.
The moon said:
“I watched you steal fire from a god
then choke on the smoke.”
The crow flared his wings,
feathers bristling like broken knives.
He remembered that sky—
the burning alphabet,
the gods cursing in reverse,
the ash that clung to his beak
for a thousand silent winters.
3.
The moon said:
“Worms dream louder than birds.”
The crow blinked hard,
his eyes fogged over
like windshields in winter,
and he let out a caw
that sounded more like a question
than a cry.
4.
The moon said:
“The sky is a lid. You’re inside the jar.”
The crow twitched.
One wing spasmed,
his claws tightened on the crescent—
clutching not for balance,
but for the memory of escape.
5.
The moon said:
“You were never born.
You’ve just been very committed to the act.”
The crow went still.
His pupils dilated into voids.
He opened his beak,
but nothing came out.
Even silence abandoned him.
6.
The moon said:
“You’ve been flying in circles
because you’re the message, not the messenger.”
The crow froze.
No blink. No twitch.
As if time had taken a breath.
Inside his bones
a black wind stirred—
the old hunger,
the laughing void
that once tore language from the sky
and fed him its feathers.
He did not speak.
He did not move.
He simply fell inward—
like a stone into still water—
and from somewhere deeper than flight,
he heard it:
Everything you were waiting for
was you.
Peaks Island, Maine
Welcome to Next to Silence—I’m Dave, and today we’re stepping into one of jazz’s most legendary rooms: The Village Gate. From the early ’60s through the club’s final notes in the ’90s, the Gate was a sanctuary for improvisation, intensity, and innovation. What you’re about to hear are moments captured live—raw, soulful, and swinging—from artists like Nina Simone, Jimmy Smith, Mongo Santamaría, and Horace Silver. These aren’t just performances; they’re time capsules from a smoky basement where history was made one solo at a time. So settle in. The lights are low, the crowd’s buzzing. Let the music speak.
Playlist for the week of May 12, 2025 ☞
00:00 Nina Simone – “Just in Time”
08:55 Mongo Santamaría – “El Toro – Live”
15:25 Clark Terry – “Serenade to a Bus Seat”
22:42 Herbie Mann – “Comin’ Home Baby – Live”
31:15 Jimmy Smith – “The Champ”
39:05 Coleman Hawkins – “All the Things You Are”
47:16 Nina Simone – “House of the Rising Sun”
51:52 Milt Jackson Quintet – “Time After Time”
57:28 Horace Silver Quintet – “Doin’ the Thing”
“The Shape of What Remains”
I have so much love to give.
I just don’t know where to put it.
I don’t know what kind of girl I am.
I don’t know what kind of man I am.
Sometimes I think I’ve forgotten how to be a person.
Then you came along,
and I felt something
I didn’t know I could feel.
That has to mean something.
I can’t imagine life without you—
but I still don’t know how to live with you.
Connection feels like pressure.
Connection feels like grace.
There’s a part of you
you haven’t met yet.
It’s the part that keeps trying.
Everything is connected,
but I don’t feel connected.
I’ve lost people.
I’ve lost time.
Now I lose myself
a little more each day.
I want to know you
the way the sea knows the moon—
even as it pulls away,
it never stops reflecting light.
This is the part where you reach for my hand,
but only in your mind.
In real life, we both just sit there,
close,
almost touching.
You don’t choose the things you believe in.
They choose you.
But what if they stop choosing?
People don’t always tell you how they feel.
But they show you,
in the quiet.
If you leave,
I’ll forget how to breathe right.
If you stay,
I’ll have to remember how to be whole.
I miss who I was
when I didn’t know so much.
But maybe
this is who I am now.
Some love is soft.
Some love is a decision.
Some love
is the silence
between the words
we never said.
This is the part where we let go
without ever having held on.
Seven of Cups
They were Georgia boots,
Comfort Core.
No comfort left in that label now.
The soles gone to hell,
inlay peeled like burnt skin
on a summer drunk.
He used to wear 'em
to the docks—
not for the job
but to look like he had one.
Said the boots gave him posture
even when he had no spine.
The bench was his confessional.
"Seven cups," he muttered once,
“they all looked good
in the morning fog."
Money.
A woman who called him “baby.”
A trailer with a flag and a fridge
full of cheap beer.
A crappy transistor radio
always tuned to the same static.
He liked the noise more than silence—
said silence reminded him
of his old man’s fists
and the day he slammed the door
and never came back.
She came like the others—
eyes like storm warnings,
barefoot in winter,
mouth full of someone else’s songs.
He loved her the way
you love a fire:
too close,
too long,
burned down to bone.
Every choice a ghost
that kissed his cheek
and walked off with his wallet.
He died right there,
on the bench that knew his weight,
where the pigeons ignored him
and the cops didn’t bother.
Boots side by side,
one insole flopped out
like a tired tongue.
A half-smoked cigarette still warm
in the groove of the slats.
No note. No name.
Just a man who picked
the wrong cup
too many times.
Portland, Maine
On this week’s show we take a musical journey across the vast and vibrant continent of Africa. We’ll be hearing voices and rhythms from nine African countries — including Nigeria, Senegal, Ghana, Zimbabwe, Uganda, Libya, Benin, South Africa, and the Democratic Republic of Congo.
Each artist tonight brings their own story, sound, and spirit — together forming a living tapestry of what African music can be.
Playlist for the week of May 5, 2025 ☞
00:00:00 Fela Kuti- “Zombie”
00:14:42 Johnny Clegg; Savuka – “Cruel Crazy Beautiful World”
00:19:04 Oyihwam Internationals – “Anoma Franoas”
00:26:38 Angélique Kidjo; Alicia Keys; Branford Marsalis – “Djin Djin”
00:31:14 -Youssou N’Dour; Etoile De Dakar -“Immigrés”
00:39:00 Hamid Al Shaeri -“Ayonha”
00:44:13 King Sunny Ade -“E Dide E Mujo”
00:48:26 Hallelujah Chicken Run Band -“Mudzimu Ndiringe”
00:51:41 William Onyeabor-“Atomic Bomb”
00:59:37 The Lijadu Sisters -“Life’s Gone Down Low”
01:04:29 Geoffrey Oryema -“Makambo”
01:09:29 Orchestra Baobab -“Ndeleng Ndeleng”
01:17:36 Konono N°1 -“Wumbanzanga”
A reminder:
Next To Silence streams live at:
1700AM and on the web at PeaksIslandRadio.com
On:
Mondays Fridays @7:00PM
Tuesdays @Noon
You can find the archives of past shows at PeaksIslandRadio.com. Click on SCHEDULE – scroll down to NEXT TO SILENCE
Thanks for listening,
Dave
Boho Dreams of Space and Time 