Hip Hop ?? Colors

“Livid”
Dreamy LoFi/ambient track from our Eastern LoFi Lab.
Cover pic: Arpad Kajel www.facebook.com/arpikirandul

Livid

Hello everyone, 
I was thrilled from the very beginning when I heard the music of Sarah Paradise-Brown. Now I am not only very excited but also honored because Sarah entrusted me with my favorite song of hers to compose an orchestral arrangement. You can now hear the result of our collaboration.

The song is about the medicine that everyone needs to survive. 

Enjoy listening to the song and don't forget: 

“Love is all you need”.

This song is also available on youtube:
https://youtu.be/HBtw5g-iB6A?si=P1cykcP8U5Dgh6Ee

Credits:

      Lyrics, Piano, Vocals: Sarah Paradise-Brown
Orchestral Arrangement: Axel Menningen

Visit Sarah's profile for more fantastic music from her:
https://on.soundcloud.com/aUdCKRxsvgucVSH66

The Medicine I Need (feat. Sarah Paradise-Brown)

Just a song I dig!! Couldn’t ever do it justice, but I tried! Happy 2025 to all!!!🙏🙏🙏… and yes, aware that the first line says @ did, on original😎

Rock On- David Essex Cover

This song I wrote way back in 2003 about the little lies that lurk in between the lines that people say sometimes or that you say to yourself too! I was in between marriages and was in a full-blown mid-life crisis mode at the time! 😂 6 years of way too much partying! It was fun while it lasted though! 😉 I re-recorded it during the pandemic and sang it myself. Sorry about that! Here's the video link: 

VIDEO - https://youtu.be/MAlGPaWTXBQ

I put in a lot of visual eye-candy in the video and had a lot of fun producing it! I can't remember anything else special about the song except that I probably wrote it after a hang over, I'm sure!😂 It's no fun living in between the lies! Thanks for listening and take care everybody! Party on!

“IN BETWEEN THE LIES”

SUNDAY MORNING, WHERE’S MY COFFEE?  
I DRANK TOO MUCH AGAIN LAST NIGHT,    
BUT LATELY THAT’S THE ONLY TIME,     
I FEEL AT HOME,                  

OUTSIDE IT’S RAINING, BUT WHO’S COMPLAINING?    
BITCHIN’ ABOUT IT WON’T MAKE IT RIGHT,    
KILLIN’ YOURSELF IS ALWAYS EASIER,     
WHEN YOU’RE ALL ALONE,

NO ONE WINS LIVIN’ IN BETWEEN THE LIES,        
IN AND OUT, NO DOUBT, I’M LEFT BEHIND          
WITH EVERY ROUND, I DROWN, MY LONELINESS,           
I GUESS I’LL NEVER FIND,         
TRUE LOVE IN BETWEEN THE LIES,
     
AND SO IT GOES AND I SUPPOSE,    
I’LL BELLY UP TO THE BAR AGAIN,         
AND HAVE A DRINK, TO EASE THE PAIN,  
OF MY SOLITUDE,        
        
NO ONE WINS LIVIN’ IN BETWEEN THE LIES,       
IN AND OUT, NO DOUBT, I’M LEFT BEHIND,        
WITH EVERY ROUND, I DROWN, MY LONELINESS,          
I GUESS I’LL NEVER FIND,         
TRUE LOVE IN BETWEEN THE LIES,        
GUESS I’LL NEVER FIND,        
TRUE LOVE IN BETWEEN THE LIES,       
GUESS I’LL NEVER FIND,        
TRUE LOVE IN BETWEEN THE LIES,        
AH, AH, AH, AH, AH, AH, AH.

BY JIM VALDES
 © 2003

"IN BETWEEN THE LIES" (Video - https://youtu.be/MAlGPaWTXBQ)

Many thanks to Timothy McGuire who added his beautiful orchestration to my piano composition, "From the Emerald Isle". It is always a pleasure working with Timothy and to hear more of his incredible work, you can visit his SoundCloud page by clicking here: @tim_mcguire

For the story behind the original composition, keep reading...

Born in County Cork, Ireland, Robert Farrell (my great-great-great grandfather), had a sense of adventure, so it was probably no surprise that in the 1800s, he boarded a ship for North America with his wife and daughter.  What was it like to travel from the Emerald Isle to a new world?  Perhaps he had mixed emotions, but more than likely, he was filled with excitement at the prospect of pursuing long-held dreams.  Ultimately, his story took a very unexpected turn...that tale is told in my "No One Really Knows" composition.

From The Emerald Isle (feat. Fr. Harris)

Letra: Rafael Moraira
Música, orquestación y producción: Rafael Serrano

English
11th century. Ishbiliya. The Seville of taifas, the "flat city", also poetically called Alquivira (The Great).
Legend has it that the Poet King Almotamid or Almutamid, trying to spin some verses on the banks of the Rio Grande (Guad-al-Quivir) could not find the foot of one of them:
"The breeze turns the river into a chainmail coat..."
When, faced with his poetic blockage, a female voice behind him, hidden in the vegetation of the river, concluded:
"There is no better chainmail than the one frozen by the river."
It was the slave Itimad, called Romaiquiya, who would become his beloved Queen in an idyllic taifa. Until the invasion of the Almoravids banished him forever to Ahmad, near Morocco, where, faithful and in love, Itimad followed her until her last days.
You can visit her splendid Mausoleum there. And perhaps you will hear those verses that today are... nothing.
Like almost everything that was that Great City.

Español
Siglo XI. Ishbiliya. La Sevilla de taifas, la "ciudad llana", también llamada poéticamente Alquivira (La Grande).
Cuenta le leyenda que el Rey Poeta Almotamid o Almutamid, tratando de hilar unos versos a orillas del Río Grande (Guad-al-Quivir) no encontraba el pie a uno de ellos:
“La brisa convierte al río en una cota de malla…” 
Cuando, ante su bloqueo poetico, una voz femenina a sus espaldas, oculta en la vegetación del río, concluyó:
“Mejor cota no se halla como la congele el río.”
Era la esclava Itimad, llamada la Romaiquiya, que llegaría a ser su amada Reina en una taifa idílica. Hasta que la invasión de los almorávides lo desterró para siempre a Ahmad, cerca de Marruecos, a donde, fiel y enamorada, la siguió hasta sus últimos días Itimad.
Podéis visitar allí su espléndido Mausoleo. Y quizás oigáis esos versos que hoy son... nada.
Como casi todo lo que fue aquella Gran Ciudad.


LETRA:

Ay, Alquivira!.
El viento hacía del agua,
ay, Alquivira,
rizos de nácar.
Almotamid divagaba:
"Yo te quisiera hilvanar 
 en una cota de malla,
 y el río no se deja hilar".
Ay, Alquivira!.
Si el relente te helara...
Ay, Alquivira!.
Ay, mi Alquivira!.
Oyó una voz a su espalda:
"Cómo lo quieres helar
 si la calor de Sevilla 
 son los ojos de Itimad?".

Ay, Alquivira!.
Qué nos queda ya?.
Ni casi río ni rey
ni el sol de Romaiquiya...

Ay, Alquivira!
El tiempo hace del agua,
ay, Alquivira,
rizos de nada.
Almotamid cada mayo
de las prisiones de Ahmad
va a Alquivira de la mano
del fantasma de Itimad.
Oye una voz la Giralda:
"Cómo te quieres helar
 si la calor de Sevilla 
 son los ojos de Itimad?".

¡Ay! Alquivira

Rigid egg - 22-2-2025

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