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by James Rodgers ISBN-13: 9781936657346 ISBN-10: 1936657341 266 Pages ~ 131 Poems Publisher: Moonpath Press Price: $20.00 To order from the Publisher http://moonpathpress.com/authors.htm ABOUT THE BOOK: They Were Called Records, Kids is a poetry collection about music. Hearing it, creating it, finding it in the most unusual places, and just enjoying the fact it is all around us. Divided into 10 musical sets, with haiku breaks, and black and white photography, this book covers Rock, Pop, Jazz, World music, and so much more. ADVANCE PRAISE: A few poems into James Rodgers' book and you realize just how much he loves music. He loves it the way we love long summer days. He loves it the way kids . love splashing in water. He loves it the way we love our favourite book or our . first kiss. He loves it the way we love road trips or sleeping under a blanket. of stars. He loves it the way I do! Music has been the soundtrack to his life,. like it has been to mine. There, every step of the way, sometimes in the. background and sometimes defining the moment, defining a relationship, or. marking a beginning or an end. With music as the centrepiece, James shares. snippets of his life that go from touching or humorous, to sad or devastating.. He writes about love, innocence, nostalgia, death, friendship and family, and. does so in a way where you can relate. Whether he writes about growing up on. vinyl, working at a record store, or watching a stripper dance to Paul Simon's. Graceland, you feel you are right there with him. There is an honesty. and humbleness to his writing which is engaging and endearing. You can add James. Rodgers to the list of authors who write about music the way Nick Hornby or John. Carney do. I loved this collection of poems and I know you will too.. —Tom Landa, founding member of Juno Award winning band, The Paperboys. In this exuberant collection of keenly observed poems, NW poet James Rodgers. celebrates the contemporary music scene: the people, the places, the tunes that. are the soundtrack of our lives. Above all, this book is a tribute to the. experience of listening, watching, taking it all in participating in the act,. the fact, the sheer joy of making and hearing music. Rodgers shares his personal. take on the music of Roy Orbison, Tom Petty, Prince, David Bowie, Elvis, The. Paperboys, Sarah Vaughan, and a friend named Mark. This poet/word musician,. travels with us to New Zealand, Ireland, from the Jokhang to the Oktoberfest to. Kathmandu, from The Rainbow Cafe and Zola's Cafe to concert halls and open mic. venues where he observes audiences and individuals with delight. —Marjorie Rommel, Poet Laureate of Auburn, WA from 2015-2017 ABOUT THE AUTHOR: James Rodgers is a prolific poet living in Pacific, WA for more than two decade, and has been in the Pacific Northwest his entire life. He lives with his very patient wife and two very psychotic cats. While James prefers humor, he writes all kinds of poetry, with a focus on music, humor, kids, travel, and so much more, along with many song lyrics waiting to have music attached to them. He also created his own humorous style of haiku that he calls haikooky, and you can see his blog at jamesrodgershaikooky.blogspot.com. James has three self-published chapbooks, and has had poems published by Prism Magazine, Ha!, Poets of the Kent Canterbury Faire, Fly By Night Press, WPA Members anthology, Wrist, Washington English Journal, and many more. He was also the winner of the WPA Charles Proctor Award for Humor in 2005. He has been rejected by Raven Chronicles, Prairie Home Companion, and 45th Parallel, among others. Along with poetry, James is an award-winning photographer, having won multiple prizes in Auburn's annual photo contest. He has had multiple art shows of his work, provided the black and white images used in Cindy M. Hutchings' book Tree Talk, and the tulip portion of the collage cover for Brendan McBreen's book Cosmic Egg, both also published by MoonPath Press. FROM THE BOOK: I've Always Liked His Version Better by James Rodgers I heard Kathleen Battle singing "Summertime," her alto floating, falling from an open window overhead. Her voice rose above the traffic and chatter, and followed me to the end of the block, but as the music faded, sliding back into the sounds of life, I heard Louie in my head, continuing the tune, all gravel rasp and sly grin, letting me know that all was well, I was safe, even though no fish were jumping, and it was actually Spring.
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