GodKingMajorLucre - ( MajorLucre Spaz  Freestyle )

Scomodo

Kate  Scomoda(Testi di Anam Hermit)

monkey bars_10.mp3

Push Me (Monoton Edit)

Bevevriata (gotta be tamed)

Everytime

Empathy

Italian Girls

Italian girls they look very pretty
They have a certain Italian style
Down in the street or out in the city
They have a certain Italian smile
If you’re gonna play at being somebody 
If you gonna play at being someone
You couldn’t do better that playing at being an Italian
An Italian girl, an Italian boy

Say what you like about our generation
We get to travel everywhere
Plane to train and station to station
Never a moment, we don’t care
Even though you travel the whole world over
Trying to imagine what life could be
If you don’t find it don’t worry, don’t hurry, you can always 
You can always stay, stay in Italy

Italian Girls

naviarhaiku488:
in dream world
was I laughing at a turtle?
winter seclusion

haiku: Kobayashi Issa https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/kobayashi-issa
image: Todd Trapani https://unsplash.com/photos/ymEcUhbjCrI
for the Naviar Records Haiku Music Challenge www.naviarrecords.com/about/naviar-haiku/

Laughing at a Turtle [NaviarHaiku488]

Canto toca

In The Garden

See the accompanying visuals @ https://youtu.be/pcGYPoWRkqw

This piece uses sounds recorded in the process of making a loaf with a breadmaker ... enjoy!

visuals (YouTube)

halF kaleidoscopE

Hero

(John Stone)


Now dragons may be hard to find
Those knights of old have done their worst
Perhaps they’re in some smoky cave 
Sleeping deep within the earth
Now those who wish for derring do
Well they will have to look anew
P’haps catching tides, surfing waves or flying through the air

They want to be a hero
They want to be the one
Whose names is on the lips of men
An hour in the sun
But harbour lights are burning bright
And I’ll be home with you tonight
Don’t want to fight for what seems right over some imagined cause
Don’t want to be anyone else’s hero, but yours.

There’s those who sailed away to sea
In search of fortune and of fame
Who found some far untrodden land
And gave the land their name
Now there’s no undiscovered place
Where dint of man you’ll find no trace
Except perhaps inside your heart
That’s where I’ll play my part

Don’t want to be a hero…


The works of man shall turn to dust
And memories shall fade
Battles lose their consequence
As history’s remade
There’s those who seek eternity
They wonder far and wide
They reach across the universe
But never reach inside.

Don’t want to be a hero…

Hero

Memorija

This was written in 2006 (re-recorded in 2023) with a genuine sense of gratefulness towards some key friends back then, girlfriends in particular, still around, whom at that time I had around me a lot, a time when I wasn't so adept at problem-solving relatively simple life challenges, when I think back.

Anyway, having gotten a good deal older, and having listened to this just recently, and while re-recording it, it occurred to me that I must have at times been an enormous weight on the shoulders of some of my friends - something of an energy vampire, without meaning to be.    A certain amount of arrested development in my case, perhaps!   I had my good points, certain aspects of attraction, I was young and charismatic, most of the time, however, I must have really been a drain on occasion.   

Weirdly I go on about nourishment at some point, and hunger, so maybe I was thinking of myself as an energy vampire when I was writing it, though I doubt it.  

My artwork is, as you may have guessed, a prompt-generated AI smash-up that I quite like.  Generated by my own prompts.  Took me ages to get something I liked!

Quite an unusual song structure for me A B C A B C D E F C D E (something like that).  

Lyrics

Song from an Energy Vampire (or the Luckiest Man Alive)

I fall to safety again
Into the arms of a friend
When I feel lost
They’ve got me spotted

The eyes of one of many angels that guard me
Taking time to help me through what could harm me
When I think of all the strength that they give me
I am the luckiest man alive

More than the guy with money to burn
That’s just a piece of what I have learned

Love has no bounds
It gets me around
I’ve got the view
When I sometimes loose

They’re just a call away and I could feel better
I don’t need them to write it down in a letter
Just a word or two and I will know better
That I’m the luckiest man alive

More than the guy who only feels worth
When tied to the money and homes he has earned

***

Oh oh and I am blessed by my ladies
Oh oh and I am best when they take me

Into the arms of their loving smile
It’s all I need to feel unchanging
In the waves of the coming tide
I’m swept aside, and I’m the luckiest man alive

I’ve been drinking on their healing water
I am nourished by the well of another
When they're around I never feel hunger
I am the luckiest man alive

More than the guy with money to burn
That’s just a piece of what I have learned

Oh oh and I am blessed by my ladies
Oh oh and I am best when they take me

Into the arms of their loving smile
It’s all I need to feel unchanging
In the waves of the coming tide
I’m swept aside, and I’m the luckiest man alive

Luckiest Man Alive (2006)

Monumental Fire

my heart -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I was trained in tradition, yet I stepped beyond its walls. Sound is my language, not to decorate but to liberate. Composer, performer, and listener — one fire, three sparks, inseparable.

I write and compose to uncover what is hidden: the truth buried beneath power, the dignity of the ordinary, the current of awareness that flows through all.

I belong to no authority, only to sound, to truth, to the silence from which all begins. My work is not mastery, but remembrance — a manifesto in every note, every word, every breath.

I am a composer of the 21st century: a studio artist. The studio is my forge, my battlefield, my sanctuary. Machines hum like choirs, circuits burn like torches, cables twist like roots in the earth. Tradition breaks open in this fire — the score turns to light, the instrument becomes the world itself.

To be a studio artist is to seize sound at its rawest, to sculpt electricity and breath as one, to summon the invisible power that belongs to all. Here music is not bound by walls, not enslaved by profit, not tamed by form. It is free, untouchable, unending — a living flame for the century that is ours.

Canto toca

Anthony Cutrera Morales

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