nemesis

sisyphus (feat. crawlenely)

I don't know what you saying
Cause I've been in my own world
No time to speak right now
Cause I don't wanna break this
Creativity comes to those who seek it
Revelations speak out to the ones who speak it
And I've been seeking it for all my lifetime
Now I've found it so I've got to write rhyme

And In this world we need to show our love
Keep your mind lifted to the skies above
When darkness comes down
Don't fall to fear
When your heart is open, hoping
Jah is near
When your heart is open, hoping
Jah is near

So why you
Stepping up to me like that
Most people know I try to
Keep a humble mindset
When you walk up with
Heavy fist on my door step
I know what you want
Is to see me locked up
But I bend around that route
and I ain't going that way
What sense does it make to you
To keep a good man locked away

And in this world
We need to show our love
Keep your mind lifted to the skies above
When's darkness comes down
Don't fall to fear
When your heart is open, hoping
Jah is near
When your heart is open, hoping
Nah nah nah nah nah nah
Jah is near
Ohh
Jah is near

They say knowledge is power
But there is no power
Like generosity
So give to another
As if he was your brother
Let's feed all the hungry
Spread courage to the ranks
And give a little thanks
To the people fighting over seas
It's time to make a change
Not the promise of a change
F political policies
And we've got the science
If we put our minds behind
There could be no more disease
With this generation come a new generation
And it's up to us to teach
How to be leaders
In this world of creatures
Cause we all deserve to breathe
And if we taught them forgiveness
There would be less prisons
Cause we all deserve to be free
Oh ohh to be free

In this world we need to show our love
Keep your mind lifted to the
Skies above
When darkness comes down
Don't fall to fear
When your heart is open, hoping
Jah is near
When your heart is open, hoping
Nah nah nah nah nah nah Jah is near
Oh oh Jah is near

So why you stepping up to me like that

Jah Is Near

Bahia

Thunder Down Under

Oh, Brother (We're In Chains)

Always Tomorrow - Robert Grigg & Combstead

Tired of writing lyrics, we used the text of an old Rolling Stones song for this one.

Video: https://youtu.be/gHMPoX66xxw
Lyrics by Nanker Phelge (1965)
Music by Interpret Unbekannt (2023)

Play with me (Reimagination of a The Rolling Stones Song)

#indiefolk #independentmusic #discovermusic #altpop #indieartist #indie #indiemusician #indiepop #indierock #indieband

Your Lies

Thank you for listening!

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And big thanks to Helena Vojtková for the cover picture.
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Lyrics:

Orchid seems like she has taste for dress
But it's too fried
Old man said she was too high
And then her letters fell down

Over saturation maybe
Over saturation maybe
Over saturation maybe
Over saturation maybe

Maybe, Maybe, Maybe
Maybe, Maybe

Black tears dropped on her lungs
Before she was wearing a crown
Silence was a bit louder
Then her mind in the red clouds

Over saturation maybe
Over saturation maybe
Over saturation maybe
Over saturation

Over saturation maybe
Over saturation maybe
Over saturation maybe
Over saturation maybe

Maybe, Maybe, Maybe
Maybe, May
Saturation
Maybe, Maybe, Maybe
Maybe, May
Saturation

ALTRUISM

Summer


Zopiclone, Mirtazapine.
My waking dream, my reverie in blue.

Like a massive dose of benzadrine.
Just shaking, I can never dream with you.

After some broken sleep I'm laid awake.
I'm choked, on thoughts of all the days that's done.

Oh, I'm ridden by the witches of the night.
And the devil on my left side.
Says the morning I can't hide.
Oh, lord, I am so tired.
No place to run.

It's the early hours I lay alone.
My empty face lit by my mobile phone.

I can not rest, can't concentrate.
The wastelands in my mind, let a weary moan.

Like a dead beat ghostman of the night.
I wander around, unfeeling and alone.

Oh, I'm haunted by the ghosts in the night.
And the angel on my right side.
Creates a moribund eventide.
Oh, lord, I am so tired.
And I'm so cold. 

These wasted hours I can only share.
With the pillow flowing with your golden hair.

These wasted nights that do not care.
My whole world's floating with you in the dark.

The drugs don't work im still awake,
Not ready for another day. I'm through.

Oh, lay me down before I shake.
A nervous twitch, a reverie of you. 

Like a boxed up jack, I must escape.
From this silence, though, I crave it just like you.

Oh, I'm ridden by the witches till the dawn.
And my soul is frayed and torn.
My eyes are red and wired.
Oh, lord, I'm just so tired,
What can I...

...Wasted words I can only share, 
with the power flowing through your golden hair.

These wasted years I got nowhere.
My whole world's floating with you in the dark.

Oh, I'm ridden by the witches of the night.
And the devil of my left side.
Says the morning cannot hide.
Oh, lord, I am so tired.
No place to run.

Sitting in the clover, red rover, red rover.

The ghost of the night is asleep in the clover.

Bring me up a champion and fetch your sister over.
We can sleep here with the ghosts of the night. 
Bring me forth some water and pockets of mumbles.
We can hold court with the king of the night.


Ghostman of the Night

https://myckalmarcovic.bandcamp.com/track/arc-en-ciel
Translation above.

Texte et voix : Jean-Paul Gaido-Daniel
www.facebook.com/jeanpaul.gaidodaniel
Accompagnement musical : Myckaël Marcovic

Arc-en ciel
Si c'était à recommencer, je voudrais être ce gamin qui court et qui danse sur les galets de la plage en dessous du trottoir de la promenade des Anglais à Nice-Ville. Ce gamin qui descend sur le chemin de l'école, son cartable à la main et ses billes arc-en-ciel dans ses poches, prêt à en découdre avec ses petits camarades dans la cour de l'école où toutes leurs richesses, toutes ces billes qui sautent et tombent tout autour des arbres de la cour du temps jadis, avec l'ami Coco. 
Si c'était à recommencer, à pas comptés, je claquerais le même chemin sur les pavés de ce vieux Nice ranssousse et plein de bruits bizarres sur ce marché multicolore, revoir Mireille, sa socca d'amour bien pébraté bien poivrée, servie d'un bon rosé bien frais. 
Si c'était à recommencer je dirais à tous mes camarades auteurs et compositeurs et bien d’autres encore, que je repartirais de nouveau pour un grand tour. Et roule ma sono sur les pavés gris-¬bleu au hasard de quelques allées embuées par ces buveurs de pastagas, cigarillos au bec qui se donneraient pour un quignon de soleil et quelques roses rouges sur des lèvres carnin. 
Si c'était à recommencer, je chanterais pour des caveaux de familles pour ces vieilles cancanières de bénitier, pour ce petit garçon qui sonnait les cloches de l'église et pissait avec ses copains dans les bénitiers d'eau de pluie. 
Oui Madame, oui Monsieur, je suis un coquin du Diable qui court encore comme Hopper sur le sable de San Pedro. Ce Hopper qui cherche d'où vient le vent de pluie.  
Si c'était à recommencer, donnez-moi un micro pour chanter vos chansons et les miennes z'aussi. 
Il ne faudra jamais parler de nos secrets, de nos poèmes de cœur, de nos amours cachées, de nos espoirs ratés.
On avait du talent, on était magnifique. Alors, moi le petit Niçois, je ne regrette rien ! 

Rainbow

If I had to do it all over again, I'd want to be that kid running and dancing on the pebbles of the beach below the sidewalk of the Promenade des Anglais in Nice-Ville. That kid on his way to school, his schoolbag in his hand and his rainbow marbles in his pockets, ready to do battle with his little friends in the school playground, where all their riches, all those marbles jumping and falling all around the trees in the playground of yesteryear, with friend Coco. 
If I had to do it all over again, I'd walk the same old path over the cobblestones of old Nice, full of strange noises and multicolored markets, and see Mireille again, with her peppery socca d'amour, served with a nice chilled rosé. 
If I had to do it all over again, I'd tell all my fellow songwriters and composers, and many others besides, that I'd go on another grand tour. And roll my sound system over the grey-blue cobblestones as I wander down a few aisles fogged by pastaga-drinkers, cigarillos in their mouths, who'd give it all up for a quignon of sunshine and a few red roses on carninous lips. 
If I had to do it all over again, I'd be singing for family vaults, for those old stoup gossipers, for that little boy who rang church bells and pissed in the rainwater stoup with his pals.
If you had to do it all over again, give me a microphone to sing your songs and mine too. 
We'll never have to talk about our secrets, our heartfelt poems, our hidden loves, our failed hopes.
We were talented, we were magnificent. So I, the little boy from Nice, regret nothing!

Arc-en-ciel (Jean-Paul Gaido-Daniel / Myckaël Marcovic)

Welcome to the Lab 💀 
Creator sound designer
40 plus years in live sound reinforcement
getting by with some help from friends.