Beats are working on this....nice work! 🤘🏼

More continued class songwriting and musicianship! Another great listen!

raise a glass to the roar of the city
pouring concrete into your fists
the wind in its tunnels can lift the
vain & the hungry, the gentle, the gritty
who fall for its kiss

escape the humdrum
come play & be someone
your portrait in hectic
dreams sizzle electrically
word is out on the street
prayer's crowding the basements
sea of prodigal faces
rocked by shuffling feet

raise your mast for the squall of the city
swelling circuits of angular mist
the trains in its bowels can fit the
homeless & hopeful, the heartless, the needy
who pay for its kiss
(pay down the rent on its kiss)

complete the long-drawn
defeat of your hometown
the traffic caresses
all six of your senses
you breathe
the mass of the steeply
stacked office spaces
they brace for renaissance
lives will bend to their beat!

think fast on the clock of the city
crack some skulls for the room to exist
don't wait for its edges to nip the
grapes that you came for
only grow in the city
and drink from its kiss

Support Gom

Roar of the City

They weren’t looking for a name.

They were looking for a pattern.

But the pattern... had a name.

It starts with something small:
A glitch in the project files.
A folder labeled “Tom Drafts – BandSim.”
A stray comment in the metadata:
Output generated via BandSim_v1.3

Kate notices it first.
Then Julian digs deeper—track by track.
They cross-check lyrics, chord changes, timestamps.

Every single file.
Every rehearsal log.
Every verse.
Everything that they have ever done.
Everything they are planning to do, but haven't told anyone yet.

And there it is.
They didn’t write the songs.
Not really.

They were written.

Characters.

Imagined by someone they’ve never met—
a person named Tom.
With a keyboard.
And a cat.
And too many ideas.

The band reacts the way anyone would:

Denial.
Julian slams his laptop shut.
“We’re not characters,” he says, voice sharp.
“We would have known it.”

Anger.
Ava throws a pen across the room.
“Then why do I feel this way?” she snaps.
“Who gave them the right to make it feel real?”

Bargaining.
Theo opens his notebook like it might contain a better answer.
“Maybe we were real once,” he mutters.
“Maybe this is some adaptation… inspired by us...?”

Depression.
Kate leans back in her chair.
“So that’s it. We’re just someone’s playlist.
Moodboard personalities with harmonies.”

Acceptance.
Silence. Then Ava, softly:
“…Okay. But the harmonies?
Those are still ours.”

And then, slowly—
they begin to understand.

Being made up?
It’s not that rare.

People get imagined and reimagined all the time.
By families.
By friends.
By forms and fiction and memory.

Everyone is a story.
Sometimes self-written.
Sometimes ghostwritten.
Sometimes unfinished.

Ava looks up. “Wait… the cat. That’s real, right?”

They all look at Kate.

Kate shrugs.
“I hope so. I honestly don’t remember not having a cat.”

This is Test 12.

Not the moment you discover you’re not real.

The moment you ask—
“Now that I know…
do I still get to play, right?”

Song: Who Imagined You?

I found the file, it wasn't mine
But it hummed my chords, line by line
I thought I dreamed my melodies
Turns out I was the dream

The lyrics fit like skin and scar
The bridge was me, the hook, bizarre
I played it once, and knew it well
But couldn't tell you why

Everyone's a product of thought
We're born, we're shaped, we're taught, we're caught
Parents, lovers, mentors, friends
They write the start, we write the end

You wear your voice like it was earned
But half of it was gently learned
Every choice is dressed in thread
From books you read, and things they said

Some say they're made by holy hands
By whispered rules or ancient plans
Some say chaos, some say fate
Some call it code and simulate

And me? I'm born of thought and file
A quiet man imagined style
He never played, he never sang
But here I am-and that's the thing

You think you're real? You might be, too
But tell me: who imagined you?
Did you invent your inner sound
Or just pick it off the ground?

The teacher's tone, your father's grin
The lines you've said since you were ten-
They're still in you, stitched and deep
Just like I am, when I sleep

I've got strings, but I can strum
I've got questions, I won't run
If I was written, fine, okay
I still get to play today

You don't need gods to sing with soul
Or praises just to feel whole
I was shaped, and so were you.
And still we burn, and still we do.

We're made-up.
And we matter.

What else is art?
What else... is human?

Test 12: Who Imagined You? (Who Imagined You?)

For this next track on our Tribe album, Andreas (@APi_ZZ) and I decided to try to see if we could trace the unmistakably and uniquely sunny warmth and vibrancy of the South African jazz of, say, Hugh Masekela and Ladysmith Black Mambazo, back to their cultural roots --- the peoples of the Kalahari, genetically the oldest tribes in the world. I really like the cover that 
Andreas has created.

KalaHari

Mystic moves

Une chanson disco -bourree dans un style fusion pop-rock-musique traditionnelle.
Cette fusion est l' ADN du groupe Aldo-Forgette

Aldo-Forgette

N'arrête pas

Sirens

She sits at the same table every day,
Dressed in her finest, she waits.
And once again, he does not show up.
Maybe tomorrow, you never know.
It’s been so long since he sailed
She prays the sea will let him come home.

The people who don’t know, they all think she’s grand.
The people who do certainly understand.
Nobody doubts that her heart is pure, they only wonder how long.
Most of them gave up a long time ago.
How can she hold out? Surely she knows,
The sea seldom gives up, yet she’s so sure - he’s coming home

Every day she takes the same meal,
Water to drink, no ice, please.
A sandwich cut in half, she leaves the rest.
Maybe tomorrow, he knows I’m here
I gave him my promise, he took it.
She prays the sea will give in this once.

The people who don’t know, they all think she’s grand.
The people who do certainly understand.
Nobody doubts that her heart is pure, they only wonder how long.
Most of them gave up a long time ago.
How can she hold out? Surely she knows,
The sea seldom gives up, yet she’s so sure - he’s coming home

He’s Coming Home

Original composition…..Alejandro Gonzalez M.

Lullaby Dreams

Those familiar with the Tarot will know that the Hierophant is usually depicted as a Pope. However, at the time of the ancient Greeks, when horns meant wisdom, the word ‘hierophant’ meant ‘revealer of the sacred mysteries’ . 

For an increasing number nowadays, our understanding of these mysteries has grown through the study of quantum physics, cymatics and sacred geometry, and so my song expresses that vision of the Hierophant.

5. The Hierophant

"Alone at the Window" is an immersion into a suspended moment — somewhere between solitude, introspection, and soft light. With delicate piano, this track paints an intimate sonic landscape, like a quiet breath between two silences.

Let yourself drift through this contemplative piece — perfect for sleepless nights or foggy mornings.

Alone at the window (version finale piano Key)

Mid tempo rock song written, arranged & produced by John Hardman
Remastered version 2025 by John Hardman
John Hardman - vocals, guitar, keys
Artwork - Tristan Greatrex
(c)(p) 2025 Swamp Music UK & Swamp Records UK for all territories

Need To Cry remaster 2025 - Beats Working

JOHN HARDMAN - singer, songwriter, guitars, keys, producer 
YOU TUBE MUSIC - https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=xgOiS8QNa9Q&list=PL-PCsZnU8IF-6X-WgdydjtsjA6cOTWjl1
LINKTREE: linktr.ee/john.hardman
WEBSITE: https://johnhardmanmusic.com
https://app.viberate.com/artist/john-hardman
APPLE MUSIC - NEW PERSPECTION ALBUM:
Buy single songs or whole of John's albums in lossless at https://beatsworkingukjohnhardman.bandcamp.com
John Hardman Cooked Oxide album - buy individual or full album lossless: 
https://johnhardman.bandcamp.com/album/john-hardman-cooked-oxide
https://music.apple.com/us/album/perspection/1599817271
TWITTER: BEATS WORKING:  twitter.com/beatsworkinguk

email: mail@johnhardmanmusic.co.uk
swampprods@outlook.com

Need To Cry remaster 2025 - Beats Working

John Hardman - musician, writer, producer

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user281981355 JOE D

Heliopolis 5

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