holyholy

Ryu.

Hasenquelle

Stars are visible from a room, which has lost city lights.
Children, old people, and soldiers, no one in this city anymore.

Last lovers on this planet. Distant explosion sound.

Rubble, remembrances and corpses. We are living in chaos now.
It's just the two of us in this world. One might call it romantic.

Last lovers on this planet. I want to know what love is.

What is lost can no longer be regained, only to fade away.
Only sighs may remain in history and will be passed down.

Last lovers on this planet. I sleep with you in my arms.

Everyone made love. Everyone was betrayed. 
Everyone was hurt. Nobody's left.

Last lovers on this planet

Like a man whose name is forgotten.

I've never won any prizes.
Of course, there's no way to gamble and win.
I have never held a position of honor.
And dogs never tamed me.

Like a man whose name is forgotten.
I only smile quietly.

When I try to order, the waiter doesn't come.
Often only my food doesn't reach.
And when I meet up with people, I'm usually kept waiting.

Like a man whose name is forgotten.
I've gotten used to that by now.

If there were a town somewhere with only sober people, 
would I be able to live there peacefully?

As long as you guys enjoy it, that's all that matters to me.
I'm not a great man, so please don't mind me.
Well, you guys are quite the feat.

Like a man whose name is forgotten.
I only quietly walk away.

Like a man whose name is forgotten

Oval moon

Ryu / Acoustic guitar, Program, Voice
Pablo D. Martin Fontana / Electric guitar
https://soundcloud.com/pdmf-2023

The landscape seen from this room appears to be distorted due to the magnetic field. 
Nothing in particular to see, though.

We're holed up here and enduring.
Prayers are also shielded.

Over time, the significance of the battle has been lost.
The Deities are fed up and no longer speak to us.

We're trying to shoot down constellations with missiles.

Looking up at the oval moon, we contemplate the meaning of peace.

Some people talk about the economic value of war.
But this is not a conspiracy; it is simply violence.

No one can rule the world, no one can speak of justice.

Looking up at the oval moon, we contemplate the meaning of peace.

Looking up at the oval moon, we're waiting for the end of the world.

Oval moon / collaboration with Pablo Dario Martin

If we don't have words.

Ryu / Acoustic guitar, Program, Voice
Pablo D. Martin Fontana / Electric guitar
https://soundcloud.com/pdmf-2023

There's no story waiting to be written.
It became a story because it was written.
A tragedy without a name is not a tragedy, 
and love untold is only reproduction.

If we don't have words.
If we don't have words. 

Like animals and plants, we could have been happy.

Essentially, death is not grief, just a natural phenomenon.
To eat, to love, to die, just to live.
We seek meaning in these things.

If we don't have words.
If we don't have words. 

We could have lived more freely and naturally.

In a world without words, many things disappear.
Still we will feel love, and there will be joy and sorrow.

There's no story waiting to be written.
It became a story because it was written.
A tragedy without a name is not a tragedy, 
and love untold is only reproduction.

If we don't have words.
If we don't have words. 

We may have been as innocent as deities once expected.

If we don't have words / collaboration with Pablo Dario Martin

Rise or fall to limbo

The world keeps spinning at strange angles.
More and more speed, and at dangerous angles.
Eventually, centrifugal force will prevail and we may be thrown out.

Rise or fall to limbo.
We repeat forever.

On TV, news of war and war news.
We became quite familiar with tanks and missiles.
Spend money on expensive weapons and make money on reconstruction. 
Is that the rule?

Rise or fall to limbo.
No one can stop this, it seems.

We put on warm clothes and go for a walk.
Don't let go of my hand, ever.

We mourn the hundreds of lives lost in the earthquake.
And we honor the tens of thousands of lives lost in the war.
We may eventually get used to it and feel that it is normal.

Rise or fall to limbo.
Welcome to the new world order.

Rise or fall to limbo

Valentine's Day in the Underground Mall

This city's underground mall is becoming desolate.
This place is a graveyard of old-fashioned consumption.

There's no need to dig underground. And no one buys stuff anymore.

Valentine's Day in the Underground Mall.
It's gorgeous at a glance, though.

In the past, this city bombed and most of the things burned.
The survivors built shacks and developed them.

Certainly that's  nice history, but we don't need to do it again.

Valentine's Day in the Underground Mall.
It's not so cold here, though.

We're still in the middle of an operation to build a ruin.
We already know that we will be in a lot of trouble later.

This city's underground mall is becoming desolate.
There's a place that everyone wants to forget about already.

People would walk by. And not pay any attention to what was there.

Valentine's Day in the Underground Mall.
It's gorgeous at a glance, though.

Valentine's Day in the Underground Mall.
It's not so cold here, though.

Valentine's day in the underground mall

Kinda forgot to post this at the time, one of my own personal acoustic faves...(I hadn't played a flute since I was at school!)

Observation Ward

On the Observation Ward, trailing pipes and lines
On the Observation Ward, lonely, scared and wired

Where are all my electric friends
Flares that disappear across the sun
Fizzle into nothingness, the almost inaudible hum
They never turn the lights off in here
There’s locks and bolts that you can’t see

On the Observation Ward, trailing pipes and lines
On the Observation Ward, lonely, scared and tired
On the Observation Ward, trailing pipes and lines
On the Observation Ward, lonely, scared and wired

Look into the bright psychiatrist’s eye
Artfully lie and pretend to comply
Sweet jesus please, get me out of here
Or at least let me look at the sky
Or at least let me look at the sky
Or at least let me look at the sky

On the Observation Ward, trailing pipes and lines
On the Observation Ward, old and cut and tired

Observation Ward ©steph sweet 2019 All Rights Reserved.

Observation Ward

Walk forever
written by TJG December 17, 2020
mix 1: December 20, 2020
mix 2: Jan 9, 2021 output transformer engaged on tape machine
cover art: TJG somewhere in china

Technical Details
Recorded at Princeton Studio

Guitars
Rhythm: Guild DV52
Lead: Fender Stratocaster
Bass: Fender Squire

Mics: Neumann TLM 67 and AKG C414 XLS
Drums: single hand drum played by TG
Software: Pro Tools
Vocals: TG

Mixer: API 24 channel summing mixer (8200/7800)
Stereo Bus processing (API EQ and API compressor)
Final mix down to a MARA MCI JH110 1/4inch 2-track at 15 ips using ATR Master Tape. 



Lyrics

Verse 1
wanna walk forever
in a day
walk right next to you
wanna take it down
to the rivers edge
see what we can do

refrain
you must be strong
to carry on
doing what you do
oh yeah
doing what you do

verse 2
crazy days and crazy nights
it's who we are
you know we'll make it through
nothing lasts forever
we'll carry on
doing what we do

refrain
you must be strong
to carry on
doing what you do
oh yeah
doing what you do

Verse 3
wanna walk forever
in a day
walk right next to you
wanna take it down
to the rivers edge
see what we can do

refrain
you must be strong
to carry on
doing what you do
oh yeah
doing what you do

Outro
you must be strong
you must be strong....

Walk forever

This is my little sister's fault; she asked me to do a lovely happy little Christmassy song for her.   Obviously, I immediately reached for my well-thumbed copy of “Chords of misery and despair for songs in the key of Dismal diminished” - and here we are.  Hope you enjoy it Anne - sing along, pet!  :)

This uplifting little Christmas minor blues is based on the melody from a classic old standard from the ‘30’s “Skin Game Blues” by Peg Leg Howell but using a fingerstyle arrangement by Steve James from his excellent “Fingerstyle Blues Songbook”.

I can't blame anyone else but me for the lyrics.  Not even my sister.

Wishing everyone, particularly the less fortunate, a peaceful Christmas.

Photo by Matt Collamer on Unsplash

A Blues Consumptive

So, it’s time for Christmas.
Snatching up stuff that you don’t need, to hell with the desperate that do.
Give yourself a gluttony nosebleed, as you sate the materialistic in you.
You’re a trussed up seasonal clown,
Paint a grotesque smile on your frown,
Masquerade it all over town,
You’re goin’ down, down.

So, it’s time for Christmas.
Gorging conspicuous consumption by the privileged, of the frail.
Hot fashion’s mis-presumption, drags the spiritual by the tail.
Ya better get your stockpile built,
To bury your ethical guilt,
‘Cause you’re in it up to the hilt
And you’re goin’ down, down.

So, it’s time for Christmas.
Flashing Rudolph lights on your soul betray your tribal credentials.
The Christ can remain in the cold while you max your network potential.
Better get your story straight,
Soon be at the pearly gate,
Best not to leave it too late,
You’re goin’ down, down, down.

A Blues Consumptive

I'm making songs at midnight in my room. I play acoustic guitars, synthesizers, and I sing.