DAN STUART
South Of The Pyrenees...
... my tribute to Brenda Vaccaro, only I didn't know it at the time. Same crew: Hess on drums, Scrappy slide, Foster hobo guitar, me playing open, Burns on cello.... more
Cancer Ward A Go Go
One of the biggest mistakes I made in the music jiz was allowing Marshall Berle and Belinda Carlisle to sway me into changing The Serfers to Green on "Shit", as Mommy's..... more
Backdoor Sliders...
Last time I was at Shea, the stands were full of hipsters, punky poos and rock chicks. Now I have no idea what's happening in the guido-centric Bronx, but I imagine the trend..... more
Mount Carmel Grotto...
... is the mother of all yard shrines. Built by devout Italian laymen a century ago, the society throws a party every July. Very Gaudi...... more
The Getaway Club
A July 4th reclamation at Clausen Farms in the Mohawk Valley... a century old German shooting lodge. Notice the Bolshevik dancing, and the Shining Path Llamas. Strangely, burgers..... more
Dan Stuart lives north of the 278 in the forgotten borough of NYC. He spent his formative years developing a keen sense of entitlement and is now enjoying the bitter fruit of sloth and indulgence. He has endured marginal success as a songwriter who couldn't sing and a screenwriter without a plot. He has been evicted from three different continents but has yet to be convicted of any sex crime. He orders pho without omosa and thinks Truman a war criminal. He dislikes the word snarky and has been told to cut down on salt. He believes that boric acid can save the world, one cockroach at a time.
