    It's a sort of fluid state where you're in a certain situation, and you think of a song, but the song is the opposite. Like, you walk in the rain, and all of a sudden, you're humming 'Good Day Sunshine' by the Beatles. Or when visiting a cemetery, you hear 'The only living boy in New York' by Simon & Garfunkel in the back of your head.

    Do you know songs that make you feel exactly opposite of what the title or the lyrics might suggest? Or situations that make you think of songs that are the contrary?

    And than especially, if the songs are covered. Covered real weird. It's inspiring.

    This is what it inspires to....

credits

    from The Great Divide, track released 06 June 2011
    Vocals: Rebecca Del Rio, from 'Mulholland Drive', by David Lynch.
All other noise: Daan Zonderland 

In this Spanish translation it's more sad and darker, and of course Lynch makes it a surreal adventure into love forlorn and unanswered. Actually there is nothing wrong with that song, be it the original or any cover, especially this Spanish one. Except you cant dance to it. Until now.

Yo estaba bien por un tiempo,
volviendo a sonreír.
Luego anoche te vi
tu mano me tocó
y el saludo de tu voz.
Y hablé muy bien de tu
sin saber que he estado
llorando por tu amor (x3).
Luego de tu adiós sentí todo mi dolor.
Sola y llorando,
llorando (x3).
No es fácil de entender
que al verte otra vez
Yo seguiré llorando

Yo que pensé que te olvidé
pero es verdad es la verdad
que te quiero aún más,
mucho más que ayer.
Dime tú qué puedo hacer
no me quieres ya
y siempre estaré
llorando por tu amor (x2).
Tu amor se llevó
todo mi corazon
y quedo llorando
llorando (x5)
por tu amor.

Crying makes me laugh :-D

Pino & Piña Colada

A weird piece for Evan to break dance to.

Evanslaugh.mp3

Another piece for the movie that was never made...

lordofthepotter.mp3

A piece composed for a dark movie that was never made....

lordreturns.mp3

I turn the corner onto the platform
and slowly make my way towards
the middle of the Gare Porte de la Chapelle.
Your arm rests on mine and I can feel
the damp touch of your scared sacred flesh.

Enticed by my song you stood before me
and were lured into mesmerism,
your eyes only followed my eyes and never my hands,
for if you had given them a glance
you would have never followed me to your demise.

When I had entered the train that I had been waiting for
an old man came up to me and asked:
"What are you doing"?
I answered: "I'm holding my guitar, while she gently weeps".
He looked at me from head to toe and said:

"My dear boy, you're not holding anything, not even the time of day"
and turned away to disappear into the crowded subway carriage...
I looked at my hands, in front of me, and realized they were empty.
All that was there were my two bare hands, covered in thick black, treacling blood.

I had left my guitar in the hall of the Gare Porte de la Chappele
after I had slit my knife through the damp touch of your scared sacred flesh... ﻿

Daan Zonderland

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