WOW.  Excellent instrumentation and orchestration on this track

yup. All of this. Yup. 🔥🔥🔥🔥💖💖💖

this is a very soulful trip. that guitar is amazing to say the least, but all of this is amazing. I dig that kind of sentimental (?) bluesy light but dark vibe in the keys. It's refreshing to hear actual song progression, you know? Songs that actually move and take you places, letting instruments and vibes shine in different parts... a full song, a full feast, not just a bunch of samples.

yeah man, there's an amazingly refreshing amount of emotion all in this whole song. MUSIC needs to hear this song to remind its self what it's here for. It's not about making money, not about popularity or fame... it's about making a point, Having that one opportunity to communicate, and doing it. This song speaks volumes bro.

A song about the weather.

Music and lyrics by Thomas O'Higgins Horna.
Recorded by FRANK LLOYD.
Cover art: "Alequin et Pierrot" (1924) by André Dearin, from a photo taken by †ॐ

No Season

Dreams

TheAnthem

Feuerfanz

Faces From Nowhere

Composition Philippe Guitare rythmique/Slide/Wah-Wah @user-759566380
Texte et chant Guillaume @user-759566380
Instrumentation/arrangements/mixage/masterisation @Tulipe-records

Paroles

On voudrait faire une chanson
Écolo , geek et non genrée
Qui plaise aux filles et aux garçons
Sans gluten sans vulgarités
On enfoncerait toutes ces portes
Ouvertes sur nos libertés
De Washington à Aigues-Mortes
On chanterait le poing levé

On devrait parler de Poutine
Et de sa folie des grandeurs
Qui mettent le feu dans nos vitrines
Comme une canicule en chaleur
On balancerait notre avis
Sur le changement climatique
On tordrait le cou nous aussi
A ces idées fausses et sceptiques

Et puis on ferait un refrain
A faire tomber un dictateur
Un peu comme une voiture sans freins
Conduite par un jeune acteur
Et puis on ferait un refrain
A déranger les complotistes
Un peu comme une voiture sans freins
Conduite par un vrai journaliste

On devrait faire une chanson
Sur la Covid mais sans tabous
Sur ces experts yaka fokon
Qui savaient tout sur rien surtout
On parlerait de tous ces gens
De ces héros du quotidien
Qu'un imbécile de Président
A traité comme des assassins

Et puis on ferait un refrain
A faire frémir les chaînes infos
Un peu comme une voiture sans freins
Conduite par Docteur Renaud
Et puis on ferait un refrain
A angoisser tous ces bavards
Un peu comme une voiture sans freins
Conduite par Mister Renard

On dézinguerait les puissants
Qui n'écoutent pas la Planète
Les oreilles bouchées par l'argent
L'cerveau au chaud dans leurs braguettes
On allumerait ces people
Qui font souffrir les dictionnaires
Qui polluent les pages de Google
Tout comme du pétrole dans la mer

Et puis on ferait un refrain
A faire peur aux capitalistes
Un peu comme une voiture sans freins
Conduite par un communiste
Et puis on ferait un refrain
A effrayer tous les Bobos
Un peu comme une voiture sans freins
Conduite par un Populo

We'd like to make a song
Eco-friendly, geeky and gender-neutral
that appeals to both boys and girls
Gluten-free without vulgarities
We'd break down all those doors
Open to our freedoms
From Washington to Aigues-Mortes
We'd sing with raised fists

We should talk about Putin
And his delusions of grandeur
Setting fire to our windows
Like a heat wave
We'd throw our weight around
On climate change
We, too, would bend our necks
To these false and skeptical ideas

And then we'd make a chorus
To bring down a dictator
Like a car with no brakes
Driven by a young actor
And then we'd make a chorus
To upset the conspiracists
Like a car without brakes
Driven by a real journalist

We should make a song
About the Covid but without taboos
About those yaka fokon experts
Who knew everything about nothing
We'd talk about all those people
These everyday heroes
Whom an imbecile President
Treated like assassins

And then we'd make a chorus
To make the news channels quiver
Like a car without brakes
Driven by Docteur Renaud
And then we'd make a chorus
To scare the chatterboxes
Like a car without brakes
Driven by Mister Renard

We'd blast the powerful
Who don't listen to the Planet
Their ears plugged by money
Their brains warmed in their zippers
We'd light up these celebrities
Who make dictionaries suffer
Polluting the pages of Google
Like oil in the sea

And then we'd make a chorus
To scare the capitalists
Like a car without brakes
Driven by a communist
And then we'd make a chorus
To scare all the haves
Like a car without brakes
Driven by the rabble

© Guillaume DULER / Philippe SEGUINARD / TULIPE RECORD 2022

Sans Freins ( Tulipe & Jim ) TRANSLATED

Rödkålsdansen

"Bad Behavior" out now on all streaming platforms.

Bad Behavior

Blueprint for track that became 'Sandycove Milk'.

Inspired by wondrous music by Conin, whose track 'Kitty's Wake' reminded of the rich clay of Joyce's 'Finnegan's Wake'. This track, about the opening pages of Joyce's Ulysses, borrows coffee spoons, forever those of T.S. Eliot, in an effort to add sweet milk...drawn from the milk-well of honeyed Sandycove.  The lyric speaker is, notionally, Stephen Daedalus. For practical purposes, the lyric speaker is James Joyce himself. His aim? To hit Haines for a guinea [a pre-decimal unit of currency] before heading to France on a ferry. Whilst Haines still feels guilty (sheepish) about having fired his pistol at an imaginary cat he thought he saw in the fireplace in the Martello tower in Sandycove (now the Joyce Museum....a sacred...magical place, whose attendant Joyce scholars told me about the Haines' imaginary cat episode....it is all true...yet also dovetails eerily with the first chapter of Ulysses).

The reference to Haines having consumed Absinthe is a narrative fiction, invented to offer an explanation for his dangerous behaviour. No peer reviewed evidence capable of demonstrating Absinthe has hallucinogenic properties, exists, to my knowledge.


Lyrics

[chorus]
Gotta learn me some Italian
Gonna get me a guitar
Gotta learn me some Italian
Gonna get me a guitar

Hellenise me now
She come and go
talking bout Michelangelo
there will be time
there will be time

do I dare to eat a quiche?
I shall wear enchanted trousers
and float upon the beach

I’m still dreamin
something happened last night

Haines downed a snot-green bottle of Absinthe
started shooting at his Schrödinger's cat
in the fireplace
looks real sheepish this morning
gonna hit him for a guinea [a pre-decimal unit of currency]
and get outta here
gliding on the Emerald sea
to Paris
with Haines’ guinea in my pocket
when I’m at sea

gonna go uptown now
hitting the top deck of this here Martello
gonna watch the mailboat
glide on an Emerald sea
gonna rest my shiny elbows
on the jagged granite
just leavin the harbour

and here comes stately Buck
bearing a bowl of lather
crossed razor and mirror as well
holding the bowl aloft
and intoning...intonin

Introibo ad altare Dei
sacred chalice
sacred cross
and now I’m lookin at the sea
Thallata...sweet mother
Hellenise me
mailboat clearin the harbour
rage of Caliban inside me
cos of Haines....[firing a gun inside the Martello tower when drunk the night before, at a giant cat he imagined was sitting near the fireplace]
sweet Thallata
buttercups on the quilt
powdered musk and gauds of amber beads
calm now like the sea
there will be time
there will be time

Faces From Nowhere

Power of Zero

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