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"Tea with Debussy & Pärt in Casablanca" is a musical dream that bloomed during my vacation in Havana, Cuba. Inspired by classical masterpieces from Arvo Pärt and Claude Debussy, I envisioned an imaginary encounter with these esteemed composers in Casablanca, over Moroccan tea.

Commissioned by a dear friend and talented violist Vincent Delorme, this piece is not an imitation of their styles but rather a heartfelt conversation between us. It embodies the essence of typical conversations in Morocco, where we all speak at the same time, meandering from topic to topic, and experiencing numerous changes of atmospheres, tempi, textures, and fragments of thematic material.

It begins with minimalist touches, a nod to Pärt's recent works, where the piano introduces serene arpeggios, intertwining with heartfelt viola melodies. As we delve into our tea time, I incorporate some of Debussy's harmonic vocabulary. 

Throughout our harmonious dialogue, the piece mirrors the dynamic nature of conversations in Morocco. We experience moments of collective excitement, where the music swells with vibrant textures and lively tempi, as if everyone is speaking at once. Themes and motifs emerge and intertwine, mirroring the meandering nature of our discussion as we navigate from one topic to another.

As our musical journey unfolds, our collaboration celebrates cultural fusion, weaving together Pärt, Debussy, and my artistic zest. Each voice contributes to the narrative, inviting moments of wonder and contemplation through our shared inspirations.

Tea with Debusy and Pärt in Casablanca

Tea With Debussy and Pärt in Casablanca - World Premiere (Live Performance)

I never thought I'd say it
Like a brick through our window
That let our house start shaking

I didn't think I had it in me
To break what I've known
And let these walls be forsaken

But I'm not sure I ever knew you
Like you needed me to
But I swear I could taste it

I tried my best to ignore it
But the seed it took root
And shed the fruit that's now wasted

Why did I waste my time
Falling down hills to climb?
All who knew me saw right through me
What did I hear you say
This is a hollow play?
Not much to doubt while bleeding out

Sometimes I cannot see me
So I'll pull a sheet over
To give me some shape now

I hope I'll be able to find me
In the void it creates
There's a beauty in the breakdown

Who are you to say
I'm better off to stay
What don't kill me, might just heal me
What did I hear you say
This is a hollow play?
Not much to doubt while bleeding out

I'm holding out for hope now
That when the bottom drops out
They'll be something to catch me

But sometimes it's nice to fall
At such great heights
You can see it all completely

There's not much to doubt
While bleeding out
There's not much to doubt
While bleeding out
There's not much to doubt
While bleeding out
There's not much to doubt
While bleeding out

Bleeding Out

juakaatop - My safe place

Bottom Of This Bottle (WIP)

Bandcamp : https://myckalmarcovic.bandcamp.com/track/grand-jacques
Spotify : https://open.spotify.com/album/6zPhVNteJQvn5hGge2ES4Q?si=dnha1llIQGeTU2oZsEYRKg
Translation above

Sur un texte de Christian Portet www.facebook.com/christian.portetmapage
Voix de Jean-Paul Gaido-Daniel www.facebook.com/jeanpaul.gaidodaniel
Photo montage du Manneken Pis et de la statue de Jacques Brel par Tom Frantzen, à Bruxelles

GRAND JACQUES
Grand Jacques, enfant chéri des mers
Qui sent si bon la mort et la bière,
Ne me quitte pas avant mon dernier repas
À Amsterdam ou à Bruxelles. Je ne sais pas...

On n'oublie rien du plat pays de tes bourgeois :
Isabelle, Clara, Marieke avec Mathilde et La Fanette
Arrivent en passant par Vesoul sur la place des rois
Où les soirs d'été sont frais pour l'éclusier dans la tempête !

Les paumés d'un petit matin, creusés au froid d'une Belgique chienne, Refermeront les fenêtres sur les ivrognes solitaires aux prières païennes. Bergers amidonnés d'un vieux port en partance pour filles et chiens, Capitaines ou singes, bigotes irréfléchies comme biches de rien.

Ces gens-là, rassasiés de tango funèbre, ne pensent qu'au suivant,
Et qui pour des bonbons, en parlotant, finiront par oublier le fier moribond En sachant déjà pourtant que vieux, ils ne seront ni beaux, ni cons,
Et qu'un Don Quichotte à jeun pour un jour fera revenir leur maman.

Tu as quitté les risques du métier pour une aventure, aventure. Anarchiste chez Bonnot comme accordéon d'une valse à mille temps Pour une tendresse imaginée où les toros se fracassent contre les murs, Lucifer trop fragile sur ton cheval trop vrai pour faire pleurer les vivants !

Grand Jacques, enfant chéri des mers, Avec tes deux pianos et ton accordéon Quand tu rechantes ta chanson,
Tu sens si bon la mort et la bière...
La la la Grand Jacques La la la ...
Texte de Christian Portet
Musique de Myckaël Marcovic, 05/12/2023

With text by Christian Portet www.facebook.com/christian.portetmapage
Voices by Jean-Paul Gaido-Daniel www.facebook.com/jeanpaul.gaidodaniel
Photo montage of Manneken Pis and Jacques Brel statue by Tom Frantzen, Brussels

GRAND JACQUES
Grand Jacques, beloved child of the seas
Who smells so good of death and beer,
Don't leave me until my last meal
In Amsterdam or Brussels. Je ne sais pas...

We don't forget anything from the flat country of your bourgeois :
Isabelle, Clara, Marieke with Mathilde and La Fanette
Arrive via Vesoul on the Place des rois
Where summer evenings are cool for the lock-keeper in the storm!

The lost of an early morning, dug in the cold of a dogged Belgium, Will close the windows on the solitary drunkards with pagan prayers. Starched shepherds of an old port on their way to girls and dogs, Captains or monkeys, thoughtless bigots like deer of nothing.

These people, full of funeral tango, only think of the next,
And who, for the sake of candy, end up forgetting the proud moribund Knowing already that old, they'll be neither handsome nor stupid,
And that a sober Don Quixote for a day will bring back their mother.
You left the risks of the profession for an adventure, adventure. Anarchist at Bonnot's as accordion in a thousand-beat waltz For an imagined tenderness where toros smash against walls, Lucifer too fragile on your horse too true to make the living weep!

Grand Jacques, cherished child of the seas, 
With your two pianos and your accordion
When you sing your song again,
You smell so good of death and beer...
La la la Grand Jacques La la la la ...

Text by Christian Portet
Music by Myckaël Marcovic, 05/12/2023

Grand Jacques (Christian Portet / Myckaël Marcovic feat. Jean-Paul Gaido-Daniel)

In the beginning, they quoted love.
You said breathe he made the cuts.
Then you both got on the brown.
No wonder that he's feeling down.

Now, like a walking bag of bones.
no one mentions how strong he was
He'll never be that sane again.
Drugs and love infecting him.

Imagine, he said.
One day, we'll all be dead.
There'll be no new aristocracy. 
Imagine he cried.
With a foolish pride.
I renounce nationality. 

It must be hard to quit the bevvies. 
When you're with someone so fucking heavy.
No wonder that he played around.
Before he went and settled down

Then the music went and stopped.
In the world a light went off.
Cock of the walk in 63.
Just a distant memory. 

Imagine, he said.
One day, we'll all be dead.
There'll be no new aristocracy. 
Imagine he cried.
With a foolish pride.
I renounce nationality. 

Can't complain that you're with the jester.
If it wasn't for the gunshots, he'd a definitely left ya.
I'm sick of your stories of love.
Manipulation from above

First to admit that the end is gory.
The bit before is another drug story.
A story where he left the lads.
For some bitch and things went bad.

Imagine, he said.
One day, we'll all be dead.
There'll be no new aristocracy. 
Imagine he cried.
With a foolish pride.
I renounce nationality. 

Jokes [2023]

S.A.D

Ghosts In Mailand

Beside My Shadow

Sometimes I think that there's
A better place to be than here
And I could be there right now
Instead of being right here

But when the night falls down
And the lights blur out
I start to see things clear
Maybe I’m right where I should be

'Cause we all get lost sometimes somehow
Finding our way

And every road I take feels like it's winding
But somehow I end up where I belong
In the chaos and the noise, I find my voice
my inner pulse it's my song

When the night falls down
And the lights blur out
I start to see things clear
Maybe I'm right where I should be
'Cause we all get lost sometimes somehow
Finding our way in this big old town

In the silence I hear the beat of my heart
Drawing me closer this is where it starts
When everything crumbles and I'm holding on
The fire inside me won't ever be gone

But when the night falls down
And the lights blur out
I know deep inside I've got it all
But when the night falls down
And the lights blur out
The fire inside me won't ever be gone

A Better Place

"Stolen Kisses" captures those quick but intense moments of connection where love and desire spark through stolen glances and quiet whispers. The idea of "stolen kisses" hints at a secret, thrilling kind of love that’s both exciting and maybe a bit forbidden. With lines like "hearts on fire" and "ballet of dreams," the song has a dreamy, poetic vibe, bringing out the magic of a love that’s fleeting but unforgettable. Fans of Talking Heads, Vampire Weekend, and David Byrne will appreciate the quirky, funky rhythm and vibrant energy of "Stolen Kisses," as it blends poetic imagery with an infectious groove that leaves a lasting impression.

Stolen kisses, 
In a moment's glow
Breathless whispers
Our glances, sly and slow

Hearts On Fire
Your theft, an artful game
You, the sly thief
Whispering the heart's unspoken aim

Stolen kisses
Passions flame
I hear you calling my name
I'll  never be the same

Stolen kisses
Heavenly, just you and I
Stars adrift, in the night sky
Ballet of dreams, a gentle sway
Our dance unfolds, a melody at play

Stolen kisses
Passions flame 
I hear you calling my name
I'll  never be the same

Stolen kisses, forevermore

"Stolen Kisses" Written and Performed by Northern Sky

Bleeding Out

Mafew Van de Maxville