Very unique atmosphere and so beautiful vocals.

Beautiful and mysterious, great vocal work

(Translation above)
Chanson écrite dans le cadre des ateliers d'écriture de Claude Lemesle, immense parolier français, avec pour double thème : "Mamifestations" et "En surfant sur un mirage".
En hommage à Georges Brassens.

Mamifestations

En mars, au premier dimanche
Alors qu’il faisait frisquet
Rue des Gaules défilait
Un flot de mamies étranges
Pour la fête des grand-mères
Ell’s marchaient à moitié nues
Quell’ moitié était vêtue ?
Au choix de leur hémisphère !

Ah ! ces mamies
Ah ! ces fesses
Ah ! ces mamifestations !

Je voyais aux banderoles
Des slogans vindicatifs
Et des dessins suggestifs
Qu’on n’apprend pas à l’école
L’armée de gants de toilettes
Et de fesses amollies
Avait pour tout alibi
D’être encor’ apt’s aux courbettes
(ref)

Ell’s réclamaient sans vergogne
En rejetant l’air glaciair’
De pouvoir chauffer leur chair
De tout objet dans leur pogne
J’ pense à la cann’  de grand-mère
À la crosse en form’ de C
En train d’ranimer l’ point G
Et l’ point O de son derrière
 (ref)

Mais le faire avec l’arthrose
Ça fatigue les poignets
Et peut laisser par excès
Quelques plaies ou ecchymoses
Petits-enfants, pour offrandes
Laissez fleurs et chocolats
Offrez pour leur nirvana
Un gode à télécommande
(ref)

Mais pardonnez ces images
Dues à la consommation
De psychotropes qui m’ont
Fait surfer sur un mirage.

Salles manies
Manifestes
Salles manifestations !

Myckaël Marcovic, le 28 octobre 2021

Song written in the framework of the writing workshops of Claude Lemesle, immense French lyricist, with for double theme : "Mamifestations" and "En surfant sur un mirage".
In tribute to Georges Brassens.

Mamifestations

In March, on the first Sunday
While it was chilly
Rue des Gaules paraded
A stream of strange grannies
For the grandmother's day
They walked half naked
Which half was dressed?
To the choice of their hemisphere!

Ah ! these grannies
Ah! these buttocks
Ah ! these mamifestations !

I saw in the banners
Vindictive slogans
And suggestive drawings
That we don't learn at school
The army of toilet gloves
And softened buttocks
Had for all alibi
To be still apt to the bows
(ref)

They shamelessly claimed
By refusing the cold air
To be able to heat their flesh
Of any object in their fist
I think of grandma's cane
With the C-shaped stick
Reanimating the G-spot
And the O point of her butt
 (ref)

But doing it with arthritis
It tires the wrists
And can leave by excess
Some wounds or bruises
Grandchildren, for offerings
Leave flowers and chocolates
Offer for their nirvana
A remote control dildo
(ref)

But forgive these images
Due to the consumption
Of psychotropic drugs that made me
Made me surf on a mirage.

Bad manners
Obvious
Bad manifestations !

Myckaël Marcovic, October 28, 2021

Mamifestations

FOLLOW US!

Up Down and Around Cloud Mountain

Way back, back when animals used to talk,... from 2006 til 2011 I visited New York almost yearly. Every trip was different, but there had been one constant: a visit to Ellis Island

The visit touched me every single time and way back in 2006 I decided to write a song about it. This is the result of that vow...

A song about searching for a better, safer life... The story of  emigration, leaving all you have behind hoping for something better. The story of so many a hundred years ago, the story of so many today...

Red Star Line

https://youtu.be/eH0Kaof0N4Y

Dedos de pan, es una extraña Rumba Flamenca Rock, cuya letra se inicia con un dicho popular, y luego desarrolla conceptos inspirados en el libro El Profeta de Khalil Gibrán, y en el estribillo repite dedos de pan, idea tomada de una fotografía en la que se observa a Pablo Picasso sentado a la mesa, con las manos colocadas de tal manera que sus dedos parecen ser panes puestos en la mesa. Todo eso fué inspiración para esta querida canción que compuse allá por el año 2003

Dedos de Pan

Una semilla es la sonrisa que crece en el corazón y florecen en los labios. Una semilla de tu sonrisa es lo que busco hoy, y germine en mis manos. Dedos de pan, para alimentar la libertad, y poder hallar alguna verdad que me ayude a seguir vivo. Dedos de pan, con aroma y sabor, para alimentar en el alma el color, que va a desatar la locura de mi sueño. Y en la mañana cuando despiertes, sabrás que el mundo sigue vivo y desea amarte. La tierra y el viento, anhelan tu cuerpo, desvestido el corazón se hace mas bello. Y una caricia, con fantasía, nos puede salvar del dolor y el sufrimiento. Una sonrisa de tu semilla es lo que quiero hoy y germine en mi cuerpo. Dedos de pan...

Bread Fingers

A seed is the smile that grows in the heart and blossoms on the lips. A seed of your smile is what I am looking for today, and it germinates in my hands. Fingers of bread, to feed freedom, and to find some truth that helps me stay alive. Fingers of bread, with aroma and flavor, to feed the color in the soul, which will unleash the madness of my dream. And in the morning when you wake up, you will know that the world is still alive and wants to love you. The earth and the wind yearn for your body, undressed the heart becomes more beautiful. And a caress, with fantasy, can save us from pain and suffering. A smile from your seed is what I want today and germinate in my body. Bread fingers...

gustavo javier nuñez
Todos los derechos reservados
IAM-gjn-08102977



EL PROFETA

I felt like something majestic and powerful, I hope I have achieved it for your ears.

79 - And they march again, Part I - And they march again

written, produced and performed by athauntes

like a child who is learning to crawl
i take a careful step to face
the greatest of falls
the greatest of my falls

what a good girl
you know you scared off them all
now you’ll stand here all alone
with no one to guide you when your eyes are gone

under the blow of voiceless discontent
all i can think of is running away
now we both know what it can be like
to be a stranger in a strange land

Stranger In A Strange Land

Sur un texte de Christian Portet
(translation above)

JEAN-MARC
 

À toi, Jean-Marc, mon vieil ami
Du temps des amours d' écoliers
Emplies de rêves qu' on lit aussi
Auxquelles on s’est identifiés

À toi, Jean-Marc, mon cher copain
Du temps des amours devinées
Et qui épatent les anciens
Parce qu'on se les est inventées

À toi Jean-Marc mon camarade
Du temps des amours rigolades
Où le baiser est moquerie
Où la caresse est fourberie

Refrain :
À toi, Jean-Marc, mon cher Jean-Marc
Du temps béni des amours mortes
Quand t’es venu de la capitale
Pour n’aimer que des provinciales

À toi, Jean-Marc, mon vieux copain
Du temps des amours incertaines
Ou l’on rigole de tout de rien
On voit une fill’ on la fait sienne

À toi Jean-Marc dans cette classe
Quand l'amour semble dégueulasse
Parce qu’on n’voit pas, qu’on ne sait pas
Qu’on croit qu'l'amour ne viendra pas

À toi, Jean-Marc, jeune écolier
Du temps des amours méritées
Parce que nous étions les premiers
Dans notre classe à en parler
(refrain)

Était-ce vrai, mon pote Jean-Marc,
Ces  histoires insensées de femmes ?
Était-ce pour le souvenir
Ou pour les mots à ne pas dire ?

Était-ce vrai l'ami Jean-Marc
Tes fragiles amourettes de gosse
Tes tendres et doux baisers précoces
Ainsi que tes rancunes amères ?

Était-ce un gros bobard, Jean-Marc,
Que t'aurais connu avant moi
L'intimité du toi et moi
Ou était-ce une image de marque ?
(refrain)

Paroles de Christian Portet
Musique de Myckaël Marcovic, 14 décembre 2022

JEAN-MARC
 
To you, Jean-Marc, my old friend
From the time of schoolboy loves
Filled with dreams that we also read
With which we identified ourselves

To you, Jean-Marc, my dear friend
From the time of guessed loves
And that amaze the old ones
Because we invented them

To you, Jean-Marc, my comrade
From the time of funny loves
Where the kiss is mockery
Where the caress is deceit

Refrain :
To you, Jean-Marc, my dear Jean-Marc
Of the blessed time of dead loves
When you came from the capital
To love only provincials

To you, Jean-Marc, my old friend
From the time of uncertain loves
When we laugh about everything and nothing
You see a girl you make her your own

To you Jean-Marc in this class
When love seems disgusting
I'm not sure what to do, I'm not sure what to do
And you think love won't come

To you, Jean-Marc, young schoolboy
From the time of deserved love
Because we were the first ones
In our class to talk about it
(refrain)

Was it true, my friend Jean-Marc,
These senseless stories of women?
Was it for the memory
Or for the words not to say?

Was it true, my friend Jean-Marc
Your fragile love affairs as a child
Your tender and sweet early kisses
As well as your bitter resentments?

Was it a big lie, Jean-Marc,
That you would have known before me
The intimacy of you and me
Or was it a brand name?
(refrain)

Words by Christian Portet
Music by Myckaël Marcovic, December 14, 2022

Jean-Marc (Christian Portet / Myckaël Marcovic)

FAIRPLAY [NO PRESSURE]

"Cogitative" is a captivating instrumental composition that takes you on a mesmerizing journey through introspection and contemplation.

The soulful melodies of the cello intertwine with atmospheric textures, creating a deeply emotional and evocative musical experience. 

With its haunting beauty and serene ambiance, this track invites you to immerse yourself in a moment of reflection and inner exploration. 

Let the soothing tones of the cello guide you into a state of tranquility and introspection. 

Perfect for cinematic soundtracks, emotional storytelling, and moments of deep contemplation.

Cogitative (CELLO Version)

Cogitative

video: https://youtu.be/bo9ROimyZcM

A moment full of art
inspired by the longing of our loving hearts
engraved and incising for eternity
captured for our minds in our memories.

Hold me tight and give me a sign
I kiss you on your cheek for three times
One for the future and the things to come,
One for the past and the days are gone
One for this moment to hold the blast
to keep our love for everlast

We are the artists of this universe
create countless opportunities
do whatever we would like to do.
first we start to paint the sky blue  

Green we choose for the trees and the hope
Red for our love and the blossoms of the roses
White for the canvas, so innocent
On which we will keep everything  

Faithless lovers, always living in danger
When they ride down the river through the torrent of anger
We sail together through the im-penetrable tangle
let's take the feather to draw the guardian angel

following him now he protects our hearts
and leads our love to the Kingdom of art
where everything is possible
nothing remains improbable

A moment full of art
characterized by sympathy and harmony
how out of nothing we create this masterpiece
unprecedented crafted and designed with ease

Hold me tight and kiss me three times
For each kiss i will give you a rhyme
on the first i will play for you the glockenspiel
on the second kiss, a burst of crystal bells that peals
And the last kiss is a document of love
A picture of our life that holds this moment of art

A Moment Full Of Art

Oli Boli - A Moment Full Of Art

A Moment Full Of Art (Acoustc First Version)

Written: 2014
Duration: 8'
Text by David Cote
Instrumentation: mixed SATB choir (a cappella with occasional divisis, SSAATBB; 4 alarm clocks suggested, see score for additional details)
Publisher: Bill Holab Music: http://www.billholabmusic.com/store/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=103_137&products_id=2666
For More Information, text, and link to an online perusal score: https://robertpaterson.com/snow-day

PROGRAM NOTE
The ideas in Snow Day were suggested by students in the Pelham Memorial High School Choir in Pelham, NY. The piece outlines a typical, hectic week in the life of teenagers. My lyricist David Cote and I spent time sifting through various comments from the choral members, and we eventually settled on a few key ideas that seemed to work well together and that helped to create a sort of encapsulated, dramatic narrative. Snow Day was commissioned by the Pelham Memorial High School Choir, Maria Abeshouse, Director.

Eternal Reflections

Snow Day (for SATB Choir)

For business inquiries analibusinqs@gmail.com
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Stranger In A Strange Land

Athauntes

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