Run (Original Mix)

Heads...or...or...hmm...Mongoose?!?!

I worked on this theme a few years ago, but imagining and producing a different result and atmosphere (https://soundcloud.com/michele-ansani/the-statue-removal). Today things have changed a bit, and going back to that music I thought it was necessary to eliminate the final vocalisms (too cheerful) and make the atmosphere darker.

On 23 October 1956 two hundred thousand Hungarians took to the streets of Budapest to express solidarity with the Poles and their recent political changes. Among the things they demanded was the removal of the statue of Stalin, erected in Városliget, the city's main park.
The revolutionaries demolished the statue, leaving only its boots, on which they planted a Hungarian flag.
On the following events, which are well known, there is no need to return here.

------

Composed by Michele Ansani (2015-2024).
Posted on SoundCloud: 2024, August 9.

The statue's removal (final draft) **

Here is a song (an old-fashioned ballad) composed and recorded in 1998. I didn't feel the need to add anything, except for the vocals in places where it was too low in volume. The song journay now is over, I hope: from the Korg to a CD, from the CD to a tape, from the tape to the PC, from the PC to SC.
Cover picture is from Pietro Corrao.

Because of the bad English translation, I add something about the story the song tells (that in part was inspired by a short fable I published only in 2003). Martina is a servant of a rich man; she is a poor, widowed woman, the dreamer and deceived mistress of a no-good sailor who is now in prison for stealing everything she had.

ENG / ITA LYRICS

furious Martina 
cuts potatoes and guesses
who knocks at the door 
who brings silver to the master 
at six in the morning
curious morning
fancies and outbursts 
not Martina's habit
to follow the footprints left by cats 
on frost roofs

but Martina thinks back 
to summer nights 
tales of fairies
to encounters 
to evenings spent 
dreaming of ships that have sailed away
Martina gave me the house keys 
the photos of her children and of her as a child
Martina used to run on skates 
and often fell first...
furious Martina

if I marry Martina 
we'll have a party in the hills
I'll give her a song
a rose a raspberry 
and a starfish
jealous Martina 
herbal teas and hot flashes
not Martina's habit
stringing necklaces 
waiting for the snow to come
hidden in the cellar  

but Martina thinks back 
of burnt nights 
to summer tales
to encounters 
to evenings spent 
dreaming of ships that have sailed away
Martina gave me the silver from home 
the photos of her children and of her as a child
Martina ran on skates 
and often fell first ...
furious Martina

haughty Martina 
turmoil and bells is not like Martina
to follow the tracks left by thieves 
escaped into the hills
if I marry Martina 
we'll have a quiet party
I will give her a song 
a dirge and the sermon 
of the priest of this prison 

but Martina thinks back 
of burnt nights 
to summer tales
to encounters 
to evenings spent 
dreaming of ships that have sailed away
Martina gave me the silver from home 
the photos of her children and of her as a child
Martina ran on skates 
and often fell first ...
furious Martina

----

furiosa Martina 
se taglia patate indovina
chi bussa al portone 
chi porta l’argento al padrone 
alle sei di mattina
curiosa mattina
mattane e caldane non è da Martina
seguire le impronte lasciate dai gatti 
sui tetti di brina

... ma Martina ripensa 
alle notti d’estate 
ai racconti di fate
agli incontri 
alle sere passate 
a sognare le navi che sono salpate
Martina mi ha dato le chiavi di casa 
le foto dei figli e di lei da bambina
Martina correva sui pattini 
e spesso cadeva per prima...
furiosa Martina

se sposo Martina 
faremo una festa in collina
le regalerò una canzone 
una rosa un lampone 
e una stella marina
gelosa Martina 
tisane e scalmane non è da Martina
infilare collane 
aspettando che arrivi la neve 
nascosta in cantina  

... ma Martina ripensa 
alle notti bruciate 
ai racconti d’estate
agli incontri 
alle sere passate 
a sognare le navi che sono salpate
Martina mi ha dato gli argenti di casa 
le foto dei figli e di lei da bambina
Martina correva sui pattini 
e spesso cadeva per prima ...
furiosa Martina

ritrosa Martina 
buriane e campane non è da Martina
seguire le tracce lasciate dai ladri 
scappati in collina
se sposo Martina 
faremo una festa in sordina
le regalerò una canzone 
una nenia e il sermone 
del prete di questa prigione 

... ma Martina ripensa 
alle notti bruciate 
ai racconti d’estate
agli incontri 
alle sere passate 
a sognare le navi che sono salpate
Martina mi ha dato gli argenti di casa 
le foto dei figli e di lei da bambina
Martina correva sui pattini 
e spesso cadeva per prima ...
furiosa Martina

------

Music and lyrics by Michele Ansani (1998).
Posted on SoundCloud: 2024, August 17.

Furiosa Martina **

Polyhedral - Sfinks.mp3

Cultivating Strength To Start the Climb

The Cataraqui was a British immigrant ship that wrecked off the coast of King Island Tasmania, on August 4, 1845, in one of Australia's worst maritime disasters. Out of 409 passengers, only 9 survived, resulting in the deaths of 399 people. The ship, on route from Liverpool to Melbourne, struck a reef in the Bass Strait during a severe storm. The combination of stormy weather, limited navigational tools, and poor visibility caused the ship to run aground, rapidly breaking apart due to strong waves.

 With such immense suffering and loss, it felt wrong that the story of the Cataraqui had not been immortalized in music. I decided to write a song, one that could capture the sorrow of that night and honour the lives lost. This tune, when performed, will serve as a tribute—a way to ensure that the memory of the Cataraqui and those who perished will never be forgotten.

Cataraqui
Verse 1 
We're humbled in this moment
Backs to the wind, it's cold
As the storm rages by
Forgotten souls
Winter winds wail
To the symphony of misery
Immigrants call
Immigrants call

Chorus
What have you done to me?
Why did you let me go?
We never feel the cold
We’re Cataraqui’s 
Lost souls
Lost souls
Lost souls

Verse 2
White face silhouettes floating shadows sink below
Stretched out hands as lightning glows
Waves crashing sounds of broken bow
Three months of misery 
Ends immigrant’s call
Ends immigrant’s call

Chorus
What have you done to me?
Why did you let me go?
We’ll never feel the cold
We’re Cataraqui’s 
Lost Souls
Lost Souls
Lost Souls

Instrumental down x2

Verse 3
Grave yards of Bass Strait 
King Island the resting place
Sealers have buried here
Of what remains
Moonlight flickers
A solitary path
Immigrants call
Immigrants call

Chorus
What have you done to me?
Why did you let me go?
We’ll never feel the cold
We’re Cataraqui’s 
Lost souls
Lost souls
Lost Souls 

Verse 4
There's only one light that flickers now
As we’re dancing to the moonlight song
Make way for the morning 
Silhouettes
From the unmarked grave 
Of the immigrants' call
Of the immigrants' call

Outro
What have you done to me?
Why did you let me go?
We never feel the cold
We’re Cataraqui’s 
Lost souls
Lost souls
Lost  souls

Instrumental out down x2 
Lost Souls 
Lost souls
Lost souls
Lost souls

Cataraqui

ANARS ! Dénouement

Unknown Terrors

Sometimes you just need a Planet. One to start afresh, to realign your soul, to breathe and begin and create from a blank page. What would you put on it? What would you keep? What would you delete? What would you hear, smell, see, feel? How would you know it was now precisely to your liking, created from the depths of your hearts desire? 

I Need a Planet

Wonderland

The unruly prince of electronica. 

Remixes/Collaboration:- dirtyfreud@gmail.com

Dirty Beats. Dirty Electronica. Dirty Freud

Wonderland

Dirty Freud

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