Peter Fand

Peter Fand

BandWorldAdult Contemporary

Lyrically inventive song writing, infused with traditional elements from around the world. From the salty flavors of Africa, to the strident steps of 1920's swing, it all comes together here, in one micro-universe of musical riches. This is divine complexity, like fine wine and dark chocolate.


Down at the harbor the docks creak, and ship hands whistle a haunting melody as they unload their exotic cargo. “ExPorter I’mPorter” has arrived, seasoned with the spices of a foreign land, salty and sweet like smoked fish and island rum.

Set for release on October 14, 2008, ExPorter I’mPorter by Peter Fand invites listeners on a sonic box-car ride through an ever-changing landscape, at once both familiar and new. Accompanied by world-class musicians including drummers Claude Coleman Jr. from Ween and Abe Fogel from Rob Thomas’ band, this collection of songs showcases Fand’s unique ability to fuse diverse elements into a cohesive and compelling tapestry of sound.

Peter Fand is a multi-instrumentalist who stands at the center of a vast network of international musicians in New York. As a bassist, percussionist, kora player (21-string African harp) and singer, he has appeared on some of the city’s most prestigious stages, including Carnegie Hall, Lincoln Center, the Apollo Theater, Symphony Space, as a featured percussionist on Broadway and more.

Leader and frontman of the band Porter whose 2001 release “Whiskey Hill” garnered significant critical recognition, Peter Fand continues to forge new ground with this new solo album on Blue Monster Records. In the tradition of America’s great songsmiths, each piece tells a poetic tale, accented by sizzling rhythms of the world.

“The songs in this collection,’” says Fand, “are informed by the years I spent studying the traditional music of West Africa – often during extended stays in Guinea and Mali – along with, of course, a lifetime immersed in America’s homegrown forms.”

The result is a refreshing mix of old and new, familiar and foreign: a kaleidoscope of musical riches. Percolating rhythms from far off places give way to sultry back-porch blues. A smoky, jazzy swing harkens a 1920s speakeasy, then throbs with the pulse of African reggae. Threaded tightly together by Fand’s signature songwriting and rich vocal style, this album teems with surprises, with a new world bursting into view around every bend. The inspired integration of eclectic ingredients fixes it in the vanguard of engaging musical fusion.

Virtuosity abounds on ExPorter I’mPorter, with guest performances by several true African masters. Vocal diva Missia Saran Dioubate is featured on the plaintive “Look Away,” whose story recalls the plight of so many African expatriots residing in America who have left loved ones behind in quest for opportunity in a new world. The remarkable work of Guinean guitarist Djekoria Mory Kante sets the bar high, and contributions by balafonist Famoro Dioubate and Senegalese percussionist Oussynou M’Boup bring a singular authenticity to the effort. Additional notable performances by Israeli-born rising-star guitarist Yaron Eilam, pianist Tricia Woods, harmonica phenom River Alexander and many others help to season the broth.

Like a zesty gumbo, each spoonful reveals a hint of something new. Savor the flavor and play it loud, but don’t forget your passport. They’ll be checking your bags at the border.


Still Smokin'

Written By: Peter Fand

I’m a little bit off like a bird flying crooked on the wind, and a little delayed like the last train. I cut across the grain but I try to maintain theposture of a stoic.

Maybe it’s just the time we’re in, or the war within, or the spin we give to the world we’re in. If I could I’d throw it all in and begin again. But whatever the way, day by day I
look less like the angry teenage rebel that used to live within my skin: I’m breakin’ it in....

I’m two parts wild, like the one-eye Jack and the suicide king, it’s a rebel thing. What you get back don’t mean a thing, it’s how you pack and what you bring to the procession. I’d trade my lot for a song if I’d be guaranteed to sing. My weight in gold ain’t worth an ounce of self possession.

In the world where the word is king, and money obscures everything, you know what they say if it ain’t got that swing: It don’t mean a thing!

How long ‘till I don’t need to fight so hard as this?

What do I have to do to get myself some?

How am I going to know it when I get there?

Am I going to make it out alive?

I get so dark, I’m rivaling the night I like to think that I might make a move in the right direction

You’re in the back room messing with the medicine, I’m on the front line working off adrenaline. It’s a different kind of high but we both get by. I let myself get pushed around, lost and found, and beaten down by the bully on the playground, but in my time, I’ll get mine. You can’t break it up and I don’t give a damn, I’ll never be more than I already am, I may never arrive but here I am: And I tow the line!

Maybe I’m just bitter ‘cause I got burned again just off the lot and already broken, hot off the fire and still smokin’. Poison in the attitude, venom in the voice, take it as you will, it’s the reader’s choice. It’s still subject to interpretation. Well I’ll take the pain if it sets me free, It’ll lead to the high road eventually. If I know myself at all I’ll take the fall: just wait and see......


Written By: Peter Fand

Slowly - Taking my time when I’m tempted to run
And Boldly - Not taking cues from anyone
I’m getting my rhythm from the sky No one to blame but myself when I Let it slip away
Blow into the wind, I can’t catch my breath
Floating in the air like a lullaby

Up on a hillside I’ve got the wind up against my back
Like a landslide Let myself go, and I slip off track
Feel the world shift just beneath my
My stride picks up I get bitter from sweet, it’s a new world
The ride to the bottom goes
down the back side
The price is too high, but it’s a free ride

You know it couldn’t be much harder than what we do. I try to give myself a reason to push on through. A harder bite won’t take you higher, just make you slow. You gotta be ready for the low life if you’re gonna walk that road

Like a prophet, you can see how this has got to end
Like a sucker Eatin’ it up and takin’ every word in
Listen closely to the breeze, shakin’
torment from the trees
I can feel it’s breath on me
If you listen closely, everything says: Slowly

Look Away

Written By: Peter Fand

You’re gonna be proud of your old man
I know one day you’ll understand
But for now you have to stay back here in Momma’s hands
‘Till I come back for you

Be strong while I’m away
Mind the words that all the bigger people say
I know you’re gonna be a big man too yourself one day
I can read it in your blood

Look away
If you look away

It gets a bit harder every day that I’m alone
I work myself right through the skin down to the bone
Things move more slowly here than they ever did back home
But I know my day will come

Your momma tells me that my boy has just turned three
But I can’t fathom how in this world that can be
It seems the time’s become confused in Conakry
Or is it just confusing me


Written By: Peter Fand

Bitter my eyes will
Cut a mark in stone
Growl from the belly
Like I’m choking on a bone

There’s a battle in the kitchen
We’re in each other’s way
Thunder in the heaven
Like it’s the judgment day

I’ve got to climb higher
Can’t stay on the floor
You may have to pull me down
From the Sycamore

Broke my tooth opening an
Oyster shell
They say it’s good luck
Drowning in a wishing well

I slip away
Like beachwood I’m drifting
Another day
They’ll be picking me up from the shore

My pockets are light
I can move without a sound
When sly is a virtue
I’m heaven bound

Keep me on the medicine
I can’t take the pain
Thow me in the river to
Keep off the rain

I made the choice to choose
To give away my choice
And in the spirit of giving
Gave away my voice

Now distempered my eyes will
Cut a mark in stone
Growl from the belly
Like I’m choking on a bone

I Do

Written By: Peter Fand

Well one might say that your heart is cold and blue
And that your eyes can stare a hole clear through
A lover’s tender heart without ever feeling guilty
But you don’t seem that way to me

Someone might tell of how you tore their dreams apart
And that you knew what you would do right from the start, that you’re a
Calculating miscreant, pure trouble through and through
But I’ve not seen that side of you

To me you’re lovely
It don’t matter what they say
Because you love me
And I don’t listen anyway
Every now and then
I have to stop and look at you again
To know they aren’t true these things they say of you

The word’s about that you run all over town
Leaving your lovers lying broken on the ground
They say that I should run for cover whenever you come near
But I know I’ve not got a thing to fear

It could be said that you’re more trouble than you’re worth
But I still say that the alternatives are worse
And though they may not understand what keeps me hanging on to you
They just don’t know what love can do

Chorus #2: To me you’re lovely
I know you’ll always treat me right
Because you love me
The day straight through the night
No, I’m not hearing what they say and it don’t matter anyway
They’re just not true the things they say of you

Well one might say that your heart is cold and blue
You know I’ve told you how I feel about you
You know that I can’t stay away
It doesn’t matter what they say
I’ve gotta stick it out with you

Yeah its been said that you’re more trouble than you’re worth
Of course you know that the alternatives are worse
And though they may not understand what keeps me hanging on to you
I do


LP: Exporter I'mPorter, 2008
LP: Whiskey Hill, 2003

Set List

We are capable of playing nearly any length show. A typical 45-60 minute set would include songs from our most recent release. Longer shows include music from our first CD, and can be augmented by countless unrecorded songs, and more.