- Hoito by A.D. Yingman -

Greetings from The Front Porch!

Not sure if I’ve sonically over-done it with this one?
Regardless, it was fun bringing these elements together over this week past.

As an aside, I’ve dumped out enough of these tunes to list a roster of eleven (ok-ish) tracks, totalling 44 mins. And, as it turns out, Apple Music allows one to create an ‘Album’ in their own library. I’ve taken the uncompressed files and quasi-randomly put together my own disc. So far as I know, it’ll only be shared across my devices. (no general public sharing for now.) 

Never the less, it gave me a little giggle seeing my artwork listed amongst others collected, and hearing something I’ve crafted over time. 

Oh! And! 
Listening through my work, taught me that I need to read-up on production techniques. 
Before uploading them to Music, I did fiddle and fix each as best I could.
But, Hot-damn! Some of these songs were un-even. 
Sorry about that.

https://youtu.be/GSXiVIZD5MM

Thanks for listening and reading along to Hoito.  :D

Things to One's Self

Hoito

- CalTikiRad by A.D. Yingman -

Some bloopy porch music
for one monsterous movie.
If it’s too scary, 
me boy soothes you so groovy.

https://youtu.be/nq_3G_SR0Fg

CalTikiRad

— Skaep Twin by A.D. Yingman —

More beep-boops! 
Can one ever get enough? 
(I suspect the answer is, ‘Yes’.)
Never the less, I soldier on.

This lied was krafted on a Korg Volca Sample and NuBass, fed through a Korg NTS-1 and then mixed on a Korg Volca Mix. 
Recorded into GarageBand and Video Computed with iMove. 

https://youtu.be/XUKj2Lac2-0

Thanks for listening and watching. :D

Skaep Twin

- Freyja’s Day Praise by A.D. Yingman -

Well, Hello There!
Welcome to the front porch. 
Pull up a pillow and have a quick listen.

I’ll be crafting up beats,
Fer’Friday afternoon heat.
And if you watch long enough,
You’ll see a sweet cheek!

Freyja’s Day  Praise

- Tail of Spirits by A.D. Yingman -

Quite some time ago now, while I was rolling in 400 series traffic, a story idea came to me :

(Warning! We’re goin’ down to tragedy town with this.)

‘An older man. Stuck in the slow lane of gridlock on a city expressway. The radio is playing something distasteful to him. He reaches over to turn the dial to a different station. While doing so, an aneurism bursts inside his skull. The anatomy of his brain is flooded with corrosive fuel. Grey cells collapse at the end of hollow pipelines. Somewhere inside what remains of his electro-chemical faculties, an instinctual awareness keeps information flowing. Desperate commands are forced to take alternate routes around destroyed synapses. Messages reaching unintended destinations. 

His left hand, still on the steering wheel, involuntarily mirrors the action of his right hand on the dial. Both rotate clockwise. With the lazy pace of traffic, His Mazda 626 eases towards the right. On to the inconspicuous shoulder. He understands the outlook isn’t good. Having failed milliseconds ago, his emotional machine remains inert to the comprehension of doom. 2L of waste is released onto the driver’s seat. 4L remain in his contorted bowel. Legs paralyze and rest on the break pedal. The vehicle halts. 

His vision is running off into the distance. He’s become watching a film at the far end of an empty theatre. It’s showing the inside of his Datsun. The camera, tilted at a Dutch angle, is centred on his steering wheel. Suddenly, the film looses control and shakes wildly. 

“Must be some kinna atry picture.”, whispers beside him. 
It’s have the voice of a close relative.

The camera steadies. It shows him his windscreen with the two spider web cracks. The shot begins to move sideways. Tilting down 90 deg. He can see one good dash vent and one broken dash vent go by. There’s his AM/FM Radio Cassette Duck with a pale hand clawed around the dial. Ashtray with coins. Grip stick for car. Plastic grey glove box. Don’t work opener. Dole, or Dale, or.. Dana, ananas sticker. Sunshine fade.

An aperture closes the image. 
The projector is powered down. 
Lights in the theatre dim…’

Anyway. Then he comes to, standing at the side of the road. 
Holy heck! He’s a ghost! And promptly goes on this big journey of self discovery. Meet’s some other ghosts and contacts the living. Finds out things about himself. Becomes ready to move on to the next stage of existence. He can feel the magic begin to happen as his feet lift off the ground. He fades away from his friends and family. Old and new alike.  

But wait! Turns out that, because ghosts are real, they consist of matter. Matter can be affected. His soul had simply been decaying long enough and became lighter. The whole spiritual journey was completely incidental. Floating into the air was nothing more than gravity losing it’s purchase on him.

Travelling chonologically, yet sealed in space. He watches in mute horror as the Earth slowly leaves him behind. His former planet spinning away in real time. Bacteria, tardigrades, eyelash mites, carrots, oak trees, wasps, clouds of krill, house plants, beagles, lions, caribou, hammer head sharks, blue whales. The souls of all living things become witnessed as they pass. 

Solar wind, minute debris, asteroids, one state-of-the-art North Korean satellite which resembles a Henri. Bit by bit the universe collides with his apparition. Reason and logic fade. What seems like madness becomes relief as he is lost. Churning in a current of spirits, his own soul diffuses into the Ether.

Death trails Mother Earth in a Tail of Spirits. 

Pfft! Fin!

Regardless, when considering titles for this track, I was mulling the above story over in my head.

And now, you know, peeked behind the curtain some.

Thanks for having a read and a listen along with us. :D

Comet Tail Of Spirits

- 6SN7GTB by A.D. Yingman -

Well, Hello there!

Hop on a mouse-pad and surf your way over to my latest B-Chewn.
It’s an epic tale of Roots, Eating, Magic Hands, and Saying ‘NO’ to the Devil.

Or so I thought.

After watching and listening to this work many times over, I think it’s pretty clear what this piece is REALLY about.
Right?

Anyway. 
No matter your meaning, thanks for having a listen along with us. :D

6SN7GTB

- Mélange Montagnard by A.D. Yingman -


Sunday morning as I write this.

The house is more or less empty.

My grey cells are wearing square pants.

Comfy clothes or bust.

Mélange Montagnard

- Ryder, Ma Bookie by A.D. Yingman -

It’s Friday morning as I sit on my porch. 
About time for a story.
The last one was alright.
Whadda-ya say to another?
That’s the spirit!

Let’s join our protagonist…

Have you ever felt sick to your stomach but rather than throw-up, your body decides that a sneeze is the way to go? Neither had I until about three weeks ago. 

It all started on a School Monday morning. Of course! Mum was yelling at Jason to get his ‘action dolls’ out of the dishwasher. He was too engrossed in his GameBoy to give a hoot. Dad was in the dining room office where he does his architecture work some days. Being a partner with the biggest firm in the city is his dream job. Mum said it’s turning into a nightmare. She didn’t seem too bothered by her new addition on the house.

Anyway, Dad used the phone line for his fax machine and I needed to call Shandra. He had asked us to check with him before making a call ‘cause it would “drum the connection”, or something. But, last night I was talking with Jessica and she let slip some totally life-altering news. Shandra’s school day was going to be the absolute pits if I didn’t call and warn her not to mention the note Randy wrote to Bernadette the week before. And there was simply no time to ask to use the phone before the school bus arrived. 

I picked up the handle part of my mickey-phone. Before it reached my ear, I could hear the screeching of Daddy’s machine. I put the handle down again and pulled out a strand of hair on the nape of my neck. You know, for some quick tears. From his table downstairs he started saying, “What the…” This was my cue. I ran to him blubbering, “I’m so sorry Daddy. I’m soooo stupid!” Arms around his waist. Face buried in his chest. No choice but to put his arms around me and tell me I’m amazing and that everything will be ok and to make my phone call ‘quick like a bunny!’ 

Every time.

And so, on my way back up to my bedroom, to call Shandra, my tummy started to feel funny. Not like sick when having too much of Mummy’s hidden drinks. Or, like sick from going on the rides at the fair. Or, like sick with sugar. The feeling of sick was in my chest, not really in my tummy. But, I knew I needed to throw up for sure. My mouth was beginning to water. I rushed to the hallway washroom. I didn’t think I was going to make it to the toilet at the far end so aimed for the sink.

What came out of me was just an ‘Achoooo!’ 
A sneeze!
That’s it.

I didn’t feel sick any more. No more barfy-icky. Normal amount of water in my mouth. Nothing in my chest. Just as I was supposed to be.

I made my call to Shandra, (she didn’t even thank me for the news) AND the bus driver was super nice to me. He, and all the other students waited for me while I finished my morning. I gave him a big thanks and a reminder that I was thinking about him during his awful divorce. 

Spreading joy and goodness is just the best!
Don’t you think?

That’s why God turns my sickness in to sneezes. 

Pftt! Fin.


Hmmm.. well.. It seems this one’s a short-character study.

That nausea/sneeze thing actually happens to me mid-morning sometimes. 
Not while I’m Interrupting Faxes, though. 
(great band name, right there) 

I’m doin’ my durndest to make my posts a ‘three-fer.’
Thanks for reading, listening and watching along. :D

Ryder, Ma Bookie

- Gods Are Not Toys by A.D. Yingman -

Ok Ok OK. The last story was a bring-down. How about something a little lighter?

Ahh.. let’s see… lemme think… ok.. right!

Turns out God, as in the God of the bible, is a being from another dimension. 
But They’re really cool and chill. 
So, in that respect, not like the God of the bible. 

Anyway, They just wanted to come back to Earth and see what’s going down with humanity. They’re not too surprised at how everything has shaken out. Kick back tho. They’re easy like Sunday mornin’. Before we can understand what we don’t know, Earth is made into a quantum playground for all life. Humanity joins hands with Panos the Star Child and we become the Universe experiencing itself. 

They stick around and Party All The Time to the power of Party All The Time.  

Then some jack-ass gets the bright idea of asking Them if They can create a burrito so hot that even THEY can’t eat it. Which, of course They go ahead and do. Which, of course causes an ultra-paradox. Which, of course collapses our dimension in on itself. 

Don’t sweat it tho. 
They pop back in to Their own dimension none the wiser. They’re fine.
Our dimension no longer existed, so it’s not much bother on our part either. 

Deuces God Dude.

https://youtu.be/B67wm65VXuk

A.D. Yingman’s Bazaar & Emporium