Author: davestankowicz

Dave Stankowicz is a retired educator who lives on an island off the coast of Portland, Maine with his wife Debbie Jordan and their dog Cody. Liberated from the responsibilities of teaching he has found the space and time to pursue so much that interests him. Dave is the former host of the WMPG radio show Palm Wine Radio, and currently hosts Next To Silence - an hour long show that explores different themes, genres, artists and record labels. Next to Silence can be streamed live on Peaks Island Radio at https://peaksislandradio.com on Mondays and Fridays @ 7:00 PM EDT, and Tuesdays @noon. You can also stream archived shows at his site (category: next to silence) He continues his lifelong efforts to master space and time.

June 9, 2025 – James Bond


Today we enter the world of Bond—James Bond—told not through gadgets or gunfire, but through music. These theme songs are more than title tracks. They’re portals. Each one carries the fingerprint of its era, the tone of the man who played him, and a mood that outlives the movie.

So pour a martini, shaken not stirred,  settle into the shadows, and let’s begin.

Playlist for the week of June 9, 2025:

00:00:00 John Barry – The James Bond Theme

00:05:41 Matt Monro – From Russia With Love

00:08:13 Shirley Bassey – Goldfinger

00:11:01 Tom Jones – Thunderball

00:13:52 Nancy Sinatra – You Only Live Twice

00:16:48 Louis Armstrong – We Have All the Time in the World

00:21:50 Shirley Bassey – Diamonds Are Forever

00:24:29 Paul McCartney & Wings – Live and Let Die

00:27:41 Lulu – The Man with the Golden Gun

00:30:16 Carly Simon – Nobody Does It Better

00:33:50 Sheena Easton – For Your Eyes Only

00:36:52 Rita Coolidge – All Time High

00:39:55 Gladys Knight – Licence to Kill

00:46:35 Tina Turner – GoldenEye

00:51:14 Sheryl Crow – Tomorrow Never Dies

00:56:03 Garbage – The World Is Not Enough

00:59:57 Jack White & Alicia Keys – Another Way to Die

01:04:18 Adele – Skyfall

01:12:24 Billie Eilish – No Time To Die

The Many Grooves of Bond: A History of James Bond Films
Since his cinematic debut in Dr. No (1962), James Bond has evolved from Cold War assassin to emotionally complex antihero, but what’s remained constant is the mythic pulse of the character—a rhythm that plays differently in each actor’s hands. Each Bond reflects the age he inhabits, but just as crucially, each actor brought a different groove to the role: a unique mix of timing, temperament, and backstory that shaped the music of the movies. Behind every tuxedo was a man with a surprising path to the part.

Sean Connery, a former milkman and bodybuilder from Edinburgh, seemed an unlikely choice. When producers Albert “Cubby” Broccoli and Harry Saltzman first saw him, Connery walked away from their meeting with a panther-like swagger that clinched the deal. Though Ian Fleming initially doubted him—calling Connery “an overgrown stuntman”—he changed his tune after seeing Dr. No. Connery’s Bond was muscular jazz: sleek, swinging, and dangerous, with a sardonic glint in the eye. He invented the template—every Bond since has either echoed or rebelled against his beat.

George Lazenby was a model with no acting experience when he bluffed his way into the role. He bought a Rolex, tailored a suit like Connery’s, and faked a film résumé. The producers were so impressed with his audacity that they gave him the part. In On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (1969), Lazenby offered a Bond who could fall in love and cry—a soft, minor key moment in the symphony of the franchise. Though his tenure was brief, the emotional resonance of his Bond would echo decades later in Daniel Craig’s arc.

Roger Moore, already famous as TV’s The Saint, was long considered for Bond but was initially too busy—or too suave. When Connery finally stepped down for good, Moore took over with effortless charm. His Bond was the lounge act version: smooth, light, and ironic. The groove shifted into disco mode—flared pants, outlandish plots, and eyebrow-arching double entendres. Moore’s Bond knew it was all a bit much, and that was the point.

Timothy Dalton was a serious Shakespearean actor who had turned the role down in the ’70s, feeling he was too young. When he finally stepped in during the late ’80s, he brought gravitas and emotional complexity. His Bond didn’t quip—he brooded. The Cold War was ending, and Dalton’s groove was stripped-down and stormy, more noir than fantasy. He offered a foretaste of the darker realism that would define Bond’s 21st-century incarnation.

Pierce Brosnan had been poised to take over in 1987, but his contract with the TV show Remington Steele kept him out—just barely. When the role came around again in the ’90s, he seized it with a balance of Connery’s toughness and Moore’s polish. His Bond was built for the globalized, digital era: slick, corporate, and always ready with a one-liner. The action ramped up, the gadgets went high-tech, and Brosnan’s groove was pure techno-thriller—adrenaline on a soundtrack.

Daniel Craig was met with skepticism: too blond, too rough, too un-Bond. But Casino Royale (2006) rebooted the franchise with brutal elegance. Craig, a classically trained actor with indie credentials, brought a bruised physicality and emotional depth. His casting marked a shift toward a more psychologically complex Bond—less fantasy, more fracture. Over five films, Craig’s arc traced Bond’s inner life as much as his missions. His groove was stripped and rhythmic, like a heartbeat under pressure—wounded, human, and mythic.

Now, with Craig’s departure, Bond stands again at a crossroads, waiting for his next incarnation. What makes this franchise endure is not the martinis or the Aston Martins, but the ability to let the rhythm shift with time. Each Bond grooves to the beat of his moment in history—and in doing so, he teaches us something about the fantasies we cherish and the silences we try to fill.

At the End of the Pier

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

June 2, 2025 – Fusion (Sons of Bitches Brew)

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

May 19, 2025 – Songs from Paul Thomas Anderson Films

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” – 

Love, Karma

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

Lunacy Lessons

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

May 12, 2025 – Live at the Village Gate


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”

A Found Poem From The Films of Paul Thomas Anderson

“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.