THY LAST REMINDERS

Menneskets Megalomani

Ever since I heard Pink Floyd's "Money" that song hook has been embed in my brain. Money is a constant chip on my shoulder as an indie musician but the passion and love of music makes it all worthwhile. What can I say like the Pusher Man said -  I mean bank manager said: "In God We Trust The Rest Pay Cash".


l’Argent - Money $ Money $ Money

Le dépanneur du coin veut plus te faire crédit
le dépanneur du coin veut plus te faire crédit
il dit “des bons comptes font des bons amis”.

Compagnie de téléphone veut te déconnecté
compagnie de téléphone veut te déconnecté
y disent ça fait des mois  t’es a pas payé.

l’Argent - maudite argent
l’argent - maudite argent
money-money-money-money
money-money-money-money
money-money-money-money
maudite argent.

Y’a ben du monde qui disent  l’argent fait tourner les roues
y’a ben du monde  qui disent l’argent fait tourner les roues
demande toé pas bonhomme pourquoi que je cruise les blues.

l’Argent - maudite argent
l’argent - maudite argent
money-money-money-money
money-money-money-money
money-money-money-money
maudite argent.
“In God We Trust - The Rest Pay Cash”

L'Argent (Money Money Money)

l'Argent -  Money $ Money $ Money

the br80 is the perfect electric gtr doodle machine 

funky sludge br80 jam

Cansado bajo el sol
Helada voz oyó:
“Vas a gritar y callarás
 a toda la ciudad”

Helado sol cayó
Cansada voz contó:
“un día más,
 ya me dirás
 se cura con la edad”

Voz: Maranta
Musica y letra: Derzu

Un día (Amanecer)

Sometimes you just gotta move on, in your own way.

Goodbye

Introduction in English:

On a Saturday, 9 June 1989, I receive a phone call from my mother at around 6 am. She seems to be laughing. But as it soon turns out, tears are bursting out of her. At first she can only say one sentence: "Your father is dead". Then her voice fails. I, who has just been roused from my sleep by the ringing, at first think it's a bad joke. My father, not even 55 years old, dead, who had been so full of energy in the last few months? With whom I had spoken lively on the phone just a week ago?
Then my eldest sister comes to the phone. She speaks like a robot, as if she has frozen all her feelings inside herself.
She confirms the sudden death of my father from a heart attack and urges me to come immediately from Berlin to southern Germany (800 kilometres away).
Much of what happened after that - from the last encounter with my father in the morgue, to the years of vacillating between feelings of liberation and sometimes massively frightening "I'll bring you to me in the realm of the dead" nightmares after his funeral, to finding a deeper inner peace with him in the last few years - I wrote down and sang about in the following song "My Father in Heaven".      
However, the song lyrics are not chronological, but set in 2011, in which I am all alone on a beautiful summer day in the cemetery where my father's grave is located. From this day I start a retrospective and an outlook.     

Lyrics:

My Father in Heaven

What a beautiful day
All alone in the graveyard 
Come to visit you
Without a grudge

It's unbelievably quiet
Hear the dead deep asleep 
In an beyond harbour
Be with you soon

I hated you sometimes 
Had you so gladly touched,
You're gone too soon 
Left me alone with the dirt 
Of this life.

Wanted to tell you so much more 
You can't sneak away like that
A moment ago you were still there  
I felt quite close to you,

Now only 
A cold hand in the morgue
Nothing more moves

My father in heaven, 
I miss you very much, 
With wistfulness my heart sometimes
Becomes so heavy

When you were suddenly dead
Many things seemed easier, 
I moved forward in life, 
I looked free

but when I slept at night,
you'd come into my dreams, 
trying to pull me over, 
to the land beyond.

You didn’t let me go for so long 
Lying like a black mourning box
On my chest and belly, 
Felt like I was in a tube 
Trapped by you.

Often couldn’t defend myself
Felt completely without power 
When in the deep of the night
you came to my room, 

without a body, 
pure soul contact,
worlds still unknown to me.

Father in heaven,
do you hear me now,
I speak to you in peace, 
I am no longer hurt.

Your grave is newly decorated,
I've picked a bouquet for you, 
I sit down with you, 
I surrender tot he silence
peaceful silence. 

I am here now, you there
even if the wall separates us,
we see each other invisibly, 
You always stay close to me, 

I'll go on now, 
Stay here, 
I'll be back soon

Father in heaven
I think of you often 
You are indispensable, 
Come with me....

My Father in Heaven

My Father In Heaven

EDGAR ALLAN POE

Attimi

Help!

Introduction in English

Sometimes I have to smile a little when I think about the fact that John Lennon was only 24 years old when he wrote these lyrics. 
He certainly didn't know about the cries for help that come with ageing from 60 plus. The experience of gradual physical decline and the increasing dependence on the support of other people. The gradual loss of autonomy, which is so important for one's own dignity. And the subliminal threat of retirement and nursing homes approaching, which then temporarily pulls you out of your increasing mental derangement by singing old Beatles songs.
But apart from that, he certainly already knew a lot about the hardships of being different, of not belonging; the longing to experience something like love in the worldwide recognition and at the same time having to suffocate and drown in this wave of adoration. 
In the pop era of the time, his desperate cry for help was reduced to a tolerable two minutes
I turned it into a leisurely three-minute waltz. And tried to express my increasing need for help in certain areas of life in different ways: shy and fragile, desperate and humble, angry and almost accusatory. 
And towards the end, I find myself in an almost otherworldly limbo in which a part of me comes to peace with the cry for help and finds its own new dignity in it.

Einführung auf Deutsch
Manchmal muß ich ein wenig schmunzeln, wenn ich daran denke, dass John Lennon erst 24 Jahre alt war, als er diesen Songtext schrieb. 
Da wusste er mit Sicherheit noch nichts von den Hilferufen, die mit dem Älterwerden ab 60 plus einhergehen. Die Erfahrung des allmählichen körperlichen Zerfalls und die sich zunehmend anschleichende Angewiesenheit auf die Unterstützung von anderen Menschen. Der allmähliche Verlust von Autonomie, der für die eigene Würde so wichtig ist. Und das unterschwellig drohende Herannahen von Senioren- und Pflegeheimen, die einem dann mit dem Singen von alten Beatles-Songs vorübergehend aus der zunehmenden geistigen Umnachtung herausreißen.
Aber abgesehen davon wußte er sicher schon viel von den Nöten des Andersseins, des nicht dazu gehörens; der Sehnsucht, in der weltweiten Anerkennung so etwas wie Liebe zu erfahren und zugleich in dieser Verehrungswelle geradezu ersticken und ertrinken zu müssen. 
In der damaligen Pop-Zeit wurde sein verzweifelter Hilferuf auf allseits erträgliche gut zwei Minuten eingedampft.
Ich habe daraus einen gut dreiminütigen gemächlichen Walzer gemacht. Und dabei versucht, meine in gewissen Lebensbereichen zunehmende Hilfsbedürftigkeit auf verschiedene Weise auszudrücken: Scheu und zerbrechlich, verzweifelt und demütig, wütend und beinahe anklagend. 
Und zum Ende hin befinde ich mich in einer fast schon jenseitigen Zwischenwelt, in der ein Teil in mir mit dem Hilferuf in Frieden kommt und darin eine eigene neue Würde findet.

Help!

Help! (Lennon/Mccartney)

Introduction in English

Many of them were persecuted, oppressed, tortured or even murdered. 
But many of them escaped their perpetrators and potential butchers and emerged even stronger from these struggles for survival. 
And especially at a time when the tyrannical powers are raising their heads again, when a repressive right-wing shift is taking place all over the world, they are more important than ever;
In their unmistakable clarity, their healthy stubbornness, their intuitive knowledge to protect the all-encompassing love and vitality in the world from the destructive forces of fascist systems.
With my song I want to encourage all free spirits to show themselves even more and to go forward. And I want to encourage all listeners of this song to open up more to their own free-spirited side.

Lyrics (for those, who don`t speak German)

Free spirits

They never let themselves be bent
Never let any repression get them down

They have a keen sense
For what is real or just false adornment

They follow their own tracks
They tick according to their own clocks

They are with themselves and yet open-minded
They change and remain true to themselves

Often stand on their head
Don't like to swim with

Every ancient braid
Is sprayed with color
Until it burns out

Free spirits
Are still 
In this land

Free spirits
Not all 
Have they
Banished, Burnt

Free spirits
Have 
Survived the hells
And lay down in the light unbreakable

They dream with their eyes open
Make a thousand mistakes, seem to be no good

Are often still unrecognized, banished from the grill plate
Yet they sparkle beneath the sand  

They are often underestimated
Violated in their dignity
Abandoned in the forest by the mainstream
They wear orchids 
Can see in the dark
Can walk blind on clouds

Are outraged alive
Say out loud what bothers them

Are driven by love
For themselves, the humans and the world

Free spirits
Are still 
In this land

Free spirits
Not all 
Have they
Banished, Burnt

Free spirits
Have 
Survived the hells
And lay down in the light unbreakable
lay down in the light
lay down in the light
Lay
Down
In
The 
Lieght

Deutscher Originaltext:

Freigeister

Sie lassen sich niemals verbiegen
Von keiner Repression unterkriegen

Sie haben ein feines Gespür
Für das was echt ist oder nur falsche Zier

Sie folgen Ihren eigenen Spuren
Sie ticken nach Ihren eigenen Uhren

Sie sind bei sich und doch aufgeschlossen
Sie wandeln sich und bleiben sich treu

Stehen oft auf dem Kopf
Schwimmen ungerne mit

Jeder uralte Zopf
Wird mit Farbe besprüht
Bis er verglüht

Freigeister
Sind noch immer 
In diesem Land

Freigeister
Nicht alle 
Haben sie
Verbannt, Verbrannt

Freigeister
Haben 
Die Hölllen überlebt
Und sich unkaputtbar in das Licht gelegt

Sie träumen mit offenen Augen
Machen tausend Fehler, scheinen nichts zu taugen

Werden oft noch verkannt, vom Grillteller verbannt
Dennoch funkeln sie unter dem Sand  

Gerne werden sie unterschätzt
In ihrer Würde verletzt
Vom Mainstream im Wald ausgesetzt
Sie tragen Orchideen 
Können im Dunkeln sehen
Können auf Wolken blind gehen

Sind lebendig empört
Sagen laut, was sie stört

Sind von Liebe getrieben
Für sich, die Menschheit und die Welt

Freigeister
Sind noch immer 
In diesem Land

Freigeister
Nicht alle 
Haben sie
Verbannt, Verbrannt

Freigeister
Haben 
Die Hölllen überlebt
Und sich unkaputtbar in das Licht gelegt
In das Licht gelegt
In das Licht gelegt
In 
Das
Licht
Gelegt

Freigeister (Free Spirits)

Introduction in English:

Manfred (‘Manne’) was my oldest friend. We used to play together in the sandpit. 
We were both very contrasting characters. I was ambitious for a long time and wanted to excel through special achievements. Manne, on the other hand, preached idleness and complete freedom from pressure even as a teenager.  He often laughed at me from his lotus position when I got bogged down in something. I secretly admired him for his attitude of pure being and complete freedom from purpose. 
Through him, I learnt about the benefits of slowness and pausing. And he was a sensitive companion when I came into contact with certain drugs such as cannabis, alcohol and cocaine in my early adulthood.     
Unfortunately, from his mid 20s onwards, he tipped more and more towards the destructive side of drug use. During this time, we both drifted further and further apart. The last time I saw him, he seemed like a wreck to me. I could already sense that things weren't going to be good with him for much longer. 
Nevertheless, I was shocked when I learnt of his early death at the age of just 31. 
Since then, I have visited his grave every year and see how many beautiful aspects of him live on in his son, who is my nephew. 
With this song, I would like to honour him with my own personal musical memorial.   

Lyrics in English (for those, who don`t speak German):

Manne Manne

Manne Manne, it hurts so much
Because I just don't quite understand
That you left so soon
You pissed off from one day to the next

Manne Manne, you were such a cool hero
In your anti-achievement world
Instead of storm and stress in a noble snail's pace
A bohemian with a song of lullabies

Believed in you for a long time,
In your ‘Let yourself go’ poem
Your vision of life without haste

Without any pressure and stressful scabies
Just stay lying there
Behind misty coloured windows
Against the compulsion to do!

Manne manne, you were once so beautiful
You could turn women's heads
With your deeply chilled charm
Even the proudest lay in your arms

Manne Manne, master of slowness
Of ‘I don't have to do anything, I always have time’
Of life beyond ‘Nine to Five’
Of twilight sleep in the realm of night owls

Lord of the drug world
Herring-hook-less tent
Invited us into

Strange magic worlds
Where no rules apply
Into dark shadowy spaces
Gave us a light there

Manne Manne, it hurts so much
Because I never quite understand
That you went down like that
I've missed you a few times

Manne Manne, I`ve dreamt of you sometimes
Damn, I missed it somehow
To stop your self-dissolution programme
At the last meeting it was already much too late

Manne Manne
Manne Manne
Manne Manne
 
 




Manne Manne

here is the track peace dogs..its an anti war song that i wrote while traveling around malta and its islands ..i also made a video here is the link for your viewing enjoyment https://youtu.be/TYUsAlCKoeE

jim manser-youtube

The Peace Dogs [with video]

This is the last one of 44 songs I wrote with my mom’s Spanish guitar in my university years, songs I’ve been arranging and posting to SC for the last 6 years (I’ve skipped 4 of them which will become a conceptual album soon).

I’m so glad to have https://soundcloud.com/janinelevinson’s help on polishing the English texts and lending her vocal and painting arts to such an important song for me.

Also must credit https://soundcloud.com/user-498459842 for kindly and freely mastering the track.
 
CANCIÓN TRISTE CUANDO ESTOY SOLO (SAD SONG WHEN I’M ALONE)

Canción triste cuando estoy solo, para que sepas que yo nunca me iré.
Canción triste por todo lo que amo, último recuerdo de lo que pudo ser.

Sad song when I'm alone, so that you know I will never be gone.
Sad songs for all I love, are the last reminders of my ancient glow.

Do you think that someone somewhere else would ever care that I was here?
Do you think a future living man will give a damn for you and me?
Who could he be?

¿Piensas que a alguien a quien no conocí le importará si estuve aquí,
o no estuve yo?
¿Piensas que alguien que viva después se acordará de ti o de mí?
¿Quién podrá ser?

Canción triste…

¿Piensas que una nueva vida de amor nos bastará para creer,
para sentir?
¿Acaso te importa lo que piense la gente de mis intereses para morir por mí,
para morir por mí?

Do you think another life of love will be enough for us to see,
for us to feel?
Do you care what people really think about my pride, and will you die,
will you die with me?

Sad song…

ER44FI11 1997-2018

Canción triste cuando estoy solo (ft. Janine Levinson)

From our latest Album decipher. 

Www.facebook.com/shadowpainterband
Www.twitter.com/shadowpainter1
Shadowpainter.bandcamp.com
Decipher https://www.amazon.de/dp/B07CNJ94K2/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_apa_i_czV3Bb9DZV3JD

InsistRiseAgain

Il Nulla (alternate version/punk/live)

Written by:  Hoagy Carmichael and Jane Brown Thompson

Vocals - Irina
Piano - Eric Dartel - @ericdartel

Artwork by Georgy Kurasov - http://www.kurasov.com

I Get Along Without You Very Well - Irina & Eric

(Don't follow me here, best on my main page ;)

Il Nulla (alternate version/punk/live)

Sindrome del Dolore

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