Keep singing in your "native" language -- it sounds really good!

A really amazing spanish love it , and you who did the cover , voice , vocals , everything  , PERFECT , keep up the good work ♥

Nice work on this team.  Great voice, piano played with passion 🌊🌊🌴🌴

Isto me lembra muito as letras da banda Rosa de Saron, parece que estou escutando uma música deles, música maravilhosa Mayran!

Não conheço o artista que você está cantando, mas é uma bela música. Você tem uma boa voz. 💚💚💚

December Friends

O vento - Mayran Araújo ( Cover)

I composed this music with the image of dramatic dance music. This is the first time I've written a music like this.

ABSTRACT SPHERE

Asciugati Quella Lacrima Che Accenna A Scendere Dal Tuo Viso

https://youtu.be/4a8wFJ6b4d8 

Translation above.

Chanson écrite dans le cadre des ateliers d'écriture de Claude Lemesle. Thème : écrit sur une feuille d'automne.

Ces cris

L’été s’essoufflait
À tomber dans les pommes
Devant ce vent d’automne
Qui glaçait
Oh ! ces cris, ces cris…

Le vent dénudait
Les branches d’un platane
Quand les feuilles se fanent
À regret
Et ces cris, ces cris…

Sur le sol tremblait
L’âme de l’une d’elle
Qui, pourtant encor’ belle
M’appelait
Encore ces cris…

Je m’agenouillai
La posai sur ma paume
Ainsi que sur un trône
Bien douillet
Toujours ces cris…

Ses nervur’s traçaient
Des lign’s de vie diaphanes
Qui, sans appel, condamnent
Un portrait
Mais ces cris, ces cris ?

Lucide, ell’ criait
C’était des cris d’automne
Craquants, qui se dérobent
À jamais
Plus de cris, de cris…

Mais elle laissait
Écrit en filigrane
Dans ma main qui se fane
Son portrait

Myckaël Marcovic, le 15 octobre 2021

Song written during Claude Lemesle's writing workshops. Theme: written on an autumn leaf.

These cries

The summer was running out of steam
To fall in the apples
In front of this autumn wind
Which froze
Oh! these cries, these cries...

The wind was stripping
The branches of a plane tree
When the leaves fade
With regret
And these cries, these cries...

On the ground trembled
The soul of one of her
Who, yet still beautiful
Called me
Still those cries...

I knelt down
Put her in my palm
As if on a throne
Nice and cozy
Still those cries...

Her veins traced
Diaphanous lines of life
Which, without appeal, condemn
The portrait
But these cries, these cries?

Lucid, she shouted
They were cries of autumn
Cracking, which are evading
For ever
No more cries, cries...

But she left
Written in watermark
In my fading hand
Her portrait

Myckaël Marcovic, October 15, 2021

Ces cris

At nearly the end of the year, a cover of one of R.EM. most incredible songs. Tried to put on a little epicity and to amplify the inherent darkness of the song, which its musicalization, in the original version, tends to diminish. Enjoy

Losing My Religion - cover ( REM)

Naturalne odgłosy zostały nagrane późnym wieczorem 30 listopada 2022 roku w Ostrołęce przy ulicy Jana Pawła II.
The sounds of the street were recorded late in the evening on November 30, 2022 in Ostrołęka(Poland) at Jana Pawła II Street.

Krople czasu/Drops of time

This sounds good and I would really appreciate some opinions

transparent

https://open.spotify.com/track/3LuLD7YD2KBvDXKbeEdHne?si=Jzs9sdHTT_aZO_PCsP3Saw&utm_source=copy-link

Available on all digital platforms such as Spotify, Apple Music, YouTube Music, Deezer, Tidal, among others.

Music by Wladimir Martínez

Nyarlathotep

And at the last from inner Egypt came
The strange dark One to whom the fellahs bowed;
Silent and lean and cryptically proud,
And wrapped in fabrics red as sunset flame.
Throngs pressed around, frantic for his commands,
But leaving, could not tell what they had heard;
While through the nations spread the awestruck word
That wild beasts followed him and licked his hands.

Soon from the sea a noxious birth began;
Forgotten lands with weedy spires of gold;
The ground was cleft, and mad auroras rolled
Down on the quaking citadels of man.
Then, crushing what he chanced to mould in play,
The idiot Chaos blew Earth’s dust away.

H.P. Lovecraft (1890-1937)

Música por Wladimir Martínez

Nyarlathotep

Y por fin desde el interior de Egipto vino
el extraño Oscuro ante el que se inclinaban los campesinos;
silencioso, descarnado, enigmáticamente altivo,
envuelto en sedas rojas como las llamas del ocaso.
A su alrededor se congregaban las ansiosas multitudes,
pero al retirarse no podían repetir lo que habían oido;
mientras la pavorosa noticia corría entre las naciones:
las bestias salvajes le seguían lamiéndole las manos.

Pronto comenzó en el mar un nacimiento pernicioso;
tierras olvidadas con agujas de oro cubiertas de algas;
se abrió el suelo y se abatieron furiosas auroras
sobre las estremecidas ciudadelas de los hombres.
Entonces, aplastando lo que por placer había moldeado,
El Caos idiota barrió el polvo de la Tierra.

H.P. Lovecraft (1890-1937)

Nyarlathotep

Arctic soundscapes with a haunting yet warm voice full of emotions, this is how Inyha paints her inner emotional world where ice & snow covers the warmth of her heart, where walls of silence create distance, where mirrors of ice show her own disguise, while all she longs for is nearness and love. 

//

Written and recorded by Inyha

Inyha - Voice, Piano, Glockenspiel, Hang Drum & Synthesizers
Jimmy Deer - Mixing Engineer

// 

LYRICS:

It’s winter, it’s winter
The sun is covered in ice
I know that, I know that
I need to see the light
Sometimes I can
Feel so dark
And lost inside

Snowflakes dancing in the dark
But you are just as cold and hard
And I break inside for longing
To be near, to be near
Walls of silence hit me covered in ice
Mirroring my own disguise
And shaking me with fear
Of loosing you my dear

It’s winter, it’s winter
The sun is covered in ice
I know that, I know that
I need to see the light
Sometimes I can
Feel so dark
And lost inside

You can be the warmest sun
And the coldest ice and the strongest wind
Blowing in my eyes
Revealing all I hoped to hide
I don’t want to loose you
No I don’t want to loose you
For some stupid selfish pride
For another useless fight
I break inside

It’s winter, it’s winter
The sun is covered in ice
I know that, I know that
I need to see the light
Sometimes I can
Feel so dark
And lost inside

You are the sunshine and the rain
The snowfall and the hail
The ocean and the stream
Carrying me to my new self
Carrying me to my new self
And you mean so much to me
You mean so much
That sometimes I can’t hide
My pride, my stupid pride
I cannot hide

It’s winter, it’s winter
The sun is covered in ice
I know that, I know that
I need to see the light
Sometimes I can
Feel so dark
And lost inside

Snowflakes dancing in the dark
But you are just as cold and hard
And I break inside for longing
To be near, to be near
Walls of silence hit me covered in ice
Mirroring my own disguise
And shaking me with fear
Of loosing you my dear

It’s winter, it’s winter,
The sun is covered in ice
I know that, I know that
I need to see the light
But some day I know
Spring will come
And the ice will flow.

Snowflakes dancing in the dark

Snowflakes Dancing in the Dark

VIDEO https://youtu.be/FDjNav6gvLw

"un-controlling" for cello, piano and two ebows composed by Dika Chartoff (ASCAP 2022) 

Dave Eggar, cello
Clare Longendyke, piano
Christian Amonson, recording engineer
Louis Ng, recording engineer

In memory and celebration of my friend Ben who was a wonderful friend to so many; amazing son, brother and father; a passionate surfer and sailor who lost his life to suicide after a long battle with depression.

During the opening, characterized as Poetico quasi senza mesura (poetic and unmeasured), the e-bow is used as an ostinato - a constant sound triggered by a magnet that vibrates the piano strings. Essentially, it’s a noise that’s calming and seductive at times, but much like depression, or tinnitus, it’s an unwelcome guest. The second part, giocoso (lively and humorous), is an innocent and technical interlude that culminates in climbing adrenaline; such as surfing a giant wave. Finally, Lento Irrealmente (slow and surreal) is a free fall of reverberating, vibrations and letting go. The e-bow is not present at that moment and perhaps a sense of hope, is restored.

un-controlling

Entanglement

Une de mes nombreuses histoires à fondre de plaisir, racontée par le très talentueux Moussa Lebkiri (comédien, conteur, écrivain, metteur en scène) qui m'a fait l'honneur de lui prêter ses voix.
https://www.lebkiri.com/

HISTOIRE DU BONHOMME DE NEIGE QUI VOULAIT MAIGRIR
Par un beau soir d'hiver, un petit garçon se promenait tout seul en dehors de son village de montagne. En arrivant dans un pré, il entendit de petits sanglots. Il se demanda d'où cela pouvait venir. Comme il vit une haute et large silhouette au milieu du pré, il s'en approcha car c'était de là que venaient les sanglots. Arrivant près de la silhouette, il s'aperçut que c'était un bonhomme de neige, au moins deux fois plus grand que lui, qui pleurait.
— "Pourquoi pleures-tu comme ça ? demanda le petit garçon, un grand bonhomme de neige comme toi, ça ne pleure pas !
— Moi si, répondit le bonhomme de neige d'une petite voix mouillée. — Pourquoi pleures-tu ? redemanda le petit garçon.
— C'est à cause de ma taille. Chaque hiver c'est pareil : des enfants s'amusent en me faisant avec de la neige. Ils prennent beaucoup de neige, en font un gros tas, me mettent un vieux chapeau troué sur la tête, deux cailloux qui me font mal à la place 1des yeux, et une carotte même pas fraîche pour le nez, et ils trouvent ça beau. Mais moi, je me trouve gros et laid."
Et là-dessus, le bonhomme de se remettre à pleurer davantage.
— "Mais arrête de pleurer, lui dit l'enfant, tu vas finir par fondre !
— Fondre ? dit le bonhomme, mais c'est merveilleux ! C'est justement ce que je veux, perdre tous ces kilos qui me font ressembler à un éléphant ! Ouin ! Ouin !
— Attends ! dit l'enfant, si c'est maigrir que tu veux, je peux t'aider."
L'enfant se met à creuser un peu les hanches du bonhomme de neige.
— "Hi ! hi ! hi ! tu me chatouilles, dit le bonhomme en se trémoussant.
— Arrête de bouger, dit l'enfant. Si tu crois que c'est facile de te refaire une beauté... Là, comme ça, ça te plaît ?
— Non, je trouve que mes jambes sont encore trop grosses.
— Bon, attends."
Et l'enfant d'affiner les jambes comme un vrai sculpteur. — "Etlà?
— Ça va pour les jambes, mais regarde mes pieds, on dirait deux gros cochons en train de dormir !
— Comment les veux-tu ?
— Beaucoup plus fins, et bien dessinés."
Et l'enfant de s'appliquer encore pendant cinq bonnes minutes.
Tout à coup, alors qu'il avait presque terminé, il sentit le bonhomme vaciller doucement, puis basculer d'avant en arrière.
— "Attention ! cria l'enfant, tu vas tomber !"
Mais trop tard, le bonhomme tomba de tout son poids sur le petit enfant.
— "Eh ! relève-toi, cria l'enfant, tu me donnes froid dans le dos !
— Excuse-moi, répondit le bonhomme, mais je ne sais pas encore très bien marcher.
— Ce qu'il te faudrait, dit l'enfant en essayant de se dégager, c'est une bonne canne. Attends, je vais t'en chercher une."
Quelques instants plus tard, il revint avec une solide branche de bois mort, et la donna au bonhomme qui put enfin se relever.
— "Merci, dit le bonhomme, grâce à toi, je vais maintenant pouvoir voyager dans les montagnes qui sont si belles, surtout pendant l'hiver ! Au revoir ! Je ne t'oublierai jamais.
— Au revoir, répondit le petit garçon un peu triste de se séparer si vite de son nouvel ami, mais fais attention aux avalanches, tu risques de reprendre du poids !
— Ne t'inquiète pas, dit le bonhomme, j'ai bien vu comment tu as fait. Maintenant, je connais la recette. Merci pour tout, et adieu !"
Quelques jours plus tard, des hommes revinrent tout affolés au village. Ils disaient avoir vu l'abominable homme des neiges, un monstre de plus de deux mètres de hauteur, large comme une armoire à glace, et qu'il laissait des traces dans la neige tellement profondes qu'on pouvait s'y enfoncer jusqu'au genou. Le petit garçon souriait discrètement dans son coin, en pensant au bonheur de son ami qui marchait enfin libre et heureux dans ses belles montagnes.

Myckaël Marcovic, 1986.

Histoire du bonhomme de neige qui voulait maigrir (feat. Moussa Lebkiri)

Written: 2022
Duration: ca. 9'
for B-flat trumpet and piano
Commissioned by Lexie Signor
World Premiere:  Mostly Modern Festival, Lexie Signor, trumpet; Geoffrey Burleson, piano; Helen Filene Ladd Concert Hall, Arthur Zankel Performing Arts Center, Saratoga Springs, NY, June 2023
Publisher: Bill Holab Music: https://billholabmusic.com/composers/robert-paterson/
For more information: https://robertpaterson.com/soar
Buy Sheet Music: https://billholabmusic.com/product/soar/

PROGRAM NOTE
Many composers associate orchestral instruments with animals to great effect, such as Prokofiev with Peter and the Wolf, Rimsky-Korsakov with Flight of the Bumblebee, Saint-Saëns with Carnival of the Animals, and perhaps most obsessively, Messiaen with birds from all over the world. In Soar, I associate the trumpet with an eagle, a bird that can fly as high as ten thousand feet and as fast as two hundred miles per hour. Like an eagle soaring above mountains, Soar requires the trumpet player to play fast and high, and both the trumpet and piano parts are, at times, quite virtuosic. In this sense, Soar is really meant as a show-off piece for expert trumpet players. Soar was commissioned by and is dedicated to Lexie Signor.

Soar for Trumpet and Piano

Ragnar

Awakenings

The Thin Ice of Your Fragile Mind
for flute, clarinet, violin, cello, percussion and piano
Duration: 8'
Publisher: Bill Holab Music: http://www.billholabmusic.com/store/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=1102
Online Perusal Score: https://issuu.com/robertpaterson/docs/the_thin_ice-fs-bound_copy
For More Information: https://robertpaterson.com/the-thin-ice-of-your-fragile-mind

PROGRAM NOTES
I came up with the title The Thin Ice of Your Fragile Mind before I began writing the piece. I soon realized that the work would be far more abstract than the title itself implies. I often come up with titles before I begin writing, but this one could have easily been added after I finished. In some ways, it describes the nature of the piece: there are sections that sound icy, cold and fragile, and even moments that sound like plunging into the dark depths of a black lake.

I also knew this work would be premiered at Arcosanti, a prototype "arcology" (a word meaning architecture coherent with ecology) in the Arizona desert designed by architect Paolo Soleri. Since I could not stop thinking about the wonderful windbells made there, I chose percussive sounds that are entirely metallic: a vibraphone, crotales, orchestra bells and finger cymbals. This works perfectly for two reasons: metal percussion instruments can sound icy and cold, and the percussionist in E.A.R. Unit, the group premiering the work, was limited to bringing instruments that would not be adversely affected by the intense summer heat. While composing the piece, the irony never escaped me that a work inspired by ice and cold would be premiered in a sweltering desert.

Star Crossing

The Thin Ice of Your Fragile Mind

The Manic Momma you need to know :)I play #indie #artist #music #daily on @facebook @instagram - you should be following me on there - always #free - always #postivevibes

Greetings!!  It's very important for us artists to create our own style, I've been trying to create something that really touches people.  I'm Brazilian and I know there are many challenges, I intend to sing all my songs in English.  Unfortunately, my musical style doesn't have support in my country, but the most important thing is that I'm always looking to create, innovate... I make music with my soul.  Thank you for your attention and I guarantee to do everything possible to achieve my dreams.  Music is love!

Link do canal no YouTube: https://youtube.com/channel/UC-3WFpyQo_WMJLTVc9iSr6Q
Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/artist/7egsZG5FSJyrZCPxUt5XDG?si=7SOnUougQkusL96B8iA56w

O vento - Mayran Araújo ( Cover)

Mayran Araújo

Recent comments

🎸 𝗝 𝗜 𝗠 🎙

Franklin Phoenix

Kingsdenstudios

RuddyDragon

Related tracks