Biomedical Innovation by Al Hoffman

Lyrics: “Track Eleven_ADHD”

By Al Johnson

Track Eleven. He’s on track Eleven.

Track Eleven. He’s on track Eleven.

Track Eleven. He’s on track Eleven.

Track Eleven. He’s on track Eleven.

Stranded in a crowd once again. Like I am on the out looking in.

Everyone is chatting away. While I think of something to say.

Clavinet Solo

ADHD

Track Eleven. He’s on Track Eleven.

Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention please.

Put down your drinks. Listen carefully to me.

Guitar Solo

ADHD

Track Eleven. He’s on Track Eleven.

Now I’ve Displayed. What’s going on inside of my brain.

I was hoping someone else could share, what’s happening underneath their hair.

Track Eleven. He’s on Track Eleven.

Track Eleven. He’s on Track Eleven.

Lyrics: “Alexander”

By Al Johnson

Intro: while casually drilling 3’s

This track is kinda biographical. It’s a little bit about me.

3 pointer (swish)

A little bit about my family.

3 pointer (swish)

Also a little bit about what I aint.

That’s a 3 (swish)

Chorus:

Alex, xander, xander, xan, xander, Alex, xan, xander, Alex.

Shit the cops.

Flown a helicopter, jumped out of the plane, got punched in the face, joined a hip-hop class.: Those are things that I have never done.

Verse:

Alexander is my name

Alex-xander

Born and raised in Brookline Mass

Privileged white guy

Went to Shul most every day

Oy yoy yoy yoy

Yom Kippur I sometimes fast

Sometimes I don’t

Late night Immas in her room

Mom is in her office.

Typing, reading history.

Digs Islamic art.

Art Historian hard at work.

Reading, writing.

Mapping out her theories.

Portability.

Abbas cleaning up the house.

Cooking cleaning.

Laundry, dishes, countertops.

Cooking cleaning.

When he’s done it’s off to bed.

Snoring, sleeping.

So he can wake at 5am.

Early in the morning.

First to wake up every day.

Your honor.

Works the law in Bankruptcy.

His father.

First a lawyer, then a judge.

Your honor, his father.

Always fair he held no grudge.

No, no, no.

My older sisters hold down.

Sister.

My role models, they make me proud.

Sister.

One in politics.

Sister, sister.

One in philanthropathics.

That’s not even a word.

I know they always here for me.

Sister.

I know they are always there for me.

Sister.

Even if I do a bad.

Sister, sister.

And even if my mood is sad.

Wah, wah, wah, wah.

Chorus:

Alex, xander, xander, xan, xander, Alex, xan, xander, Alex.

Shit the cops.

Flown a helicopter, jumped out of the plane, got punched in the face, joined a hip-hop class.: Those are things that I have never done.

Outro:

Alex, xander, Alex, xander, Alex, xander, Alex. Those are things that I have never done.

Shit the cops. 3 pointer (swish).

Lyrics: “Boundaries”

By Al Johnson

Verse:

All the Rabbis, Gabbais, large guys, hate goys.

Hate boys that talk in shul, skip school, eat traif, break shabbos, using electricity.

Not necessary reading Talmud every second, keeping Kosher, Only Milichiks, Talking Yiddish, looking shlubish, dirty outfits, marry women after one date.

Is this it kid? This what life is? This makes you happy?

Sounds kind of crappy.

Chorus:

So I take a stand and I don’t obey.

Take a stand. I turn my back away.

Verse 2:

Caring for children, don’t even play with. Eating whitefish, calling Goys Goyish. Cholent for Kiddush, speaking in Yiddish. Kissing their Tzitzis, singing Zamiros, saying Tefilos, turning their Rabbi’s into their heroes.

How can you blame them? They just behavin.

Don’t you mistake it. I couldn’t take it.

I said it’s over, I aint religious.

I said it’s over, I aint religious.

Chorus:

So I take a stand and I don’t obey.

Take a stand. I turn my back away.

Donna Lee, by Charlie Parker

Giant Steps, by John Coltrane

Saxophone has a special place in my heart and soul. It was my first real instrument. I wanted to share my ok, not great, playing, and honor these two heroes: Bird and Trane. I have been listening to their recordings since I was a kid. These two artists significantly shaped my musical identity. Thank you to my parents for introducing them to me at a young age and encouraging me to play music.

Donna Lee, by Charlie Parker

Giant Steps, by John Coltrane

Saxophone has a special place in my heart and soul. It was my first real instrument. I wanted to share my ok, not great, playing, and honor these two heroes: Bird and Trane. I have been listening to their recordings since I was a kid. These two artists significantly shaped my musical identity. Thank you to my parents for introducing them to me at a young age and encouraging me to play music.

Lyrics: “Because You Survived”

By Al Johnson

Verse 1: Grandma Margeret

Trauma slipping and sliding inside me, infiltrates my DNA. Let me take you back to 1938. Mom’s Mom’s Margaret, young ambitious, full of visions. There was just one issue. She was Jewish.

She was 25, a society steeped in lies, recognized a group of people they could chastise. Us Jews were the perfect targets. Valued truth and human progress. Artists and intellectuals. The very folks that held the powerful accountable. Made the Nazis feel uncomfortable. Aww Hitler, did I hurt your little feelings? Undoubtedly the answer was definitely most certainly, so then the Nazis murdered Margaret’s entire family.

Chorus:

Because you survived, I am alive

I eat and I sleep in comfort and peace

Because you survived, I am alive

Accepting the truth, rejecting the lies

Because you survived, I am alive

Pursued a career I value and love

Because you survived, I am alive

Always strive to protect those marginalized

Verse 2: Zaide Eugene:

Now let’s go back to 1930. Mom’s dad, young sturdy, staying busy. Fabric store in Austro-Hungary. But the continent had other plans: Nazis! Loaded Jews like cattle into trains: Fascists! Eugene was thrown in jail, no bail never spoke about it. Black hole, all alone, no phone, no one knows what happened.

But if you asked, who had it worse eugene or margaret? Is it worse to be in jail or be in auschwitz? I’d tell you that it isn’t ours to answer. I know that they both carry loads of trauma.

Verse 3: Zaide Joe:

Trauma slipping and sliding inside me, infiltrates my DNA. I talked about my mom’s side, now let’s turn to the next page. Zaide Joe was grandparent number tray, to find themselves a slave, when the Nazi’s held their Rein.

One night the Nazi Fucks got drunk off the sauce so Joe took off to escape the holocaust ran away, found a barn, hid beneath a stack of hay. But after a while the Nazi’s stormed in on a raid. Beyonette’s with sharpened blades. Sharpened blades! Starting stabbing at the hay. At the hay randomly! Joe just lay there helplessly (heavy breathing). The bayonet slid by his knee. But somehow missed him, came out clean. But that didn’t mean they would set him free. Once more in enslavement, once more he persisted. With little subsistence here barely existed. But he made it to the other side, moved to the US and eventually thrived. I owe you my life: Grandma, Zaide, Bubbe, Zaide. Because you survived, I am alive. Because you survived, I am alive.

Chorus:

Because you survived, I am alive

I eat and I sleep in comfort and peace

Because you survived, I am alive

Accepting the truth, rejecting the lies

Because you survived, I am alive

Pursued a career I value and love

Because you survived, I am alive

Always strive to protect those marginalized

Verse 4: Bubbe Ruth:

Dad’s mom Bubbe Ruth, Rifkah, Riftchu as they called her in her youth. Was born in 1930. Her early years were sturdy. Was her childhood cut short, by Nazis. She grew up fucking fast, in an instant, no more parties. At age 12 she was in Auschwitz. I really don’t know how she did it. Survived concentration camps, plural, conditions were dire. Words cannot describe the squalor, violence and horror.

Bubbe has the strength to keep on going. Don’t know from where that energy came blowing. But she made it to the otherside. Liberated moved to Cleveland, started over, new life. Had 3 children, made a livin’, carried on Jewish tradition. That’s the shit I’m fuckin’ diggin’.

The ultimate revenge, the ultimate fuck you, look who’s thriving now, the motherfuckin’ Jews. And if you have a problem with a Jews success, then take your equal rights and shove it up your ass.

Chorus:

Lyrics: “Bad Little Yid”

By Al Johnson

Intro:

Historically there were times in which the weak could boss around the powerful. Priests and nuns would hold obscene rituals in their churches. Serious people were required to get drunk and throw bags of flour on each other's heads. Humor wasn’t just left to just those who felt so inclined, it was a kind of duty.

Verse 1:

Shul, Musaf, Tzitzis, Talis, Kittle, Shtreimel, gmar chatima tova.

Spit a bracha. Yasher Koach. Daven Hallel.

Not another extra piece of dam tefillah!

Man fuck a Gabbai! I’m the top guy!

Chorus:

Oy, yoy, yoy, yoy….

Verse 2:

Shul is hours, there’s no Kiddish.

I’m starvin’ and all I hear is Yiddish.

I’m gonna pass out so I sit down in my chair, even though the Aron’s open and the Torah is bare. I put my face in my hands and I pray to Hashem.

Sorry about that bacon cheeseburger and the premarital sex. Sorry about drivin’ on Shabbas and skipping Shacharis. Sorry about talking after washing’ but before motzi was said. Sorry about cursing during Musaf and lifting that Kippah off my head. Sorry about not wearing Tefillin. Sorry about not wearing Tztitzis. Sorry about not wearing any clothes and streaking through shul while high on LSD. Sorry about that time I took a shit in the Aron Kodesh and smeared it all over the Torah and told everyone it wasn’t me. It was me, I’m the guilty party, so sorry God if I offended you. I was only trying to make a joke, I hope you understand. I’m a delinquent, please offer me a hand.

Chorus:

Oy, yoy, yoy, yoy….

Verse 3:

Uh, yellowing Tzitzis, pissed stained Talesim, body odor’s ripe, I can’t stand to face ‘em. They sway and they bow and they breath and they yell, all that smell I can tell, they aint bathed cause they reek and they stink and it’s hot and I’m going to pop cause I’m bored and the Sox are playing in the Bronx. But I can’t watch the game, cause I’m stuck in this shul in a crowd of gross men as they sweat and they sway and they sing oy yoy yoy.

Who do you think you are bitch?! You think you know how it’s done?!

Well God’s not a fairy, God’s not the one, who cares who you marry, who cares who you conn. The truth is complex, not a man in the sky. Hashem is the universe, the energy, that’s why. It’s about more than kashrus and driving on Shabbas. It’s love for your neighbor and helping the poor. Making society stronger and preventing a war. So repent for your sins, and make your amends, and get off your ass, and help out your friends.

Chorus:

Oy, yoy, yoy, yoy….

Lyrics: “Nurse Practish”

By Al Johnson

Verse:

Papers strewn out on my desk.

L4 patient up on deck.

Chart review, I need some specs.

Checking vitals, counting breaths.

Writing notes, refill Rx.

Diagnosing, making recs.

All these tasks makin’ me stressed.

Don’t forget, to take deep breaths.

Chorus:

Ima nurse practish, Ima, Ima, nurse practich bish

Ima nurse practish, Ima, Ima, nurse practich bish

Verse:

I defied the odds as far as demographics go.

I’m a male, a jew, a nurse, a straight, white, dumb, weirdo.

Said it once, said it twice, said it all my life.

Encoded in society, the messages are rife.

There are proper jobs that a nice Jewish boy should be.

A CPA and CEO or maybe an MD.

Not a nurse cause that’s for girls! And guys that suck and curse!

Why you not a doctor? That question is the worst!

These messages make me feel, second rate, not ideal.

Wait hold on. Fuck all that shit. Results are in, my work is real!

Chorus:

Ima nurse practish, Ima, Ima, nurse practich bish

Ima nurse practish, Ima, Ima, nurse practich bish

Verse:

Here we are and here we stand and here’s more honest feelings.

The last decade I’ve learned about improving folks well-being.

As I reflect on my life’s work and that of those around me.

At least my job is useful. Helping others makes me happy.

Final Chorus:

Ima nurse practish, Ima, Ima, nurse practich bish

Ima nurse practish, Ima, Ima, nurse practich bish

Ima nurse practish. Ima nurse practich. And a jazz mucish.

I produced this album between August 2022 and January 2023. Many of the ideas were developed over the last 2-3 years.

I play all instruments and vocals. The music is a combination of real instruments, synthesizers and samples. I used Garage Band on my 2012 macbook air and my iPhone 8 Microphone.

Because you Survived:

All four of my grandparents survived the Holocaust. 75 years later, the Trauma still looms large in my family. A classic family talking point is:: “Zaide (Eugene) was lucky to only be in prison during the war”. No one actually knows what happened inside those prison walls, he never spoke about it.

As far back as I can remember, I have been preparing to survive concentration camps/prison (in my head), imagining myself in my grandparents’ shoes (probably didn’t have shoes). Being enslaved is not exactly a hypothetical for me. It’s in my blood.

I have a number of chronic health issues that might be connected to the chronic stress of unresolved trauma.

It’s my job to process the trauma so as not to pass down undue burden, pain and stress to the next generation.

Track Eleven_ADHD:

This song is about ADHD. I hate crowds and events. I never know what to say to people. I hate small talk. I’d rather just express myself through music. Many times I feel like I am on Track 11 while everyone else around me is on Track 3.

Donna Lee, by Charlie Parker

Giant Steps, by John Coltrane

Saxophone has a special place in my heart and soul. It was my first real instrument. I wanted to share my ok, not great, playing, and honor these two heroes: Bird and Trane. I have been listening to their recordings since I was a kid. These two artists significantly shaped my musical identity. Thank you to my parents for introducing them to me at a young age and encouraging me to play music.

Nurse Practish:

This song is self explanatory. I am a nurse practish. I work full time. I see 60-70 patients a week. I would like to say it's always rewarding and fulfilling, but often it's stressful and overwhelming. But hey, I shouldn't complain right? It's a secure job that pays well.

Bad Little Yid:

My childhood consisted of many long days spent in Synagogue, aka Shul, waiting for it to end. I know some of you will get offended by this and for that I say a hearty “I apologize”. Just know that none of the events took place in real life. Rap style Influenced by Eminem. The chorus is a classic Jewish tune sung during the Priests' Blessings (Birchat Kohanim) on high holidays.

Boundaries:

I am just not that religious. Get over it. Neither were 3 out of my 4 grandparents, which makes me feel a little less guilty about it. But now to worry, I still feel plenty guilty about it. But as I mentioned earlier, I encourage you to get over it.

Alexander:

A fun one. A little about me and my family. I thought it would be fun to make it sound like I was draining 3s during the intro.

Samples used: Biggie’s “Gimme the Loot” and Lin Manuel Miranda’s “Alexander Hamilton”.