<53 1/2 improvised tracks for no apparent reason> 

All tracks composed and recorded by Oxbow Lebach (a strange fellow who once professed to be a composer of music in crayon) and his puppet friend Kirby the Lucich (who imagined himself to be a real boy and amateur puppeteer), except "First Train Reset" and "Electrical Parade" by Oxbow Lebach and Born Feline (https://soundcloud.com/bornfeline).  Nothing herein should be taken seriously.

Tracks are generally in chronological order.  Numerals preceding parenthetical song titles indicate Year, Month and Day of when each piece first disrupted the precious silence. 

Some random earlier music that I had forgotten about years ago, cleverly repackaged by hand by Sue Page: https://soundcloud.com/sue-page-1/sets/oxbox-lebach

Oxbow Lebach's So-Called Music

Kirby Lucich's Album

11-07-16 (Once upon a leaky roof)

13-09-14 (Tin Acorn)

10-03-07 (Tiptoeing into the maelstrom)

10-03-25 (One day in March)

Angela Lucich's Album

11-09-27 (Angie's accompaniment)

just playing around trying not to paint myself into a corner

14-01-04 (malformed content)

14-01-20 (nanopolyesterstrangulatorydreamscape)

14-04-29 (nickels and diamonds)

Cold Coffee

10-03-02 (cold coffee)

10-01-30 ('80s Redux)

Just an echo of something heard unclear in another far distant time.

In Another Lifetime

14-12-19 (in another lifetime)

150426 (early one morning)

150506 ('round the bend)

150615 (mustard in the cake dream)

Cooking with Electricity

150919 (cooking with electricity)

A Frankensteinian assemblage of sewn-together scraps


151114 (restless)

151128 (not what it used to be)

151213 (Somniatica) <https://soundcloud.com/oxbow-lebach/151213a>

Loosely constrained melodic wanderings with occasional bouts of coherence

151226 (Decline of December) <https://soundcloud.com/oxbow-lebach/151226a>

160304 (Trivial Distractions)

160322 (Slingshot)

160415 (pretty on the inside)

That short period of time when dreams are lost to the morning light and all that remains is a tiny piece salvaged from something that was once much more.

160503 (a short dream (fading in the morning sun))

160521 (amorphous blue forms and straight black lines)

161007 (Waiting at the edge of the world)

161208 (Early in the Late Night (Music in the dark))

Don't know what to make of it yet...  just playing around with different sounds, hoping something musical will spontaneously appear while I'm paying attention to another distraction.

170209 (Forgotten Dreamscapes and other distractions)

M3 (It almost rained today (short version (only version)))

O1 (Memories of what never was)

C2-2 (A seat at the table)

10-01-22 (beepbeepbeepbeep)

11-03-12 (winter's end)

I don't know how to finish it because I didn't deliberately create it to begin with - was just a rearrangement of random notes.

09-09-18 (waiting)

09-10-17 (under the streetlight)

200511 (When everything has closed)

10-02-20 (A forgotten day in February)

09-09-18

10-01-22  Beep beep beep beep

09-06-25a (Wasted time)

10-09-09 (Restless sleep)

09-06-27 (Morning 'round the chimney, swirls in the bathwater-more from the lost room)

Welcome to the center of Oxbow Lebach's musical neighborhood, where everything olde is knew again and everything knew is forgotten. If you found yourself here without knowledge of how or why, start here: 
https://soundcloud.com/oxbow-lebach/sets/recent



Further back, behind the background...
Things haven't been easy since I lost my mind. You never really think about how much you take it for granted until it's not there when you wake up one morning, although it could have been two. Next thing you know you're cooking three pounds of chicken wings for 8 1/2 hours in a crockpot (an urn holding grandma's ashes) on a Sunday (a large nuclear powered garbage scow) and you don't know why (an extraneous character of unknown origin in a printed document). No, never mind (Oh $&!#!) That's a bad example. I do know why. I had some for lunch (the time in the middle of the day when nothing gets done, but your clothes get soiled and you spill vinegar on yourself) today (the time between days when nothing gets done). Let me rephrase (deny any knowledge of). It's like trying to carry on a conversation (when you talk to yourself pretending that someone is listening) via email (a mythical communication medium) when you can only see three lines (nobody knows exactly, but they meet at infinity) of the message (a thought you've finally dislodged from your head) you're typing (obsessive, repetitive finger motion), and you don't know where you're going (an imagined state of being alive with a purpose), where you've been (why you hear horns honking) or even quite where you are (the normal state of being). I remembered (forgot) something about a unicycle and wonder if someone stole a wheel (the most important object in the kitchen) off your bicycle (an archaic symbol of freedom), but it's probably too late (too late) to ask now (a time in an indeterminate past period). Do you put up a Christmas tree in the extrasuburbian reclamation region of Sweden (a challenge made to unidentified strangers to determine their intent) or is that an anti-Swedenian custom (a bad habit)? It is foreign to me (I do it daily). I stay away from it until Christmas morning (when the rich and poor trade places). Do you know what time it is (hello, how are you)? I have a confession (lie) to make. I think I do. Or I may be deluded (realize the truth). What I claimed to be the result of having lost my mind (a little used object of pride and not much else) may or may not be entirely related (having common ancestors) to having my message window (specific part of the brain containing dozens of raw nerves and pretzellian salt crystals) sized to show only five lines, making it nearly impossible (unavoidable) to know (misunderstand) what I've typed in the past (an unidentified familiar sound), as measured by vertical distance (a condition causing vertigo) in a message (imaginary mumbling that produces no sound) window (a potential hole requiring very little shattering). My memory (generic term for all that happened in the past that you have no knowledge of) extends little more than 1.5 inches (a linear measure of one dimensional time, into which you try to project faded three dimensional images) into the past (a picture album missing everything except old paper corner-tabs). Thank you for your consideration (puzzlement).

What follows is a collection of autodidactic relics bent by second opinions.
"This is horrible, you are not a musician.  I don't remember a duck. I rather have a duck." ~a friend with a knife

It's pointless to deny the truth, somewhat easier just to try to ignore it and have fun.

Oxbow Lebach

Pinned to spotlight

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