Carl Mateo
Big White House
© 2003 Carl Mateo
CD IN STOCK. ORDER NOW. Will ship immediately.
SPECIAL: 10% discount if you buy more than one copy of it today!
off beat icons of the urban landscape in songs such as "Cyclone Day" and "Kool Man" are intertwined with images from nature as in "Bird's Eye" and the title cut, "Big White House", to create the foundation for an atmospheric and personal recording.
tracks
try this
albums you will love
genres you will love
By Location
Recommended if you like ...
links
notes
Above
On the second shelf above the refrigerator he kept an old box. It was lined with wallpaper with little soldiers on it. Redcoats and Bluecoats. Yankees and Loyalists. In the box he kept a recipe. He had begged her for years to give him her secret but she would not even allow him near the kitchen. It was her sacred space. It was her secret. She had earned it and wasn’t about to give it up. Not without serious persistence from anyone who would become the heir apparent. He was determined to be that heir. For Chrissake he simply wanted to make spaghetti sauce. Good homemade spaghetti sauce and he knew where the source of his desire lay.
He called her every Friday at Five PM. Faithfully. For years. She would be in her kitchen preparing the holy meal when the yellow wall phone would ring. She would pick it up and place it on the counter and start humming as she kneaded the pasta and occasionally stirred the sauce. Every Friday when he called he would put her on speaker phone and sit back in his chair and close his eyes and listen.
He could hear the water come to a boil and the pasta being sacrificed fresh and whole. He could hear her as she rinsed the pasta exactly after eight minutes. If he listened very hard he could hear the ladle dipping in the sauce as she was about to wrap the cappellini in a soft blanket of marinara. Not too much and not too little, just enough to coat the pasta when it was tossed, just enough for each piece to absorb the very real flavor of tomatoes, tomato paste, olive oil, a hint of garlic, locatelli and pepper. Sugar.
The ingredients were simple. This he knew, but the measurements, the exact blackness of the tomato paste and olive oil as it merged in the frying pan, the slow slight bubbling as the sauce only ever approached a boil… the workings of this woman’s hands and senses were a miracle to him. A miracle that gave comfort and made the world whole. One Friday as he was listening he began to hear fresh intimations in her song. Slight breaks in the humming punctuated by definition. By words forming on her mouth. By meaning beyond any that he had ever discerned before in their odd calls. It was a revelation. A revelation that would set him on an evolutionary path. A path defined by the tactile feel of a knife slicing garlic and a grainy wooden spoon slowly stirring, slowly manipulating the elements.
reviews
Please log in to review this album.
fantastic, personal, and soulful
author: Ryan FlattOne of the best songwriters I've ever heard, he continues to inspire me. When you listen to the music, you don't just hear it, you feel it... It's everything you want in an album. Love ya, UC!
Want more!
author: Stone PigeonI've only heard this CD about 100 times, and it gets better with each listening. Can't wait for Carl's next release. He's worth a million listens, at least! Oh, that voice! Straight from the heart.