This is very interesting. Loving the bumping bass and bright synth melodies. Has a bit of an 80's style vibe.

Curious sound with a fantastic progression. Beats immersed in magic drops. Lovely production.

What an excellent groove! I love such busy ambiances, with a forward drive like an unstoppable train. Full of nice little sounds, too...

The 7th EP of "past is the verse"

-Spotify
https://open.spotify.com/track/61WDY5gOzzhD7VRlNXKy4u

-Apple Music
https://music.apple.com/album/calm-calm/1560415883

-Amazon Music
https://music.amazon.co.jp/albums/B09173RCC7

-bandcamp
https://pastverse.bandcamp.com/track/calm-calm

Calm Calm

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lilac wine. rest ing peace. i'm really sorry.

Lilac Wine

Avant le téléphone , internet , les femmes de soldats partis à la guerre attendaient les lettres de leurs fiancés et maris . Les enfants étaient témoins de leurs angoisses et de leurs larmes ...
Compositeur Arrangeur : Philippe SEGUINARD Auteur Mélodiste : Guillaume DULER
Lyrics :
La guerre c'est le bruit d'une pointe de crayon 
C'est le regard absent dans les yeux de ma mère
C'est une longue attente blanche une prison
Des mots qu'elle lisait des lettres qu'on espère

C'est le son d'un amour à la lumière dansante
C'est le goût de tous les jours , sans saveurs sans saisons
C'est apprendre qu'il y a des choses qui te manquent
Des semaines d'inquiétudes , des rides sur son front

C'est elle enveloppée dans la fumée des cigarettes
Comme dans un nuage porteur de larmes amères
Et puis c'est le silence soudain des nuits défaites
Colmatés d'espérance pour fuir le vent d'hiver 

La guerre c'est savoir qu'elle peut te dénuder
Jusqu'à la moelle d'un père qu'elle t'aura volé
Que les jours qui suivront seront jamais comblés
Que hurleront impitoyable les vents glacés

Before the telephone and the Internet, the wives of soldiers away at war waited for letters from their fiancés and husbands. Children witnessed their anguish and tears ...
Composer and arranger : Philippe SEGUINARD Author and melodist : Guillaume DULER
Lyrics :
War is the sound of a pencil tip 
It's the absent look in my mother's eyes
It's a long white wait in a prison
Words she read Letters we hope for

It's the sound of love in dancing light
It's the taste of every day, without flavors without seasons
It's learning that there are things you miss
Weeks of worry, wrinkles on her forehead

It's her wrapped in cigarette smoke
Like a cloud of bitter tears
And then it's the sudden silence of empty nights
Clogged with hope to escape the winter wind 

War is knowing that it can strip you bare
To the very marrow of a father stolen from you
That the days that follow will never be filled
That the icy winds will howl mercilessly

© Guillaume DULER / Philippe SEGUINARD  2022

La guerre      TRANSLATED

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Upper Rooms - Vampirliebe

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

Martello

Company Jogging Funk

A nostalgic look back at childhood…memories of visits to my Acadian grandmother in the Acadian village of Kippens, NL. Honouring the memories of grandmothers everywhere…

This piece was created during a Fredericton Arts Alliance Residency. Guitar music composed and performed by Bryan McDaniel.

Strawberries

Sliding down with my shovel and pail
Off in the distance I see a whale
Time to see grandma 
to be nourished and fed

Bread and drizzled honey
Homemade bread and homemade cream
And strawberries

Morning awake, soft dreams fill my head
Perhaps today I will be fairy led
The smell of wild clover
Over and over, it is spread

The grass has grown a mile above my head
I can make it dance and never be seen
You’d think you watching inside of a dream
Now home to grandma in her strawberry bed.

Bread and drizzled honey
Homemade bread and homemade cream
And Strawberries

It’s so sweet that you want repeat
It’s so sweet that you want to repeat

Bread and drizzled honey
Homemade bread and homemade cream
And Strawberries

Bread and drizzled honey
Homemade bread and homemade cream
And Strawberries

Strawberries

No title for this one yet,so all suggestions welcome.

Careless and immortal
Time goes drifting by
Turning full circle
No time to say goodbye

I foolishly imagined
We'd go on and on
I never knew what we had
'Til it was gone

Behold the gift of hindsight
If only we had known
Contempt for our birthright
Trouble is homegrown

I foolishly imagined
We'd go on and on
I never knew what we had
'Til it was gone

Project 27.05.23

Back with some electronic psyche-krautrock with little sound additions out of the few analog sound gear I kept :=(

About the chosen title, you may know what I'm refering to... simple observations of mine!

Enjoy!

The third day syndrome

A Cup Of Sand

Challenge was to make one of my shorter songs with one of my longer lyrics, so I 'had' to craft it into an amalgam of 9/4 and 4/4 signatures. Thus, it may feel crazy on verses but I hope also catchy on refrains.

Letra / Translated lyrics:

Sólo pido no tener deseos (Ya no quiero imaginar)  /  I ask only not to have desires (I don’t want to imagine anymore)

¿Puedes explicarme qué es lo que me pasa?  /  Can you tell me what happens to me?
Señor, llévate de mí esta confusión.  /  Lord, take away this confusion.
Quítame el don de la inteligencia,  /  Take the gift of intelligence from me,
pues si no pensara tanto, sería feliz.  /  because if I didn’t think so much, I would be happy.

Siento que este mundo me es extraño,  /  I feel this world is strange,
estoy a disgusto con mis sentidos.  /  I get displeasure from my senses.
No puedo comprender su funcionamiento,  /  I cannot understand their functioning,
ni siquiera amoldarme a él.  /  nor even get used to it.

Sólo pido no tener deseos,  /  I ask only not to have desires,
ya no quiero imaginarme nada.  /  I don’t want to imagine anything anymore.

Esta situación siempre es pasajera,  /  This situation is always temporary,
pero se repite una y otra vez.  /  but repeats itself again and again.
Este malestar de cuerpo y alma  /  This discomfort of soul and body
me hace desear dejar de ser.  /  makes me wish to stop being.  

Pienso entonces en todos los que me quieren,  /  Then I think of all those who love me,
o al menos en los que a veces lo parecen…  /  or at least about those who sometimes seem to…
¿Por qué es tan difícil la coexistencia  /  Why is coexistence so difficult
en medio de una sociedad inteligente?  /  in an intelligent society?

Sólo pido…  /  I ask only…

No deberías dejar pensar a algo imperfecto,  /  You should not allow something imperfect to think,
sino limitarlo a cumplir su función social.  /  but limit it to fulfilling its social role.
Sólo quiero ser un engranaje más, señor,  /  I only want to be one more cog, Lord,
en tu rebaño de almas, sin preguntas.  /  in your flock of souls, without questions.

Esta vida que me has dado, señor,  /  This life you have given me, Lord,
me tortura, de modos insospechados,  /  tortures me, in unsuspected manners,
a buscarle un sentido a mis dudas,  /  to look for a sense to my doubts,
lo cual, tal vez, sea precisamente su fin!  /  which, maybe, is precisely its purpose!

Sólo pido…  /  I ask only…

ER43FI10 97-18

Sólo pido no tener deseos (Ya no quiero imaginar)

I like every kind of music when it comes out from sincere feelings.  It's a language we all share and I enjoy its richness. 

I'm no real musician since I can't play any instrument except twiddling a DAW but you'll find lots of various music genres here. I like trying different roads. Experimenting brings me great fun! 

I'm open to collaboration, electronic, trip hop, rock, ambient... Whether you are a singer, rapper, guitarist,drummer you're welcome. Let's see what we can achieve. 



FR: une sorte de bricoleur de sons sans prétentions, pas vraiment musicien mais je m'éclate à assembler du midi et de l'audio tels les Lego adorés de mon enfance;et le tout en essayant d'apprivoiser la théorie musicale  ... mais je crains que c'est elle qui ne veut pas de moi ! 

Influences multiples pour des résultats éclectiques et imprévisibles 

The third day syndrome

-R_e_A_K_T_i_V-

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Loya Jirga

BLACK FLOYD

jigs trippin

Mark Mori

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