Category Archives: commentary

In memory of Kurt Schnyder

'Venus in the Basement' by Kurt Schnyder

I got the call this morning.

I knew his health hadn’t been too good since he broke his hip in a bicycle accident a little over a year ago. When I saw him a few times around Christmas, he was thin — as always — but he was very happy.

For the first time in many, many years he was in love. He excitedly talked about buying a ring for his girlfriend, Charlene. If you knew Kurt, as I had for almost 30 years, that was deeply surprising — to put it mildly.

Still, there could be no questioning his enthusiasm for his new relationship. At times it was all he could talk about. And there was no questioning his genuine affection and love for his girlfriend, despite surprising differences between them.

So it was especially saddening when one of our mutual friends called me this morning to tell me Kurt had passed away less than 24 hours after checking into the hospital. We still don’t know the particulars of his passing and, really, it’s hard to feel like they really matter much. He was not young, at 53, but not old, either. Still, his health had been increasingly precarious, especially after the bike accident knocked him off his feet for the better part of a half year. The last time I saw him, he was still using a cane. (I used a cane, myself, for five years after a motorcycle wreck when I was 29, so it’s never something I like to see one of my friends leaning on. I kept hoping he’d be throwing it away soon but… ah well.)

Anyway, I’ll be writing more about Kurt, who was a very good painter and graphic artist (the hurriedly photographed picture above that he gave me as a housewarming gift almost 20 years ago only hints at his skill and vision… I hope to share more with you over coming months) as well as a fine percussionist (he was part of my all improv ambient ensemble Drift in the mid-90s, along with clarinetist/guitarist Steven (Caz Camberline) Becker and violinist/vocalist Ann De Jarnett).

He was a witty, often wildly funny man. At times he lived a little large and maybe a little wobbly — but he was a hell of a guy and a hell of a friend and — damn it — I really miss him already.

Gotta go.

Here’s the memorial site Kurt’s sister and friends and I came up with for Kurt.

Below are some songs featuring Kurt Schnyder:

13th Bar Blues

Kurt plays all the percussion on this wild and woolly workout. We recorded in two passes, with me on guitar and him on a handful of his percussion toys on both tracks. And I later went back and added some keyboard parts (no, that’s not really a sax section, back there).

Pretty Little Head

Kurt is joined on congas on this track by our mutual friend Michael Bay on shakers. The two conga tracks and the shakers were actually recorded for one of the songs on Mike’s unreleased first album that he recorded a number of years ago in my old project studio and he graciously allowed me to swipe them and build a whole new track around them.

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Willows weep… tears melt in cool water

On a lake...

I don’t write a lot of what you’d call love songs.

Broken hearts, betrayals, disillusionment, dissolution, self-destruction, simmering anger… that’s my turf. They didn’t call me the Bard of Bitterness, Denial, and Regret for nothin’…

But this is a love song. And I’ve always had a soft spot for it.

This version is a little unusual for AYoS. While it’s built around acoustic guitar, there are a couple of voices (both mine), and the second guitar, instead of noodling around the melody as usual, tries to somewhat mirror the first (and it comes oddly close, considering what a sloppy guitarist I truly am… perhaps too close to do much good). I even threw in a little echo, a stab at otherworldliness that will no doubt just irritate some purists — but what are they doing listening to me, anyhow?

Internet Archive page for this recording
previous AYoS versions
September 23, 2006
March 25, 2006
December 18, 2005

Emily

On a lake
the faded yellow row boat
drifts in lazy circles
while I fall in love with you

Emily Emily
watch the sky go around
Emily Emily
watch the sky

Willows weep
tears melt in cool water
your white cotton dress
you warm brown legs
your deep green eyes
Emily

Emily Emily
watch the sky go around
Emily Emily
watch the sky

(C)1982, TK Major

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Monday after Monday

Monday, January 8

One of the things that happens when you write songs — especially if you record them yourself — is that by the time you have anything presentable to the public, you, youself, already hate the song. Or are at least totally sick of it.

So I’m here to share that with you in the form of what I’m calling a songwriter demo, essentially a rough first draft production, with keyboards, drums, back up vocals and so forth — of “Chain of Mondays,” which, no, you’re not mistaken, was also the subject of last Tuesday’s “Monday on Tuesday” post commemorating the first workday of the new year.

And today is the first Monday.

So it’s all legit.

And, besides, this song has never had a proper rough production demo and it’s almost a year old — so, it’s all for a good cause.

I started out looking for an anthem but what I’ve got so far is a kind of garage rock…

chain of mondays
songwriter demo (first draft full production)

[UPDATE: I decided the recording I’d posted here was just too flawed to put up on the web. Imagine, if you can. Please feel free to enjoy one of the previous versions…]

previous AYoS versions
Monday, February 13, 2006
Monday, April 03, 2006
Tuesday, January 02, 2007

chain of mondays

a thousand mondays
that’s just 19 years
put your head down
put yourself in gear

before you know it
the day is done
fall asleep
and there’s another one

chain of mondays
wrapped round my life
chain of mondays
until the day I die

I’m good at what I do
but what I do is dumb
pushing things around
all day long

what’s it all for
don’t ask me
i’m just a well-worn gear
in the big machine

chain of mondays…

don’t take off my shackles
i don’t want to be free
cause theres nowhere to go
and no one to be

been at the grindstone
for so damn long
there’s nothing much left
except this song:

chain of mondays…

(C)2006, TK Major

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Monday on Tuesday

Monday on Tuesday

There were times, back when I was a drinkin’ man, that pretty much every day was Monday, a rude, jangling intrusion into sweet peaceful nescience.

The necessity to drag oneself out of bed, day after grinding day… man, some days that was just so hard. And then to go to work on top of it, as well? For crying out loud, what do they want out of a man?

But work gave me refuge from primal existential dilemmas, as well… a hidey hole where, as long as I kept my head down and worked toward getting the day over with and keeping from slipping behind, I could be free of nagging doubts about just how worthwhile my continuing existence was. Well, maybe not free of them, perhaps, but I could at least defer them.

And at the end of a long day of work, there was always the bottle. Like a djinn whose work was done, I would coil back into that sweet, dark prison…

Internet Archive page for this recording

Previously on AYoS:
Monday, April 03, 2006
Monday, February 13, 2006

chain of mondays…

a thousand mondays
that’s just 19 years
put your head down
put yourself in gear

before you know it
the day is done
fall asleep
and there’s another one

chain of mondays
wrapped round my life
chain of mondays
until the day I die

I’m good at what I do
but what I do is dumb
pushing things around
all day long

what’s it all for
don’t ask me
i’m just a well-worn gear
in the big machine

chain of mondays…

don’t take off my shackles
i don’t want to be free
cause theres nowhere to go
and no one to be

been at the grindstone
for so damn long
there’s nothing much left
except this song:

chain of mondays…

(C)2006, TK Major

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