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For peace and freedom!

Thank you for listening to this piece! 

Piano Day 2022 Playlist
https://soundcloud.com/nils_frahm/sets/piano-day-2022-playlist

Composed by Till Indy
Piano, Orchestration: Till Indy
© 2022 Till Indy

Wishes | Piano Day 2022

Piano/instrumental composition, and piano: Debra Buesking @debra_buesking
Melody composition for the voice, and voice: Oddrun Eikli
Poem: EMILY BRONTË
Cover design: Debra

Thank you so much Debbie, for great JOY working together.
Thank you so much for your friendship.

POEM OF EMILY BRONTË

That wind, I used to hear it swelling
With joy divinely deep;
You might have seen my hot tears welling,
But rapture made me weep.


I used to love on winter nights
To lie and dream alone
Of all the hopes and real delights
My early years had known.


And oh! above the best of those
That coming time should bear,
Like heaven's own glorious stars they rose,
Still beaming bright and fair.

November 28, 1839.

Emily Jane Brontë (30 July 1818 – 19 December 1848) was an English novelist and poet who is best known for her only novel, Wuthering Heights, now considered a classic of English literature. She also published one book of poetry with her sisters Charlotte and Anne titled Poems by Currer, Ellis and Acton Bell with her own poems finding regard as poetic genius.

That Wind. Debra Buesking and Oddrun Eikli

remains a mystery

Defusion

We're three friends that grew up together running the streets of a smalltown causing havoc and having fun. To this day we get together and play some music for fun in the garage while having some beers and laughing.

Devil Woman

Second part of my father trilogy.
This song is based on a dream I had a good 20 years ago with my father, who had been dead for some time. 
I am in a dimly lit room. It's just me and somehow my father's energy body. At some point, this invisible energy body comes towards me. Then we embrace. It is a merging embrace. Something deep inside me releases and makes me cry. It's not so much a sad cry, but a liberating, soothing cry that pacifies me completely. 
Since this dream, the grudge I harboured against him for a long time has largely disappeared.     
Somehow he has been there inside me since then and I can sometimes visit him (even in dreams) when I want to talk to him.

The arrangement of the song is deliberately minimalist (just vocals, guitar and violin, hardly any effects) in order to emphasise the tremendous intimacy of the encounter between my father and me in the dream described above (there is no longer a "leaf" between us).

My Father  (Lyrics in English)

Would so like to talk to you
Break through the walls to the hereafter
Meet you in a moon cafe
On chairs that stand here and there

You died before the Berlin Wall came down
My son was born on the day you died
Never saw my beautiful wife
Although you had aimed 
For a hundred years of life

You only reached half of it
Life was rarely really easy for you

You were often too close to the stars
Underestimated the danger to your life
Had so many visions
Wanted to live in castles in the air

Then you were all there again
So clairvoyant, wise and clear

Would love to have you with me now
My father, I would love to have you here now 

The dividing wall to you is now open
I haven't met you for so long
You're waiting for me in the moon cafe
I see you in the soft twilight

I want to tell you so many things
What happened after you left
You still wanted to experience it all
Your early death did not grant you that

You were so torn, the demons, they tore at you
You loved the rush, had little sense of yourself

And yet you were in deep distress
My ever-protecting boat
My steadying hand
The lighthouse in my land of chaos

You gave up the shirt off your back
That ultimately cost you your life

Would love to have you with me now
My father, I wish you were here now


Mein Vater (Deutscher Originaltext)

Möchte so gern mit Dir sprechen
Die Mauern zum Jenseits durchbrechen
Dich in einem Mond-Cafe` treffen
Auf Stühlen, die hier und dort stehen

Vor dem (Berliner) Mauerfall bist Du gestorben
An Deinem Todestag wurde mein Sohn geboren
Hast meine schöne Frau niemals erlebt
Dabei hattest Du 
Hundert Jahre Leben angestrebt

Hast grad‘ mal gut die Hälfte davon erreicht
Das Leben war für Dich selten wirklich leicht

Warst oft den Sternen zu nah
Unterschätztest die Lebensgefahr
Hattest so viele Visionen
Wolltest in Luftschlössern wohnen

Dann warst Du wieder ganz da
So hellsichtig, weise und klar

Hätt‘ Dich so gern jetzt bei mir
Mein Vater, hätt‘ Dich jetzt gern hier 

Die Trennwand zu Dir steht jetzt offen
So lange hab‘ ich Dich nicht getroffen
Du wartest im Mond-Cafe‘ auf mich
Ich seh‘ Dich im zarten Dämmerlicht

Ich will Dir so vieles erzählen
Was so geschah nach Deinem Fortgehen
Du wolltest das alles noch erleben
Dein früher Tod hat Dir das nicht vergönnt

Warst so zerrissen, die Dämonen, sie zerrten an Dir
Liebtest den Rausch, hattest für Dich wenig Feingespür

Und dennoch warst Du in tiefer Not
Mein stets mich schützendes Boot
Meine mir haltgebende Hand
Der Leuchtturm in meinem Chaos-Land

Hast Dein letztes Hemd hergegeben
Das kostete Dich letztlich Dein Leben

Hätt‘ Dich so gern jetzt bei mir
Mein Vater, hätt‘ Dich jetzt gern hier

Mein Vater (My Father)

Third part of my father trilogy.
The father trilogy ends with my naïve and youthful attempt, at the age of 23, to break away from my father, who seemed overpowering at the time, and stand on my own two feet: 
To move as far away as possible from my provincial hometown, to throw myself into a Berlin that was completely foreign to me at the time and completely overwhelming. 
My saviour at the time was my oldest friend, who had already been living in Berlin for a few years and took me under his wing like a big brother.     
But even with his help, I soon had to realise that the attempt at a radical inner "patricide" could not succeed in any way. The early imprints he had left on me, the demons I had 'inherited' from him, were all still there. No matter how much I turned my outer life upside down, there was no escape from the central patterns and beliefs that I had learnt from my father in the first 10 years of my life.
In this respect, the song title "The Singular Man" is a "Mission Impossible". It was only three years later, and especially after his early death, that I realised more and more that a lifelong confrontation with my inner father images could lead to a closely linked dialectic:
An ever deeper and visibly more reconciliatory bond with my father and, at the same time, an ever-increasing self-realisation    
 
The Singular Man  (Lyrics in English)

Run through streets crooked and skewed 
The bridges criss-cross

All around me the stink of the city
An army of people everywhere

Turn in somewhere now
Fall in at your door

You are alone
Your corridor infinitely long
Your walls high and wide 
Your front door broad and welcoming

You push me through the corridor now 
At the windows the siren-
song

I get scared and bang 
Am I still
Your catch of fish
Your silhouette
That only plays at being free

And yet I have escaped you 
Escaped!

I take off all hinges
Hang out the windows
Make me a magic wand
Grey Berlin becomes a colourful bouquet for me 

Ride on a peacock wheel
Take a foam spring bath in the Spree

All light 
Time thrown into the air

Pain-free in a glittering dress
An ecstatic feeling of life

But something pushes back
Under the carpet lies the hanging rope
The spider's web is
Still there
The old danger

I only know about her now 
Keep me out of her more 

Oh man, the singular man
Man Oh man, the singular man
Man Oh man, the singular man
Man Oh man, the singular man


Der Singuläre Mann (Deutscher Originaltext)

Lauf’ durch Straßen krumm und schief, 
Die Brücken kreuz und quer

Um mich herum der Großstadtmief
Überall ein Menschen-Heer

Bieg' irgendwo jetzt ein
Fall’ bei Dir zur Tür herein

Du bist allein
Dein  Flur unendlich lang
Deine Wände hoch und weit 
Deine Eingangstür willkommens-breit

Schiebst mich jetzt durch den Gang 
An den Fenstern der Sirenen-
Gesang

Mir wird Angst und Bang 
Bin ich immer noch
Dein Fischfang
Dein Schattenbild
Das das Freisein nur spielt

Und doch bin ich Dir entflohen 
Entflohen!

Lege alle Scharniere ab
Häng' die Fenster aus
Bastle mir einen Zauberstab
Grau-Berlin wird mir zum bunten Strauß 

Fahr auf nem‘ Pfauenrad
Nehm‘ in der Spree ein Schaum-Frühlingsbad

Alles leicht 
In die Luft geworfene Zeit

Schmerzbefreit im Glitzerkleid
Ein rauschhaftes Lebensgefühl

Doch etwas drängt zurück
Unterm Teppich liegt der Häng‘-Dich-Strick
Das Spinnennetz ist
Immer noch da
Die alte Gefahr

Kenn‘ mich jetzt nur mit ihr aus 
Halt mich mehr aus ihr raus 

Oh Mann, der Singuläre Mann
Mann Oh Mann, der Singuläre Mann
Mann Oh Mann, der Singuläre Mann
Mann Oh Mann, der Singuläre Mann

Der Singulare Mann (The Singular Man)

Der Singuläre Mann (The Singular Man)

I feel so lucky that Dave Orestes 1 allowed me to record a rendition of his wonderful song " What Is Rich" ! 

Written by Dave Orestes 1 
https://on.soundcloud.com/JG7gH

Recorded/Mixed: Audacity
Guitar: Cort MR710 LH NS
Mic: Rhode USB Mini
Tam Jennifer: Interpretation, Vocals, Guitar, Mix & Master

Lyrics (Dave Orestes):

What is rich? You're asking me
Rich is so simple, don't you see
It's not what you own but what you do and say
.
What is rich? You're asking me
It's not hard to explain
It's all about what you feel
And not what you touch
Every day
.
Rich is how well you sleep at night and
your thoughts on your own death bed
when you have few regrets
few regrets
.
Rich is passing on
the prospect of hope
so that all have a chance
to prosper and grow
Rich is not how tall 
Your sky scrapers grow
no no no no
.
Or the number of seats
in your stadium row 
It's not how many toys
in the attic you've stowed 
oh no no
that's not it
.
What is rich? You're asking me
Oh it's not hard to explain
It's all about what you feel
Not what you touch every day 
.
Rich is when
All the children are fed
And each of them has 
A warm safe bed
Rich is how 
You care for people 
That, you've never met
.
It's not hard to explain 
It's all about what you feel 
And not what you touch
Every day
.
Doo da doo da doo
Laa la laa la laa
Laa la laa la laa
Laa la laa
La laa la la
.
© Dave Orestes 1, Tam Jennifer Hastings, 2024. All rights reserved.

What Is Rich (with Dave Orestes, 2024)

i like u

The Dagda was the creator god of the Irish fairy race, the Tuatha Dé Danann, who, in Celtic myths, ejaculates into the River Boyne, dedicated to the goddess Boann. Here I combine this star metaphor with our growing knowledge about cymatics, and about how archaeologists discovered that the shapes of the shells of the fossils change all at once, at the beginning of every Vedic Age (25,772 years). 

Lyrics:

The Dagda stood, phallus firmly in hand 
One foot on Red Mountain, the other on Newgrange. 
While miles below him flowed the River Boyne 
And the pleasure boats of happy folk 
Oblivious to the existence of 
This giant of the Tuatha dé Danann, 
The creator god of their race. 

He was waiting for Her. 
He was waiting for Boann, 
He was waiting for Her Voice, 
As he had done, many times before, 
Over countless aeons... 

He was waiting for Her Voice, 
The love song that would sing into being 
The turning of the Ages, 
The command for the waves to change their shapes. 

Only He could hear Boann’s Voice, 
Only The Dagda’s ears were pure 
From the chattering white noise 
And seductive sirens’ spells 
That others were bound by. 
He had no interest in their words. 
To him they were just like 
The mating cries of hump-backed whales, 
A long way off in the distance. 

He wondered what she’d sound like, this time? 
What love song would She sing 
To build the new waves of the new Age? 
Then he heard it. He heard it... 

It was coming towards him on the wind. 

Suddenly her soft lips were on His ear, 
And she sang Her song 
Into the long, winding labyrinth 
That led to the serpents in His sack, 
Who instantly, at the sound, leapt up 
On fire, and whirling with desire 
To enflame Him with Her command, 
To send Her song to the waters, to the waves
And to the seas, to turn the Wheel of the Age. 
And He could hold back no longer. 

With a vast groan of ecstasy 
Tinged only with the agony of waiting, 
He released Boann’s love potion, 
Like a colossal creamy fountain, 
Into the flowing, glistening milky way 
Of Her river below. 

Lyrics and vocals by Annie Dieu-Le-Veut
© Annie Dieu-Le-Veut, January 2024 
Music by Paul Foss
© Paul Foss, January 2024
Contact: paul@paulfossmusic.com

Cover art: Carina Nebula, a collosal stellar entity spanning 460 light years and emitting some of the most stunning formations of gas and dust in the Milky Way.

The Dagda

Little Country Interlude (For two guitars & bass)

Inspired by the story of Dune.

Composed by Till Indy
© 2024 Till Indy

Arrthag | Till Indy

INNOVATIVE AND CREATIVE
Lillithe: Music, Mix and Production
Vocals and Verses: IPG1
https://soundcloud.com/ipg1/innovative-and-creative-vocal-96-bpm

Innovative And Creative feat. IPG1

I think of this man as the Frank Sinatra of country music.  What
a voice and such a special gift.  So many wonderful songs and so many were so beautifully orchestrated.  I tried to get a bit of orchestra feel with the limited resources I have.

I Wish I Were Eighteen Again ( Cover  - Ray Price)

Post A Picture

Ian Greaves

Here And Now 145 BPM

That's right, I have a new axe...a Schecter. I never even considered one before. But, I saw great reviews(and it cost 1/3 the price my Les Paul) so I picked one up. I wrote this epic instrumental to give it a test drive. I cut the drum loops (and gave them that big 80s feel), used my LPs for the rhythm guitars, played bass, layered harmonies of the Schecter's sweet, singing tone for the chorus and let 'er rip on some lead and Floyd Rose dive bombs. Such a fun guitar to play!

Dawn of a New Blade

A Painted World 140 BPM

Sakavik

First song I am posting in 2024!

This is what I wrote in 2013 when I first thought about posting Nothing But (The Sound) but decided to take it down from the cloud short after. 

"Nothing But (The Sound)" is Plastic Inevitable's first song since 2011! Plastic Inevitable is Marty Procaccio, AKA Blankets, working the sound and Sneekie San Salvador tweaking the sound. The recording for this song began in 2011 in the bedroom recording studio of Marty in Santa Clara California using GarageBand and a whole bunch of pedals. The song was completed in 2013 with vocals recorded in Sneekie San Salvador's mobile Toyota recording unit.

Now it is 11 years later...

I am amazed that I found the vocal stems. I had to look though an old hard drive to find them. I did not feel like digging through more old hard drives for the original track stems. Big thanks to Russell for taking the time to mix the vocals and master the track. I told Russell, when I mixed the original instrumental I was listening to a lot of shitgaze bands at the time. 

May you find many gems when you dig into your past. 

Track Credits:
Blankets: Bass, guitars, and vocals
https://soundcloud.com/allergeist
Couch King: Original instrumental track mix, production, samples, lyrics, and vocals
https://musiciselation.bandcamp.com
Russell Sinfield: Vocal mix and final master
https://soundcloud.com/russell-sinfield
https://soundcloud.com/the-exe-stencilists
The Chaos Cookhouse: Studio
https://chaoscookhouse.bandcamp.com

Lyrics: 

Chorus:
Sitting in my car
Windows rolled down
Feet out the window
Nothing but the sound
Of my favorite song

Capture me a distraction
And season it with your bliss
To steal my dissatisfaction 
And feed my mind but a moment
Of happiness 

Chorus

Capture me a distraction
And season it with your bliss
To steal my dissatisfaction 
And feed my mind but a moment

Chorus  

In this moment
There is an infinite 
Amount of things
Happening
In this moment
I have loved you
Infinitely 
Again and again
In this moment 
I am yours
Forever with me
My forever friend
In this moment 
I sing with you
Every song 
That was ever made

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