Gedankenbeuger

Everything tastes better with a little Cranberry Sauce!

Cranberry Sauce

An improvisation with my self-constructed tubular bell instrument

LP021   Into the Inner Space

Copper Bells Meditation

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Red Shift (2022) Anthology CD1 Track 17

Refreshing the parts mainstream shite cannot reach!

FLORID CONFABULATIONS

sparring

"The Mirrors Cracked" is a feverish descent into psychological horror, wrapped in razor-sharp post-punk aesthetics. This track masterfully captures the claustrophobic feeling of losing grip on reality through its intense musical arrangement and haunting vocal delivery.
The song opens with jagged, discordant guitar work that sets an immediate tone of unease, while a propulsive rhythm section drives the narrative forward with mechanical precision. The verses build tension through angular bass lines and atmospheric effects that mirror the paranoid headspace of the lyrics.
A standout feature is the way the chorus explodes into a wall of sound, with layered guitars creating a disorienting effect that perfectly complements the theme of psychological dissolution. The bridge section descends into controlled chaos before giving way to a searing guitar solo that cuts through the mix like a fever dream.

The Mirrors Cracked

I first heard the Band of Gypsys' version of this Buddy Miles song. There are so many great covers of it; the original has such great energy.

Them Changes (Buddy Miles Cover)

Campfire ska (based on a true story)...

Performed by:
Dave Turnbow-vocals, guitar, bass and melodica
Pete Kassal-drums and background vocals

Music and Lyrics by David Michael Turnbow

LYRICS
Deep within the forest with a bunch of folks
Someone’s strumming Dead songs on a old guitar
Henrys calls your name and you cannot refuse
Rocks are tossed and someone starts to take off their shoes

Sparks are flyin’ and the bucket’s ready to go
Time to haul the hot rocks to the tiny cave
Everybody’s lining up, both women and men
But there’s one thing you must do before you enter that den

Get naked, get naked, get butt, butt naked
Get naked, get naked, shed your outer skin
Get naked, get naked, get butt, butt naked
Get naked, get naked, and come on in

Things are getting hot and sweat begins to run
“Knock knock” on the door, “nobody let them in!”
Chanting like a monk, throw water on the coals
Another wave of steam, your head begins to spin

Tiger balm was great, but now the heat is gone
Time to make the mad dash to the freezing lake
Careful not to stub your toe, don’t trip on a vine
Whoop it up and dive on in… the water’s fine

You’re naked, you’re naked, you’re butt, butt naked
You’re naked, you’re naked, got no clothing on
You’re naked, you’re naked, you’re butt, butt naked
You’re naked, you’re naked, till the break of dawn

Floating on the water as you come back to earth
Someone’s strumming Neil Young on that guitar now
Trying to remember where you stashed your clothes
Doesn’t really matter, you don’t need them now

Walk up to the fire, it’s as high as the sky
To warm your bag of bones by the mighty flame
What do you think you’ll see surrounding the blaze
A bunch of other naked butts just doing the same

We’re naked, we’re naked, we’re butt, butt naked
We’re naked, we’re naked, let it all hang out
We’re naked, we’re naked, we’re butt, butt naked
We’re naked, we’re naked, it’s what it’s all about

We’re naked, we’re naked, we’re butt, butt naked
We’re naked, we’re naked, it’s all hanging out
We’re naked, we’re naked, we’re butt, butt naked
Naked, naked, naked,
Butt, butt, butt, butt, butt

Butt Naked

The Edge of Your Mind (Instrumental)

Recliner Pilot, Agent Provocateur, Songweaver. Psychedelic Burt Bacharach Island style.

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