Another Milestone

I checked our YouTube stats today. It seems we have hit – actually passed – another milestone with 10,019 subscribers to our YouTube Channel:

3,752,850 total views, with 36,089 views in the last 30 days. Somehow Dear Old Dad and I are still getting the message out that people can make music just for the simple joy of it.

The best part of it all is that I am still nobody.

Thanks to everyone for being part of this adventure!

God bless,

Godzilla 2014

The new trailer looks . . . okay – but some of you may remember that Dear old Dad and I were hopeful in ’98 when the Taco Bell sponsored version of Godzilla hit theaters with all of the grace and aplomb of Paula Abdul trying to read her way through Macbeth:

Here is hoping that Godzilla 2014 rights the wrongs of 1998!

Pardon Our Dust

It is 2014 and I feel, in spite of the sheer volume of stuff piled high on my desk, that it is time to give Daily Frail a facelift.

Anybody who wants to help out feel free to pick up a broom and start

New Music Magazine in the Works

Back in 2000 Dear Old Dad and I launched The Down Neck Gazette. A Digital music magazine that reached subscribers by CD ROM on a quarterly basis.

We got some really cool Interviews:

Being on the road almost nonstop for almost four years while filming and editing hundreds of hours of video way beyond exhausting. I basically collapsed, leading Dear Old Dad and I to make the switch to blogging – but we both miss the community building that happens with a publication.

Now, in addition to my health, I have a few irons in the fire with Crisfield Guitar, Bawdy Banjo Balladry and The Banjo Blues Project all slowly moving along with my bad health – but as I am getting better I am watching the Internet change and the idea of blogging is taking a turn that could open us up for a new publication.

A blog is an online diary. It’s not a magazine. That’s probably why online publishing is falling apart. Online content is being replaced with readership tracking – and to be honest none of the new sales or advertising necromancy makes any sense. Readers are not marks in some carny game. Readers are . . . well, readers are close friends, ad by letting them in on your information – be it how to play the banjo or how to cook a perfect brioche  – you are sharing a secret, and in that process making a friend. Breaking that trust for sales is just foolish.

Anyway, Dear Old Dad are going to do things different. No genres. No cliques or clichés. Just a magazine that uses modern technology to tell stories about, by, for and with music.

The other hows and whys will wait for later. I can’t go into too much detail as I have never had an idea my contemporaries haven’t loved so well they didn’t want to claim it as their own.

Imagine. Music of the people. For the people. By the people, for as long a we can pull it off. once we get into trouble we’ll find another way to do it. Contact us if you would like to take part. There is always room for another dreamer.

Between the Strings

At first all I wanted was music
and that seemed simple enough
put your fingers here to make a chord
your fingers there to make it ring
just try to keep your fingers between the strings.

It was all left hand right hand
with broken heart between
coordination between two dancing hands
with a teenage brain in between
and no way to keep anything from slipping between the strings .

Years went by and songs came and went
all I wanted was to sing the blues
(but really to be with my dad)
we had some wild old times
with nothing between us but the strings.

I teach music for a living now
trust me, show business is no place for any living thing
I suppose I’ll be forgotten someday – and that is as it should be
just a bit of Sagan’s Star Stuff between these strings.

What will remain, all that remains, is the love.
People may not remember our work or our names
but they will remember bad jokes told to keep spirits up
stories told to descendants as they fight the eternal fight
of keeping fingers between the strings.

Patrick Costello


Authors’ note: I tried to get this post up yesterday, but fell asleep while I was typing!

I tried to go off of my pain medication for a few days. I wanted to break out of the fog and feel. for a change. It was hard, but it was wonderful. The taste of good port. Sunshine on my face. The feel of Amy touching my hand.

Alas, all good things come at a price. I woke up screaming in pain on Easter Sunday.
We ran to the hospital at O dark thirty, got shot up with enough pain dilaudid to almost work and we were sent on our way.

The sun was coming up as we were heading home and Amy stopped by a creek where the Virginia Bluebells were blooming.

I do not own a good camera at the moment. As I predicted, he image sensor got trashed at Holi DC – but my first camera was still lying around – a Canon Powershot A580. As is custom for me, I made the most of what I the good Lord gave me.

I dove headlong into the sea of green and blue . Happy as an old hound dog.

Then we went to mass at the chapel at the Benedictine Sisters of Virginia. The good sisters were very kind. Making every every effort to make sure we were comfortable and able to take part in communion. The chapel is a small wonder of Arts & Crafts architecture.  Amy loves the garden, but I would love to to a workshop. I hate making phone calls for that kind of thing,so it you wan it it happen I will leave it up to you.

For Easter supper I made jumbo bacon cheeseburgers (Just a burger for me, I can’t do dairy anymore) with portobello mushrooms. 

Then we curled up on the couch with Qiona and Invicuts and watched some of Ben Hur and I took the pain meds the hospital prescribed for me. The fog settled in and I thought about the pain of the last few days and realized to feel the kiss of my Amy’s lips, to feel the Virginia bluebells along the creek – and that creeks cold water . . . I would do it again in a second.

Christ is risen.
Life is beautiful.

Since I don’t have a camera, and I can’t really play much banjo until my shoulder is stronger (especially with the new katana) I will be focusing on a little project with the working title of Crisfield Guitar. I have new tools to help me interface my BAHA implant with the mixing board, but it still not quite as objective as natural hearing. I need help.

Since my car is still stuck in Crisfield, I also will need a ride. I will play harmonica, jaw harp, ukulele and tell stories all the way.

Volunteers to help with sound engineering would be greatly appreciated. We will be using a Zoom R16 and a pair of MXL 900 mics. Volunteers will be fed with home cooking by Patrick and Miss Trudy.

Another project already in the works is a rather, um, unusual songbook. More on that later.

At  some point over the weekend Any kissed me and said, “Welcome back.”

Happy Easter, everybody!