tarka's show.

Thinking about an old neighborhood, you turn to old fixtures. People, who like you, walked the streets. Inspired. Saddened. Excited.

In this case, I think of Tarka Cordell (see: Tarka Music).  He had moved on to New Orleans when NYC was changing. Yet, I recall his smile whether he was walking into Gatsby’s to watch a football game or to Loreley for fish and chips or smoking a butt outside of (the old) Rice on Mott Street, offering to be a goalie for the Bowery Boys…he’s a missed New York fixture which turns one of my favorite nostalgic (and certainly lyrical) songs of all is his “Lovely New York”  It’s simply not the same without him.

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