Gypsy Pop Jazz Singer Delilah will be performing her songs this summer in Philadelphia at Warmdaddys on Thursday June 20th. There you’ll get to hear her beautiful voice in person while she pours her heart and soul into her performance. What a treat! If you’re in the Philly area, you should definitely come and enjoy this Hungarian beauty.
Delilah has also collaborated on her music with “Eye of the Tiger” writer and Grammy award winner Jim Peterik. Jim produced and wrote two songs for Delilah entitled “Beats for You” and “Love by Numbers.” With sultry undertones and ethereal melodies, these songs mark a progressive maturity for Delilah into the world of pop and jazz music. “It has been an amazing opportunity to work with one of the greatest songwriters of all time, Jim Peterik! His songs are so alive and ring true to my heart. The melodies and the sentiment of the songs are one with my soul. Thanks, Jim, for having the faith to let me sing and bring life to your incredible masterpieces. Your kind support and encouragement let me be myself and truly represent who I am as an artist,” said Delilah. To listen to, download, or order the songs done with Jim, visit iTunes here: http://bit.ly/Delilah_BeatsForYou
To listen to, download, or order her album The Sweeter Life, visit iTunes here: http://bit.ly/A-Sweeter-Life or Amazon here: http://bit.ly/Delilah-A-Sweeter-Life-Amazon
You can connect with Delilah on Facebook and ReverbNation.
Jessy J is on Jim Peteriks Lifeforce Album Along With other 15 Other Legendary Musicians!
Jim Peterik’s Lifeforce album “Forces at Play” is sure to delight fans of jazz music. 15 incredibly talented musicians are featured on the latest installment of Lifeforce. Dubbed Smooth Jazz that Rocks, Lifeforce’s superstar lineup includes Jessy J, an innovative and captivating contemporary jazz artist, saxophonist, and singer/songwriter. Also on the album are the amazing artists: Jeff Carlisi (.38 Special), Greg Carmichael and Miles Gilderdale (Acoustic Alchemy), Blake Aaron, Steve Oliver, Marzette Griffith, Lisa McClowry, Sijay, David Pack, Steve Eisen, Steve Cole, Chieli Minucci, Nick Colionne and Mike Cichowicz, and Alex Ligertwood (Santana).
Lifeforce’s newest single, “Forces at Play,” from the album with the same title, is being released to radio stations today! The song features Chieli Minucci and Steve Cole. To find out more about this amazing band, visit Jim Peterik’s Lifeforce here at: http://bit.ly/JimPeteriksLifeforce
The “Forces At Play” track “Jazzy Lady” features Jessy J, along with Jim Peterik (Eye of the Tiger, Vehicle). You can check out and download “Jazzy Lady” and all of the great songs on the album on iTunes at: http://bit.ly/ForcesatPlayoniTunes and Amazon at: http://bit.ly/ForcesatPlay
Tony Adamo has signed a record deal with Random Act Records (RAR). Some of the outstanding artists Adamo will be joining are: Mike Clark, of Herbie Hancock and the Headhunters, Michael Wolff, former band leader for the Arsenio Hall show, Larry Coryell named by Musician Magazine as "one of the 100 greatest guitarists alive today, " Kenny Drew, Jr., as Jazziz Magazine says has a "brilliant distincti
‘I have two people in my life with schizophrenia – one paranoid, one undiagnosed’
When you are diagnosed schizophrenic, it’s like being told you are officially evil. That is the idea we have of schizophrenia.
When you sit across the table from the psychiatrist – in the low chair, in the pale green room; both to make you feel “more relaxed” – and he says those words, your heart stops for a minute, in the way it does when the car goes over the cliff, or a child goes missing. It is the worst of all possible words; the worst of all possible worlds. You hang, for a moment, in silence.
And when the ringing in your ears stops, and you tune in, again, to the man, he is saying, “…and I’m afraid your symptoms will be pushing people under trains, and shouting in the night; and coming into the houses of neighbours, at twilight, with a thin blade, and waiting behind doors.”
Because these are all the schizophrenics we have ever heard about, or known, in films, or on the news. It is your black doom. Your soul is broken. It is you cast into doorways and street corners and CCTV footage, played, later, on the news.
That is, until you know someone with schizophrenia. Or you get schizophrenia yourself. I have two people in my life, one paranoid schizophrenic, one still hanging in between diagnoses – half schizo-affective, half bi-polar. Or perhaps it is “just” a schizotypical personality disorder, right in the centre of her heart: like the hole left in a castle battlement, after the cannonball of her childhood passed right through it.
This is one of the problems with mental illness. There’s no surefire way to diagnose mental illness. You can’t test for it in the blood – looking for schizophrenic spores, like tiny black roses – or feel the part of the brain that is broken, with the flat of your hand, like a shattered collarbone or thumb. Instead, the ill person tells the psychiatrist what they think, and the psychiatrist says, “This reminds me of a schizophrenic, or a psychotic, or a manic depressive,” and they are then named, in the way we name a cat or a baby. That is how the naming of the madness happens.
I have been in the room when the diagnosis was made – when the floor dropped away – and I knew why the name was given. I agreed with the name being given. In the hour before, the talk had been of angels and mind-reading and bad men; recurring symbols of eyes being signs. Rape and spying, and babies that turned to stone in the womb, or disappeared entirely. The whole world being pain. There was psychosis there, as clear and simple as bad rain. But I wondered how many of these things the psychiatrist thought were psychosis – how much he thought was illness. Because I knew the person talking, and I knew half this stuff that was being said was true: the bad men, and the rape, and the spying. I knew, to her, the whole world was pain. In the mirror of her mind, these were true reflections.
Your memory is a mirror, reflecting all you have ever said and done. But psychosis, or schizophrenia, is a tiny toffee-hammer to the mirror – so it falls, electric, into a billion disordered shards. Some still true, of course – but others now reflecting only each other, infinitely, until the image becomes indistinct, or resembles something else entirely. So that friends turn into angels; enemies to demons, and the babies you read about in fairy tales are in your body, now, as stone. And you are not stupid – you are not stupid – and you know something is wrong. You try to think your way out of it. But broken reason cannot mend broken reason.
Your brain is speeding so fast it looks like it’s moving at warp-speed – this is a neurological fire, now: scans would show your brain lit up like the Eastern Seaboard, at dusk. The stories replicate: thousands, millions. There is no such thing as true memory any more. Does she remember what the psychiatrist said? Which one of the psychiatrists? There are billions, in shards, on the floor. She doesn’t believe in this one, tiny, random splinter that announced “schizophrenia”. Schizophrenics are evil – she is not evil. She is flying. She’s an angel. She’s so, so sad. She will not take the pills. She’s doesn’t know her story any more.
And I think: I can write stories! I can write. Sweetness, let me climb into your head and write you a new story – the story of your life with clean lines, this time, and the good people as clearly signposted as the bad, and no more confusion for you. So you finally understand what is going on. Let me glue the glass again, and hang it on the wall.
But there are already too many voices in her head. She cannot fit me in at all. I would not, should not, fit.