Carol Kroll

New Tune: Your Loss

MP3: Your Loss
Lyrics: Your Loss

I have been nursing this tune for a bit now. Please consider this a scratch track as real instrumentation is in the works. But like a kid that wants to show his or her drawing to anyone who will look, I felt that way today after I finished this today. There will be a taste test when the “real instruments” make their debut, so stay tuned.

On the tune itself, I have always loved Latin music. Like what was going on in the 1950’s in Cuba. Not sure what to call that movement. Whatever “hay-day” that was considered in before all US Citizens were banned from the place. I also fancy the Latin jazz despite the fact I don’t have one ounce of Latin lineage in me.

When my former bandmate, Rob, brought Kirsty MacColl’s (at the time, new album) Topical Brainstorm to my attention a few years ago, I was amazed and envious because that is what I wanted to make! A British red haired vixen making Latin tunes with some bite in the lyrics. It was an AMAZING album. Still is. Perfect in my opinion. Then shortly after the album’s release, she was tragically killed in a boating accident. I was completely devastated for months. Honestly. I really really really wish she was still here just so I could say how inspirational she continues to be to me.

Anyway, this is my humble offering and first time dabble in trying to carve out a Latin tune, Kirsty MacColl style. Please enjoy.

July 10, 2009 | Comments (2) | Views (233)

My Grandfather

This week my grandfather passed away. My father’s father. He was 97 years old and born on Christmas day in 1912. The same year the Titanic sank, Arizona became the 48th state and Woodrow Wilson was elected president.

He had been in a nursing home for about five years. Nursing homes are miserable, but his was very nice. As nice as nursing homes go that is. But we all will end up there. ALL of us. Often alone and wishing someone will visit. No matter if you have 20 kids or none. We come into this world alone and we die alone. It’s hard not to think about that when you are there or standing inside a funeral home listening to your grandfather’s life story being told by a complete stranger who didn’t know him at all and wondering how this day got here so quickly, even though its been 97 years and you yourself had only been a part of that 97—-37 years of it.

1972ish. That’s me in the middle, and my Dad’s father keeping watch perched on the organ he loved to play.

I spent a lot of time…

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July 1, 2009 | Comments (7) | Views (283)