Brilliant!  Who needs sleep. Going to keep listening....!  I love the ending.

Ah wonderful, hilarious, poignant, theatrical expression of you know what, relentless and greatly produced 'The scream' appears hanging on the wall animated stick puppets abound, wonderful visuals, cheers

your sounds are so incredible pure and real and great! thanks!!!

Vincent is a piece that was inspired by my admiration for Vincent van Gogh.  
Imagine him walking in Arles. 
Composer: Pamela Illanes-Tatsuoka
Video made by: Pamela Illanes-Tatsuoka
Music directly from my Finale software!!
@2021Pamela Illanes-Tatsuoka.All Rights Reserved
I made a video for YouTube:
https://youtu.be/fvI6JI5JqNQ

Vincent

BUT THE KIDS ARE CRYING

Daddy 
Daddy...

Why did you call me back? 
When I said I was leaving, later today?

Da da da da daa

Still don't love ya
Still don't love ya
Still don't love ya

Why did you call me back? 
When I said I was leaving, later today?


© Phil McWalter Feb 2022

But The Kids Are Crying

Composed, played, recorded and mixed by Davor Dojchinovich. 
Recorded at Happy Cloud Studio Seattle, Master Powered by Dolby 4/12/2022.
Davor: Piano, Bass Guitars,  Keyboards, Percussions, Drums Programming, Sampling and Production.

Seabird***

Ambient 8

Supremacy

Allen Ginsberg reads Sunflower Sutra: www.youtube.com/watch?v=oVjMKMogTDY
Music: Copyright Stonerjazz, the maestro @user-911083679
Lyrics: copyright jo richter (apart from the short section by A.G. in the beginning, of course)
Note: The poem was written as a tribute to the music that Jeff created first.

This is the e-bow dao
the epitome of transformation
the electro-magnetic, eternal feedback of bliss
powered by a universe condensed in a metal casing
evoking a universe that unfolds neural cavities
to reverb vibrations in all hues and colours
especially those unseen before.

This is the process to end all states
and free the butterfly that is Chuang-Tse
from the shackles of dire duality
and make him join the cyberpunk hobos
riding right through glitchy illusions
flickering inside of doorframe screens.

This is the call to all end-of-time locos
to unpeople the karmic metaverse plains
and behold! that they can‘t help arriving
but can stop making sensations mundane
by comparing, by judging, by interpretation
- a cycle is run when met by the same
and knowledge ends when the river flows on.

This is thew Heraclitus
this is the yarn Penelope knits
Verdandi‘s weird realm of manifestation
the abyss‘ rim of black-hole horizons
where Enkidu talks to wild beasts and trees
where Gallifrey breeds reincarnation
with each fatal shootout of chi-spawned seeds.

This is the e- bow dao
Aphrodite reborn in spring-sponging foam
you‘ll lose your belongings, your security clearing
the servers on this farm are all interlinked
with the waveform dimensions
that keep breeding, breeding
new life out of old
turning lead into gold
vanishing when you try to hold on

E - BOW DAO ( Sonic Structures and Silent Stretches)a poem by Jo Richter

Lost my father just before Christmas and got me thinking about life in general. Im in my sixties myself found this Vocal and a wonderful picture on Facebook came up with this track.
Hope you like it

Older

I wrote this for Townes several years ago. Recorded on a Zoom H-1

Townes would have been 80 on March 7th.  Brilliant, sad, self-destructive singer-songwriter.

No Place To Fall

I composed this piece with the image of a swing in a rainy park.

In the park

My Personal Demons

Everytime I go outside all their wings will swing and fight
they carry my thoughts of you and twist my days into a blight. I feel them tapping my shoulders and I feel them tugging the hem of my sleeve, and crawling up under my legs as, im kicking them into the leaves, then I run to the room and duck for the broom while their swinging their pitchforks and burning the tips of my ears  Im tired of fear!
I’m tired of running I’ve got to fight dear!
while they’re spinning and flying and flapping
 and twirling and laughing and taunting and poking and haunting and twirling and whirling and bouncing and turning and turning some of them freezing and some of them burning
I have my mind set that I’m going to get them, swinging this broom and i’m going to hit them! I’ve got one to squish him but then they all rush in
I’ve got to let go and
I fall to the ground and they hack at my ankles, then grab my shoulders
and pull me by my hair

and here we go again....

They carry me off to their lair day by day
and torture me memories of *you* in every way
they’re never gonna let me be, they’ll always bring me pain
and do such wicked things they’ve planned in every little way

Like biting and spitting and scratching and wrenching;
pinching and stretching and ripping and cutting; tearing and pulling
they pluck out my eyes, pull of my hands and then sever my thighs,
devils and lemures and demons and goblins and things without eyes;
singing and burning with pitchforks and dancing and laughing and fire!
, turning big cranks they lower me down, crushing my bones, mulching my spine, stretching me out like a torn bit of twine

why won’t the memories of you go away!!!! 

Slicing and poking and stinging and ripping and tearing and cutting
and breaking and splitting, they pluck out my arms and then suck out my spine,
then shatter my ribs with a hammer of spikes,
pull out my guts from my stomach below
and burn out my heart with a torch  and hot coals
wrenching and ripping my knees and my toes, then
sticking my parts on the head on a pole!

They carry me off, through their lair day by day
and toture me with memories of you in every way
they’re never gonna let me be, they’ll always bring me pain
and do such wicked things they’ve planned in every little way

Why do you torture me?
Do you think you might can let me go?
She’s coming back you know, she’s coming back.
She’s coming back.
She’s never coming back?
She’s never coming back??

She’s never coming back.

We carry him off through our lair day by day
and torture him with memories of her in every way
we’re never gonna let him be we’ll always bring him pain
and do such wicked things we plan in every little way

She’s never coming back.
Go away.

We’ll never go away.

My Personal Demons

01 - SA - Oliver Parice Weder - Oliver's Piano
02 - SA - Oliver Parice Weder - Pad - Glacier
03 - SA - Albion One - Strings - Tremolo
04 - SA - Albion One - The Visitor MW
05 - SA - OACE - Chamber Grid
06 - SA - HCT - Swells Grid

Oliver Patrice, Ólafur And Volker

Songster, Composer, & Sound Mangler

Warbling sea harbored melodies - rhythmic tintinnabulary cabalettas inside soft baked fairy tale threnodies - lilting moontouched theramins and/or psychic lithographs of balloons, barns, and braided banana leaves - sleeping during dogwatch in the crosstrees by the languid moans of threadbare weatherboards - gritty euphonic lo-fi transmissions from long dead moon farms - invocations from antique radios short circuiting in cool spring rain.

This is for the anchors which bind the sugar to the orange.
For summoning unseasonal titans to storm the calamity of drab hours, out of ether,
the cloud throned dumplings who give suck to fat breasted delight and unabashed waking -
the blimpy sprites who gratify each naked fig by imbibing their mistaken turns
into the cotton headed sighs of unloved mouse trap music. 



My work has been featured on various Netlabels, film experiments, and worldwide radio shows, including BBC6's "Introducing".

My Personal Demons

Darius Greene

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