The recollection of how, when and where it all happened became vague as the lingering strains hung in the rafters of the studio. I wanted to shout back at it, Maybe I didn't write you, but I found you.
I know Mother named me after a railroad man, but it's too late now, I'm afraid. Much, much too late.
In Hollywood, the rainbow hits the ground for composers.
I'm singing the music publisher's theme song - it ain't a commercial.
I don't think I'll ever be president of anything.
This exploded in me almost more music than I could consume.
Never play anything that don't sound right. You might not make any money, but at least you won't get hostile with yourself.
Ragtime was my lullaby.
For un-subscribe please check the mail footer.