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.

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.

Seven of Cups

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

Introduction to African Music – May 5, 2025

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

Try a Little Tenderness


The wolf should've snapped her neck.
The deer should've bolted.
hat's the law, right?
Kill or run.
How it's supposed to be.
How it always was.

But here they are -
him in a secondhand suit
smelling like old rain and bad decisions,
her draped in a dress made of soft mistakes.

He's thinking,
another kill won't fix the hunger.
She's thinking,
another escape won't fix the fear.

And outside the glass,
the world hums along,
hungry for blood,
hungry for failure,
hungry for the beautiful ruin of it all.

They lean into each other
like broken doors swinging on the last hinge,
not lovers,
not saviors,
just two things too tired to keep lying.

The world wants them to hate,
to run,
to tear each other apart.

What they do instead -
this slow, brutal, stupid tenderness -
is the worst kind of rebellion.

The glass between them and the street
is spidered with cracks -
each one a little white lie the world told,
each one a rule they broke.

He's melting at the edges now,
becoming a man, becoming a memory,
becoming something the wolf was never meant to be.

She shimmers,
not prey anymore,
not even real maybe,
just some miracle walking
through the wreckage.

Sirens smear across the sky,
time drips down the walls,
and still they sit -
choosing each other in a world that stopped believing.

This is what survival looks like sometimes:
not teeth,
not speed,
but a hand on a shoulder,
a weight leaned into,
a promise made with nothing but breath.

and they sit shoulder to shoulder,
defying the ugly machines that built them,
trading the last thing that matters:
the stupid, beautiful, suicidal act
of choosing tenderness
when nothing else makes sense.


Lenox, Massachusetts

On The Road – April 28, 2025

On this week’s show we hit the road. Not just any road, but the winding, dusty, shimmering kind—where stories stretch across yellow lines, and every turn carries its own rhythm.

From dusty crossroads to inner pilgrimages, from backseat singalongs to the strange alleys of the subconscious—this is a journey across musical highways, detours, and dead ends that still somehow lead us home.

So pack light, breathe deep, and let the road unfold.

Playlist for the week of April 28, 2025:

00:00:00 Ray Charles – “Hit the Road Jack”

00:03:30 Willie Nelson – “On The Road Again”

00:06:00 Roger Miller – “King of the Road”

00:08:23 Canned Heat – “On The Road Again”

00:11:46 John Denver – “Take Me Home, Country Roads”

00:15:31 Elton John – “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road”

00:18:43 The Beatles – “The Long and Winding Road”

00:22:20 Rascal Flatts – “Bless the Broken Road”

00:26:03 Lauren Alaina – “Road Less Traveled”

00:30:22 Steve Earle – “Copperhead Road”

00:34:50  Bob Dylan – “On the Road Again”

00:37:22 Robert Johnson – “Cross Road Blues”

00:39:50 Bruce Springsteen – “Thunder Road”

00:45:31 Talking Heads – “Road to Nowhere”

00:49:50 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band – “Yellow Brick Road”

00:52:15 The Beatles – “Why Don’t We Do It in the Road?”

00:53:54 The Doors – “Roadhouse Blues”

00:58:51 Joni Mitchell – “Refuge of the Roads”

01:05:28 Yusuf / Cat Stevens – “On the Road to Find Out”

01:10:35 UB40 ft. Tippa Irie – “On the Road”

01:13:58 Tom Waits – “On The Road”

01:21:37 Readings from On The Road – Jack Kerouac

I’m No Longer Broken

I pass him every morning
on my way to the bus—
the skeleton with wings,
painted crooked on the bodega wall.
At first, he made me uneasy.
Too bold, too broken,
arms raised like he knew something
I didn’t want to hear.

The words above his head—
I’M NO LONGER BROKEN—
felt like a dare.
Who says that out loud?

But weeks turned into months,
and somehow
I started looking for him.
On gray days
his grin felt like defiance.
On warm mornings
the light hit just right,
like he was lit from the inside.

People tagged around him,
but no one painted over.
Not once.

I don’t believe in miracles,
but I believe in
what you get used to,
what grows on you,
what begins to speak
without ever moving its lips.

These days,
I nod to him—
a small, silent thing.
Not because I understand,
but because I think
he sees me, too.

New York City