Tonsatta dikter av min farfar Axel Alfredsson.
Handlar om hans tid i USA, dit han emigrerade 1912-1921
Låtarna på Svenska handlar i huvudsak om hans tid i Sverige och de övriga fem låtarna på engelska om hans tid i USA bl.a. med mötet med Joe Hill.
Detta är ett projekt tillsammans med mina söner, där Anton Alfredsson producerat och Axel Alfredsson spelar bas. Konvolut är designat av Moa Grundvik Ördell

01. Den Rödhårige

Canterbury Creepers

ThE NoThInG DrOnEs Tape A

6. Sky Light Grey - this is the second collaboration I’ve done with Mark Spruce (Original Spruce). These are his lyrics about a moving, spiritual encounter with a robin in an English churchyard and how it triggered thoughts of his father in law’s spirit visiting through that bird. I found it really moving. My tune and performance. Mastered by RCD Audio. 

Sky light Grey 

I’m here, I’m still here
And I will always be here 

I stood in the church yard
Cold winters day
My back to the beach tree
Sky light grey

On the branch above me
Cock robin perched 
He sang then stared intently 
I returned his gaze

He repeated his song
And looked again
I smiled and nodded
Like we were friends 

I turned so slowly
As he moved to another branch
Eyeball to eyeball 
Repeat performance 

We both stood still
Locked in our game
He moved on once more
To repeat his refrain

I turned one eighty
When he landed behind me
My smile got wider
My heart got lighter
Watching each other
I'm absorbing this experience 

Then he came closer
We had circled the tree
A mystical moment 
This bird and me

You said your father
Would return
In the spirit of a robin
Watching over us one day

As I stood in that churchyard
Lost in that moment
I felt your father 
Came back to say

I'm here, I'm still here
I will always be here


Mark Spruce copyright Feb 2024

Sky light grey (EP version)

A song about the current state of fasicsm in America.

This Machine (Kills)

Back with a new original and joined again by the wonderful Georg Boehme on Baritone Sax, Stephan Lipinski on guitar and Sergio Parraga's percussion and bass.   Follow each of these friends and great players and enjoy the music we have created together.  The photo was taken in New York's famed Washington Square Park in Greenwich Village, where musicians and artists often create and perform

https://soundcloud.com/georg-boehme



https://soundcloud.com/pinner
https://soundcloud.com/jamie-rhind/sets/smokin-with-stephan-stephan

https://soundcloud.com/sergioparraga
https://soundcloud.com/jamie-rhind/sets/swinging-with-sergio-parraga

And thanks as always for your generous time listening, for your comments and for your shares.

The Start Of A New Year- Georg Boehme / Stephan Lipinski / Sergio Parraga / Jamie Rhind

same shit, different year.........another one of my favs from the great man.....cheers for having a listen


The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll
WRITTEN BY: BOB DYLAN
 William Zanzinger killed poor Hattie Carroll
 With a cane that he twirled around his diamond ring finger
 At a Baltimore hotel society gath’rin’
 And t   he cops were called in and his weapon took from him
 As they rode him in custody down to the station
 And booked William Zanzinger for first-degree murder
 But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears
 Take the rag away from your face
 Now ain’t the time for your tears
 
 William Zanzinger, who at twenty-four years
 Owns a tobacco farm of six hundred acres
 With rich wealthy parents who provide and protect him
 And high office relations in the politics of Maryland
 Reacted to his deed with a shrug of his shoulders
 And swear words and sneering, and his tongue it was snarling
 In a matter of minutes on bail was out walking
 But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears
Take the rag away from your face 
 Now ain’t the time for your tears
 
 Hattie Carroll was a maid of the kitchen
 She was fifty-one years old and gave birth to ten children
 Who carried the dishes and took out the garbage
 And never sat once at the head of the table
 And didn’t even talk to the people at the table
 Who just cleaned up all the food from the table
 And emptied the ashtrays on a whole other level
 Got killed by a blow, lay slain by a cane
 That sailed through the air and came down through the room
 Doomed and determined to destroy all the gentle
 And she never done nothing to William Zanzinger
 But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears
 Take the rag away from your face
 Now ain’t the time for your tears
 
 In the courtroom of honor, the judge pounded his gavel
 To show that all’s equal and that the courts are on the level
 And that the strings in the books ain’t pulled and persuaded
 And that even the nobles get properly handled
 Once that the cops have chased after and caught ’em
 And that the ladder of law has no top and no bottom
 Stared at the person who killed for no reason
 Who just happened to be feelin’ that way without warnin’
 And he spoke through his cloak, most deep and distinguished
 And handed out strongly, for penalty and repentance
 William Zanzinger with a six-month sentence
 Oh, but you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears
 Bury the rag deep in your face
 For now’s the time for your tears

The Lonesome Death Of Hattie Carroll

Douglas Fir

Annuals

Hobo Skip

Time does not stand still

Sometimes, you have to play a long time to be able to play like yourself.”  —Miles Davis

Douglas Fir

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