Between the beats

A cinematic, acoustic memoir of Southern twilight. Across 11 tracks, it weaves porchlight intimacy with gospel grit, blending Chicago blues, Motown warmth, and folk storytelling into a cohesive emotional arc.

Back Porch Hallelujah

A flamboyant electric blues track offering a current political perspective on issues about being clear on vision, values and principles - writing them down. Then on reflection and comparison to the vison, values and principles, finding out that some current governance structures are completely out of whack, to the point that it is reasonable and accurate to describe some governments as: criminal organisations masquerading as democracy. 

Lyrics:

When you write it down...
Write it down...

Asked a simple question—what do we stand for?
Turns out no one's written it down before
Democracy, liberty, rule of law
Sounds quite nice... until you check the score

Words of meaning are set ablaze
They twist the script, while we're in dismay

When you write it down, write it down
All the deceit is revealed in the light
When you write it down, write it down
All the lies start raining down

Million dead in Iraq, all based on lies
Anti-genocide groups are now the bad guys
Peaceful protest gets you fourteen years
While war criminals polish their careers

Can’t name the group or I might get nicked
For terrorism—that’s how truth gets fixed
They made opposing genocide a crime
While funding it with your tax and mine

When you write it down, write it down
All the deceit is revealed in the light
When you write it down, write it down
All the lies start raining down

4AM raids, for writing to your MP
About some kids getting killed across the sea
But sell the bombs and that’s just foreign trade
Democracy dies when we’re all afraid

So here’s your constitution, neat and clean
Now measure what they’ve done against what it means
The truth’s so mad you’d think it was a joke
If kids weren’t bleeding beneath the gun smoke

When you write it down, write it down
When you write it down, write it down....

When you write it down...
Write it down...

Write It Down

40 Years in Minutes in the House

A quiet morning, two mugs cooling on a scratched table. No words needed. Fingerpicked blues meets gospel harmony – warm, dry, and honest.

Two Cups of Blues

The street remembers, even when you forget. Proud, urban, slightly melancholic. Acoustic pulse, gospel lift, poetic grit

The Street Knows My Name

If Only

Empires of Bones and Guilt

A spoken-word lament and lyrical rebuke of a world that sells innocence for empire. Set against the backdrop of Gaza, the song tells the story of children lost to greed, of land stolen and renamed, and of plazas built upon the graves of the forgotten. It speaks of governments and tycoons who pave over history with wealth, rewriting memory to serve ambition. But beneath the marble, the voices of the silenced rise. The lyrics mourn not just the loss of life, but the moral collapse of those who claim to lead. It is both an elegy and a prophecy, a warning that no empire built on bones and guilt can stand forever. The earth remembers. Justice does not forget.

Empire of Bones and Guilt

[Verse 1]
Cause these kisses can be deep and I know I got that heat, it's like fire
(Oh yeah)
Cause these kisses can be deep and I know I got that heat, it's like fire
(Oh yeah)

[Chorus]
Lay it down, lay it down, lay it down, oh babe
Cause it's the sweet, sweet thing that funky thang that's got me hanging on, hanging on, hanging on

Hanging every time you call my name
I can't help myself, honey I can't help myself
Aw you got me in the palm of your hands, you got me in the palm of your hands

[Outro]
Cause these kisses can be deep and I know I got that heat, it's like fire
(Oh yeah)
Cause these kisses can be deep and you know you got that sweet, sweet fire
(Oh yeah)

Lay it down, lay it down, lay it down, oh babe
Cause it's the sweet, sweet thing that funky thang that's got me hanging on, hanging on, hanging on

Hanging every time you call my name
I can't help myself, honey I can't help myself
Aw you got me in the palm of your hands, you got me in the palm of your hands

honey I can't help myself
ooo baby
got me in your sweet hands
Yeah yeah

Heavy Head Music (ASCAP)
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Loaded Brew serves up 11 shots of pure ’70s heat — from the tear-stained confession of “If He Ever Makes You Cry” to the tender surrender of “I’m the One Who Loves You.” Each track walks you through Carlena and Peter’s forbidden love story: the secret dances, the whispered wishes, the bruised nights, and the final run for freedom.

“Close Your Eyes” pours out Peter’s promise of escape.

“This Feeling” rides a groove you can’t talk yourself out of.

“You’ve Been Crying” holds the hurt in one hand and hope in the other.

“I Can’t Stay Away” spins like a slow dance in a smoke-filled lounge.

“Kisses” simmers with fire-softened tenderness.

“Wishing” looks up at the stars and dares to believe.

“JT Lude” crawls through the city like a shadow.

“Shadow of a Man” lays bare the weight of doubt and broken pride.

“I Had to Run (You Came For Me)” runs breathless through the night.

“I’m the One Who Loves You” is the sunrise after the storm.

Loaded Brew: sippin’ smooth, hittin’ heavy.
Drop the needle, dim the lights, and let the movie play in your mind.

Kisses

Wake up with the sun, hit the water like a creed  
One kilometer of clarity, no drama, no need  
Coffee in my hand, vape in the other  
Footstool throne, sacrum undercover  

They say slow down, I say shift gears  
I’m not old, I’m just engineered  
For weirdness, wisdom, and a touch of flair  
Still swimming laps while they’re gasping for air  

I’m 70 and still weird  
Got no shame, got no fear  
I light up truth, I bend the rules  
I’m the elder in the shallow pool  
I’m 70 and still weird  
Legacy loud, vision clear  
I laugh at time, I dance with pain  
I’m the footstool king in the dopamine rain  

Trading setups with my son, passing down the spark  
Modular dashboards, lighting up the dark  
Songs from the soul, quirks in the mix  
I’m the glitch in the matrix they forgot to fix  

Don’t need your pity, don’t need your praise  
I’ve got my rhythm, I’ve got my haze  
I’m the remix of every year I’ve lived  
Still riffing, still giving, still wildly unzipped  

I’m 70 and still weird  
Built from love, not engineered  
I swim, I vape, I write, I teach  
My legacy’s not out of reach  
I’m 70 and still weird  
Footstool throne, sacrum cleared  
I’m the anthem of the aging bold  
Still weird, still wild, still gold

One Flag, One Fist

Duncan Holmes Band