So this is an exploration of what life is for most of us now built on top of stark cadences and composite stories with a refrain of greed, corruption, and control.

More sunshine?

Stark Cadence

Alternate Rock

Rock@333

This is the first installment of a new project.  This one will focus more on images rather than conclusions.

Lyrics:

On a hill a flower grows
	A pretty, yellow daffodil
Through the socket of a skull
	Where someone’s eye should have been.

All around it’s all the same
	Mounds of bones bleached by the rain.
All these people fell
	To rot where they were slain.

The earth is scarred with deserted roads
	Cracked like dirt baking in the sun.
What were once cars are melted hulks.
	They tried to get away.

Rising high into the gray,
	The crumbling city scape.
Miles of steel and glass and clay
	Just giant tomb stones.

In a dried-up riverbed
	The twisted wreckage of a plane.
The field is scattered with luggage.
	And empty clothing.

No music playing in the streets
	Just the cries of a million ghosts
Or the wind whipping through the streets
	Past burnt-out buildings.

Outtro:

On the west side of a town
Sits an untouched neighborhood
Inside a room all painted pink
A little girl sleeps.

She didn’t die like all the rest.
Her preservation is the best.
Curled upon her little bed
Like only sleeping.

Blond hair splayed out on the pillow
Tears still stain her little face
Clutching a pink, plush teddy bear
Like it could save her.

She was someone’s little baby.
So were all of them.

Post-Apocalypse Panorama

I didn't set out to write a song.  I didn't even have an idea.  I did, however have an idea for a drum cadence based on what you would hear on TV shows in the 1970s when a bad guy was up to no good.  I also wanted to try that with maybe some seventies style funk bass guitar riffage.

Next thing you know, I've got this little ditty.  Honestly, I think that will be the process for this project.  Begin with a cadence, write the music around it, and let the lyrics do what they want.  This is a neat one, (in my humble opinion).

Also, it follows that the next track should be something on the disingenuous nature of American politicians.  The working title of the track will be "Vote for me you stupid bastard."

Lyrics:
Vintage TV Villain

Flags of state 
Flapping in the wind
On the corners of 
A black limousine 

Riding safely
in his motorcade.
His plans are drawn.
He moves his hand.

With the stroke of a pen,
he spills the blood of men,
and from the pulpit,
He spews his hate.

He preaches death
to all he loathes,
and when he’s done,
the room explodes.

Chorus:
He’s a vintage TV villain.
He lets his minions kill them.

He tells the press
what they should say
and what will befall them
if they disobey.

In a spot lit room
somewhere far away
where no one hears
as they cut skin away.

Or you’ll turn your key
to drive yourself home
and in an explosion,
you will be gone.

Or you’ll take a drink
at your favorite bar,
and you’ll die writhing
on the floor.

Chorus:
He’s a vintage TV villain.
Watch him grin just like a demon.

In a secret lab,
he crafts our bane,
and holds us for some kind of
ransom insane.

He takes what he will;
you don’t have a say.
And if you demur,
he’ll blow you away.

Human life
Has no meaning to him.
Babies, women, and kids
are just insects to end.

Should you even try
To get in the way,
your entire family
will surely pay.

Chorus;
He’s a vintage TV Villain.
His henchmen will just kill you.

Smile and know you’re a devil
without a thought to consequence.
Rule by fear not by wisdom,
blinding the world with all your lies.

Sooner or later,
your own people
will kick down your door 
and take you out.

Chorus:
He’s a vintage TV villain.
Someone really needs to kill him.
Before he blows us all to heaven.

Vintage TV Villain

The cadence for this one was inspired by an old marching band cadence.   Lot of different influences went into this production.  At the beginning and the end, I made use of "Yankee Doodle Dandy."  This is an old Folk song, so no copyright issues.

The idea was to take the persona of a political candidate without being partisan and show exactly how far politicians in my country have fallen.  (We thought they were pretty low before),

Lyrics:

Fellow stupid assholes,

I'm just like you.

From humblest beginnings 
Where I grew.
Through stubbornness and study 
I came through.

I'm just like you.

Don't be confused.

By this sweetly made Armani suit.
Or the fortune that my family accrued.
Or the fact that I hail from the finest schools.
Despite the mediocre grades I pooled.

Don't misconstrue. 

Chorus:
Say hoorah for freedom
You fucking slaves.
I won't fix your problems
But I'll make sure I get paid.

For ten bucks a month,
you can help me make my way.
I won't fight your battles,
But I'll get rich off your pain.

Say hoorah for freedom.

You're disabused

Of rights for which our laws say you are due.
My adversary took them all from you.
Sexually harasses children, too.

That's why he'll lose.

He's such a sleaze.

Lets them steal your money while you sleep.
A liar and a scoundrel and a cheat.
Smiles straight to your face pickpocketing.

Do not believe.

Chorus.

Bridge:
My government is not about
Protecting you and taking out
The people who would take it all
Away.

My benefactors emptied out
Your Christmas trees and bank accounts.
And now they're hauling liberty
Away.

Slightly raised your wages
Then they doubled all the prices
And we blamed it on your pitiful 
Pay raise.

Congress with their no bid jobs
Emoluments from Santa Claus
Have turned your weakened minds
The other way.

Chorus.
Outtro.

Last Hoorah

This is a song written and first recorded by the great Chris Maness. He was kind enough to share his badass bass line and song with me after I requested it. I kept hearing a David Gilmore solo on top of it. Not that I'm a faction of the player he is, but that was the feel I wanted for it. To Chris' bass and acoustic guitar, I added a couple if electric guitars, some slide, mandolin, banjo, and synth. I really enjoy collaborating with him because he always gives me such gems with which to work. I hope you like my version of his song. You can find the original on his page @cgmaness.

Sleep Sleep Little Sheep (with cgmaness)

As the sunshine peers out,
from a rupture in the clouds,
winter turns and takes his bow. 
exit stage left, going down.
Applause fades away,
and the blacks into greys,
no colour's displayed. 

As the birds return to nests,
that the winds have almost wrecked,
The crows look on through hungry eyes,
spinning circles in the skies. 
Though the danger remains.
Hope the secrets are safe.
Almost nothing is sacred 

Distant hills create a frame,
joined up to the window pane.
a whole day which contains nought,
just a fragment of a thought.
Within or without.
The snow flys about.
Whilst we lay around. 

All your things placed in a line, 
as a way to pass the time, 
and though I guess what's yours is mine,
this final case is borderline.
You're falling awake.
As the time slips away.
Need a reason to stay. 

Though there's been lack of want,
could have seen it more up front.
Turn around you're back to front,
facing forward to the sun.
You're watching him play,
and you've nothing to say.
Nothing left to say. 

Moon companion in the sky.
Just a plane that's flying by,
in which people sit around,
listen carefully to the sounds. 
It's hope not dismay.
That the people remain.
As they're flying away.





More Things

This is another of those tracks that I wrote and recorded in one night.  I finished it this morning.  I'll probably edit it since I just have written it.  I'm sure I'll find some things I don't like about it.

Lyrics:

He don’t care if god exists.
	Wealth is his only religion.
He’s not afraid that he’ll go broke
         In dear old Daddy, he trusts

He’s never struggled once in life
        Doesn’t the stuff grow on trees?.
So he resents the lazy poor.
	They’re not worth a damn anyway.

He won’t commit to loyalty.
	Such notions are made for the weak.
He don’t believe in things like love;
	It’s just two in the bed making three.


Drives his Austin-Martin down the winding roads
He pays no heed to laws.
Every single judge in town belongs to him.
Sits in his office –  high.
In a gaudy penthouse where he fires them through emails.
He don’t care.  
He has never met them. They’ll brilliant every day 
or they must beware.

(Narcissistic bastard, they say that he’s rapacious, they say that he’s immoral, but he’s just mean).
Big money.
He acts like he is your friend.
Big money.
He stabs you with a such nice grin, 

He don’t care if you can’t pay the rent.
	You’ll do it or live in a tent.
He’ll kick you out upon your ear.
	Everything belongs to him.

Inflation doesn’t bother him.
	He’ll have record profits again.
He’ll double prices citing demand.
	And we’ll all face the poor house again.

Insists there’s too many people here.
	Supports population control.
He thinks we need a bloody war.
	To reduce all the surplus poor.

He don’t it’s immoral that financial laws
Are ghost written by him.
Every single Congressman belongs to him;
He made them what they are.
Someone asked him once how he describes his job,
And he smiled shook his head.
“So what do you do?” she said, and through his narrow eyes
He said, “I win.”

(Narcissistic bastard, they say that he’s rapacious, they say that he’s immoral, but he’s just mean).
Big money.
He acts like he is your friend.
Big money.
He stabs you with a such nice grin. 
Big money.
Replacing us all with AI.
Big money.
A reptile who looks like a man.

Big Money

this song is to jus for you to live your life that youwant too

My Life

i owe you nothing

I Owe You Nothing

Purple Sand (Unmastered)

This was one of the stories missing from the earlier part of the project.  I've done a lot of illuding to the systemic problems renters face.  We'll here's a sardonic tale that just so happens to be true-ish.  Wouldn't want it to be too on the nose.  Besides, I think a composite story shown through composite characters becomes much more profound than a straight tale.

Lyrics:

Five decades old dressed like a teen.
Smiles like a star.  Face like a queen.
Addresses the world through a thin veneer 
Of kind civility.

Bleached blond hair hides deep crow’s feet.
Tight, little skirt veiling cottage cheese.
Badge on her big breast to let us know 
She’s the land lady.

Behind smiling eyes she’s extra mean
Perhaps it’s compassion fatigue.
“Welcome to our buildings where there’s
No tenants allowed.

“Can’t wait to kick you out.”

Chorus:
There’s a special kind of violence in your deeds.
Is this who you really want to be?
Looking at yourself, what do you see?
I see an ugly lizard.

Fat cop standing by my neighbor’s door.
As maintenance guys haul her things outdoors.
Fifty-pound table muscle’s all I see drooping 
toward the floor.

Handle bar mustache above his lip.
Looks like he taped a piece of shit
Just below his nose. I wonder if
he knows.

“It’s just a job; it is what it is.” 

Chorus:
There’s a special kind of violence in your deeds.
Is this who you really want to be?
Looking at yourself, what do you see?
I see a shitty mustache.

My neighbor came home late that night
To find her things sitting outside.
It had all been picked through by the 
other residents.

She was only two weeks late.
They wouldn’t grant another day.
Despite the fact she’d lived here five long years
And built a life.

My eyes locked on a certificate
Given to her little girl.
My son got the same when he was
in the second grade.

Only two weeks late.

There's a special kind of violence in your deeds.
Is this who you really want to be?
Looking at yourself what do you see?

A special kind of violence.

A special kind of violence.

A Special Kind Of Violence

Ad Nauseam Movement One:

Lyrics:

A garish atrium
shaped like a soaring silo
lacquered marble walls
with declarations of law
chiseled into stone like scripture
bronze statue in the center.

She towers above her peers
billowing, tarnished toga
fastened at the shoulders by sunburst broaches
shining resplendently.
In her hand, she holds balance scales
level with her head.

Blindfold obscures her eyes.
He wonders if Astraea knows
her stewards sold her for a whore.
Daniel stands inside the door.
He is simply one of a thousand people
inside the atrium

coming for his day in court,
but he's been here before.
For what he's come to do the press will curse him
damned forevermore.
Can they all really ignore
the sins of Judge Deeds and his court?

Today Astraea's champion will see justice
served in her temple well.
That's when he moves past the scales
To be weighed like an Egyptian
in hell.

Judge Justice Leeds,
how can you go home at night and sleep
beneath the weight of all of your misdeeds?
Breaking peoples' spirits

Ad Nauseam
While Seldom serving justice.

Ad Nauseam: Movement 1:  "Astraea's Bondage"

'Ribcage' follows ‘Heavy Heart’ and the opening single ‘Rip’, the first track to be taken from their upcoming album A Quiet Ritual. Centring around the theme of death, the album seeks to process the shock and grief of bereavement and its aftermath, as well as casting back across history and other cultures for their own metaphors and coping strategies. 

The band explain, “’A Quiet Ritual’ maps out stages of the grieving process and how every individual deals with it in their own unique way. Most importantly how they handle their own heart and the other fragile hearts inevitably scattered around them.”

A Quiet Ritual

Ribcage

LP / CD / STREAM

Snow Ghosts - Ribcage

Rock N Roll Deal

I CAN FLY
Written, Performed, Produced & Mastered
by Andrew Borderick Copyright 2020
See Link for Video.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o3MDfQ95BVQ

YOU TAKE THE LONG WAY HOME
THE SHORT WAY IT TAKES TO LONG
SOMETIMES YOU TRY TO FLY TO HIGH AWAY
MAY'BE YOU'LL FALL AGAIN SOMEDAY

YOU FIND THE WAY TO GO
THEN FALLING BACK TO EARTH
WHAT IF YOU FLY TO HIGH AND LOSE YOUR WAY
I PRAY ANOTHER DAY WILL COME
(chorus)
I CAN FLY
IT'S JUST A HEARTBEAT FROM THE GROUND
I CAN FLY HIGH HIGH  ONLY TAKES A LITTLE

WHERE HAS THE DAYLIGHT GONE
THE NIGHT LIFE IT'S IN YOUR BLOOD
AND WHEN THE SUN IT COMES YOU FALL AWAY
AND WHEN IT FALLS AGAIN YOU'LL SAY
(chorus)
I CAN FLY
IT'S JUST A HEARTBEAT FROM THE GROUND
I CAN FLY HIGH HIGH  ONLY TAKES A LITTLE
MAY'BE JUST A LITTLE
(break)
(chorus)
I CAN FLY
IT'S JUST A HEARTBEAT FROM THE GROUND
I CAN FLY HIGH HIGH  ONLY TAKES A LITTLE
MAY'BE JUST A LITTLE

Post-Apocalypse Panorama

Matt Cantrell