that percussive mouth harp (?) is so cool...great sonic touches as the track progresses....amazing feel! cheers Pierre

...and that's about how far my French goes. lolo...

like one of those great Traffic grooves, right from the start. awesome bass. awesome ambient sounds. awesome.

driven along by some nice bass work!  ..........some cool and unusual lead guitar scales and nice ambience

Really nice composition.  It works for this upcoming winter as well :)

You Know That You're Funky

The burning eternal question - do you love me?
Do you love me, you love me?
Well so do people who sell ice-cream
They'll say anything, they think I'd like to hear

Do yo love me like they do?

Hey girl, you better watch out
cos people care not for what you may
Though it's written on their faces
They hide behind sweet words

Anybody for ice-cream (or tennis)?
(a nod to @nic_nic_nic: Nic for tennis suggestion)

Live Studio recording, engineered by Darren Flynn
Drums Steve O'Keeffe (The Pale/BluesConfidential  www.bluesconfidential.com
https://soundcloud.com/bluesconfidential) 
Bernard Byrne (The Pale)
Lead vocals, BV, guitar, art by Suzanne Ledwith

Change of Address

Hey Ho

Fusion Power is a full-on high energy classic rock-fusion track written for 2 guitars sharing lead lines in harmony & contention melody. A hustling bass line and & rock organ with a cool contrasting blues line at the bridge.

Fusion Power

Spotify

Pierre Bordetti productions (c) 12/2021.

Composed, arranged, performed, and produced by:
Pierre Bordetti

A slightly gloomy atmosphere which marks the end of a very difficult year in the world, but which in the end gives a glimmer of hope!

Glint Winter

"Up in the Gallery" (German: "Auf der Galerie") is a short piece of fiction written by Franz Kafka. It was created between November 1916 and February 1917 and published in the collection „Ein Landarzt“ (A Country Doctor) in 1919. The story offers two versions of a scene in which a young man watches a circus ringmaster and a woman on horseback. (Wikipedia)

The picture shows a section of: At The Circus Fernando, The Rider
by Henri Toulouse-Lautrec (1888)

Public domain translation by Ian Johnston (November 2003)                     


Up in the Gallery

If some frail tubercular lady circus rider 
were to be driven in circles around and around 
the arena for months and months 
without interruption 
in front of a tireless public 
on a swaying horse 
by a merciless whip-wielding 
master of ceremonies, 
spinning on the horse, 
throwing kisses and swaying at the waist, 
and if this performance, 
amid the incessant roar 
of the orchestra and the ventilators, 
were to continue into 
the ever-expanding, gray future, 
accompanied by applause, 
which died down and then swelled up again, 
from hands which were really steam hammers, 
perhaps then a young visitor to the gallery 
might rush down the long stair case 
through all the levels, 
burst into the ring, and cry “Stop!” 
through the fanfares 
of the constantly adjusting orchestra.


But since things are not like that,
(Since things are not like that…rep.)         

since a beautiful woman, in white and red, 
flies in through curtains 
which proud men in livery open in front of her, 
since the director, 
devotedly seeking her eyes, 
breathes in her direction, 
behaving like an animal, and, as a precaution, 
lifts her up on the dapple-gray horse, 
as if she were his grand daughter, 
the one he loved more 
than anything else,
as she starts a dangerous journey, 
but he cannot decide to give the signal with his whip 
and finally, 
controlling himself, gives it a crack, 
runs right beside the horse with his mouth open, 
follows the rider's leaps with a sharp gaze, 
hardly capable of comprehending her skill, 
tries to warn her by calling out in English, 
furiously castigating the grooms holding hoops, 
telling them to pay the most scrupulous attention, 
and begs the orchestra, with upraised arms,
to be quiet before the great jump, 
finally lifts the small woman down from the trembling horse, 
kisses her on both cheeks, 
considers no public tribute adequate, 
while she herself, leaning on him, 
high on the tips of her toes, 
with dust swirling around her, 
arms outstretched and head thrown back, 
wants to share her luck with the entire circus—
since this is how things are, 
the visitor to the gallery puts his face on the railing and, 
sinking into the final march as if into a difficult dream, weeps, 
without realizing it.  (rep.)

Up In The Gallery (Kafka, 1919)

Your cloud a song relating to a relationship that’s finished but photos float on a cloud forever and can be retrieved at anytime to reminisce.

Your Cloud ~ Conscience Of Kings

Life is amazing. Flowers grow in sidewalks, hawks make nests on top of skyscrapers, sun is warm, rain is life giving.
I think we complicate life by confusing it with "living" by goals and imposed "desires" that make us anxious: need more money/have to live in a penthouse/bigger faster cars/
It's not bad to work and produce but when you lose sight of mortality/empathy/sharing. then your "productivity" will not bring you satisfaction or peace.
we are very temporary. It is just as easy to care as it is to hoard and to help as it is to hate.
anyways I hope you enjoy this song.I'mplaying around with guitar notes, no structure just let the fingers go wherever whenever

tiny little lizard scampers on the screen
grabbing tight the wires with his tiny little feet
gets into a spot of sun that hits him on his back
he's so happy now I wish I could always feel like that

happy little firefly flits across the lawn
flashing bright his small tail light ,singing his happy song
nothing here to slow him down or cause him pain or fright
I wish that when I walk out side I'd always shine that bright

So I'm the only one in the world today
the only one here to sing and play
I put on my Sunday best
I say to heck with all the rest
I'm going to walk among flowers and trees
No people here to fear or please
I'll let the sun warm my back
I'll let my light shine bright
Not worry so much about living
but just go celebrate life

it's not that complicated

Phil McC (aka Waveology)is a talented keyboard player, and he offered this piano improvisation for me to engage with a melody and lyric. Although Phil went on to experiment with a band arrangement (https://soundcloud.com/philmcc-1/place-i-go-ft-terry-wigmore-jazz-orchestra-arrangement), I was always partial to the piano's simplicity and the space it afforded the vocal to sit in an imagined lounge, and that was the sound that inspired the lyrics.  So, with the last breath of autumn, it seemed to be a fitting time for a melancholic muse in Phil's lounge, a darkened room, a half consumed whisky (Crown Royal) in one hand, a mic in the other, cue the music, Phil...

Places I Go

Written by - Phil McC
Vocal and lyrics - Terry Wigmore
Arranged & generally glued together - Phil McC

LYRICS ...

Hmmmm...the places I go
To try to get you off my mind,
It's no good, though I try.
The mem'ries, oh the memories of you,
And the places we used to go.
Every place I go,
Every shop I see,
Every window I turn to,
Every crack in the sidewalk
Reminds me of you
hmmmm letters carved in trees
Those benches that were meant for you and me
But it's all gone,
All gone, all gone, all gone, now,
Blown away in the breeze,
The falling leaves
Drifting down the river of Time
We're drifting,
Yeah we're drifting
We're like leaves that have fallen 
Drifting...
It's so hard for me to go,
To all the places, the places I know.
It's so hard for me to go,
To all the places, places I know...

Jazz Collaborations

Places I Go (with Phil Mc C)

After a trip through the Mediterranean with the paramour of my life years ago... these lyrics emerged as an expression of gratitude and love. Yesterday those lyrics found home in this new original composition.

Forever thinking about you and the family we've made baby.

Glint Winter

Pierre Bordetti

Recent comments

Debra Buesking

-R_e_A_K_T_i_V-

clive hawkins

JCS

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