“Same Old Lies, Same Old Hate” is a bebop jazz protest song that swings through history, exposing the cycle of antisemitism from ancient Rome to today. With sharp lyrics, a scat-infused bridge, and an upbeat groove, it calls out hypocrisy while championing love and acceptance as the only way forward.

The Oldest Hate - A History of Antisemitism

I came too early — don’t get me wrong,
Ten in the morning, but I dressed like a song.
Vienna slept, no churchbell cried,
So I sipped my beer and watched time slide.

Cafés whispered down Strauchgasse way,
Old ghosts flirting in broad café day.
The sun said “stay,” the clock said “fine,”
So I toasted the silence… one more time.

She called me, velvet in high heels,
A true Viennese, where charm reveals.
“Come dressed to impress — Palais tonight!”
But my cologne was barroom light.

Still I winked, said, “Vienna’s mine,”
And tangoed my guilt — one more time.

Then the DJ — oh, bless his soul,
Dropped Daft Punk in a samba roll.
I danced like sin, I spilled my wine,
And whispered inside me: “Last good sign…”

🎵 One more time — I flew where angels spin,
One more time — I let the wrong love in.
One more time — I danced like I owned the floor,
She rolled her eyes… I asked for more.

One more time — the bouncer gave a nod,
One more time — I begged, “Don’t play God!”
But that Palais kiss turned into mime…
And my love got lost… one more time. 🎵

They showed me out with a Viennese bow,
While she posed near a bust I can’t face now.
Her eyes threw daggers in designer tone,
“You danced like a tourist. Now go home.”

Woke up with guilt and my phone like stone,
Typed “Forgive me…” but slept alone.
Her message came like espresso shot:
“Go to hell.”
(She meant it. A lot.)

Could’ve been suave...
Could’ve been grace...
But wine writes wrinkles on a pretty face.
And Palais Ferstel hums my crime,
In 6/8 jazz — one more time.

🎵 One more time — I raised my glass to fate,
One more time — I loved one song too late.
One more time — no roses, just regret,
But oh, that groove — I can't forget.

One more time — she spun without goodbye,
One more time — I danced on her reply.
Vienna sighed, the bells refused to chime…
So I kissed the air —
🎵 One more time... 🎵

One more sip… one more sigh…
One more fool beneath the sky.
She left in heels. I stayed in rhyme.
Still single, baby.
One. More. Time.

One More Time (Latin Jazz)

For the loss of a loved one, or the loss of love from someone who you cared about. You ARE worth it. New tracks daily on my SoundCloud! Follow me

You ARE Worth It

A fresh spin on classic swing, Swing, Wink, Repeat is a flirtatious jazz collection where charm meets groove. From accidental crushes at midnight grocery aisles to the bounce of a morning jog and the barista who stirs more than just espresso, these songs bring everyday moments to life — with wit, sass, and syncopation.

Told through sharp lyrics, snappy rhythms, and toe-tapping brass, each track captures a vignette of unexpected romance, teasing encounters, and the unspoken magic in chance meetings. Whether it’s “The Wink That Broke the Deal” or “Sugar in My Coffee, Spice in My Day,” this album celebrates the playful push-and-pull of modern love — all set to the swing of a well-dressed beat.



Not My Man (But Damn That Grin)

I’ve always lived at the crossroads of music and poetry — where feeling becomes form, and melody turns memory into meaning. Whether it’s a lingering jazz note, a well-placed rhyme, or a shift in tempo that tells a deeper story, I’m drawn to that quiet magic where art reflects life with a little more style.

My roots are in classic music — the kind that doesn’t chase the moment but lingers with you long after the last note. Over time, that love expanded into poetry writing and jazz — especially the kind that swings, speaks, and smirks all at once. Jazz, to me, isn’t just a genre; it’s a personality. A conversation. A little tilt of the head and a grin that knows more than it says.

When I set out to create an album, it’s rarely just a collection of songs. I approach it like a personal playlist — one that drifts and flows as if the entire tracklist were one long, uninterrupted piece. Each track leans into the next, shifting mood, pace, or voice, but always carrying the same thread of feeling. I want you to listen the way I do — not as a shuffle of moments, but as a cinematic arc. One breath that lasts an hour.

Lyrically, my work is rooted in lived experience. Sometimes it’s obvious. Other times it’s just the skeleton of a memory, dressed up in wit, irony, or longing. I draw from real-life events, then let the poet in me twist, stretch, or sweeten them to taste. Depending on the tone of the album — playful, romantic, nostalgic, or something in between — I try to keep the emotional truth intact while giving it a fresh coat of creativity. A little humor where it fits. A deeper dive where it hurts.

My newest jazz album continues this tradition — short-lined swing tracks, conversational duets, and tongue-in-cheek storytelling. It’s an homage to late-night alleyway ballads, rooftop serenades, and train station goodbyes — all bound together with a sense of charm and cohesion. Each song is its own little scene, but together they tell a story — one you can revisit with each replay.

Thanks for stopping by my profile. I hope you find something that earns a spot on your repeat-play list — a melody, a lyric, or a moment that feels like it was written just for you.

Not My Man (But Damn That Grin)

Dikheel Aldikheel

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