Well done song. Nice guitar groove and great harmonic vocals.

Love the feel one this tune! Nice vocals too!

Another beautiful composition & performance.  Cheers.

a good political statement-whether it's here or there

Very clever songwriting Bruce, capturing accurately the vibe a year ago. Love the fantasy band too.

🎸 𝗝 𝗜 𝗠 🎙

Megan Thee Stallion VS SCH (Dramantic Remix)

Quand on a la tête comme un bloc-note et qu'en plus on est resté un enfant avec tout son imaginaire et sa folie , cela donne une chanson amusante réalisée par deux copains qui ont 112 ans à tous les deux ... 😁😃
⛔ATTENTION⛔ !!! Contient des rimes en " otte et oque " pour ceux qui sont allergiques 😈
Compositeur/Musicien : Philippe SEGUINARD
Auteur-Mélodiste/Chant : Guillaume DULER
Chant : Sylvie TIRET
When your head's like a notepad and you're still a child with all your imagination and craziness, you get a fun song by two friends who are both 112 years old ... 😁😃
⛔ATTENTION⛔!!! Contains "otte et oque" rhymes for those who are allergic 😈
Composer/Musician: Philippe SEGUINARD
Songwriter/Melodist/Vocals: Guillaume DULER
Vocalist : Sylvie TIRET

Lyrics:
Dans mon bloc-note
Je dénote sans fautes
Comme un Don Quichotte
J'ai la tête qui flotte
Dans mon bloc-note
Ça funk et ça rock
Je change d'époques
Saute mouton saute !
Dans mon bloc-note
Je casse mes menottes
Je m'échappe du bloc
Les gardiens s'en moquent

Capitaine à docks
Sauve mes bébés phoques
Ma banquise part en flotte
Mon climat perd la note

Dans mon bloc-note
De bric et de broc
Pensées en bougeotte
Cerveau sans jugeotte
Dans mon bloc-note
L'araignée débloque
J'suis pas seul mon pote
On est en colloc 
Dans mon bloc-note
Y'a des anecdotes
Remplies de coyotes
A l'allure glauque

Capitaine à docks
J'en perds mes dreadlocks
J'tombe dans les compotes
Je veux sortir de ma grotte

Dans mon bloc-note
Y'a des phrases idiotes
Qui sont sans culottes
Petites patriotes
Dans mon bloc-note
J'suis pas un despote
Tous les mots me bote
Même les équivoques
Dans mon bloc-note
Je suis astronaute
Un peu cosmonaute
Même taikonaute

Capitaine à docks
Ouvre moi ta porte
Ma valise en plastoc
A reçu trop de chocs

Dans mon bloc-note
Des mémos en stocks
Les yeux à la coke
Je voudrais dire STOP !

In my notepad
I write without mistakes
Like a Don Quixote
My head is floating
In my notepad
It's funk and rock
I change eras
Jump sheep jump!
In my notepad
I break my handcuffs
I escape from the block
The guards don't care

Captain to the docks
Save my baby seals
My ice floe floats away
My climate loses its note

In my notepad
Of odds and ends
Thoughts on the move
Brains without gumption
In my notepad
The spider unlocks
I'm not alone, buddy
We're roommates 
In my notepad
There are anecdotes
Filled with coyotes
With a gloomy look

Captain of the docks
I'm losing my dreadlocks
I'm falling in the compotes
I want to get out of my cave

In my notepad
There are some silly phrases
That have no panties
Little patriots
In my notepad
I'm no despot
I'm not a despot
Even equivocations
In my notepad
I'm an astronaut
A little cosmonaut
Even a taikonaut

Captain of the docks
Open your door
My plastic suitcase
Has received too many shocks

In my notepad
Memos in stock
Coke in my eyes
I'd like to say STOP!

© Philippe SEGUINARD & Guillaume DULER  Novembre 2023

Bloc-Note 📔  (feat Sylvie Tiret) TRANSLATED

It Is What It Is

Une ode aux perdants , à ceux qui n'arriveront jamais les premiers ...
Compositeur - Musique : Philippe SEGUINARD
Auteur mélodiste - Chant : Guillaume DULER
Chant : Sylvie TIRET
An ode to the losers, to those who will never get there first ...
Composer - Music : Philippe SEGUINARD
Songwriter - Vocals : Guillaume DULER
Singer : Sylvie TIRET
Lyrics:
Quand est-ce qu'on boit à nos étoiles
Même si le ciel est déjà mort
C'est vrai qu'elles brillent encore
Mais la plupart ont mis les voiles

Quand est-ce qu'on boit à nos défaites
A la puissance des vaincus
Nous nos blessures ont survécus
Quand leurs victoires sont obsolètes

Quand est-ce qu'on boit à nos amours
A celles qui saôulent de souvenirs
Celles qu'on n'a pas pu retenir
Mais auxquelles on pense toujours

Quand est-ce qu'on boit à nos héros
Aux révoltés aux cœurs ouverts
Ceux qu'ont joué avec l'enfer
La vie tatouée sur la peau

Quand est-ce qu'on boit à nos succés
Ces étranges malentendus
C'est à peine ce qu'on a voulu
Et tout juste ce que l'on pouvait

Quand est-ce qu'on boit à nos enfances
Illusions perdues à jamais
Comme la douleur d'un condamné
Qui sait qu'il va mourir d'avance

Levons nos verres aux regrets
Aux perdants de la gloire
Cicatrices laissées
Dans un coin de mémoire
Aux survivants sans médailles
A nous les moins que rien
Sur nos champs de batailles
Ombres du quotidien

Quand est-ce qu'on boit à nos fantômes
Toutes ces peurs qui nous soutiennent
Main dans la main elles nous souviennent
Vers la dernière demeure des hommes

Quand est-ce qu'on boit à nos futurs
Retournons nous voir s'ils nous suivent
Mais y'a personne pas âme qui vive
Y'a même pas de rats sur les ordures

When do we drink to our stars
Even if the sky is already dead
It's true they still shine
But most of them are gone

When do we drink to our defeats
To the power of the defeated
Our wounds have survived
When their victories are obsolete

When do we drink to our loves
To those soaked in memories
The ones we couldn't hold back
But still think of

When we drink to our heroes
To the rebels with open hearts
Those who played with hell
Life tattooed on their skin

When we drink to our successes
These strange misunderstandings
It's hardly what we wanted
And only what we could

When we drink to our childhoods
Illusions lost forever
Like the pain of a condemned man
Who knows he's going to die in advance

Let's raise a glass to regrets
To the losers of glory
Scars left
In a corner of memory
To survivors without medals
To us less than nothing
On our battlefields
Shadows of everyday life

When we drink to our ghosts
All these fears that sustain us
Hand in hand they remind us
To the last resting place of men

When we drink to our futures
Let's go back and see if they follow us
But there's no one, no soul
Not even rats in the garbage

© Philippe SEGUINARD/Guillaume DULER  Novembre 2023

Ivre"S" (feat Sylvie Tiret) Version intégrale TRANSLATED

THE BOY - NEW MOON
Everything by THE BOY
Out on everywhere now❣
Listen on Spotify : https://open.spotify.com/intl-ja/album/4DXBz2wHbfVndgLZuF2FM3?si=enssh-eVSc2S-7p_h3YnnQ

I sang the feeling just like that I want to disappear. I expressed the feeling by comparing it to the new moon. 

*FREE DOWNLOAD on SC!
I HOPE YOU ENJOY & SPREAD THE WORD!*

NEW MOON

A real joy to have Karin-Maria Brunner join me on this song. She has really done an amazing job with my basic track. My grateful thanks and deepest appreciation to you, Karin-Maria. (@user-53145152-479345033)
https://soundcloud.com/karin-maria-brunner

K-M: Epic pad, Vintage synthesiser strings, harp, violin, viola, cello, crash, bass, processing, mixing and mastering 
Me: vocals, guitars, drums, keyboards

Promise Me (Brian Peters)

It's hard to believe
Takes courage of man to admit it
There's a memory within me
The sound of your name recalls it

We're living in days
Dancing too close to the heat
There's pockets of fires
Scattered all over the streets

*Promise me baby
You won't let another come between our love
Promise me baby
You won't imprison the dove*

They tied up the servant
They killed the messenger
Made a home explosive
Marked it ‘return to sender’

There’s a crack in the conscience
A finger of light in the skies
There’s bug on your telephone
Your windows are full of eyes

It’s the day of the aliens
Night of the UFOs
They took all the war brides
The baby boomer girls

There’s halls of illusion
Perverted sex on the screen
Young minds in confusion
Old men with adolescent dreams

The prophet is dishonoured
Especially in his own home
I’ve been reading Borges
Listening to Leonard Cohen

There’s sex on the telephone
A hundred iniquity dens
But the women are sexless
There are no real men

There’s blood on the doorposts
The angel of death is near
Speak softly, darling
Even the walls have ears

There’s a place in the hills
It’s like the top of Masada
It’s the gateway to paradise
Or the scene of a murder

Well, the world’s getting smaller
It’s like a one horse town
But the circle gets faster
As it spirals down

And the more things are changing
The more they are the same
And I sound like my daddy
I guess he felt the same

Promise Me

Who could blame them for being giddy?  They finally had him….got the mugshot, and in a few months he’d be tried & convicted, and best of all, out of their way for good.  Some may question their motives & methods, but hey, it was up to them to save democracy, right?  
******************* 
For this one, I rounded up my fantasy band, the Famous Texas Men Of Note, to perform at the imaginary Seven Sisters Dance Hall, some 40 miles west of Austin, in the heart of the Texas Hill Country.  The crowd wasn’t huge that night, but it was plenty raucous.  Needless to say, we brought the house down.  We always do.

LYRICS
Finally bagged the prize,
Event commemorated with a photograph,
A delightful list of crimes,
Got ‘em prancin’ with the lawyers down the primrose path,
The scribes down in the court,
Breathlessly report,
With a glee they can’t contain,

Oh they’re giddy….

Giddy like the rats that swarm the sewage slag,
Giddy like the vultures, feasting on the rotted culture,
That has spawned them from its womb,
And they tell us all how grateful we should be,
Cause they’re doing it to save democracy.
 
Yeah all fortitude & grit,
Our protectors wouldn’t quit,
On this noble quest,
There would be no rest,
Staged sudden raids, drew dossiers,
Tried Russian links, threw kitchen sinks,
To cage the dreaded pest,
Damn the proper form,
They’ve snared Le Bete Orange,
Slam the gavel, bring the charge,

And now they’re giddy…..

Giddy like the buzzards circling o’er their prey,
Giddy like the varmints, chewing on the hated target,
While the judges hold him still,
Giddy like the frantic hawks, flailing with their shrilly squawks,
The fear they just can’t kill,
Damn the coming storm,
Now they’ve booked Le Bete Orange,
Slam the gavel, bring the charge,
Hey, the law may be applied unequally,
But it’s the only way to save democracy.

I beg you Lovely Lady, turn your head away,
Away from the shame, away from the pain,
America, America, how did we let it get this far?
We are your sons, what have we done?
What have we done……….

Ah but giddy doesn’t last, when the vengeance & the wrath,
Shred the piers that bear the load,
No it won’t be so hysterical, when even Heaven’s miracle,
Can’t keep our father’s code, 

Oh but decision day is nigh, & the beast is still alive,
And far too many still believe…..

So arrest the Monster!...show it on TV,
Silence him & anyone who won’t concede,
There’s no time for constitutionality,
When the mission is to save democracy.

Giddy (now with lyrics)

Nero Ex Tutti.

Hello everyone this is our third song.
Please, if you like it, listen to it on Spotify:
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1YYo9ID6jDB1uOxWd2ZMZf

Video for this song: https://youtu.be/vmIikhfD2-s

Leafage - Unicorn

We're All Loving The Wrong People

method: guitar, pedals, voice, audacity
narration: just what the poem says (okay, offering a clue to toying with the clew: there is light - lux - as the main topic here, things you can and cannot perceive, that might and might not be at all - beyond mere appearances. Remember, however, how a haiku works - surprise overcomes you in the last line, not the one before that which still sets the natural and supernatural scene, no matter the momentum of tension it builds! - ... and, of course, a bow to a certain British poet's perspective on totemism might be in the cards as well ;-)
image: copyright jo richter ... using the illustration on a packaging container  used to transport guitars

poem/ copyright jo richter:

in winter's midlight
crow's crystal inverse shadow
lifting fingered feet

luxury

And now... a moo-ment of zen, courtesy of "Big Cow Blues"...

MUSICIANS
Dave Turnbow - vocals, guitar

The Venerable Beads

Pastoral Sorbet

Do I Exist At All?

Morning sun

Watch the video: www.youtube.com/watch?v=1u1cvlAHOuI

Lyrics

Lasered to sense,
Even Sir Rich gets moved
When perusing the world of poetic blues
Where articulated real meets perfection
'Found questionable thought to his atomic interjection

Softly, softly says Professor Neil
Let's take their hands when want meets zeal
Dawkins holds that military mind
New domination for human kind

Only truth,
Call out the lies.
There's enough for our youth in sciences prize
It's poetry this reality
Generalized, it's just wonderfully free

This Plato brain does wander away
I try and imagine all sides of all way
Then we connect with everyone
Changing minds doesn't matter
The door is open

Notes
Richard Dawkins is one of the greatest thinkers of our time and possibly the very best at articulating our reality as he honestly sees it. He fights ignorance with such pure truth I'd be scared to debate him on the spirit world .. But I would love to and I think there's a very real conversation to be had asking him how he fills the gaps in science about consciousness and his dismissal of spiritually and an afterlife given those limited explanations of our conscious world... Dawkins is an evolutionary biologist and a wonderful author.

This song was inspired largely by Dawkins and his want, now to project what he sees as the purest of poetry... The truth about our existence. He is well worth a permanent rabbit hole along with his team mate Professor Neil Di Grasse Tyson an Astrophysicist.

So I guess this song is giving them a hand.

Reality in Poetry

Heavy Punk Rock 'n' Roll band turns into Synthwave nowadays! Brand NEW album "Ultraviolet Cosmos" available NOW!

Giddy (now with lyrics)

Bruce Avery

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