Lovely guitar, lyrics and pure Dan. Always inviting.

Composition Philippe Guitare rythmique/Slide/Wah-Wah @user-759566380
Texte et chant Guillaume @user-759566380
Instrumentation/arrangements/mixage/masterisation @Tulipe-records

Paroles

On voudrait faire une chanson
Écolo , geek et non genrée
Qui plaise aux filles et aux garçons
Sans gluten sans vulgarités
On enfoncerait toutes ces portes
Ouvertes sur nos libertés
De Washington à Aigues-Mortes
On chanterait le poing levé

On devrait parler de Poutine
Et de sa folie des grandeurs
Qui mettent le feu dans nos vitrines
Comme une canicule en chaleur
On balancerait notre avis
Sur le changement climatique
On tordrait le cou nous aussi
A ces idées fausses et sceptiques

Et puis on ferait un refrain
A faire tomber un dictateur
Un peu comme une voiture sans freins
Conduite par un jeune acteur
Et puis on ferait un refrain
A déranger les complotistes
Un peu comme une voiture sans freins
Conduite par un vrai journaliste

On devrait faire une chanson
Sur la Covid mais sans tabous
Sur ces experts yaka fokon
Qui savaient tout sur rien surtout
On parlerait de tous ces gens
De ces héros du quotidien
Qu'un imbécile de Président
A traité comme des assassins

Et puis on ferait un refrain
A faire frémir les chaînes infos
Un peu comme une voiture sans freins
Conduite par Docteur Renaud
Et puis on ferait un refrain
A angoisser tous ces bavards
Un peu comme une voiture sans freins
Conduite par Mister Renard

On dézinguerait les puissants
Qui n'écoutent pas la Planète
Les oreilles bouchées par l'argent
L'cerveau au chaud dans leurs braguettes
On allumerait ces people
Qui font souffrir les dictionnaires
Qui polluent les pages de Google
Tout comme du pétrole dans la mer

Et puis on ferait un refrain
A faire peur aux capitalistes
Un peu comme une voiture sans freins
Conduite par un communiste
Et puis on ferait un refrain
A effrayer tous les Bobos
Un peu comme une voiture sans freins
Conduite par un Populo

We'd like to make a song
Eco-friendly, geeky and gender-neutral
that appeals to both boys and girls
Gluten-free without vulgarities
We'd break down all those doors
Open to our freedoms
From Washington to Aigues-Mortes
We'd sing with raised fists

We should talk about Putin
And his delusions of grandeur
Setting fire to our windows
Like a heat wave
We'd throw our weight around
On climate change
We, too, would bend our necks
To these false and skeptical ideas

And then we'd make a chorus
To bring down a dictator
Like a car with no brakes
Driven by a young actor
And then we'd make a chorus
To upset the conspiracists
Like a car without brakes
Driven by a real journalist

We should make a song
About the Covid but without taboos
About those yaka fokon experts
Who knew everything about nothing
We'd talk about all those people
These everyday heroes
Whom an imbecile President
Treated like assassins

And then we'd make a chorus
To make the news channels quiver
Like a car without brakes
Driven by Docteur Renaud
And then we'd make a chorus
To scare the chatterboxes
Like a car without brakes
Driven by Mister Renard

We'd blast the powerful
Who don't listen to the Planet
Their ears plugged by money
Their brains warmed in their zippers
We'd light up these celebrities
Who make dictionaries suffer
Polluting the pages of Google
Like oil in the sea

And then we'd make a chorus
To scare the capitalists
Like a car without brakes
Driven by a communist
And then we'd make a chorus
To scare all the haves
Like a car without brakes
Driven by the rabble

© Guillaume DULER / Philippe SEGUINARD / TULIPE RECORD 2022

Sans Freins ( Tulipe & Jim ) TRANSLATED

A tale from the present and from the past, a conversation between a man and his father, across distance and time. A connection, a long-ago promise made, perhaps forgotten, finally kept.

Song Finn & Phil

Hey Dad

bizarrely awesome song about a beautiful day. code name Ronald Goddamn Chase. I had no choice on this one, it came from the overlord.🗿 it's super positive and has a some kickass raw stuff. brace yourself.

🤘🤡🤘
love, ronald 
xoxo

ronald goddamn chase - raw songwriting track

A dystopian world should have dystopic holidays.
Lyrics;
Spent a whole day in the sunshine
Exercising for my heart
Got some dry wood for a fire
In a stolen shopping cart

I've no more need for money
It blew away where hot winds blow
I've got goggles for my eyes
and a mask for mouth and nose

Today I breathe fresh air
Reading Dante and some psalms
And sleep here if I can
If I can get my nerves to calm

Began to think they'd never stop
But I dreamed this day would come
My dystopic holiday
Are any day without the bombs

Got some water in containers
That I keep underground
And supplies from some old prepper
But I dont think he's still around

I keep an eye out for the strangers
Survivors are a threat
I'm always locked and loaded
But I ain't shot no one ... yet

Everybody scattered
From the city to the farms
When they up and dropped the thunder
It was panic and alarm

Since then I've hunkered down
To avoid a quick demise
Day and night the earth just rocks
Doom fills up the skies

Not so long ago
A dinner and a show
Some wine to lose
Some inhibitions

I was watching my tv
When they dropped an EMP

Blown out windows boarded up
I've reinforced my doors
Trying to convince myself
I might survive this war

But today I breathe fresh air
Reading Dante and some psalms
And sleep here if I can
If I can get my nerves to calm

Birds are chirping sweetly
Bees build a honeycomb
It's peaceful here and now
On a day without the bombs

Dystopian Holiday

Windy Night (All At Home)

Will the lonely oak tree remember the embrance of its sisters? 
What will she fell when she shades the men who left her orphan?
Will the human being ever learn that without enviroment there is no future for humanity?
Will it then be too late?

THE TREE THAT WAS FOREST

Pierre Bordetti productions (c) 03/2023.
Composed, arranged, performed, and produced by:
Pierre Bordetti

An Electro-Jazz track inspired by one of the very 
beautiful photos brought back by Julie during a recent 
trip to Thailand.
Many thanks to Julie.

Un titre Electro-Jazz inspiré d'une des très
belles photos rapportées par Julie lors d'un récent
voyage en Thaïlande.
Un grand merci à Julie.

Raise your eyes

Raise Your Eyes

Blueprint for track that became 'Sandycove Milk'.

Inspired by wondrous music by Conin, whose track 'Kitty's Wake' reminded of the rich clay of Joyce's 'Finnegan's Wake'. This track, about the opening pages of Joyce's Ulysses, borrows coffee spoons, forever those of T.S. Eliot, in an effort to add sweet milk...drawn from the milk-well of honeyed Sandycove.  The lyric speaker is, notionally, Stephen Daedalus. For practical purposes, the lyric speaker is James Joyce himself. His aim? To hit Haines for a guinea [a pre-decimal unit of currency] before heading to France on a ferry. Whilst Haines still feels guilty (sheepish) about having fired his pistol at an imaginary cat he thought he saw in the fireplace in the Martello tower in Sandycove (now the Joyce Museum....a sacred...magical place, whose attendant Joyce scholars told me about the Haines' imaginary cat episode....it is all true...yet also dovetails eerily with the first chapter of Ulysses).

The reference to Haines having consumed Absinthe is a narrative fiction, invented to offer an explanation for his dangerous behaviour. No peer reviewed evidence capable of demonstrating Absinthe has hallucinogenic properties, exists, to my knowledge.


Lyrics

[chorus]
Gotta learn me some Italian
Gonna get me a guitar
Gotta learn me some Italian
Gonna get me a guitar

Hellenise me now
She come and go
talking bout Michelangelo
there will be time
there will be time

do I dare to eat a quiche?
I shall wear enchanted trousers
and float upon the beach

I’m still dreamin
something happened last night

Haines downed a snot-green bottle of Absinthe
started shooting at his Schrödinger's cat
in the fireplace
looks real sheepish this morning
gonna hit him for a guinea [a pre-decimal unit of currency]
and get outta here
gliding on the Emerald sea
to Paris
with Haines’ guinea in my pocket
when I’m at sea

gonna go uptown now
hitting the top deck of this here Martello
gonna watch the mailboat
glide on an Emerald sea
gonna rest my shiny elbows
on the jagged granite
just leavin the harbour

and here comes stately Buck
bearing a bowl of lather
crossed razor and mirror as well
holding the bowl aloft
and intoning...intonin

Introibo ad altare Dei
sacred chalice
sacred cross
and now I’m lookin at the sea
Thallata...sweet mother
Hellenise me
mailboat clearin the harbour
rage of Caliban inside me
cos of Haines....[firing a gun inside the Martello tower when drunk the night before, at a giant cat he imagined was sitting near the fireplace]
sweet Thallata
buttercups on the quilt
powdered musk and gauds of amber beads
calm now like the sea
there will be time
there will be time

Martello

Musings on mortality.


I hear that countdown clock ticking
Remaining time is flying by
I'm still alive and kicking
But there are dark clouds in the sky

We thought that we'd be young forever
The sun is always in the sky
Our spirits light as a feather
The rules of life do not apply

Hold on the line
Hold on the lifeline

The best part is behind us
Our race is almost run
Failing bodies remind us
Soon we'll be undone

Hold on the lin
Hold on the lifeline

Hold On The Line

HINDSIGHT - (JunkHeap (c) Refixed Apr 2023 / (c) Aug 02, 2003)

Things could have been so different, 
if they could have been done again. 
Countless times we see the chance, 
and let them go, they wont come again 

He remembered the glory and strength of his youth, 
wasted his older years yearning for its return. 
Never realized that wisdom is more than a fair trade; 
Beauty in ones' own introspection.

Things could have been so different, 
if they could have been done again. 
Countless times we see the chance, 
and let them go, they wont come again 

They never will...

Hindsight

Old school drum & bass house techno. Dedicated to the great underground selector. jaKe. Music & artwork. D.k.A. Spencer

Biodiversity

East of the Sierras, west of the Wasatch, there is a great deal of sand, bitterbrush, tumble weeds, coyotes, and an incalculable amount of lost souls. Somewhere amongst all of this mystery and wonder is where you'll find me, guitar in hand, aimlessly looking for a way out.

All songs, with exception for covers and collaborations, are property of Refrigerator Door Productions. 😉

Dystopian Holiday

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