I think this was the only cover tune we did back in my band days playing with my great friends Dyniss, Morris, and Alex. Here I take a turn at lead vocals with Dyniss on harmony. This is a ‘live’ version recorded in Dyniss’ studio (I believe in one take), though we performed it live on stage often.
Them wuz some good ol' times.

Dyniss Band members:
Dyniss - acoustic guitar, backing vocal
Mark - keyboard/accordion, lead vocal
Alex - 6 string fretless bass
Morris - Drums

Written by Lennon, McCartney

Live in the Studio

We Can Work It Out (cover; vocal mark)

Triphoppin

Lyrics:

Memory's a haunted gallery
Everything you've thought 
And where you've been
Maybe I was wrong to say goodbye
Nothing I can do change your mind
Was it all a dream?

Oh, the memory fades away
Oh, the memory fades away
Where did the time go?
Where did my mind go?
Started to slip
And then it crumbled
Oh, the memory fades away

I'm in trouble, I'm in trouble
If I toe the line, I know I'll forget you
I need something
Waking up, I feel it all around
I fall to pieces
Coming up to breathe the sun in
Turn around and make it right
Come around to say I'm sorry
But I don't know you
I don't know your face

Oh, the memory fades away
Oh, the memory fades away
Where did the time go?
Where did my mind go?
Started to slip
And then it crumbled
Oh, the memory fades away

Memory

Here is a song (an old-fashioned ballad) composed and recorded in 1998. I didn't feel the need to add anything, except for the vocals in places where it was too low in volume. The song journay now is over, I hope: from the Korg to a CD, from the CD to a tape, from the tape to the PC, from the PC to SC.
Cover picture is from Pietro Corrao.

Because of the bad English translation, I add something about the story the song tells (that in part was inspired by a short fable I published only in 2003). Martina is a servant of a rich man; she is a poor, widowed woman, the dreamer and deceived mistress of a no-good sailor who is now in prison for stealing everything she had.

ENG / ITA LYRICS

furious Martina 
cuts potatoes and guesses
who knocks at the door 
who brings silver to the master 
at six in the morning
curious morning
fancies and outbursts 
not Martina's habit
to follow the footprints left by cats 
on frost roofs

but Martina thinks back 
to summer nights 
tales of fairies
to encounters 
to evenings spent 
dreaming of ships that have sailed away
Martina gave me the house keys 
the photos of her children and of her as a child
Martina used to run on skates 
and often fell first...
furious Martina

if I marry Martina 
we'll have a party in the hills
I'll give her a song
a rose a raspberry 
and a starfish
jealous Martina 
herbal teas and hot flashes
not Martina's habit
stringing necklaces 
waiting for the snow to come
hidden in the cellar  

but Martina thinks back 
of burnt nights 
to summer tales
to encounters 
to evenings spent 
dreaming of ships that have sailed away
Martina gave me the silver from home 
the photos of her children and of her as a child
Martina ran on skates 
and often fell first ...
furious Martina

haughty Martina 
turmoil and bells is not like Martina
to follow the tracks left by thieves 
escaped into the hills
if I marry Martina 
we'll have a quiet party
I will give her a song 
a dirge and the sermon 
of the priest of this prison 

but Martina thinks back 
of burnt nights 
to summer tales
to encounters 
to evenings spent 
dreaming of ships that have sailed away
Martina gave me the silver from home 
the photos of her children and of her as a child
Martina ran on skates 
and often fell first ...
furious Martina

----

furiosa Martina 
se taglia patate indovina
chi bussa al portone 
chi porta l’argento al padrone 
alle sei di mattina
curiosa mattina
mattane e caldane non è da Martina
seguire le impronte lasciate dai gatti 
sui tetti di brina

... ma Martina ripensa 
alle notti d’estate 
ai racconti di fate
agli incontri 
alle sere passate 
a sognare le navi che sono salpate
Martina mi ha dato le chiavi di casa 
le foto dei figli e di lei da bambina
Martina correva sui pattini 
e spesso cadeva per prima...
furiosa Martina

se sposo Martina 
faremo una festa in collina
le regalerò una canzone 
una rosa un lampone 
e una stella marina
gelosa Martina 
tisane e scalmane non è da Martina
infilare collane 
aspettando che arrivi la neve 
nascosta in cantina  

... ma Martina ripensa 
alle notti bruciate 
ai racconti d’estate
agli incontri 
alle sere passate 
a sognare le navi che sono salpate
Martina mi ha dato gli argenti di casa 
le foto dei figli e di lei da bambina
Martina correva sui pattini 
e spesso cadeva per prima ...
furiosa Martina

ritrosa Martina 
buriane e campane non è da Martina
seguire le tracce lasciate dai ladri 
scappati in collina
se sposo Martina 
faremo una festa in sordina
le regalerò una canzone 
una nenia e il sermone 
del prete di questa prigione 

... ma Martina ripensa 
alle notti bruciate 
ai racconti d’estate
agli incontri 
alle sere passate 
a sognare le navi che sono salpate
Martina mi ha dato gli argenti di casa 
le foto dei figli e di lei da bambina
Martina correva sui pattini 
e spesso cadeva per prima ...
furiosa Martina

------

Music and lyrics by Michele Ansani (1998).
Posted on SoundCloud: 2024, August 17.

Furiosa Martina **

I am Bloom



Art: self-shot photo of a pansy on a sidewalk, 
processed and filtered by me 
using pixlr for iOS.

A Theory of Bloom

method: the soundstream, mostly  in sth akin to c minor, was created on a minilogue xd, voice went through a VT 4 and a flamma pedal
narration: "shadow work" is quite a cumbersome and unsuitable expression for something extremely real (note: this is a poem, don't take things literally, e.g. the "pictish murals" - the rampant  illiteracy regarding poetic means is a sign of the times that is increasingly bothering me .... )  
image: copyright jo richter, showing part of a public monument in the Werratal region in Germany that somehow reminded me of Pink Floyd ;-)

poem / copyright jo richter:

what is it like to smile
with no time to spare?
what is it like to frame
moments in memory?
what is it like to cut
yourself off and not care?
what is it like to be
you, to be me?

... and the landscape we live in
feels familiarly alien
purple thoughts rolling and soaring
tethered to if, tethered to when ....

hands on the hilt, shouting
down strangers
on pictish murals, the gods
never bother
caressing masks that smell
of their wearers
othering others for others
to other

... and the seeds sown do not know
of their nature
until they ripen and show
each unique feature ....

shadow and I

SHADOW  AND  I

Written by Ambient Annie. Mastered by BotNikStudio2.

APOPHENIC PATTERN NO 4

acoustic guitar improvisation edit strings

string faugl

Hedges - Bass
Norsa - Guitar
Willy - Drums

Recorded on 19th of November, 2022.

Sufferin' Succotash!

Dumfoonk Gruve V2

continuation of https://soundcloud.com/hahaguitargobrrrr/mikasdickpic with some less experimental / more generic guitar wankage

Tweet-o Babe-uh After Receiving Dika-Pika From Mika

Sanity’s boring, harmony's a joke,
I built my throne out of everything broke.

This is blues exorcism for cursed souls. Heavy psych riffs dragged through ash. Basement doom jams that sound like they’re melting from the inside.

This is not good music. It’s honest noise. 
These sounds are built for the broken, 
... not for the sober.
Unlovable, unmarketable, undeniable.

If you get it, welcome.
If not, you were never meant to...   Haha, guitar go Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

Dumfoonk Gruve V2

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