Name: Scott Joplin - Solace, A Mexican Serenade (for marimba and vibes) by Cameron Denby
Duration: 6 min 45 s
Description: Scott Joplin's hauntingly beautiful ragtime classic, arranged by me for marimba and vibraphone.

DUALITY

CONVERSION THERAPY

A solo collaboration to pass the time in isolation. Contact me for info or questions about the score!

Igor Stravinsky - The Rite of Spring: Spring Rounds (arranged for marimba & vibraphone)

- 2020 -

Tibetan, ye tang che.

The ye part means “totally, completely,” and the rest of it means “exhausted.” Altogether, ye tang che means totally tired out. 
We might say “totally fed up.” It describes an experience of complete hopelessness, of completely giving up hope. This is an important point. This is the beginning of the beginning. 
Without giving up hope—that there’s somewhere better to be, that there’s someone better to be—we will never relax with where we are or who we are.

To think that we can finally get it all together is unrealistic. To seek for some lasting security is futile. 
To undo our very ancient and very stuck habitual patterns of mind requires that we begin to turn around some of our most basic assumptions. 
Believing in a solid, separate self, continuing to seek pleasure and avoid pain, thinking that someone “out there” is to blame for our pain—one has to get totally fed up with these ways of thinking. 
One has to give up hope that this way of thinking will bring us satisfaction. Suffering begins to dissolve when we can question the belief or the hope that there’s anywhere to hide. 

© 1997, Pema Chödrön
From: When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Diffiicult Times
Publisher: Shambhala Publications, Inc., Boston, 2005
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Music and text by Kristen Wachniak
Performed by Cam Denby (marimba) and Kristen Wachniak (vocals and electronics)
Produced by Selci

Written for and premiered live at Fresh Blood Project on October 31, 2019. The above track was recorded in late December and produced the following spring.

ye tang che

My WRITTEN lines are awesome but I'm spitting lies and splitting vines with SHITTY signs of caution; I be LONG in a coffin but my BODY isn't finished; my soul will unroll until POLLUTION is diminished--it's not often that I want it, Without it I'm a goner: solution for my problem; I'd rather break the mould and ex-HAIL into a coughing fit, in OTHER words I need designer hits with Miller Lites until the WATER gets too dank to drip; changed in a moment of CLARITY. Only as my veins try and burn away the CHARITY, FUCK, I'm scared of me; don't you see us waiting to reframe in the fame for self-gain? I'll never be acquitted of my karma deranged prophecy exchange. Neuropathy is strange. I'm Atypical with a copy of "The Brain," pathologically contained by the Ethos of the Great; the One for which replacement is a zero-sum state, and

He showed me my plate, said I couldn't debate...
A license on a rusty paperweight, 6'3...
Rentals with compounding interest aren't a good investment but you LOVE and you caress it for a Eucharist-y lesson, still I YEARN and toil... as I'm simulating slave-driven EIGHT-TEENTH CENTURAYYY democracy-remains: Civil War Cranium, Captain of my team: I'm MORE than I appear to be, there's nothing like a dream... (then) it FLIPS; my crutches do eclipse humanity, I SLIP and get a little slap-happy on the scene, though I CLEAN with vaseline and bite the pillow for life, I've seen LIQUID gasoline in my arsenal of arms; in the
Veins underneath, it screams to escape; the
Difference is I wait because inertia takes place until the CYCLE of my fate like Halley's Comet turns away: an ORBIT of my faith creating halos in space.
Frequencies are made and then the UNIVERSE creates.
"Day" breaks itself dividing TIME and SPACE. Got a
Crown until dawn and I struggle to don,
And it dawns on me: I'm turned around in the wrong. Am I? Squandering the scholarly calling of the Dalai Lama? Scrawling on the walls a nonsensical feature-pharma? Scrolling on my wall to launch my head over feet to stardom?
I don't want a part of it but life is uncharted, so I
Took my birth certificate down to the Grace, they said this AIN'T no receipt, no returns or exchanges. "Your
Contract was placed. My sincere apologies," signed
Y-H-dubya-H. No contact info here...it says:
"Use your own brain, and time will be made. No
Shortcuts to the end, only detours. Okay? I AM
And not afraid, to let you disobey... so hang
Onto that certificate. Come back with a grave,

"Your next of kin notified; a new one to be made.
Like your current stasis bears with it a new naME.
Nevermore identity or ever-glowing shame. 
Nothing like the pennies-a-plenty you try to claim."
I'm "omnified" in presence, refuse to pay the cost,
Slaps of mine defying a line that's finally crossed: my
Testament is that I've truly unified in jest; with
Love for sex and drugs, I will rock and roll in rest.
Emo-thuggin', lovin' and huggin' on drug TRIPS, really-
I JUST WANNA TRIP, BITCH, my psychosomatic condition AIN'T an illness; it's a thrill ride on the Styx - a
Wishing well I'm making while slapping the gates of hell.
A vision spell I'm breaking that's masking the mission well.
Disasters and apparitions are filling my busy shelf.
Actors and actresses always dissing my silly self. 
Wait, that's just me, and my echo-chamber elf, yo

I'm better than the best because nobody's ever heard of me, so I don't get the courtesy of working with my flourish; I'm the Presence of uncertainty - that's just how I feel... Yes it seems absurd to me, but damn I'm not the dealer, just a PLAYER in the GAME, make a MESS when I BUST, and it HAPPENS too MUCH, so I'm SORRY for the NUT, but the LAW taught this BITCH to only HIT on EIGHTEEN PLUS, that's a TIME and a SPACE, like her THIGHS and her WAIST, bitches Thicker grow my dick to full-8, making love outta Hate, yeah I made that mistake, so I'm waiting for the Sole I can face - that's a play on my word if you don't Get it, too late.

ESSAY FORMAT - The M.L.A. Is Trying to Kill Me

Here's a backyard improv session, B.C. I love you.

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new album preview

Scott Joplin's hauntingly beautiful ragtime classic, arranged by me for marimba and vibraphone.

Scott Joplin - Solace, A Mexican Serenade (for marimba and vibes)

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Scott Joplin - Solace, A Mexican Serenade (for marimba and vibes)

Cameron Denby

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