Tonight’s the night! The big Spring Concert is finally here!
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The last Spring Concert of yours portly career (at least in its current iteration) is coming up this Tuesday, 28 April 2026. It’s my swan song as the music teacher at my little school, so I’m going out big.
This concert will be the biggest, most stacked concert I’ve ever programmed. It will feature a total of twenty-six (26) pieces (appropriate, since it’s 2026, but I did not plan it that way; I just realized the connection while typing this post)—ten selections from the Middle School Music Ensemble; three solo pieces; one small group performance; and twelve tunes from the High School Music Ensemble.
The Middle School Music Ensemble’s set takes about forty minutes from top to bottom, and they’ve played it all the way through every day this past week. The High School Set is a bit longer, and we have not been able to play the entire program in a single class period. A class period at my school is about fifty-six minutes; by the time we get through attendance and tuning, we have maybe fifty minutes remaining. Our best run yet was getting through ten of the twelve pieces.
As such, I’m estimating that the total performance time of the concert will be about two hours—100 minutes between the two Ensembles, and about twenty minutes for the solo and small group pieces. That’s about the upper limit of where I (and, I imagine, my administration) would like to go. Factor in some shuffling between pieces and what not, as well as transitioning students on and off the stage, and we’re probably looking at around two hours and fifteen minutes.
There’s always this weird pressure to rush on through these concerts. My point (and the one I’ll make to my admin if they object to the length) is that we routinely have sporting events that last three or more hours. Baseball frequently has double-headers on school nights, which can easily run until 9 or even 10 PM. Us wrapping up around 8:15 or 8:30 PM is not going to ruin anyone’s ability to come to school the next day. Frankly, if the admin doesn’t want to stick around (understandable—they have to make an appearance at a lot of events), I don’t mind. I can lock up the building myself (as I have done many times before)!
Ahem—but I digress. No need to get defensive on the front end. That said, it’s going to be a pretty awesome concert. It’s not just two hours of lame filler. We’re going to rock—and pop, and soft rock, and so on—and it’s going to be a fitting display of my students’ talents.
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On Friday, 23 August 2024, my friend Sarah and I performed a show to celebrate her twenty-fifth birthday. Sarah selected tunes performed by Adele and Linda Ronstadt, the two artists who have had the most profound influence on her own singing and musical tastes.
We’d been rehearsing all summer to play a small program of eight songs—four Adele, four Ronstadt, mixed up with each other—for the partygoers. Sarah wanted to capture a real 1970s piano lounge vibe, and even asked guests to dress up in cocktail dresses and suits.
Naturally, yours portly had to lean into this vibe with a pink velvet tuxedo:

It helped that I already owned that outrageous paisley shirt. Here’s me right after showering, my hair still wet:

I love how I look like a gay choir director in that second picture.
Questionable sartorial choices aside, the concert itself was a smashing success.
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This past week was a musical one for yours portly, so I decided to dedicate today’s Lazy Sunday to some recent music posts:
Happy Sunday—and Happy Listening!
—TPP
Other Lazy Sunday Installments:
Yours portly has been composing a ton of instrumental music over the past year (ten releases since 1 September 2023: Spooky Season, Spooky Season II: Rise of the Cryptids, Leftovers, Firefly Dance, Epistemology, Leftovers II, Four Mages, Advanced Funkification, Heptadic Structure, and White Boy Summer), but my songwriting has lain fallow for some years now. As far as I can tell from my records, the last song I wrote to completion was back in 2019. D’oh!
So I finally sat down this past weekend and hammered a new song, “Tu Me Manques”; it translates to “I miss you” in French, but the literal translation is “you are missing from me”—far more poetic. I took that concept and wrote this 1970s-style piano ballad, with liberal use of common French phrases.
Yesterday I shared video of a live performance of my song “Hipster Girl Next Door” with an extended, absurd, frequently sloppy medley of songs tossed on at the end(s). It was great fun, even though I mixed up the lyrics to my own song!
Before the gig, regular reader and contributor Ponty asked if I’d be recording the performance. Ponty lives in Merry Olde England, so obviously could not make it to the performance here in these United States. I was happy to oblige my Anglo-Saxon friend, but I must explain a somewhat unfortunate, visceral reaction I had initially upon reading the request (disclaimer: Ponty, I am not upset at you. —TPP).
I hate it when people ask me “will the performance be recorded?” (with the exception of Ponty, who, again, lives in England, or Audre, neither of whom I would ever expect to travel to hear me play sloppy cover songs in a coffee shop). I imagine if you ask most small-time indie musicians, they’ll confess to the same sentiment. For me, it boils down to two things:
1.) You’re clearly indicating that you have no intention of even attempting to make it out to hear me play live.
2.) You’re asking me to perform extra work to record a video of a performance you have no interest in attending, and you’re probably not going to watch the video anyway.
Again, there are exceptions: people who live abroad/far away (Ponty, Audre, readers of this blog more than thirty minutes away), parents of school children for school performances (parents want recordings for grandparents and family members who live far away, or because work won’t allow them to attend a performance), and the like.
But it kills me when locals ask for a recording.
This past Friday, 22 September 2023, I played a gig at a local coffee shop with my buddy John. I was recovering from a sinus infection, but through a combination of cough drops, water, and tea, I soldiered through and managed to hit quite a few high notes—woooooot! It also helped having John there to carry lead vocals on several tunes.
It was a sloppy performance on my end—I mixed up the lyrics to a song I have been singing for eleven years!—but I’m chalking that up to the sinus congestion and my slowly diminishing mental faculties. The result, regardless, was an absurd, self-indulgent, over-the-top, ridiculous, long closing number to a very fun show.
Tonight, for the first time in awhile, I’ll be playing a solo gig at a local coffee shop in Darlington, South Carolina. I’m looking forward to stretching out these stubby fingers and doing some soft rockin’.
Well, it won’t be entirely solo: my buddy John will be joining me on a number of songs. His gorgeous twelve-string guitar and his capable backing vocals add a great deal of depth and texture to my tunes, so I’m glad he’ll be joining me.
I’ve just got a couple of more open mic nights before I get into my school year schedule and become a slave to the grind, but I’m going to do my best to keep pumping out the goods. This time in two weeks, I hope to have a new song uploaded for your delectation; stay tuned.
In the meantime, I’m continuing my deep dive into my obscure deep cuts, songs that I’ve never managed to get recorded in a studio. Some of these songs are very good; some need some polish. Whatever the case, I’m realizing that I have enough material for another EP, and I might need to get back into the studio.
This week’s feature is “Parada.” I wrote “Parada” in 2015 during a particularly fertile period of open mic attendance. The Spanish word “parada” roughly translates to “stop” or “bus stop/station” in English. I wanted to capture the notion of lingering in a moment—stopping a poignant moment in time, trying to freeze it in place as long as possible.
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The Spooktacular—my annual Halloween concert—returns in one week, on Saturday, 15 October 2022. Since 2020—during the height of The Age of The Virus—I’ve hosted this annual celebration of musical spookiness (and spooky musicality) from my front porch. It’s worked pretty well, and even spawned a published piece in Self-Reliance, so why mess with success? We’re back on the front porch again.
I am adding one innovation, though, one that worked quite well with the TJC Spring Jam earlier this year: like the Spring Jam, I’m turning the Spooktacular into a recital. My buddy John and I will still play some tunes, and we’ll invite the kids up to play with us on “Monster Mash” and KISS’s “I Was Made for Lovin’ You,” but the opening segment of the Spooktacular will feature my private music students. Indeed, it’s an open invitation to anyone who wants to play a tune—come on out!
Of course, I’ll be working hard this weekend to get the house prepared for the Spooktacular—and to remind folks about it! There are many little tasks to complete and items, large and small, to prepare, both to give everyone a fun time, and to squeeze some buckaroos out of the event.
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