‘Will we be fools again’ 
Written in September 2023 after standing in a queue in Starbucks, looking out at a wet, dirty and declining High Street.  I had been been watching the people in town, including one particular couple locked into an intense conversation under an umbrella. They prompted the story in the song. 

I wanted the backing to be sparser and more guitar led to give it an edge. I also wanted the instrumental in the middle to have a woozy, emotional feel to it. 

It’s a song about everyday people ‘stuff’ against a backdrop of a slowly deteriorating townscape. It couldn’t be slick (and I couldn’t be no matter how hard I try!) I hope you enjoy the song. Best with headphones! 

Take care

James (lyrics below) 

Will we be fools again? 

The chewing gum looks like leopard spots on the pavements in the rain
And litter blocks the drains again

Recklessly, we agreed to meet, after these silent years
Now there’s excitement and fear!

Behind the wall, by the social club, an old sanctuary for lovers 

We’ll talk, we’ll laugh 
and then I’ll start to think 
will we be fools again?
Will we be fools again? 

Graffiti on the empty shops, can our town survive?
And meanwhile we destabilise our lives! 

What fools we’d be, to lift the lid and let those lies escape 
Just think of all the hearts we’d break 

But we’re in your car, the radio’s on, as we unwrap the past! 

That smile! Those eyes!
Make me start to think
Will we be fools again?
Will we be fools again?

I’m aware, yeah I’m aware, 
I know where my fault lines are
And you’re spread right across them!  
Right across them.. yeah!

Instrumental 

Yes, we’ll talk, we’ll laugh
You know I’ll start to think
Let us be fools again
Please let us be fools again

Yes, we’ll touch, we’ll kiss
And then the path is clear
For us fools again
Let us be fools again….please, please..

James Whiteman September 2023

Will we be fools again?

Original acapella Enosigeo (Looperman) :
https://www.looperman.com/acapellas/detail/21516/ern-true-love-92bpm-hip-hop-acapella
SoundCloud : @enosigeo
Photo : "Le mur des je t'aime" Montmartre, Paris

True Love Ft ERN Enosigeo

Vulcan Mind Grip

03 Hello Hello Hello

Cast of Characters:

J.J. Terrell-- @j-j-terrell—JJ-- organ, electric piano, and seed idea
Llanpsych-- @llanpsych -- Tez – electric guitar, production, and mix
TexMex Shaman– @texmex-shaman –Stephen– electric guitar
K2 and the Three [and the Four]--@k2andthe3, @k2-kara –Ken–drums
Entheogenic Psychonaught (Josh Clary)– @josh-clary-1 –Josh – 4-string fretless bass
The Eclectic Collective -- composition
 
This song started with JJ during one of his late Saturday night composition sessions, where he came up with the idea on his synth. He laid down some great organ and electric piano for the rest of us to play with. Ken was first up with his lively, raucous drums. He and I did our back and forth with the rhythm section until it was solid, though. Then Stephen laid in his dirty, rawkin' rhythm guitar to give it an extra foundation. Finally, Tez put the icing on the cake with his monster soloing throughout. 
  Of course, every great song needs a great producer. In this case, Tez did the honors in a very expert manner. We wanted Stephen (Texmex Shaman) on this, too, of course, but he is just now getting settled into his new abode, and was in flux while we were making this one. He'll be back with The Eclectic Collective next week, though. 
  This is an example of Eclectic Collective teamwork. It came together relatively quickly, which means we were all having fun doing it. We hope you enjoy listening to it as much as we enjoyed creating it.

Avalanche (Eclectic Collective)

Composition and Sampling collage by Synline.
Photo by Fabien

The Past Is Gone

11/11/24

H55 NON-POPPET

never animated by a heina
no strings and no pOppet
manipulation hell no
I stop it

I’m saying no
to another mother tie-down
keep my money. small
stacks but they’re mine now

put the shine on the 
metal flake baracuda ->
hemi under the hood 
mag-naflow tooter

mashin down the boulevard
. cars and trucks
. bumper sparks dirty cops
givin no fucks

gotta a full tank
- it’s time to cruise
pina colada - asada
and the oldies tunes


rollin blunts like 
I’m born with cancer
the everyday kind 
bud pyromancer

sounding off to the 
heinas in the back row
suited up black 
red duds pretty tho ->

nike cortez 
and my bills stackin
i like the one with the 
matador black jacket

kitten breath when 
I wake you up
—you got your hair 
messed up and a big butt


pullin out the jammy 
when the opp goan flex
rhodes mark 8 
and I missed your text

I took a chance 
and I held your hand
I got armor and a lance 
and I’m still your man

got the rock in your pocket 
roll cabbies for days
ghosts in the walls
they come out and they stay 

watch your head top
I’m chiefin with the best crop
still trippin off the way
that the beat drop

H55 NON-POPPET

BAISERS VOLÉS

Canon (2001) Bach Cover

The Cyber Prison of Tommy Zygote In the neon-lit corridors of Cyber Prison 3078, where the cries of the guilty echoed through digital walls, one figure commanded the darkness: Tommy Zygote, a time traveler from a band called Thrashing Zombies. He was not only a guard but also the architect of fear, the conjurer of terror dreams that haunted each prisoner in their electric confines. Each day, he danced between timelines and nightmares, weaving unique horrors based on the crimes that had brought these individuals to their fate. Tommy was a master of psychological manipulation, using advanced technology to delve into the minds of the inmates. At the time of arrival, he meticulously analyzed their backgrounds and transgressions. For a thief, the terror dream would materialize as a never-ending chase through a labyrinth of security systems, facing endless obstacles and guards, only to always be captured at the last moment. For a murderer, the nightmare transformed into a harrowing replay of their crime, relived with a growing sense of powerlessness as they witnessed the victim's face in their final moments, over and over again. Each terror dream was devised not only to punish but to break the spirit of the prisoners. The digital realm fed off their fears, manifesting scenarios tailored to their psychological profiles. Tommy Zygote had access to vast databases that cataloged every crime in detail, allowing him to combine facts and fantasies into immersive experiences that tormented the soul. He relished in the creations, knowing that each prisoner would wake battered and terrified, their resolve crumbling away with every cycle. The prison’s organ systems were meticulously designed to prevent shock and demise. When a prisoner entered their dream state, beta blockers were administered to control heart rates, ensuring that even the most fearful of their waking moments would not lead to a fatal event. Monitors scanned vitals constantly, feeding data to the system, which adjusted the intensity of dreams dynamically. If a heart rate spiked too high, the horror would fade into something less distressing, a cruel twist allowing them to survive the terror for another day. The feeding regimen was equally controlled and grim. Each prisoner sustained on a blend of macronutrients delivered through a gastro tube, thin and persistent, allowing for continuous nutrition to maintain physical health while simultaneously stripping away any dignity. A tracheostomy facilitated breathing, enabling the prisoners to inhale and exhale a sterile, filtered air that was devoid of comfort. The design was mechanical, emphasizing the inhumanity of their containment. Sanitation in this high-tech prison was handled with a strict regimen designed to minimize human interaction. An anal tube collected feces, ensuring that every biological need was monitored, while a catheter allowed for urine collection. The result was a clinical, dehumanizing environment devoid of physical autonomy. The prisoners knew they were reduced to mere subjects in a dark experiment orchestrated by an unyielding guardian. Tommy Zygote thrived on this power. To him, control of life and death was not just a task; it was an art form. Every terror dream had an audience, a public viewing option allowing anyone to log on and watch the horrors unfold in real-time. Spectators relished the grim entertainment as they observed the vibrant displays of angst, voyeuristic pleasure derived from the suffering of the condemned. Beneath the chaotic atmosphere, Tommy Zygote became an icon of fear, a living testament to the dystopian legacy of a society that had traded humanity for security. Yet, within Tommy’s intriguing persona lingered the soul of a musician—the Thrashing Zombies’ time traveler—haunted by the remnants of a shattering past. Each prisoner’s story echoed in his mind, a reminder of the thin line between performer and spectator, creator and destroyer.

03 Hello Hello Hello

Alice Oh

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