Some delightful front porch foot stompin’ 12 bar magic James.  A cautionary tale to be sure;)

James!! Where ya been?  Sounding classic here!!

Really great earthy blues atmosphere youve got down James. Superb lyrics and vocal.

A Song for the Victims of Leonard Lake

somewhere up in the hills you see from Fool's Bay
a junk packed yard 'round a house
where no one ever stays
rusty machines, the smell of dump
and a door in the ground
half way beneath the porch, sugar
if you're strong enough to bear 
you'll hear an eery sound

that's wehre he made them stay
where he came to see 
how someone fades away

stairway down to hell
shortcut to paradise
it's where you swim in shabbiness
and drown in Mister Lake

that's where he made them stay
where he came to see 
how someone fades away

a big man and a sad man
a list of things they'd expect
don't hide behind those words, sugar
but you where strong enough to kill
whatever dreams they'd pet

that's where you came to stay
a place you'd never see
unless you went that way

abandon
understand
stop counting
beats so deep

abandon
all your 
all your
or you'll
understand

stop counting 
stop seeing
stop hoping

Lake Song

This track is a collaboration with Untitled Maruarder (New Mexico) @untitledmarauder

A 'bump' was a short instrumental hip hop snippet between commercial breaks on 'adult swim', a vintage tv program in the USA. The bumps brought lofi and instrumental hip hop to a broader audience and are nostalgically remembered by fans of the genre.

Untitled Marauder's creative sampling and lofi beats provide the backdrop for an ethereal mix with lead guitar tone and articulation played with wind instruments in mind.

Photo: Islands off Bali Indonesia, Chris O'Shea

(Adult Swim) Bump - Yesterday Was Like Today ft.SeaShea

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 **

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I4Crzj_E_Gk

In search of Reason

Strange Goins On

I see him each morning, hair askew, face needing to be mowed with an electric razor, a face wrinkled and weathered by experience and decisions good and bad.  None the less, I am thankful he is looking back at me; I'm still alive and thankful to have another day.  
Peter's poetic meditation begins like a prayer and becomes deeply introspective into how life has changed the man looking back at him.  His initial inspiration was Arvo Part's "Spiegel im Spiegel" but for this reflective journey, he asked pianist Debra Buesking to accompany him which she does  with great feeling and eloquence.  I come into the picture as the one invited to bring them together for a memorable moment, a great honor and a labor of love for two of my favorite Soundcloud artists.  More of Peter's thoughtful music and spoken word can be found @https://soundcloud.com/user-264930040/tracks, and more of Debbie's beautiful playing can be found @debra_buesking.

Some Words for Mr. Part:

Dear God, just look at the state of you - what the hell happened?
Did time do that all by itself?
Chiselled and scraped with gentle, temporal strength?
Yesterdays now patterned well with telling tales of wear and tear.
Always took such good care that you ticked every health kick box
But all the ticks collect their tocks, bundling up the time we thought was
dangling spare.
And wrinkly skin comes out to play, crafting plots with crumpled neurons
badly frayed, and
Liver spots about the edges worn of happy recollections,
Waltzed away, invisible to the swinging of that penduled clock.
Take your eyes off it for just a minute and you’ve lost a day,
And then a decade’s worth of wry reflections,
Lovingly to fold them up and let them lie in memory’s pocket.
Those lines that contour of your brow, a biography of creases now
And all cut down so very deep.
Each epidermal void crevasse life’s stylus tracks a scratching past
Evinces of a record no mortal hard re-format could delete.
And of your eyes, sallow yellowed at the margins, framed by corvid feet
Rigid-set to well outlast whatever bargained span of life your good Lord
deems replete.
As if your face lampoons of age itself, wrecked and bent
Of scars that trace minutiae, carved in master sculptors’ stone
And none too soon, for just that task and that alone, recording compressed
of the past..
We both know well which ones are smiles and which the pain that heaven
sent,
The former few, soft of the flesh, the many others sunk unto the very bone,
The harshest welt of any sole upon the universal cobbler’s last.
But does it help to so reflect, or but to hurry time’s neglect?
Of such consideration circles wrapped in worry tearing down
All edifice of self respect, the towering pit of pity comes once more to town,
Parades a circus fine of talents, self deprecating jestered clowns
And galloping horses all the while stampede about the rounded ropes
Vespered peace forever sought, just out of reach, concedes of futile, now
confounded hopes.
So what of forward self projection, folding the creases back behind
And out of sight to speculation on future solaced peace of mind?
Perhaps again the crashing wall of fast reality, solid bricked
Determines upward focus but to fall, as if to gravity’s grounded truth
Tricked of consequential solitude, rimed of age, aching of the aged sick
No respite there nor rectitude as once you found in torrid youth.
But perhaps I’m speaking out of turn and out of place,
For though your memories sear and burn as if to carbonise some
worthwhile trace of validity
On that unholy visage lit by lives lived long before….
It matters not and changes nought, not a jot nor yet a thought
For you and I know better than to seek a settled score from comment fair
After all, you are I, staring back at me from the mirror mounted there.

Inspired By Mr. Pärt's "Spiegels" (Peter, Debra Buesking, David; final production)

Just Before To Leave

Honey 
I want to see another sky
Next to you. Close to you. 

Honey
I want to see another sky
Just before
To leave.

Air 
I want to breath another air
From your roots 
From your bark 

Air
I want to breath another air 
From your leaves
From your limbs 

When the river passes
blood carries on
Blood of our sweat
and from the grass
bleeding grass
rocking grass
That elevates you and immerses you.

Honey
cut the grass
that doesn't leave me
like the fog, that thick fog 

Honey 
Cut the roots 
That doesn’t leave me
Like the frost, freezing frost 

See you give birth
our pain
Just before
To leave.

Just Before To Leave

A Patchwork Life By Zitou Itou & Albert Paul

12/17/2024

What I Want To Tell You

Cover

Written by Arthur Kent and Sylvia Dee
First performed by Skeeter Davis (1962)

I sang this a couple of years ago, but with some bad sound.. So i try again :)

The End Of The World (Cover)

Truth

Like so many here I write and record my own "stuff." Give a listen if so inclined.  Thank you-James

Strange Goins On

James Eoppolo

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