Love that brass band opening and the way it phases into the vocal - very cool tones in that too. Good dynamic tones throughout actually. Great production! The stop is good too. Keeps your ,listener  on  his toes!

If I was asked what was my best song it would be this one. Whenever I played this song live I would see tears in most of the men’s eyes. It hit a nerve. It came about when one morning I woke after a dream. It was so real that everywhere I turned I saw her face. Memories can be a curse or a blessing. This song I named ‘Your Memory’.

Your Memory

Your Memory By Dave Hanrahan 🌎 Music

Song about the most important figure in your life

Never Forget You

Klangmoebel - Soundtracks, Vol. 3: Misophonia - Hatred of Sounds

Transformer

"Memory Card: Silent Hill 2 (Sleepless Specter Remix)" is a collection of remixes from the PS2 game, Silent Hill 2.

Forest (Remix)

A laid back love song blending vocal harmonies and strings.

Rest In Me

#COCAINE #ADDICTION #TRAP
HIT THE INBOX FOR INQUIRIES
https://open.spotify.com/artist/6CoenXf4NjfICfqWWl0hyb

COCAINE PROD. JaVBeat's

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=QQCSHCoFDn8&si=Yt4MZ8jkTF1MfMkT

Heal the World (Selene's Rhapsody)

Now watch this drive (george w jazz mix)

Neon Echoes

Violet sky (Neon Echoes - EP Version)

Ron Snyder - FILL ME UP (original instrumental song)

Para Escuchar la version de blues cantada 
https://soundcloud.com/juan-fco-bueno/y-despertar-blues

Para escuchar la versión blues instrumental https://soundcloud.com/juan-fco-bueno/y-despertar-version-instrumental

Para escuchar la versión original https://soundcloud.com/juan-fco-bueno/y-despertar-version-original-ver-texto


Producción: Luis Sanvicente
Voz: Dazz Deva

Y despertar

Qué fáciles se ven las cosas 
cuando, a pesar de ser chiquillos,
algo extraño nos hace hombres
y nos arranca de ese sitio
que en realidad nos corresponde.

Intentamos que nuestra vida
sea una batalla latente
donde demostrar nuestro orgullo,
donde sólo existe el presente:
¡no importan pasado y futuro!

Un día se te va la mano
y en soledad, al verte perdido,
recompones todo tu tiempo;
entonces ves que te has hundido,
que hay que empezar por los cimientos.

Y despertar 
de aquel sórdido mundo 
tan oscuro y profundo,
donde el miedo que sientes
se convierte en la muerte
de la voluntad.

Y despertar 
sin ver cientos de caras 
que no te dicen nada,
aunque sean reflejo
de tus mismos deseos,
de tu ansiedad.

Qué hermoso es correr por el campo
en libertad, sin sentir muros
que te acotan el horizonte,
y se convierten en verdugos
de la ilusión todas las noches.

Y de pronto encontrarme libre,
frente a frente contigo, despierto...
no puedo creer que suceda;
por fin ha llegado el momento:
¡de nuevo la vida comienza!

Y despertar
con el alma en tus brazos,
con el sol en lo alto,
dando vida a otros sueños
que cuando era pequeño
solía inventar.

Y despertar
en tu pecho desnudo,
descubriendo otro mundo,
contemplando en tus ojos
cómo nace el arroyo
de mi libertad.

And wake up

How easy things look
when, despite being children,
something strange makes us men
and it starts us from that place
that actually belongs to us.

We try our life
be a latent battle
where to show our pride,
where only the present exists:
Past and future don't matter!

One day your hand goes out of hand
and alone, seeing you lost,
you compose all your time;
then you see that you have sunk,
to start with the foundations.

And wake up
of that sordid world
so dark and deep,
where the fear you feel
turns into death
of will.

And wake up
without seeing hundreds of faces
that they don't tell you anything,
although they are reflection
of your own wishes,
of your anxiety.

How beautiful it is to run through the field
in freedom, without feeling walls
that narrow the horizon,
and they become executioners
of illusion every night.

And suddenly find myself free
face to face with you, awake ...
I can't believe it happens;
At last the time has come:
Life begins again!

And wake up
with the soul in your arms,
with the sun up high,
giving life to other dreams
that when I was little
used to invent.

And wake up
on your bare chest,
discovering another world,
contemplating in your eyes
how the stream is born
of my freedom.

Y DESPERTAR  (VOZ DAZZ DEVA) Ver texto

"Moments of being passable beyond novelty"

"Actually slaps"

At its core, the blorgpulkf is a pulsating, iridescent orb that thrums with an energy that can only be described as "the sound of a thousand bees having a rave inside a kaleidoscope." It's hypnotic, it's unsettling, and it's strangely addictive - like watching a lava lamp filled with Mountain Dew and gummy bears.

But that's just the beginning. Surrounding this pulsing heart are layers upon layers of... well, your guess is as good as mine. One moment it's a tangled web of neon tubes that hum with an eerie frequency, the next it's a churning mass of what appears to be sentient silly putty. And is that a tiny disco ball I see nestled in there? You bet your sweet bippy it is.

As for its features, the blorgpulkf is like a Swiss Army knife designed by a mad scientist with a penchant for pranks. It's got a button that releases a burst of confetti and the sound of a rubber chicken being stepped on, a lever that causes the whole thing to fold in on itself like a origami crane having an existential crisis, and a tiny compartment that dispenses a single, perfectly spherical grape every 37 hours.

But perhaps the most baffling feature of the blorgpulkf is its ability to communicate. Not with words, of course - that would be far too pedestrian. No, the blorgpulkf speaks in a language all its own, a cryptic code of flashing lights, whirring gears, and the occasional burst of atonal jazz played on what sounds suspiciously like a didgeridoo.




The plorksickle. It's like someone took a fever dream, a Mad Lib, and a Dada art installation, threw 'em in a blender, and hit "puree."

Picture this: a contraption that looks like it crawled out of a Salvador Dali painting and mated with a Rube Goldberg machine. It's got a crank that sounds like a yodeling ostrich, a button that releases a puff of glitter and the scent of existential dread, and a tiny screen that just flashes the word "moist" in Wingdings.

But here's the kicker - every time you think you've figured out what it does, it changes the game. One minute it's reciting beat poetry in binary code, the next it's turning itself inside out and becoming a Klein bottle. And don't even get me started on the time it started oozing a viscous liquid that tasted like the color purple.

Is it a tool? A toy? A sentient being from another dimension that's just really, really bad at communication? Your guess is as good as mine. All I know is, it's the most beautifully useless thing I've ever laid eyes on.

But maybe that's the point. In a world where everything has to have a purpose, a function, a reason for being, the plorksickle is a big, fat middle finger to the very concept of sense. It's absurdity for absurdity's sake, a Zen koan in physical form.

So if you ever see me on the street, cradling this bizarre little gizmo like a newborn lovechild, don't ask me what it does. Just nod, smile, and know that you're in the presence of something truly inexplicable. Something that laughs in the face of logic and spits in the eye of reason.

Now watch this drive (george w jazz mix)

blorgpulkfplorksickle

Recent comments

Doug Stoothoff

LightofLion

Sammy

KRT Production

Related tracks