The music strait out of soul. Very nice arrangement, vocals and instrumentation. Awesome one

Nice one, lovely arrangement and engaging lyrics

Sometimes you get those tracks that are created from pure source, awesome, beautiful......

This sounds so well produced. Great instrumentation...sublime!.. The narration and singing fits so well. Really great stuff Bas...looking forward to more

Another beautiful composition and arrangement from a reliable stable

Great instrumentation and vocals, feels like fall or end of summer!

Yea crystal clear!! keep pushing your vibes, loving the oboe

Superb, mesmerising & soothing...very intriguing track

Great song. Great production quality and playing.

Iguanana

Blah Blah Blah

Cigarettes And Alcohol [2021]

The acoustic version of our Song THE SONG YOU WROTE :)

The Song You Wrote (Acoustic)

Music composed in 2021 by Rene Puschinger.

Secret Passage

BOOKINGS/BUSINESS: hambonehugen@gmail.com
SOCIAL:
IG: @swawwswaww
SC: wacc87

The Death of Johnny Reb

Tv Love

I was once in a bar at Sundance Film Festival and Harvey Weinstein made an entrance, having just bought a (terrible) film for millions of dollars. You could see everyone in the room change their persona, reacting to the presence of the big man. Who wouldn't think they could get away with anything if they had that sway over people. I imagine this song as the inner theme for privileged plonkers of his ilk.

Remixed Jan 1 2023


SOME CRIMES

put your shoulders down
and just keep your head up high
now just take a look around
look the world
Look it in the eye…

there’s nothing you can’t say 
and there’s nothing you can’t do
there’s no miscommunication
its not misleading
when you can read the room…

now your confidence is growing
here’s no way it isn’t showing
there’s only one way this is going

tell you something boy, it’s yours for free
you know it’s yours for free

Is that something in your pocket is that 
Nothing in your mind
and there’s nothing you can’t take 
Cos you’ve been taking
Everything you find

there’s no need for compensation
leave your credit on your card
there’s no misleading information 
this isn’t faking, this is who you are…

something special and you know it 
there’s no way that you could blow it 
Ooh, You cross the line and we’re below it

tell you something boy, it’s all for free
It’s yours for free…

cos sometimes some crimes don’t fly
they just don’t fly…

oh
there’s no sign it’s ever slowing (down)
you’ve grown an aura and it’s glowing now
there’s no way its ever changing cos
you write the rules when you’re engaging…

tell you something Brett,
tell you something Harvey
tell you something Bill, it’s all for free

It’s yours for free…

don’t listen to those jokers
hold your focus 
now you’re home and free!

for the silver tongues
and golden rungs
you know this one
is yours for free…
it’s all for free….

Yours for Free

MGK inspired and created with beat driven songwriting in mind. Must be the most modern sounding track I ever released. 

 Verse lyrics inspired by Boyhood movie.

In The Backseat Kissing [demo]

Saw the weakness of my generation. 
All enjoying a bottle or two.
And who quickly progressed from those dancing young nights and then searched till their minds were shot through.
Who are sad that they're still by the ocean? But why would that be? 
Who's castles of sand crumbled right in their hands as they entered into their thirties?
Oh, these are your days and this is your life.
Pitied the best minds of his generation.
And watched as they struggled to breathe.
Who has seen them descend into madness?
Stressed out from the ordinary.
Who is glad that he lives by the ocean?
Why wouldn't he be?
Who with just a bit more education. 
Could of turned into a somebody.
Oh, these are your days and this is your life.
Your heads gone to pieces.
Give yourself a break and make a new start.
Who is sat with little miss Moffat.
Glugging down all her peaches and cream.
Who is moving on to bottles of vodka?
To get to that place more quickly. 
Who feels sad as she looks at the ocean?
And why would that be?
Who has wasted the rest and is failing the test?
Passing out never falling to sleep 
Oh, these are your days and this is your life.
So don't worry too much.
Never stood a chance right from the start.
Cos nobody told yas.
Starting drinking at Twelve. 
What did you expect?
Your heads gone to peices.
Give yourself a break and make a new start.
Before you start fading away.

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness starving hysterical naked
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night
who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz
who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated
who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake light tragedy among the scholars of war
who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull
who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall
who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York
who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley death or purgatoried their torsos night after night
with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares alcohol and cock and endless balls
incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping toward poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between
Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind
who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo
who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford’s floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi’s listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox
who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge,
a lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon
yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars
whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement.


Madness, Starving, Hysterical, Naked.

Howl At Nowt

No words needed — just that feeling of being lifted, confident, and free. This one’s about finding a new world with someone who makes you feel like you’re floating above it all.

HIGHER GROUND

AIN’T NO WORDS NEED TO BE SAID
I FEEL FINE WITH YOU, I FEEL FINE WITH YOU
NO NEED TO GO TO CHURCH TO PRAY
I BELIEVE IN YOU, I BELIEVE IN YOU

THERE’S A VOICE IN MY HEAD
SOMETHING I CAN’T EXPLAIN
AND IT FILLS ME  WITH CONFIDENCE WHEREVER I GO

THERE’S A VOICE IN MY HEAD
SOMETHING I CAN’T EXPLAIN
AND IT FILLS ME WITH CONFIDENCE WHEREVER I GO

YOU MAKE ME FEEL HIGHER
MY FEET DON’T TOUCH THE GROUND
ONE WAY OR ANOTHER
I HOPE IT NEVER ENDS

OPENING A NEW WORLD
HERE THE BIRDS SING BIGGER SYMPHONIES
OPENING A NEW WORLD 
WHERE EVERYTHING IS LIGHT

I DON’T BELONG TO ANYWHERE
COS I BELONG TO YOU, I BELONG TO YOU …..
I DON’T BELONG TO ANYWHERE
COS I BELONG TO YOU  I BELONG TO YOU ….

Higher Ground V1 (Demo)

Words and voice: Hannah Duncan (@hanjan)
Woodwinds: Dave McKeown (@dave-mckeown)
Vocal: Emma Shanley (@emma-shanley)
Music and mix: Bas Kooman

Sometimes

A sad woman asked me
“Can this be changed?”
and hoped I would have
a key in my pocket
to fit the lock of her
despair.

The lonely man asked
“What shall I do?”
as we both sat,
with his chain ankle ghost,
that manacled
freedom.

Sometimes,
we keep our souls
in a locked box
on the window sill
and fear death’s fingers
if it rattles.

Sometimes,
we seek to hear only
clattering dialogue of thought,
clanking down the
one way tracks to
contention.

And sometimes
the truth is hidden in cell-seeds
trapped in shoulder stories,
or the anxious rope tale
of your skipping
stomach.

“What does your body say?”
I want to ask.
The answers
will hold their
breath and wait
for you.

But only in that
rejected, split off
holder, in the
soft sacred
fruiting
body bowl

Will you ever feel
the right question to ask.
The question that
tells you, finally:
it is time
to harvest.

SOMETIMES (with DAVE, HANNAH and EMMA)

Songs in English on https://soundcloud.com/seb-mankoo

SOMETIMES (with DAVE, HANNAH and EMMA)

Bas Kooman

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