Joseph Isaacs
author, musician, and organizer of
the Music Matters Showcase
Four different acts take turns playing 4 song sets each and
then going back around.  Its an eclectic mix of music, all of
it wonderful.  Showcases are free,but donations to Bread for
the City for the Home are accepted.
Where/when/who is playing the Music
Matters Showcase besides Joseph Isaacs?

Mad City Coffee House, 10801 Hickory Rd Columbia MD Saturday  
6:30-9:30ish*
(410)964-8671
(look for the Long and Fosters Sign)


August 20th DL Weiner, Lyric Response, Twin Powers

August 27th Caribbean Nights, Having Fun, Kathy Stanley

Sept 17th Bucky Duster guest hosts for me, Sophie Lasher, Denee Barr
with Grant Goldberg, Masquaffers

Oct 15th Kathy Stanley, Good Measure, Brown-Smith Vibration

Nov 5th Dejon, Having Fun, Rick LaRocca

Nov 19th Ben Isaacs, TBA


(extra showcase at mad city 1st saturday in August, novem

Directions to all gigs and links to bands playing  are at the  bottom of
this page
These gigs are all free - donations to Bread for the City for the
Homeless are graciously accepted

*each performer plays 2 4 song sets of songs, concerts end times are
approximate might be a bit earlier or later
Email me at:
jcisaacs@gmail.com
Mad City Coffee House
10801 Hickory Ridge Road
Columbia MD 21044
410-964-8671
Look for the Long & Fosters- its tucked in a plaza and hard to
see from the road.  Its across from HCC.

From 95 (between Baltimore and DC) take route 32 West and
then take Broken Lands Parkway North to Hickory Ridge Road.   
(From route 29 you will be taking Broken Lands Parkway West).
Take Broken Lands Parkway towards Hickory Ridge RD.

Turn left on Hickory Ridge (it only goes in one direction).   Take
Hickory Ridge RD past Howard Community College and right
after Sunny Spring Rd there is a Long and Fosters on your left.  
That is Hickory Ridge Plaza where Mad City is tucked next to a
chinese restaurant.  Let the Madness BEGIN!
Link to Bread for the City
Homeless
Click this link to the
lyrics of Joseph Isaacs
http://www.youtube.com/embed/SjjpOPrWcus?rel=0
Genie in a Bottle live full band mp3
Love is an Ocean full band mp3
Rewind mp3
What if my name Wasn't Joe mp3
Soul Hosts by Joseph Isaacs

An older version of my book made the best seller's list on Random House's
YouWriteOn Harper Collin's authonomy website and won a review from Harper
Collins. Here are some quotes from the review:

"15 years ago, in a bid to strengthen his power and obtain complete control of
magic across Helos, the Dracon slayed his finest mages and tried to steal their
souls. But instead of following his bidding, the mages’ souls scattered
throughout the land, entering the bodies of infant children. These children, now
grown, are thrown into action when it becomes clear that the Dracon is planning
to take control again. With little knowledge of each other or the ties that bind
them all together, they must fight to save the balance of the world as they know
it, and ward off the threat of an even darker evil...

There is definitely promise here, and a depth of background which makes it
clear you have put a lot of effort into creating this world
The battle scene at the end is absolutely triumphant. It had me on the edge of
my seat, and it is without a doubt where your no-nonsense style worked best.
What made it all the better was that the outcome was in no way predictable – at
no point could I have sat back and thought ‘oh, I know what’s coming next."


Here is the beginning of
the latest version of Soul Hosts:

Rain poured down the sloped roof of the Temple of the Beasts, flowing out the
mouths of dragon head spouts, splattering the cobblestones. The wrapped note
in Wayden’s pocket was still dry, thankfully, but for how long? Rory would
wallop him if it got ruined.

<The Third Moon>, the voice in Wayden’s head gasped, as if breaking to the
surface of an icy lake.
Not again, Wayden thought. He’d been hearing it since the previous evening,
maybe even earlier, though it had been faint. He’d hoped it would’ve gone away.
Instead, it grew louder and clearer. Who are you?
<Kolram. I am Kolram.>
Kolram, why am I hearing the name Kolram? Like the Grandmaster of Beast
Tongue, Kolram?
<Yes! You can hear me.>
I’m going crazy. Kolram and the other Grandmasters had been murdered the
same night Wayden was born-- the last Three Moons Night. Now the moon rose
again.
<Yes! The Third Moon. I’ve been growing stronger as it rises.>
For the first time in sixteen years, the third moon ascended again, each night
growing higher on the horizon. It would crest in exactly a month, on Wayden’s
sixteen birthday.
Then things would happen.
He wouldn’t be able to live in the orphanage anymore. On the downside he
wouldn’t have a roof over his head, but at least that would compel him to go do
what he really should be doing—heading north to challenge Gar Skymaster.
He’d steal a sword, and then travel north to kill Gar and all his Sky Raiders. He’
d free his brother, Mavik, if he was still Gar’s prisoner. Just me against an
army.
A guard, leaning on a thrusting spear, stood before the temple doors, his orange
cape and surcoat still dry.
The temple behind him was a rectangular, tower each level shaped like a step
containing an array of stone animals. The statues always mesmerized Wayden–
a lion sporting a blood-stained beard, an elephant with an axe in its head, a sky
wolf gnawing on its own wings--but the goat scared him the most.
Everytime he saw it the memory of the man with the goat head charging through
the smoke, grabbing Mavik came back to him. No, I won’t think about that
horrible day.
<It was a horrible day. I remember> the voice said. Wayden shook his head.
Hearing voices can’t be a good sign.
Hoofbeats made Wayden turn. A female officer rode in on a horse covered with
yellow and green diamond shaped scales, some sort of half-breed dragonlander.
Her damp red cape marked her as a Flame. She came to a stop at the temple
doors, her long hafted-mace jiggled, from where it hung from her saddle.
Wayden shivered. Maces reminded Wayden of what happened to Nanny.
The temple guard saluted.
“At ease, Flicker,” the officer ordered. Orange-cloaked Flickers were lower
rank soldiers than red-caped Flames, if Wayden recalled his military hierarchy
accurately.
<Correct>, the voice in Wayden’s head concurred.
Well, as long as you think so, he replied to his inner voice. Realizing what he
was doing, he said to himself. I’m going crazy.
<You’re not.>
Says the voice in my head. Wayden didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
<I’ve been with you for years, unable to communicate. The coming of the Third
Moon has somehow set me free. I was murdered on a Third Moon. There must
be some sort of connection.>
Wayden stared up and looked at the huge green moon. Each evening it crept
slowly across the sky toward the zenith. Now that Wayden thought about it, ever
since it crested on the horizon he’d been hearing a faint whisper in the back of
his head. He hadn’t thought anything of it until last night when the voice had
started growing a bit louder and clearer. Now the voice was having full-fledged
conversations with him. Could it be tied in with the moon?
The Flame’s voice jarred Wayden from his surreal inner dialogue. He stepped a
bit closer to listen.

“The Red Killer got another one,” the officer said, stroking her horse’s head.
“Over by the pine grove.”

The Flicker shook his head. “That’s the fourth redhead in two weeks.”

Wayden shivered. He was a redhead, as were about a fifth of the population of
the town of Vilanos, many of whom could trace ancestry to the red-haired
Immortal Darius Dragonking.

“We also arrested another unauthorized witch,” the Flame said. “A Tulkarian.”
Against his will, the memory of the purple-haired Tulkarian archer flitted
through Wayden’s mind.  His mother and him on the backporch. Don’t think
about it, he told himself again.
<That horrible day again.>

The officer urged her horse in a trot, toward the guard station.

The Flicker turned to Wayden. “What do you want boy? Be off with you.”

Wayden frowned but turned onto the Boulevard of Ash. The rain dimished,
thankfully. Pigeons, perched on a rail, took flight at Wayden’s approach.
Footsteps echoed behind him, matching his own, beat for beat. He turned and
saw a tall gray-skinned man wearing a soggy, black cloak.

An Ozac. The Ozac bringing the mace down on Nanny—no, I won’t think about
it.

Wayden ground his teeth. Once rarely seen, Ozacs were becoming common in
Helos, as were the purple-haired Tulkarians. Wayden hated both with equal
passion. He hurried away. The wattle and daub buildings gave way to flat-roofed
stores with awnings. Rory had sent him out early in the morning, so the doors of
the shops were closed.

A creak from an upper story window made Wayden look up. He leaped aside in
time to avoid the foul-smelling contents of a chamber pot spattering the
cobblestones beside him. A heavy man in the window pulled the pot back. Lazy
slob. Can’t bother to take it to the privy.

Annoyed, Wayden strode down a rocky road. Wayden passed a fishmonger out
in the rain with a basket of fish around his neck. “Burble trout! Freshwater crab!
Low prices!”

The fishmonger was a Mantu. Wayden had a fond spot for the frog-like race.
His nanny had been a Mantu, and this one looked a bit like a male version of
her. Golden eyes, green webbed fingers, and frilled necks.
He heard the footsteps again and tensed. I’m not imagining them.

He glanced over his shoulder. The gray man strode behind him. Crimson eyes
glared beneath a dark cowl. A sheathed sword hung inside his open black cloak.
His red eyes were like molten lava. Wayden had seen eyes like these before on
the terrible day. The door of his manor had shuddered as a studded mace broke
through. In the doorway two Sky Raiders entered—one with a missing ear and
the other a towering gray-skinned man with those burning red eyes.
Terror flooded Wayden.

He abruptly turned left at a three-way juncture. In the glass window of the
silversmith’s shop, he saw the cloaked figure following him.
Wayden fought the urge to panic. He’s after me. A thief?

<No.> The voice resonated in Wayden’s skull. <Why would anyone want to rob
a fifteen-year-old in worn clothes?>
I’m going crazy. I’m imagining everything.
<I’m real. The Ozac is real. The threat is real. You have to believe.>




Email me if you are interested in reading more, I'll send you a free copy of the
latest draft:
at jcisaacs@gmail.com

Also work on Soul Hosts II has begun. Chapters 1 to 20 are complete.