Butch Morris was resolutely on the outside, though from a distance, and with the advantage of time, it seems clear that he wanted to be on the inside, like all artistic innovators who see their work as the most natural, understandable thing in the world.
We could flit down from NYC to historically rich Savannah, Georgia, exchanging frostbite for mosquito-bite.
Behind all the news headlines, life in Iran is becoming increasingly difficult to grasp.
Butch Morris was a friend and a hard task master. When he started A Chorus of Poets, I and the late poet John Farris were asked to join. Being the rebellious, attention-deficit-type of kids we were, we quit during (not after) the first rehearsal. Learning the signals and following orders were just not in the mix for us. Here’s some pieces for Butch.
Maybe music is the best means to tell stories.