George Wurzbach - Straight Out of Brooklyn by Richard Cuccaro There is a kind of laid-back smart-aleckness where one has to sit back, slack-jawed with awe. Case in point: "I'm God," by George Wurzbach on his first CD Not Pictured. It begins:
I got down on my knees this morning And I prayed these words "Oh please give me one hit record" And here's what I heard "Hello, this is God I'm not in right now So leave your name and your number At the sound of the thunder Oh never mind. I'm God And I know who you are"
Shortly after, God refuses George's request in the following exchange:
"I ain't no genie, you little weenie I'm God and I've got better things to do. And I said "Like what?" And that really pissed Him off.
God then recites some smile-inducing miracles that I won't divulge here. If you haven't heard George sing this in concert, or gotten the CD, you'll have to do one or the other to find out. It's his tone that gives the listener the impression of George as a bemused watchful observer. The ever-astonishing comedy of human errors is his playground. Gentle, mocking humor, often directed at himself, is his palette.There's the song about us all being Martians, and the one about his father resembling Moe of the Three Stooges which add to that overall impression. They'll be included on his soon-to-be-released CD, tentatively titled "Junk Mail." They're also available on separate Modern Man CDs. Modern Man is a comedic folk group that George has been performing with since 1999, He shares turns performing humorous songs with satirists David Buskin and Rob Carlson. George has lived in Brooklyn his whole life. His connection to music began when he was 8 or 9 and the Beatles appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show. His mother bought him a Beatle wig, Beatle boots and a collarless jacket - the kind that the Beatles wore and that Carnaby Street helped to popularize. All this enabled him to act out a childhood fantasy. A couple of years later, the family moved next door to a church. George was allowed to go inside during slack periods, after school and on weekends, and play the piano there. He tried to find the chords to Beatles songs. Without knowing what a triad was, he figured out how to create chords using alternate white keys and how to augment them using the black keys. The first song he learned by ear was "House of the Rising Sun." Not realizing it until much later, it acquainted him with the "circle of fifths," the basis of western chord progression. He figured out easy songs to play like "Season of the Witch" (2 chords) and "Dear Mister Fantasy" (3 chords) and play them over and over for hours. A year later he asked his parents if he could take lessons. He remembers they cost a judicious $4.50 an hour. During junior high, he'd get together with friends and they'd form bands and play at parties. There were parties every week at someone's house. They'd go off on a tear, sometimes playing a song like "Atlantis" "Way down below the ocean, where I wanna be, she may be " over and over, with everyone joining in. That's one way to build performing experience. Sheer exuberance. In George's senior year of high school, he had completed all the required credits except for English and gym and, due to the dedication of a great music teacher, who prepared special lessons for a small group of 4 or 5 students, he was allowed to work on music eight periods per day for the entire 2nd half of the year. Because of that extra studying, he enrolled at SUNY City College as an advanced student with Music Composition as a major. While he gigged as a rock piano player from high school onward into college, often in a band with his older brother Carl, he still had to play classical pieces before a board of professors each year before advancing to the next year's studies. At times, a weird juxtaposition occurred between the classical and the commercial playing. As an elective, George performed with an a capella Renaissance choral group. He said, "I'm not kidding, I'd be doing a performance at 6 o'clock at some cathedral in Manhattan, maybe Palestrina, a mass from the 14th century, and at 11 o'clock the same night, I'd be in a bar, doing Beatles' songs." However, he asserts, "Being flexible always helped me." As far as the degree in Music Composition went, he says: "No one cares if you have a degree in music you do that for what you can get out of it training-wise. If there's an audition, 'Can you do it?' That's all that matters. Actually, I thought it was the kiss of death. I expected that I would teach music for a living." What happened was, he just kept on gigging. After college, he spent 2 or 3 more years doing covers in bands with his brother Carl, before setting out to do "original music." He says, " It's a much harder way to make money. Playing covers for money is safe. You can always make money if you can play a variety of things. If you're going to do your own stuff and expect to get paid for it, you have to commit to it for a little while and that can be very costly." "I did it toe-in-the-water, two toes in the water, that sort of thing, as a side man, a keyboard player for other people doing original music, just to get used to that for a while. I played for a lot of bands on Bleecker Street Great Gildersleeves when it was open, The Bitter End On any given night, there are going to be 6 or 7 acts, since the turnover they bring in is how the clubs make their money. So, playing for them you get to know everyone. If bands are short-lived or they end up going into some other excursion, they'll remember you if they like the way you played." It was mostly word of mouth, personal referrals. I did a want ad once or twice, but they didn't go anywhere. George went on that way, gigging, writing a few things, not much, until the early 90's. Asked to participate in a World Hunger Year concert, He met David Buskin and a wide array of singer/songwriters and a whole new world opened up for him. He attended the Kerrville Festival in Texas in 1995 and walked away with the New Folk Award. I saw him play solo at the Fast Folk Cafe in the late 90's and thought he was staggeringly funny then and have the same opinion today. He joined forces with David Buskin and Rob Carlson and the group called itself Modern Man. His most recent work with the group has earned a Backstage Bistro Award and MAC Nomination.For the past two years he's worked with only Modern Man, but is now doing solo gigs again as well. He's admits that he's hooked on dealing humor. He observes that while audience members may feel compelled by habit to applaud at the end of a conventional song, they will not laugh at something they don't think is funny. He continued, saying that "Once you've achieved the reaction of laughter from an audience, you want it again and again. It becomes an addiction." That's just fine with us. Pass the syringe. George's web site georgewurzbach.com shows these listings: July 10 with Modern Man Ocean Grove, NJ Opening for Kingston Trio & Glen Yarbrough 14 George Wurzbach with The Excellents 23, 24(day) George Wurzbach with FRFF Most requested Artists Falcon Ridge Folk Festival Hillsdale, NY 24 (eve) with Modern Man, Grounds for Sculpture Hanover, NJ 26 In-The-Round 7pm Red Lion Song Circle Bleecker Street NYC He can be reached at: mail@georgewurzbach.com
Satalla - The New Kid on the Block by Richard Cuccaro37 W. 26th St., Manhattan 212-576-1155 www.satalla.com It's an ill wind that blows no one any good. Two months ago, word reached me that a new local club, in the Chelsea area was advertising shows for the likes of Cheryl Wheeler and Patti Larkin. I was amazed and incredulous, figuring that spaces for acts of that caliber in that area would be difficult to procure and sustain. I hadn't anticipated someone with the imagination and fortitude of Michael Yaacobi. Back in December of 2003, the folk world began it's lament for the impending loss of The Bottom Line to a greedy, closed-minded New York University. Yaacobi, owner of newly-opened Satalla nightclub began receiving calls from booking agents looking for a venue for their stables of contemporary folk artists.
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Michael Yaacobi The entrance to the ancient city of Petra made an impact on Michael who wanted to create a similar experience for patrons of Satalla. Michael had originally thought he might include some blues and Zydeco acts in his venue, which features predominately World Music. He knew of the Bottom Line's history of presenting the best singer/songwriter acts and figured he wouldn't bother to compete with it. As most of our readers know, The Bottom Line was forced to shut down in January. This became the green light for Michael to begin pursuing folk acts. Satalla, is a sister club to Kavehaz, right next door. Kavehaz features jazz, a primary love of the owner. The two clubs are joined by a kitchen which serves a more upscale food selection and both clubs offer a much less crowded seating scheme than the Bottom Line did. Satalla's decor, with it's black-lit day-glo wall decoration may not be everyone's idea of feng shui, but pose no problem for this author. The menu lights up very nicely.
I got to the club as soon as possible. I've missed shows with Cheryl Wheeler, Patti Larkin, Paul Geremia, Cliff Eberhardt and Louise Taylor, but have managed to see Australian slide guitarist Jeff Lang, South Africa's Sharon Katz and the Peace Train, Irish songstress Maura O'Connell and New England's darling, Catie Curtis. The wife and I got a chance to test the menu. We tried the salmon, chicken paillard with salad, chili, and focaccia and were pleasantly satisfied each time. The prices for appetizers and entrees (low to mid-teens) are more than reasonable by Manhattan standards. As I later found out, the menu was set up by a chef from New Orleans, who returned home after a few months. The good work in the kitchen apparently carries on. I introduced myself to Michael and found him to be gracious and friendly. I recently got a chance to sit down with him to explore the roots of this new-found treasure. When Michael was a child growing up in Israel, there were only two stations. One played only classical music, and the other mixed Israeli and American music. A lot of the American music was jazz and this began a lifelong taste for that genre for Michael. He always had the radio on, absorbing a lot of jazz while studying. It apparently worked well. He got a degree in Civil Engineering and worked in that field while still in Israel. He came to the United States in 1985 and ran his own construction company. Not content with that, he opened two bagel shops in 1989. However, the picture was still not complete. Michael yearned for the atmosphere of the type of coffee shop that he used to enjoy back home. So, in 1996, he opened his own, in Soho, and called it Kavehaz. He used the walls as an art gallery and began adding music. Jazz groups played, starting with one night per week and gradually expanding to every night.
In August of 2003, so he might accommodate his love for both jazz and world music, Michael moved Kavehaz to 26th Street, and in September opened Satalla, which in Arabic-derived Israeli slang means "high on life." I took note of the preponderance of world music at Satalla and asked Michael if the much-publicized overzealousness of the immigration authorities was having any effect on his booking. He said that it is still a problem with artists having to cancel at times. Readers might notice that I've left one such cancellation in the listings for Satalla this month. On the 7th of July, Llan de Cubel Masters of Celtic Music from Spain have canceled due to visa issues. Michael has his work cut out for him. Although he has a booking person working for him and a capable second-in-command, he says he "gets tired." Whatever course things take, we think that readers will get behind this new venue ("venues," if your taste runs to jazz as well). We know that Acoustic Live will do everything it can to help ensure the success of this generous and imaginative man with Satalla and Kavehaz. We hope to see you there!