Musical improvisation to a poem by H.E.Schano
Sandro Miori: flute
Angelo Comisso: piano, synthesizer
Hans Echnaton Schano: recitation, voice
recorded July 10, 2001 at Musisches Zentrum, Vienna
Poem written in 1975, Manorkill, Schohare County, N.Y.


TRUE COOKS SMOKE GOLDEN RULES UNTIL THEY’RE GONE FOREVER (H.E.SCHANO)

One Monday morning, someone found his inner lights on,
and recognizing the power of his might,
he thought up some marvelous angels, but they just told him,
"Hey boss, you're right."

So, not too overwhelmed by all that praise and boredom,
he quickly dimmed some of that omnipotent light,
and asked them to invent some more adventurous creatures,
whom they then let hang out in a garden they called "Parrotdise".

There, shaded by those choir angels' wings,
these creatures walked around with soulful eyes,
and they were listening to the high jazz that was being spoken,
along with all that wing-flapping in the skies.

Now, that director's only purpose must have been 
to know his glorious future only,
because it wasn't until his favorite snake had bit him in the tail,
that he had realized, "My golden rule must have just grown stale."

As he experienced the tremors of his anger against those jerks,
who seemed to him to be the cause of all his pain,
he couldn't possibly have had forgotten,
that it was actually him, who had created them.

So Lucy Conduct turned her head to the director,
whose face had meanwhile gotten lost behind a thundering cloud,
and since one cannot very well argue with lost faces, she told all of her lovers,
"I'm your man now, because Old Cloudface has already stepped out."

Poor Cloudface, no one ever told you it'd be easy,
to play with Lucy in a band,
'cause when your fluegelhorn gets just a little bit greasy,
Lucy Mac Evil is going to slide it right out of your hand.

And then you'll lie there, between the real workers and them politicians,
all by yourself, like in a foreign land,
wondering whether there isn't still something you could do for her,
before your whole dream-world comes to another end.

Well, I guess by now you must be thinking, that it won't be known again,
if there will be another revolution, before the final rain.
But dreamers, if you love me, then I shall not close my book before you've smoked one golden rule until it's gone forever:
that god is the pot, and you are the soup, that only Lucy can cook..


TRUE COOKS SMOKE GOLDEN RULES UNTIL THEY'RE GONE FOREVER

A worm in an apple thinks the whole world is apples. Written in Zihuatenejo, Guerrero, Mexico in 1976. 

WINNERS HAVE TO GIVE UP (H.E.SCHANO)


Close your eyes and let it be,
through your feelings you can see
the big wave,
as it glides back on the glimmering sands of night
to join the endless see.

And your heart clings to this wave 
is carried to the sky and then is brave,
while the raindrops rise to fill your eyes
you are safe.

And its so good to get on down with it together,
and look straight on into each others eyes,
and let our bodies spell the rhymes forever,
where words would only make us hold our breath.

Winners have to give up,
close your eyes and let it be,
winners have to give up,
through your feeling you can see
how winners have to give up.

Screaming pictures on the wall,
who was the bravest of them all,
what was his quest, why did he fall
into your mirror?

A child holds a crying mother by the hand,
“Hey Mom, who really owns this land ?
Come on now, aren’t we going to have supper?

Workers raise up high their heads
when others try to steal their dreams,
and only winners still have time to play lying games
with their children.

Winners have to give up,
close your eyes and let it be,
winners have to give up,
through your feelings you can see,
how winners have to give up
the big wave,
as it glides back on the glimmering sands of night
to join the endless sea.

And who could blame a child in trance
that is riding on this wave ?
Who could blame a child in trance
that is riding on this wave?
Who could blame a child in trance forever ?
Who could blame a child in trance forever ?
And its so good to get on down with it together!




WINNERS HAVE TO GIVE UP

Did you ever hear a golden needle make a splash in the deep blue sea? Woodstock, NY. 1975

SOUND PICTURE (H.E.SCHANO)


And I hear the golden needle falling,
dropping into the dark-blue sea,
and the orange mountainsides, they're glowing,
higher than our dream they'll be...

...when the breath of love comes gliding 
with the sounds of just one truth,
into ears of heads forgotten
in a trick-love ticket booth.

Tall and lonely walks a seer
with his lantern through the sky,
for him it is not too late to go there,
for his answer, his answer is not "Why?"

Hugging angels roll on skywards,
as the lightening-bolts play sounds,
and Abraxas flies off carefree,
future fortune laughs out loud.

Unsmoked cigarettes crawl up chimneys
as nonsense's meaning becomes clear.
Love is always ready for a walkout,
and fools follow seers, but don't see.

But no one looses, who has lived,
so why worry about the end?
Lovers who can dance in silence,
get a free ride to the promised land.

When freedom's laughter fills their spaces,
for the myths have been undone,
all the birds fly off their roof-tops,
for the world, the world has just begun.



SOUND PICTURE

Free flow vocal sighs-intro, leading into lyrics dedicated to Danny O' Keefe, who played me some of his inspiring recordings of whale songs, as the two of us met in Woodstock, N.Y. in early 1976.

CAN YOU HEAR THE LOVE SONG? (H.E.SCHANO)

Can you hear the love song
nature’s spirit sings for you?
Can you hear this love song
and tell me if it’s true,
that the whales, they sing of balance,
and the dolphins speak of change,
and while the lions roar for supper,
guess who’s just playing games.

With all the sounds that fill or minds,
who lets their meaning’s rain
seep through the tissues of our lives,
and greets the open plain?
With all that power at  your hand,
can you see life’s edges bend,
or hear the thunder strike the land
with every heartbeat?

When you hear this love song
open up your hand,
and let it flow on downwards
to give it to the land.
For if you were to keep it,
what good would it do,
when the grounds you take from
need it more than you?

Yes, our heads they’re meant for flying
and our feet they’re meant to walk,
but our hands they are for giving,
for our hearts are the ones to talk!

So, can you hear the love song
the spirit sings through you?
Free birds sing full of glory,
people what hear you?

TUNING IN" AND "CAN YOU HEAR THE LOVE SONG?

Who really enjoys getting caught up in a race to be heard ? To first try to understand others  might come across better than incessantly trying to be understood by them. Dallas, TX. 1984

WOMAN (H.E.SCHANO)

Woman, 
did you find me,
that little blind me
trying so hard all by myself
to grasp the sound of your mind,
to see what lies behind,
not to possess, but to progress.
Opening my eyes I realize
woman.

What good would be manhood,
were it not for you
to draw a way for man 
to tread upon a sacred path
where freedom has an equal part
to mastery of time.

Woman,
from the waters you rose
like a brilliant morning star;
and struggle never far
you settled down; only to find
that man had always something else in mind.

Where harmony could ripen future dreams,
you hushed the hasty mirrors
shedding miniskirt reflections, headlight beams
softly in their tracks, 
to free the soul of
woman.

Woman, 
did you find me,
that little blind me
trying to fuse with your light
to carry on that precious flight of
woman.








WOMAN

Grays and browns
turning to gold in the sun
when eyes are open
Hoping to build a lasting relationship, I convinced myself to become faithful and true. 
Then I found out that anything anyone had ever built was doomed to collapse as long as the whole of collective evolution had'nt reached  the level to support the individual undertaking. Now, how about them apples. Rome, Italy, spring of 1981

MISTY EYES AND GOLDEN GRAY (H.E.SCHANO)

Misty eyes and golden gray,
let me find the words to say,
that tell of all the things I see
when I look inside of me
and think of our love.

You're as bright as any morning star,
your heartmind reaches me from near and far,
touches in me all the beauty and the pain
and its song shall never be in vain,
its life it is your love.

In all four corners of my heart,
compassion, fondness, justice, love,
open up their doors for you,
and I feel you coming through 
with all your love.

You make me feel so very strong,
I've looked for you so very long,
I know I'll never let you down,
so let the skeptics wear their frown,
our love will prove them wrong.

It's true, there are others who are dear to me,
there are all kinds of love you see,
but yours I find so easy to return,
alongside you I wish to learn
to give you more than you're hoping for.

Yours is the soul that makes me sow
the seeds that through our care will grow
into the love that wisdom gives
forever last the golden kiss 
that seals our love. 




MISTY EYES AND GOLDEN GRAY

Such a simple progression in creation may lead to the originial irreplaceable vision. Manorkill, NY. 1975. Later on in 1998, when she turned 3, I dedicated this song to my daughter Muriel Nona Schano,

THE MIND OF THE SOUND OF LIGHT (H.E.SCHANO)
(CHILDRENS SONG)

There has always been a star,
whose light, it twinkled so bright
in all colors that there are,
shine on bright, twinkling light,
shine on bright, twinkling light.

Oh messengers in the sky,
which one of you tells us the most,
of all the good things that you hide
behind your light, twinkling bright,
behind your light, twinkling bright.

And there’s always been a sound,
whose feeling spread so far and wide,
that the whole of our universe
fits inside, fits inside,
fits inside, fits inside.

Oh messengers of the round,
once you’ve spoken you’re bound to return,
so please let us hear you loud,
take your turn, take your turn,
take your turn, take your turn.

And there’s always been a mind,
whose sound begot all that light,
and whose colors when seen through your minds eye,
will let you smile, will let you smile,
will let you smile, for a while.

Oh messengers of our hearts,
please let everybody know,
that our bodies are much to small
to keep up with it all, to keep up with it all,
to keep up with it all, to keep up with it all.



THE MIND OF THE SOUND OF LIGHT (Children's Song)

This short poem was not written in 1984 (following Orwell),  but in winter of 1974 in Manorkill, NY. 
How come we still turn our backs?

GANDHI 1984 (H.E.SCHANO)


I've tried to find my way out,
instead I found my way in.
How many times did I hit and miss,
and how many times did I rush.

Like a bear in the forest,
I wanted to stick my paws into the tree,
to gather all the honey in there.
honey, I thought, was good for me.

But the greed went away and the future stood aside,
as the mouths of the children opened wide:
"If God wanted to appear to the starving people,
'shehe' wouldn't dare to come in any other form than food!"


GHANDI 1984

Lean back and relax. Ready for story telling time? But it does take a little while to get going. "Hopscotch" is about a frog who made a major leap and didn't even look back at the toad.I wrote this little fable for the children of some dear friends of mine who used to attend the weekly Poetry and Jazz performances called " D' Jazztheatre" at the D'Jazz Club in Dallas, TX. in 1990. This is also where it was recorded.
John Lindquist: piano
Gerard"HebeGeeBee" Bendiks: drums
Hans Echnaton Schano: recitation (vocals)

Sorry, the text for this track wouuld be to voluminous.


"HOPSCOTCH" AN ANIMAL FABLE FOR CHILDREN

Looking back thinking
is looking forward knowing
to better look out

Even stone love, when roaming free, can sometimes lead to temporary loneliness, as this "crying in my beer song" about three intense but passing affairs clearly shows. Dallas,TX. 1989

WHERE ARE THEY NOW (H.E.Schano)

Some years, quite some time ago
I married once for life.
As it turned out it wasn’t so,
not my fault or my wife’s.
And then I came to thinking,
while I slowly sipped my beer:
“Where have all my lovers gone,
now that I’m finally here.”

Virginia built a bar called “Soap”,
she was an artist true and bright.
When I went down there full of hope,
I heard that she’d found Mr. Right.
She went up to Portland Oregon
with that man I didn’t know,
carving redwood sculptures 
and raising children in the snow.

Where are they now
that I am finally here?
what makes me think somehow
That they could still be near?
How come that I 
could never come to rest
between the arms of someone
who loved me the best?

Stevie spoke my mother’s tongue,
a doctor of neurology.
She calmed my nerves and made me strong,
But it was not to be.
Down in the town of brotherly love
some lawyer did not waste
his chance to move up and above;
he married Stevie, pure and chaste.

And Amberdawn who knew to ride
wild horses like a cloud,
will make whoever is by her side
feel just as tall and proud,
as I was when she called on me
to help her through the night,
before she joined the air force
and flew out of my sight.



Where are they now
that I am finally here?
what makes me think somehow
That they could still be near?
How come that I 
could never come to rest
between the arms of someone
who loved me the best?

And so I’m back where I began
to share my love with you,
for all the floods of last night’s rain
to join the sun in the morning’s dew.
And grateful for another day
I gladly yield my string
of fortune to who goes my way
and to who hears me sing.

Where are they now
that I am finally here?
what makes me think somehow
That they could still be near?
How come that I 
could never come to rest
between the arms of someone
who loved me the best?

















WHERE ARE THEY NOW

Darkness dulls the mind
the light of intelligence
needs to be focussed

 Vienna, 2009
HYPNOTIZE, DEHYPNOTIZE (H.E.SCHANO)
Hypnotize, dehypnotize,
hypnotize, dehypnotize,
and when you wake up you realize,
you still believe in things that aren’t true,
see yourself as something that isn’t really you.
As soon as you’re here, you’re given a name,
weren’t you already someone, before you came?
Didn’t your soul draw a body once, cute and small,
for you to get into and learn about it all?
I know at first you didn’t think this body was you,
and that name you were called by felt like “what or who?“
But love made you believe and helped you to survive,
got you used to being hypnotized all through your life.
Hypnotize, dehypnotize,
hypnotize, dehypnotize,
and when you wake up you realize,
your longing for this something that you once had,
is your own intuitive guidance , so don’t be sad.
You didn’t actually think that all you’re told was right,
but you still tried to believe it with all your might,
until the cruelty you witnessed brought up serious doubt,
made you scream against injustice and wonder what it’s all about.
What you were forced into becoming, isn’t what you’re meant to be,
find a little peace and quiet and you’ll be surprised to see,
how original thinking starts to brighten up your mind.
when you’re not talking up things without knowing what’s behind,
Hypnotize, dehypnotize,
hypnotize, dehypnotize,
and when you wake up you realize,
intuition is your inner tutor and it lets you see
all the wonderful things you can still do or be.
External suggestions let your mind retire,
make you want to get things that you feel you desire,
but there you can watch how your thoughts take control,
instead of you controlling them, you’re acting out the dummy’s role.
Feeling is fine if you know where it comes from,
but if it prompts a desire, make sure not to jump on,
unless rightness and reason have blessed the whole train,
it’s better to stay off it and save yourself the pain.
Hypnotize, dehypnotize,
hypnotize, dehypnotize,
and when you wake up you realize,
that you cannot be certain of the things you think to know,
until your thinker and your knower tell your heart that it is so.
So where is the peace, the joy and the quiet,
the love and the radiance you once inspired?
with every breath you take, even if this may sound strange,
comes the power to live, the power to change.
Just get a clear vision of how you’d like to be,
and put on a face that you’d love to see,
step into the conscious light and recognize,
it’s good to go through life with open eyes.
Hypnotize, dehypnotize,
going through life with open eyes,
hypnotize, dehypnotize,
going through life with open eyes.


HYPNOTIZE,DEHYPNOTIZE

Reform Art Orchestra improvising to the poetry of Hans Echnaton Schano (vocals).
Marco Eneidi (vocals on bridge lines)
recorded for the projectof Wiener Linien:"Viennese Subway-Art", Vienna 2010
This track is part of a double CD featured in the book "Wiener U-Bahn Kunst" published 2011 by Wiener Linien
"The Big Rush" was originally written for the play "Pan-Out" and was first performed by the members of The One World Theatre at the One World Poetry Festival in Amsterdam in 1983

THE BIG RUSH (H.E.SCHANO)
The electronic radio-clock tells
me it's morning, and I get up.
Coffee is being made by an automatic pot,
the radio tells me: four-hundred people got shot.
That's a lot
One morning I'd like to open my eyes, and not have to chase away last night's nightmares.
I pull the curtains to greet the sun,
people in the street are on the run.
They're busily rushing to buy and sell,
the ones who've got jobs think they're doing well.
I've got none.
I'd like to open my window and see faces that are not being aged by frustration and sorrow.
Down in the subway, paranoia strikes again,
for reasons so ugly, I don't wish to explain.
I never ride without a ticket, I just don't have the knack,
and I stay as far back as I can, from the track.
Saves my neck.
Walking out my door I might meet you, instead of angry strangers.
At lunch in a bar, I can see some old friends.
They're talking 'bout the sixties and they're waving empty hands.
Well, the sixties sure were crazy, but present times are insane,
consciousness gets traded in for a video game.
Eats up your brain.
Oh, one single moment of proper attention given to one another, is worth so much more, than a whole billion of quarters, spent on space-invaders.
Money currencies are down, but the stolen gold stays on the top,
and crime and interest-rates are steadily going up.
The depression sure is coming, it'll be hard just to survive.
Might as well count your blessings and be glad to be alive.
Don't take a dive.
Listen there is an opening, can you feel it? Someone is worst off than we are.
At the intellectual's café,
they talk about the things passé,
and how the words loose all their meaning,
when cheap effects replace true feeling.
Check please.
How does one intellectualize "suffocation", or "missing leg", or "pass the sugar, please"?
Now those who've kept their sense intact,
will have hardly overlooked the fact,
that a doomsday machine keeps us in a big rush
and tries to distract us, till we're all out of touch,
forget too much.
Somewhere, there is a place for us, a time and space for us. Somewhere, sometime...
A hundred years of solitude are coming soon,
to the sound of a lying computer's catchy tune.
And there is’nt much, that really seems to matter any more,
instead of a wife or a husband, there's a robot at the door.
Now what's it for?
If I'd program a computer with all the facts of life, the print-out would read: "Please, don't stop!"
Things are so complicated, they're out of your control,
''cause you're being manipulated by big shots, who've got no soul.
Every time you vote for A, the rigged machine registers B.
Whoever 's switching all the rules, are the ones who'll win, you see?
But they don't fool me!
Problems don't ever need to go so far, as to drive you into despair. Why not let them push you to find the solutions?
Dioxin, or "Agent Orange", kills us slowly from the ground,
acid rains pour upon us, from pollution's cancerous clouds.
There's no nuclear reactor except the sun, that is safe.
At the rate we self-destruct, Earth can’t soon be much more than a grave.
Want to be brave?
If I've got the courage to live, I will not ever need the courage to die.
So lay down halfmoons, stars and crosses and and your dollar-sign too.
Abolish all your stupid borders and face the monster that is you.
Teach your armies not to fight, but to do constructive work instead.
Have your scientists listen to the poets, send not the children,
but your party-politicians to bed.
And one morning you will have opened your eyes, and you will not have had to chase away any old nightmares.


THE BIG RUSH (Graffiti)

Hans Echnaton Schano never claimed to be a singer or a musician. He is an Austrian poet, actor, director and an underground legend who used to live in Woodstock, N.Y. One day local musicians told him that he ought to sing his poems and that there was a whole generation who could very well relate to his thoughts and feelings.However, he never knew how to write a single note of music on paper or carry a tune properly. So he took the only remaining option. Crude as they might sound, he created simple tunes to his lyrics on the guitar and … sings and plays them himself, to convey their own special feeling. If you like a song of his set "FEELING AND DESIRE", which presents a nice spectrum, or "MOONBOW RISING", this one is rather quiet, just check the above homepage and drop him a note directly via the contact page. He’ll appreciate it and get back with you. By the way, there has been interest in the past, by some renowned American singers, to interprete at least 5 of the songs.
Hans Echnaton Schano also loves to recite his poetry to contemporary improvisation or to Jazz. The set "JAZZENCE" gives you a taste of that.
(At this time all titles and copyrights are still registered to the author.You're invited to cover or discuss possible changes in composition after first clearing interest and properties with H.E.Schano)


Hans Echnaton Schano

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