℗ © Copyright Ian Stokes. All Rights Reserved
Recorded and mixed using Logic. Mastered in Soundcloud
Photography: Thanks go to Nigel and Libby Hume at Hume Photography.
Guitars played on this track:  Taylor T5 (Koa Top) standard tuning; 
Taylor 714CE tuning C♯ G♯ C♯ F♯ A♯ C♯ (Capo 9th Fret)
LYRICS: 
See the lightning on the skyline
Hear that thunder roll
Feel the storm rising in the midnight air
Reaching out for my soul
Tell me can you hear 
Can you hear that thunder roll
Tell me can you hear 
Can you hear that thunder roll

See the snow capped mountain in a big blue sky
Hear that mountain stream begin to flow
And that stream becomes a mighty river
Reaching out for my soul
Tell me can you hear 
Can you hear that thunder roll
Tell me can you hear 
Can you hear that thunder roll

So many questions
Where are the answers to be found?
Is my head way up in the clouds?
Are my feet on solid ground?
Tell me can you hear 
Can you hear that thunder roll
Tell me can you hear 
Can you hear that thunder roll

From this headland looking out to sea
As the ocean breeze begins to blow
Wave after wave washes over me 
Reaching out for my soul
Tell me can you hear 
Can you hear that thunder roll
Tell me can you hear 
Can you hear that thunder roll

Hear That Thunder Roll

The table shown in the picture belongs to a suite of pieces of furniture crafted in the early 1990s for the interior of the Kremlin by an Italian carpenter's workshop specialising in oak-design.

A big Thank You to The Neighbor for dropping in and playing a wonderful guitar.

Oak

1
Out of one single seed
With lots of nutrients to feed
Within the ground
Out of a natural striving
Heavenwardly
At least 5 centuries ago

Cut one morning
Somewhen in the eighties or seventies
Last century, supposedly in Italy
Your leaves were so green - and
Then you stopped to breathe
And were stored and dried for ys

ref 
300 ys to grow,
300 ys to bloom,
300 ys to die
That’s your „normal“ life

2
Skilled artistic carpenter hands have worked upon you 
After your death with devotion
Cutting, sanding and priming -
„Lying Flat“ on these three pillars
Born out of a single notion:

"A place to meet",
10 elliptical, oval square
Out of one single piece
Lacquered in white and
Adorned with gold leaf
Six meters long, 2.50 wide

ref 
300 rings to grow,
300 rings to bloom,
And then 300 rings to die
Oh, that’s your „normal“ life

3
Hard to believe that must be necessary
Something like you
Being so earthbound and stable
Was that already inscribed  
Somewhere in your fibres ?
Ending up as a „dissension-table“ ?

Next moment the mad imperator will receive an unwelcome guest and 
An oppressive breathless coldness spreads  
Just for an instant before the lightnings of the camera flashes begin 
And then all this weighs down on you.

ref 
300 rings to grow,
300 rings to bloom,
And then 300 rings to die
You would have outlived us many times

out
Now that you are an icon 
The outmost insane things
Happen at your long edges - and
What have you done to deserve that one ?

Oak (ft The Neighbor)

Let Go

℗ © Copyright Ian Stokes. All Rights Reserved
Recorded and mixed using Logic. Mastered in Soundcloud
Guitar played: Taylor 714CE tuned B F♯ B E G♯ B
Photography: Thanks go to Nigel and Libby Hume at Hume Photography.
LYRICS:
In the cool of the Arizona morning
There are no words to say
The sun lights up
The eastern sky
At the dawn…….
Of a brand new day

The tumbleweed is turning
Looking to put down some roots
Maybe it’s just my calling
To have dust ……
All over my boots 

I don’t see all there is to see
I don’t hear all there is to hear
There’s light and there’s shade and something in-between
And the distance …………drawing near

I’ve got dust all over my boots
I’ve got dust all over my boots
I’ve got dust all over my boots
I’ve got dust  …………. all over my boots

The slow and steady beat
Of these hooves upon the ground
Horse and rider as one
And at peace ………
With that sound

I don’t see all there is to see
I don’t hear all there is to hear
There’s light and there’s shade and something in-between
And the distance …………drawing near 

I’ve got dust all over my boots
I’ve got dust all over my boots
I’ve got dust all over my boots
I’ve got dust  …………. all over my boots

Dust All Over My Boots

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ykWN0qtvNf4

Her Majesty (cover)

A country hearted song today . From my poem 
Working on my LAST NUMBER ONE by Glen Granthem
Playing my Ovation sitting in the sun
Trying to write a song That'll reach Number One
Music is the center to everything I see
And it only gets better when you let yourself be free
Yes I'm working on my last number one
Yes I'm writing this song just for fun
Strumming my Ovation adding to my list
But maybe there's something I've  missed
Well I've been playing music for over sixty years
Can't stop those melodies ringing  in my ears
I can only do it my way Country Rock and Blues
Playing all the parts anyway I choose
Working on my last number one
 I'm writing this song just for fun
Strumming my Ovation adding to my List
 But maybe there's somethings I missed
SOLO

Last Number One ( Original ) With Lyrics

The traditional “Wayfaring Stranger” has been at the foundation of North American music for at least two centuries, its origin is unknown.

Some historians have traced its genesis to the 1780s, others, the early 1800s. Depending on who you’re talking to the song may be a reworked Black spiritual, a lifted native hymn, or even a creation of nomadic Portuguese settlers from the southern Appalachian region.

According to the book The Makers of the Sacred Harp, by David Warren Steel and Richard H. Hulan, the lyrics were published in 1858 in Joseph Bever's Christian Songster, which was a collection of popular hymns and spiritual songs of the time. This may or may not have been the first time the song appeared in English print, and the songwriter is unknown. Steel and Hulan suggest the song was derived from an 1816 German-language hymn, "Ich bin ja nur ein Gast auf Erden" by Isaac Niswander.

During and for several years after the American Civil War, the lyrics were known as the Libby Prison Hymn. This was because the words had been inscribed by a dying Union soldier incarcerated in Libby Prison, a warehouse converted to a notorious Confederate prison in Richmond, Virginia known for its adverse conditions and high death rate. It had been believed that the dying soldier had authored the song to comfort a disabled soldier, but this was not the case since it had been published several years before the Civil War in 1858, before Libby Prison was put into service (1862).

Members of the Western Writers of America chose it as one of the Top 100 Western songs of all time.

[Intro]
Am  Dm  E  Am

[Verse]
Am
I'm just a poor

Wayfaring stranger
             Dm
Travelling through
             Am
This world below

There is no sickness

No toil, nor danger
                Dm
In that bright land
E           Am
 To which I go


[Chorus]
            F
I'm going there
           C
To see my father
            F
And all my loved ones
            E  E7 E
Who've gone on
          Am
I'm just going over Jordan
         Dm  E       Am
I'm just going over home


[Instrumental]
Am  Dm  E  Am      Am  Dm  E  Am


[Verse]
Am
I know dark clouds

Will gather round me
          Dm
I know my way
             Am
Is hard and steep

But beauteous fields

Arise before me
              Dm
Where God's redeemed
E             Am
Their vigils keep


[Chorus]
            F
I'm going there
           C
To see my mother
                F
She said she'd meet me
        E  E7 E
When I come
          Am
I'm just going over Jordan
         Dm  E       Am
I'm just going over home
          Am
I'm just going over Jordan
         Dm  E       Am
I'm just going over home...

Low-fi overdub with my Martin 00-21 guitar, gold tone micro bass, banjo, uke, mandolin, jaw harp and harmonica. JTSUNRISE

Wayfaring Stranger (Mr. Saturday Night)

℗ © Copyright Ian Stokes. All Rights Reserved
Recorded and mixed using Logic. Mastered in Soundcloud
Guitars played: Morris Nylon String in standard tuning
Photography: Thanks go to Nigel and Libby Hume at Hume Photography.
I thought it was time to start writing and recording some new songs, with a view to putting together a new solo album over the winter. For this song I have returned to my nylon string Morris guitar. Hope you like it!
LYRICS:
Sitting…. In my rocking chair
Rollin…….. with the beat
Pickin …..out a tune
Keeping time… tapping my feet

Maybe I’m getting old 
Maybe I’m getting slow 
Maybe things don’t seem like they used to do
Maybe, maybe not…. I don’t know 

Sitting….. in my rocking chair 
Close my eyes and see
All the places I have been
Just rollin … with the beat

Maybe I’m getting old 
Maybe I’m getting slow 
Maybe things don’t seem like they used to do
Maybe, maybe not…. I don’t know

My Rocking Chair

X-Day was October 21, 2003

Cover Art: Rare X-day comic worth millions

This song was written by and for someone I used to see around town who would stare into space like a dead China doll. My main place to live since 1992 has been Seattle and I travel to Portland to see shows also.  The Crocodile Cafe was one of a handful of venues where the 1990s scene occurred - it was not that big and did not last long. It was common to see local music makers standing and lounging in the bars and restaurants before and after shows, lounging, drinking, smoking (yes smoking inside the bars and restaurants - remember that)and most shows in the early 90s were a few hundred people or far less. You could often say hi and chat with the musicians you admired - they may give me a smile or nod an smug shrug - a common response for locking eyes and being dumbfounded for a second while standing in front of a musical hero.  If you wanted to exchange meaningful words it was best to be a regular at shows and to have an identifying look. I often wore an old John Deere tractor hat to shows (Im a real deal farm kid) and after a while people would get used to me and say “hi John” and I became part of the place like the duck tape on the upholstery and the sticky floors. I did the dumbfounded eye-lock an said hi to Elliott Smith. A soft-spoken shy-smoking guy who never uttered an unprofound word who remains a hero to many of us who make music ourselves. I was at this show: https://youtu.be/g-eeznGMbxg There’s is no shortage of conspiracies about every single thing he ever did - I’ve heard the story about who it was written for and I know of and met them also, but I think this song was also left by him for us to morn him in his own words because is the kind of sick and twisted and underhanded shit he did. In his twisted mind I believe this is what he crafted as a legacy and achieved with new emerging musicians adored into his mind games - possibly not knowing about who this music came from. I once told him he should change his stage name to “Debbie Downer” and earned a smirk. I could not bring myself to listen to him again until I heard SoundCloud artist Nouel do this song (please find the Solo Artist  “Nouel” on SoundCloud, Spotify & YouTube). She does this song pure an forgiving

Nouel : https://youtu.be/nKr-TGp6EjI

JTSunrise

Someone I Used to Know

Someone I Used To Know

JensJoel & Magnus Lögdberg https://open.spotify.com/album/1myqcGud1zUxTYtdiyHxCk?si=-7FnypIZQIqpbDi6RUY6Ww

Ibland Vill Man Spela Punk

℗ © Copyright Ian Stokes. All Rights Reserved
Recorded and mixed using Logic. Mastered in Soundcloud
Guitar played: Taylor 714CE in standard tuning (Capo 1st Fret)
Photography: Thanks go to Nigel and Libby Hume at Hume Photography.
SONG NOTES and LYRICS:
I wrote this song about an imaginary character born and raised on the Mississippi, growing up to be a music man. It's not based on anybody real, but is a kind of tribute to all (blues) musicians down the ages, who have developed their own style of playing and have become admired by future generations. I was inspired to learn to play the guitar listening to great guitar players and fascinated by their ability to simultaneously play a bass line, percussive rhythm and melody, while singing at the same time. (For guitar players interested in how this song is played, it is capo'd at the first fret and played in Bflat, using the thumb on the left hand to play bass notes while stretching fingers 3 and 4 for hammer-ons.). Hope you like it!

They named him Mississippi
That’s where he was born and found
Raised by the crew of a steamboat
Never did like his feet on solid ground 
Could have grown up to be a gambler
But he’d seen where the money goes
So he just played the blues
And watched the river flow

So Mississippi he became a music man
His hat tilted to one side
He wore a watch chain in his waistcoat 
And a twinkle in his eye 
Those gamblers liked to buy him a whiskey
So he’d smile on the dice they’d throw
As he’d play them the blues
And watch the river flow

Now they say down in Mississippi
When you’re riding on the river at night
That if you raise up your glass of whisky
There’s a chance that you just might
Hear the sound across the water 
From the deck of that old paddle boat 
As he plays the blues 
And watches the river flow

Mississippi

Welcome to 2024 and thank you for visiting my Soundcloud page. 
It's great to connect with so many talented musicians here on Soundcloud! On this page you'll find my original songs (including 4 albums) and acoustic guitar instrumentals (including 2 EP's), together with various notes about guitars played, tunings, recording etc.

I am in the process of writing my fifth album which I hope to record at some stage during the year..

Musical influences for me have been many and varied including for example Bert Jansch, John Martyn, Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, Mark Knopfler, BB King, Jethro Tull, Pink Floyd, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Fleetwood Mac, Fairport Convention, Paul Simon,  JJ Cale, Eric Clapton, Colin Hay and John Mayer.

Hope you enjoy listening to my music.

Photography: Thanks go to Nigel and Libby Hume at Hume Photography.