Why I Don't Read Fiction

By James Cuomo

A collection of anecdotes, close calls, and other ephemera in the life of a musician. The action takes place in Algeria, USSR, Texas, Madagascar, New York, France; Italy, Switzerland, the Netherlands, Illinois and Okinawa. Twelve musical pieces are included in this ebook.
This book was the joint winner in the 2009 Lord Mayor's Creative Writing awards in Melbourne.

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Cuomo
• Release date: Jan 16, 2010
• ISBN: 9781370102235

James Cuomo

Jim Cuomo played his first gig in the fifties.He still performs regularly (www.jimcuomo.com) Throughout his life he has found himself in interesting situations in exotic places. His first book is -Why I Don't Read Fiction- reflections on a series of true stories about his travels. A selection of twelve musical numbers goes with the text and photos

Book preview

Blida police department early 20th century - postcard - P.D.

Why I Don't Read Fiction

After Blida, while the group had unanimously decided to end the tour and the embassy guys had been begging us to reconsider I thought of something at last. The one concert left was in Oran and had been too imminent to cancel. As the sound check at the main theatre was ending I asked the stagehands if anyone played percussion and might want to join us on stage for a big final number. Someone's brother was immediately mentioned, and within minutes had been found and was jamming with us on stage. Before the concert the mechoui. The once smiling sheep spinning over the open flame. The young man next to me We heard about Blida. That won't happen tonight. At that he pulled back his lapel revealing a semi-automatic weapon ready for action. It didn't make me feel safer. He gave me a pin with his logo - El Fatah. A few weeks after Black September this didn't make me feel safer either. Our singer's jaw froze open only relaxing when well on the way to the hospital. We played. After each number I announced the imminent arrival of our guest percussionist. The stagehand's brother jammed. The people danced. Emboldened and being urged to play several more concerts than originally planned I agreed under the condition that we engage the best percussionist in Algeria. The next afternoon a Mercedes pulled up to our Algiers hotel and out strolled Khalfa - his drums encased in a custom leather case. With him a 45rpm record as a gift. In perfect English - we should play this song tonight. Within an hour the Swiss Embassy had provided a battery-powered phonograph capable of playing the record. An hour after that we had learned what proved to be a very difficult song and all of the downtown business district was soon rocking to our strange trans-cultural efforts. Just as our American handlers had wanted. Indeed nothing like Blida happened again. Later in Constantine we performed at a high school for young girls. Khalfa had to stay in the car as the girls were to attend without veils. Apparently the presence of three American males in the group didn't preclude the girls dancing and participating on stage in a most provocative manner. Michael's long hair was truly a revelation to these young ladies. Scissors appeared and were almost used amidst great hilarity. They indeed did rush the stage but no-one needed protection from these wonderfully joyous young women.

We had arrived in Blida, south of Algiers, a few nights earlier with great anticipation. After a triumphant week-long run at a major theatre in the capitol our first foray into the countryside was highly anticipated. A cinema had been reserved. A small semi-circular stage was revealed once the movie screen was removed. No access but from the audience first row. No dressing room - the only exit was a door leading directly outside a few meters along the wall. The first obstacle was finding a transformer capable of using a 440-volt source. Thinking at first that a purely acoustic no microphone concert was in prospect. we were amazed when the required transformer was produced after a few minutes. So we installed our modest amplifiers and sound system - no drums - the need for a protective percussionist had not yet been ascertained. The concerts in Algiers had been both strange and well-received, the