¡Cuánto sufrió el pobre! Poesía transgresora para un poeta transgresor. ¡Menos mal que Verlaine tenía mala puntería! Precioso todo, Myckael.

Merveilleux texte et bel arrangement, bravo pour le chant Myckael, ce n'est pas à la portée de tous 👌👌

Beautiful theme,as usual. Another great production Myckael. Bravo.

I like this one a lot.  I haven't got to the translation yet but I will shortly.  It's a complex song sung with passion.

Harmony of Celestial Giants

In the heart-wrenching aftermath of losing his partner to a relentless battle with cancer, a man found himself adrift in the vast emptiness of grief. The once vibrant colors of their shared life turned to muted shades, and the echoes of his partner's laughter haunted every corner of their home. The man, once grounded by love, became a nowhere-man, wandering through the days with a heavy heart and a sense of purpose lost. The weight of loss hung heavily upon him, casting a shadow over his every step. Friends reached out, but the fortress of grief he built around himself seemed impenetrable. In the silence of solitude, The man grappled with the void left by his partner's absence, navigating the world like a ship without a compass, lost and yearning for the anchor of love that had been cruelly taken away.

Nowhere Man

Nowhere Man Two - David Wurden (music),  Gary Hayward (lyrics and Vocals)

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 was given vocals only for this competition.
Darkwave

Issey Cross - "Sleepwalking" remixed by Dreaming While Awake - remix competition

Surf And Sun (resurrected)

A celebration of the Ostara, aka the Spring Equinox, the first in a series of eight pieces to celebrate the eight Druidic festivals of the Windmill of the Year, more about which here: https://anniedieuleveut.com/2024/02/01/the-windmill-of-the-year/

By Annie Dieu-Le-Veut and APi_ZZ (@api_zz)


Words and vocals by Annie Dieu-Le-Veut.
© Annie Dieu-Le-Veut, February 2024 

Music and Cover Art by APi_ZZ 
© APi_ZZ (Andreas Pirner) February 2024

Words:

Fire serpents and dragons are stirring 
Deep down in the hard, cold iron of Earth. 

Slithering land wights are waking, 
And wriggling and stretching, 
Woken from their sleep by the return 
Of the song of the Sun, 
Its melody singing all dreamers awake,
To light the cauldrons and fasts to break. 

Lady Slipper yawns and opens her petals 
To a bold west wind ruffling her labellum.
Thunderclouds above ominously threaten. 

An ash in full livery, its leaves right on time,  
Stands next to the winter-nude of an oak. 
So the old wives mutter in iambic rhyme,
“Ash before oak, we’re in for a soak.” 

Great Spotted Woodpecker drills Mars’s drum 
In a military tattoo, to marshall the bugs,
The soldier beetles and bark-gnawing weevils, 

Now Luna turns russet red in Earth’s umbra, 
A covenant of balmier days without number. 

Wyrm moon, Cold moon, Sap Moon
Pulling on the tides, rising 
And not just in the flooded rhynes, but 
Coursing up the loins of men too, 
Their reveries of love fine-tuned 
To Jack in the Green’s reciting 
To the tremolo thrill of Pan’s piping

Labyrinth Spider stands guard on the dell, 
While Salamanders ring the bluebells 
To peal out harsh winter’s fare-thee-well. 

Pixie-cup lichen arrives in the Vale, 
And elves riding turkeys with blue ruffled tails
Then ... Amanita Muscaria sings her aria, 
And Cuckoo tells us Spring is finally here.

Ostara

Translation above

Sur un texte de Georges Colleuil, https://www.georgescolleuil.com/
Musique et voix de Myckaël Marcovic, 31 janvier 2024
Photographie d'Étienne Carjat, 1871

À Rimbaud

Avec cette lueur pâle,
Qui donne à son teint de l’éclat
Avec dans tes yeux des étoiles
Tu ressembles à un Christ en croix
Et dans tes cheveux ces pétales
Cueillis au jardin que voilà
T’as plutôt l’air d’un Carnaval
D’une sorcière en plein sabbat
Avec tes ongles longs et sales
Et des bagues en fer à tes doigts
On croirait voir un animal
Qui mord, qui crie et qui aboie
Mais quand tu enlèves ton châle
Et que tu t’endors dans les bois
Ce qui est vieux, ce qui est sale
Crient leur lumièr’ d’un’ seule voix

Refrain :
Tout en haut de ton piédestal
Endormi par ces cris de joie
Tu ressembles au Dormeur du Val
Tes rêves s’envolent vers moi
Et quand tu remplaces le mal
Par tout le bien qui est en toi
Tu ressembles au Dormeur du Val
Tes rêves s’envolent vers moi

Debout comme une cathédrale
Enfonçant tes pieds dans un bois
Tes yeux s’ouvrent et c’est du cristal
Qui brille au-dessus de nos toits
Tes yeux s’ouvrent et s’ouvre le bal
Des roses et des baccarats
Éclatent alors mille cymbales
Cent trompettes et trois cents hautbois
Et le monde entier se trimbale
En dansant, et gardant le pas,
Les oiseaux forment une chorale
Et les fleurs un tapis de soie
Et les fleurs s’allongent immorales
Accueillant au creux de leurs bras
Les amoureux qui se régalent
À bouche en veux-tu ? En voilà !
(refrain)

With text by Georges Colleuil, https://www.georgescolleuil.com/
Music and voice by Myckaël Marcovic, January 31, 2024
Photograph by Étienne Carjat, 1871

To Rimbaud

With that pale glow,
That gives his complexion a glow
With stars in your eyes
You look like Christ on the cross
And in your hair those petals
Plucked from the garden
You look more like a Carnival
Like a witch on the Sabbath
With your long, dirty fingernails
And iron rings on your fingers
You look like an animal
Biting, screaming and barking
But when you take off your shawl
And fall asleep in the woods
What's old, what's dirty
Shout their light with one voice

Chorus :
Up on your pedestal
Asleep with these cries of joy
You look like the Dormeur du Val
Your dreams fly to me
And when you replace evil
With all the good in you
You look like the Dormeur du Val
Your dreams fly to me

Standing like a cathedral
Sinking your feet into a wood
Your eyes open and it's crystal
Shining above our roofs
Your eyes open and the ball opens
Roses and baccarats
A thousand cymbals burst
A hundred trumpets and three hundred oboes
And the whole world moves
Dancing, keeping step,
The birds form a choir
And the flowers a silken carpet
And the flowers lie immoral
Welcoming in their arms
Lovers who feast
Mouthfuls of love ? Here they are!
(chorus)

À Rimbaud (Georges Colleuil / Myckaël Marcovic)

A true story ...

By Annie Dieu-Le-Veut and APi_ZZ (Andreas Pirner)

Words and vocals by © Annie Dieu-Le-Veut, February 2024 

I'm most grateful to Andreas for this perfect music for the subject. 

Music by © APi_ZZ (Andreas Pirner) February 2024 
Find him here: (@api_zz)

Words: 

Long were they known to the Children of Don, 
These waters that run so deep, 
That pulse the heart blood of Avalon, 
And rocks the Beauty who still sleeps. 
Fand, her eye weeps, 
Drops drip, springs seep, 
In dark, underground caverns 
Fluting silvery waters, oh so sweet, 
That carry the salmon to Mabon.

Since ice floes swept these Isles of Honey,
This nectar of Nectan’s Glen, 
Dove’s ambrosia of Aphrodite, 
Or Brigit, as she was known then, 
Sung lullabies, into the night, 
Singing in the age of when 
The sun bird left Cinnamon Lane in flight, 
Soaring at behest of Gwyn. 

Avalon’s waters are sacred, you see, 
Destined for changes in ages. 
These rivers below don’t run to the seas, 
But move at the command of mages 
In the World Tree, sounding the key 
To unlock Earth’s life changes. 
It is by Macmannan of Llyr’s decree, 
Greatest of Celtic sages. 

But it was not his harp that dealt the knell 
Of doom on these sacred waters. 
This HAARP was an instrument of Hell 
Straight from the Den of Plotters. 
To steal the dells, Levels and fells, 
From their rightful owners. 
To bring in huge drills, to frack the wells, 
To rape Morrigan’s daughter. 

The Three Nefarious Blows to Britain 
Could not have done any worse. 
Of those fateful days, it is written, 
Avalon came under curse. 
The Furies rained, Taranis aimed 
Wheels to spin the sea purse, 
As storm waves crashed into pasture plains, 
And the farmers’ fields submersed. 

On the night of the full moon baleful airs 
Smashed the doors of the White Spring 
To pieces, shattered, well past repair, 
It was such a bitter sting. 
Stone dragon on stair, beyond prayer, 
Broken as they found him. 
But Brigit’s flame in her grotto still flared, 
The heart of the Isles of Honey. 


At Burrow Mump, useless handwringers all
 Were photographed for their voters. 
The Prince of Wales claimed he was appalled, 
While on the phone to his broker. 
Gone Chinese walls, the croupier calls 
This game of red hot poker. 
When climate change was blamed as the cause, 
The winner threw down the Joker. 

But all was not lost, despite shriek and beseech, 
The call rang across the leylines, 
Echoed by standing stones and cromlechs, 
“Send a bard who can spell with a rhyme.” 
Men of Harlech, now ithyphallic, 
Thundered down the rhynes , 
“Defend the glassy wall, Fragarach. 
“Lugh’s own Tongue Cannot Lie.” 

And so, this magical sword appeared
At the Avalon Council of Bards. 
To speak through the old Witch,  
“Rhyme it up!” it told the lady smith;
The purge to remove the bane. 
So she intoned the words to entrain, 
That tumbled out like a twin-twisted withe, 
Her tongue could no more contain...

"You wizards and lizards! You boastful bards! 
"By your own ignorance you’re paralysed. 
"The Beli serpent of these Honey Isles 
"Your mute mouths are unable to satirise, 
"Let alone the three fountains he guards."

Then she turned and raised her hands 
to the roiling skies. 

"I command the Three Fountains:
"The fountain of water of air
"The fountain of water of seas
"The fountain of water of earth/fire 
"Be still... and know thy peace.

"All glory to you, victorious Beli,
Who defends the Honey Isles."

The Waters Of Avalon

Vedic mantras use the same power that we see in cymatics in which we're able to observe how sound waves reorganise grains of sand on a metal tray. In the same way, these ancient Indian mantras enter through our ears and reorganise our brain waves and thus how we feel. 

This particular one, the Shanti mantra, is a peace mantra because when meditated upon, it brings wonderful feelings of wellbeing and so is perfect for de-stressing and encourages, in that way, our energy fields to realign, to attract good blessings and fortune. 

Don't worry about the meaning of the Sanskrit words I'm chanting. Just let them wash over you... along with APi_ZZ's gorgeously enchanting music. 

Vocals by Annie Dieu-Le-Veut
© Annie Dieu-Le-Veut, February 2024

Music and Cover Art by APi_ZZ (Andreas Pirner)
© APi_ZZ (Andreas Pirner) February 2024 
You can find him here: (@api_zz)

Words:
Om Sarveshaam Svastir-Bhavatu 
Sarveshaam Shaantir-Bhavatu 
Sarveshaam Purnam-Bhavatu 
Sarveshaam Mangalam-Bhavatu 
Om Shaanti Shaanti Shaanti 
Om Shaanti Shaanti Shaanti 
Om Shaanti Shaanti Shaanti 

Om Sarveshaam Svastir-Bhavatu 
Sarveshaam Shaantir-Bhavatu 
Sarveshaam Purnam-Bhavatu 
Sarveshaam Mangalam-Bhavatu 
Om Shaanti Shaanti Shaanti 
Om Shaanti Shaanti Shaanti 
Om Shaanti Shaanti Shaanti 

May there be Wellbeing in all,
May there be Peace in all,
May there be Fulfilment in all,
May there be Auspiciousness in all,
Om Peace, Peace, Peace.
Om Shaanti Shaanti Shaanti 
Om Peace, Peace, Peace.
Om Shaanti Shaanti Shaanti

Vedic Peace Mantra for meditation

Vocal Sampling: Psychedelic Revolution
Batgrowl: Psychedelic Revolution
Instrumental Mix: B Steele

Added some world vocal samples in the intro. I think it’s in Gaelic. Was inspired by Deshi Basara by Hans Zimmer but I wanted to give the chanting a melody. Piano progression was something I played for years and finally developed. Had no idea I had a bit of Dorian thrown in the arpeggios. There’s also some slap bass for the chorus. The strings incorporate the vocal melody and there’s also a dorian #4 in the verses. 

Lyrically, I took lines from The Dark Knight Rises. It’s basically another song of mine about self empowerment. 

Batman: “What does it mean?”
Old Wise Guy: “Fuck if I know. I just downloaded the vocal sample from online.”

Rise (Demo)

No Friend of Mine

(Translation above)

Tailleur de vers (auteur), compositeur de chansons françaises à la recherche d'interprètes.
Membre SACEM

J'ai toujours chanté depuis tout petit des chansons de toutes sortes d'abord en colonies de vacances, puis à l'école en tant qu'élève, puis dans la chorale de mon lycée et du conservatoire de Saint-Maur-des-Fossés, où j'ai aussi travaillé la clarinette, et, après avoir fait musicologie à la Sorbonne Paris IV, pendant 39 ans en tant que professeur d'éducation musicale dans les écoles élémentaires de la ville de Paris (aujourd'hui à la retraite) avec un répertoire pour enfants, de variété ou de chansons que j'ai écrites pour mes élèves.

C'est sans doute ce qui explique mon éclectisme tous azimuts  :
- musique classique : Double concerto pour violon, violoncelle et cordes, Nostalgia, Étude en forme d'hommage, Hymne à l'humanité, Promenade,
- chanson française : le Sablier cassé, Promenade vespérale, Depuis la nuit des temps, Au pays des oiseaux, À deux doigts du bonheur, La Mine d'or, La Vie est telle, Amoureux de ton désir, etc., 
- tango  : Insomnie, Tango passion, 
- samba : Version sans bas, 
- bossa nova : Cueille la nuit, la Sirène endormie, 
- jazz : Marchand d'illusions, Miaou, le Rubis, 
- funk : Love, Love, Love, 
- rap symphonique (si, si, ça existe !) : la Langue râpeuse, 
- biguine : la Fraise Tagada, les Fourmis,
- EDM : la Tête dans les étoiles,
- dance music : La Danseuse étoilée, C'est un feu d'artifices,
- pop : Freelance love, L'amour en freelance, Allume ta vie, On danse, We dance, Preuves d'amour, Zone interdite,
- disco : Enfants de la batterie, 
- rock : Une vie dense, 
- musiques d'ambiance :  Fujara, Romances sans parole,
- reggae : J'aurai ta peau,
- java : Je doute, Le crabe à 1000 pattes,
- danse traditionnelle française : La Bourrée
- world music : Invitation au voyage, Mon dernier t'aime

J'ai eu la chance et l'honneur de faire partie de deux ateliers d'écritures avec Chantal Grimm,  et de Claude Lemesle !

Verse cutter (author), composer of French songs looking for performers.
Member SACEM

I have always sung all kinds of songs since I was a child, first in summer camps, then at school as a student, then in the choir of my high school and at the conservatory of Saint-Maur-des-Fossés, where I also worked on the clarinet, and, after studying musicology at the Sorbonne Paris IV, for 39 years as a music education teacher in elementary schools in the city of Paris (now retired) with a repertory of children's songs, variety songs, or songs that I wrote for my students.

This probably explains my eclecticism :
- classical music : Double concerto for violin, cello and strings, Nostalgia, Étude en forme d'hommage, Hymne à l'humanité, Promenade,
French song : le Sablier cassé, Promenade vespérale, Depuis la nuit des temps, Au pays des oiseaux, À deux doigts du bonheur, La Mine d'or, La Vie est telle, Amoureux de ton désir, etc., 
- tango : Insomnie, Tango passion,
- samba : Version sans bas, 
- bossa nova : Cueille la nuit, la Sirène endormie,
- jazz :  Marchand d'illusions, Miaou, le Rubis, 
- funk : Love, Love, Love, 
- symphonic rap (yes, it exists !) : la Langue râpeuse, 
- biguine :  la Fraise Tagada, les Fourmis, 
- EDM : la Tête dans les étoiles,
- dance music : La danseuse étoilée, C'est un feu d'artifices, 
- pop : Freelance love, L'amour en freelance, Allume ta vie, On danse, We dance, Preuves d'amour, Zone interdite,
- disco : Enfants de la batterie, 
- rock : Une vie dense, 
- ambient music : Fujara, Romances sans parole, 
- reggae : J'aurai ta peau,
- java : Je doute, Le crabe à 1000 pattes,
- traditional French dance : La Bourrée.
- world music : Invitation au voyage, Mon dernier t'aime

I had the chance and honor to be part of two writing workshops with Chantal Grimm, and Claude Lemesle!

À Rimbaud (Georges Colleuil / Myckaël Marcovic)

Myckael Marcovic

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