Andy O’(Snaps fingers rhythmically) The air hangs thick with midnight blue/And the city hums a graffiti tune/ a voice cuts through, a velvet blade/Andy O’, where stories are made/Poet, Musician, Broadcaster's soul/Navigating the sonic scroll of a downbeat that will never fade/KUVO Jazz, a haven's light/On Sunday nights, banishing the uptight/The Nightside a whispered promise kept/Where restless minds and tired souls have wept/And found solace in a whispered rhyme/A tapestry woven, defying space and time/Mr. Andy O’ cradles the jazz, a smoky embrace/And invites the poetry to find its place/A conversation, deep and low/Of saxophone sighs and verses that flow/The ongoing relationship, raw and true/Between a trumpet's cry and Gil Scott heron spoken word on heartache, hope, and dreams deferred/In every chord and every whispered word/So tune in to the hip Andy O’/ let the darkness fade/As Andy O’ builds the jazzy serenade of stars on the poetry and jazz parade/ For on the Nightside, the truth is revealed In the marriage of poetry, and how jazz makes us feel to be real in the truth of it/ Andy O’ Snaps fingers, silence/ And walks away to broadcast for another day/
Tony Adamo
THE JAZZ SAINT... Nu Jazz Break/Spoken Word
I HIT UPON THIS CAT NAMED JESUS/STANDING ON THE FLOOR OF GRAND CENTRAL STATION AND 42ND STREET/HE WAS PREACHING TO THE LOST SOULS OF MUSIC WHO GAVE UP THEIR BELIEVE IN JAZZ/ HE WAS TALKIN’ LOUD LIKE HE WAS A GRAMMY WINNER AS A SUBWAY CROWD GATHERED NEAR/BLOWIN’ WORDS LIKE CHARIOTS ON FIRE BOUT THE GREATS AND NEAR GREATS WHO NEVER GOT THEIR JUST DUE/JESUS WOULD SLOW HIS FLO DOWN LIKE A 45 SPINNIN’ TO A STOP/ONLY TO KICK HIS BODY INTO HYPERDRIVE DRAWING YOU INTO HIS POWER SMOOTH GROOVE ON THE HISTORY OF JAZZ/
THE BELIEVE IN JAZZ WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE FOREVER HE SAID WITH WIDE EYES FLASHING/
AS HE ASCENDED INTO THE GRAND CENTRAL SKY….
Tony Adamo/
The Hip Jazz Cat/Tony Adamo
Step up, Man, get up, let me hip you to this/ a jazz cat who weaves words and sings/ People, It’s Giacomo Gates/
He’s the master of vocalese a hipster’s delight/ A storyteller with echoes of Buckley and Mark Murphey’s wise vocal flair/
his voice dances on stages as if floating on air/ Eddie Jefferson’s charm and Jon Hendricks’ grace/ when he opens up to sing/this jazz cat is full of swing/
captivating the crowd he swings a groove spell/ entertaining the masses in jazz clubs that know him well/
He’s amusing and musical/ a hipster so rare/Bebop is in his veins, Man, Giacomo Gates is out of the world and the next one too/ “Where did this cat come from?” Savant Records only knows/
with Bird’s solos beneath him and Giacomo’s melodic variation on words/ turning notes into scatting stories/ Gates be cookin’ the most/ so get hip to it and raise your hands high/ the Gospel of jazz will never die/ dig his jazz scene and let his lyrical journey make you high/ In a world full of noise/ Giacomo Gates is the voice you need, the hipster jazz cat who is somethin’ else, you’ll see, you’ll believe!
Lotto Day Buzz/Tony Adamo
Thoughts spin like a top high.
my head’s a blur of numbers,
9 8 9 7 3-no!
Wait, hold on,
8 6 7 22 slips away.
Not quite right.
Man don’t rush me, damn!
People waiting behind me,
the pressure’s real.
Wish I’d hooked up those lucky picks in my head,
but hey, I gotta keep my cool,
21,67,15,32,25,52- pick up,
yeah, I’m hip to those numbers.
Lotto day buzz.
what can I say?
Chasing dreams,
to keep the bills away.
Right Now/Tony Adamo
the subway rumbles,
a symphony of voices,
spoken words drifting,
like jazz notes swirling,
through twilight streets,
trumpet sharp,
trombone smooth,
the city breathes,
tongues dance to the Latin beat.
The Last Poets
“When the revolution comes,”
Politicians whispered sweet lies,
promising dreams that were never theirs,
while streets echoed with dreams denied,
and voices drowned in blood-stained hope.
Economies built on the backs of the weak,
wealth for the few, while many stayed silent,
coins of gold pooled, but hearts went cold,
hands reached out but never united.
The Last Poets rhymes like Hymns
echoing in alleys,
fingers snap,
feet tap,
words meet the pulse,
the Congo thump lifts hearts,
raw and real,
hip-hop’s roots grow deep—
But what has changed,
in this swirling maze?
Do we still speak the truth,
shout over sirens,
dream beyond the neon flash,
with wide eyes,
still fighting, still asking,
for justice in our sound,
each voice a vote,
every story a song?
NO FLEXIN/ Word and Art/Tony Adamo
Iconic slick rhymes/
trumpet beats sampled/
Latin soul grooves on Bronx Street/
No flexin’, just real 90's rap/
Hip hop flows into jazz spoken word soul/
jazz whispers into Afrobeats ear/
a political word from Angela Davis and the Revolution speaks to Gil Scott Heron/
Nu jazz beats as congas play/
Bronx streets come alive with stickballs flying high/
Gil Scott’s voice/
singing for change that will never come/
a ghetto child,
runnin' wild/
hydrants spray/
cooling off the summer's day/
DJ BEND IN doin' his thing as the table spins/
John Lee's Hooker's blues N hip hop/
Hip hop and blues/ yeah that's right/
Thoughts flow free like a humming bee's sound/
Hip hop rap's musical notes make/
The Milky Way a sound system for the universe/
underground hoops play for money and dope/
Miles does do bop on his trumpet/
tasty like a Mars candy bar/
do-wop, boom bap/
what a solid remix, man!
I'm diggin' on your track/
So, relax and kickback/
This is what It means to be free/
WAS IT U? Tony Adamo
Under the stars, were Jelly roll Morton rolls, carnival lights twinkling,
like flowers glowing brightly in the night.
Candy-bright sugar moments,
pop like gumdrops,
a sweet melody we all know.
Graffiti dreams paint the walls,
hip-hop rhythms,
jumping over a yellow moon,
Chet Baker's notes float,
alive in the air,
the Hammond B-3 sings its soul,
freestyle, free heart, diggin' to write a jazz chart,
we dance until dawn,
lost in the Latin rhythms of last night.
TICKIN’ CLOCK/Tony Adamo 1995
Your life is just a tickin’ clock from the day you arrive…….
It’s just an old tickin’ clock…..
Till the day you say good bye…
. Our lives are a tickin’ clock in the hands of time….
And every one we meet is a second gone by…
.
Bridge:
So move over life train and let me walk on by
I gotta lot of livin’ to do as my tickin’ clock rolls by
…
Spoken word
You see our lives are just a tickin’ clock with every breath we take
We step away from our past into our future fate
Your whole life is just one hour and your youth was spent in seconds
Now you wish you had years to fight back your tickin’ clock.
AHHHHHH! So I’ve got to say
Ending Bridge:
So move over life train, oh let me walk, let me walk on by
Spoken word
I gotta lot of livin’ to do as my tickin’ clock rolls by
From Tony Adamo's Miles of Blu Cd/ Hipspoken Word
Exalt the man if thou give you light
Exclude the stars if thou feign thee night
For doth these whispers kiss thou stars
Alas the dreams whence yours now ours
Give thy love and free this heart
My words art yours for dreams impart
Elevated worship and too exalted amiss
My soul seethed aflame for one's sweet kiss
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