The Neritic Crawl

On A Hunch - Robert Grigg & Combstead

Closer

Don't wanna give your days away?
What has tomorrow got to do with yesterday?
So why go on wasting your time?
Waiting for some new event to crop up down the line .

Beyond the shining place and living by the sea.
Your destination, feels no further on to me.

Just like a dead cat by the road.
Who should of stayed home and just done as he was told.
The same old spin on your mistakes.
Nobody is watching you, until you drop the plate.
Why can't we just leave well alone.
Up to here with forking out, not sharing up the load.
Wait... What? Were we supposed to grow?
Missed out on the walking part went running in the snow.

Somewhere between welcoming and living in disgrace.
Between an elephant and a bird in a cage. 

You need warm weather to go swimming in the sea.
You need an umbrella to have something to leave. 
You need a hitch to take the opportunities.
Drag them up again.
Out of luck again.
Pig in muck again.
Guess what? Look again.

It's just your standard forked road.
The devil making this deal he is keeping his eyes closed.
A promise made you never keep.
A mistep taken which could even make a father weep.

When you are older you avoid a bended knee.
But, then again, it's easier for simplicity.

You need warm weather to go swimming in the sea.
You need an umbrella to have something to leave. 
You need a hitch to take the opportunities.
Drag them up again.
Pass the buck again.
Pig in muck again.
Guess what? Look again.

Drag Them Up (Part One)

The latest track from UK singer songwriter These Guitars Say Sorry.

"This ballad is a melody that tugs at the heartstrings. The emotion in your vocals and lyrics is deeply moving, creating a connection that lingers. An unforgettable musical expression"

Throw your head back and laugh
And just for a moment
You've forgotten where you are

I think I'll stay right here
Among the laughter and warmth
There is no fear

Just for a moment
Everything's perfect
Just for a moment
Til I open my eyes

I sometimes like to find
I'm out on a limb
At the same time
I'm out of my mind

Hanging here by a thread
Is where I'm living
Though you say
I'm better off dead

Just for a moment
I can smile
Just for a moment
It's all worthwhile

I can do all the things I wanted to
I can speak the lies and they sound like truth
I can keep the promises I made to you
And everything's perfect
And everything's perfect

Just For A Moment by These Guitars Say Sorry

https://myckalmarcovic.bandcamp.com/track/70-ans
Translation above
Texte de Georges Colleuil https://www.georgescolleuil.com/
Musique, arrangement et mixage de Myckaël Marcovic
Voix : Jean-Paul Gaido-Daniel https://www.facebook.com/jeanpaul.gaidodaniel

À soixante-dix ans

Au fil des jours, au fil des nuits
La lame coupe et l’âme fuit
À bout de souffle dans la tempête
Je traîne les pieds, courbe la tête
À contrevent sur les récifs
Je tiens la barre, le corps rétif
Persuadé que sous les étoiles
Des anges soufflent sur mes voiles
Alors, j’avance et malgré tout
Je ne plie jamais les genoux

Refrain :
À soixante-dix, la vie commence
Ma jeunesse enfin prend du sens
Le monde m’offre une seconde chance
Je l’attrape au vol et je danse
J’ai encore cinquante ans à vivre
Mille et un projets qui m’enivrent
Si la cuirasse fatigue un peu
L’esprit et le cœur sont joyeux

Frères de la nuit et sœurs de l’ombre
Mes vieux amis, venez en nombre
Trinquons ensemble un premier verre
À la santé de l’univers
On n’a pas fini d’en finir
Prenons tout le temps d’en sourire
Et même si demain s’annonce le pire
Projetons cent ans d’avenir
Avançons fiers, droits et debout
On lâche rien, on est chez nous
(refrain)

Je prends la pioche de l’amour
Je creuse un peu, refais un tour
Y a pas photo, plus le temps passe
Plus je sens que la mort trépasse
J’ai des projets, j’ai des désirs
Et des millions de souvenirs
Je retrouve avec émotion
Mon instinct de conversation
Tout est pourri, mais on s’en fout
Je plante un lotus dans la boue
(refrain)

Paroles de Georges Colleuil, 2018
Musique de Myckaël Marcovic, 08/2023

Text by Georges Colleuil https://www.georgescolleuil.com/
Music, arrangement and mixing by Myckaël Marcovic
Voice : Jean-Paul Gaido-Daniel https://www.facebook.com/jeanpaul.gaidodaniel

At seventy

Through the days, through the nights
The blade cuts and the soul flees
Breathless in the storm
I drag my feet, bend my head
Against the wind on the reef
I hold the helm with a restive body
Convinced that under the stars
Angels are blowing on my sails
So I keep moving forward
I never bend my knees

Chorus :
At seventy, life begins
My youth finally makes sense
The world offers me a second chance
I grab it and dance
I still have fifty years to live
A thousand and one projects that intoxicate me
If the armour wears a little thin
My mind and heart are happy

Brothers of the night and sisters of the shadows
My old friends, come one and all
Let's raise a glass together
To the health of the universe
We're not done yet
Let's take all the time we need to smile
And even if tomorrow looks worse
Let's plan a hundred years ahead
Let's go forward proud, upright and on our feet
We're not giving up, we're home
(chorus)

I take the pickaxe of love
I dig a little, do another lap
The more time passes, the more I feel
The more I feel that death is passing by
I've got plans, I've got desires
And millions of memories
I rediscover with emotion
My conversational instinct
Everything's rotten, but who cares?
I plant a lotus in the mud
(chorus)

Lyrics by Georges Colleuil, 2018
Music by Myckaël Marcovic, 08/2023

À 70 ans (Georges Colleuil / Myckaël Marcovic) (featured by Jean-Paul Gaido-Daniel)

Just for a bit of fun. Played it in C like the Beatles did originally, didn't try be too exact.

Let me take you down, 'cause I'm going to Strawberry Fields.
Nothing is real and nothing to get hung about.
Strawberry Fields forever.

Living is easy with eyes closed.
Misunderstanding all you see.
It's getting hard to be someone, but it all works out.
It doesn't matter much to me.
Let me take you down, cause I'm going to Strawberry Fields.
Nothing is real and nothing to get hung about.
Strawberry Fields forever.

No one I think is in my tree.
I mean, it must be high or low.
That is, you can't, you know, tune in, but it's all right
That is I think it's not too bad.
Let me take you down, cause I'm going to Strawberry Fields.
Nothing is real and nothing to get hung about.
Strawberry Fields forever.

Always know, sometimes think it's me 
But you know, I know when it's a dream.
I think I know, I mean, ah, Yes. 
But it's all wrong.
That is, I think I disagree.

Let me take you down, cause I'm going to Strawberry Fields.
Nothing is real and nothing to get hung about.
Strawberry Fields forever.
Strawberry Fields forever.
Strawberry Fields forever.

Strawberry Fields Forever [The Beatles Cover]

Feel like I should be walking on the shores of Galilee 
But instead I'm in a prison built up in my infancy.
Thought I was like the young boy from the Empire of the Sun.
But that wasn't how they saw me.
And that's how I came undone.
I'm not the one.

Oh, my baby.
Lay me down.
Oh, my baby.
Lay me down.

A laughing stock. 
I can't smoke pot.
Three corners to sweep dust.
When you fall into black water, all your keys begin to rust.
You're not thinking on damnation.
Amongst the holes you're teetering.
A cage containing lightning bolts. 
Which somehow you fit in.
Forget your sin.

Oh, my baby.
Lay me down.
Oh, my baby.
Lay me down.

Oh, sister, mother, Mary. 
Won't you lay your grace on me.
I do not want your money.
I'm dismayed about this fee.
The foolish man puts effort into digging diamond mines?
Yet a wise man takes his gold figures and reaches for the sky?
And don't ask why?

Felt sorry for the workers.
Give them all your sympathy.
If they didn't need the money.
Oh, footloose and fancy free.
And they wouldn't need so of much it if they weren't all in such pain.
You must all go on holiday.
You must all buy cocaine.
If it's all the same.

Oh, my baby.
Lay me down.
Oh, my baby.
Lay me down.

Oh, my baby.
Lay me down.
Where's my money?
Play around.
Time goes by.
There's no win. 
Games to play.
Songs to sing.
See the sun is rising.
But your not asleep.
An uncertain horizon.
Nothing deep.
Oh, my lady.
Lay me down.
Oh, my baby.
Lay me down.

Oh, my baby.
Lay me down.
Oh, my baby.
Lay me down.

Oh, sister, mother, Mary. 
Won't you take this pain from me.
Because the route to your salvation seems delayed by infamy.
Oh, holy mother of Jesus. 
Won't you let me in the door.
I'm not asking to sleep on your bed.
I'm content with the floor.
I want some more.

I go to ground, then I hear you speak.

Oh, my baby.
Lay me down.
Oh, my baby.
Lay me down.

Oh, sister, mother, Mary. 
Won't you exorcise for me.
The ghosts all these winters spent in bleak despondency.
The holy men of the mountain.
They pass judgement down on all.
But they're not fooling anybody.
Waiting for the fall.
We missed their call.

Oh, my baby.
Lay me down. (Repeat)

Sister, Mother, Mary

https://myckalmarcovic.bandcamp.com/track/arc-en-ciel
Translation above.

Texte et voix : Jean-Paul Gaido-Daniel
www.facebook.com/jeanpaul.gaidodaniel
Accompagnement musical : Myckaël Marcovic

Arc-en ciel
Si c'était à recommencer, je voudrais être ce gamin qui court et qui danse sur les galets de la plage en dessous du trottoir de la promenade des Anglais à Nice-Ville. Ce gamin qui descend sur le chemin de l'école, son cartable à la main et ses billes arc-en-ciel dans ses poches, prêt à en découdre avec ses petits camarades dans la cour de l'école où toutes leurs richesses, toutes ces billes qui sautent et tombent tout autour des arbres de la cour du temps jadis, avec l'ami Coco. 
Si c'était à recommencer, à pas comptés, je claquerais le même chemin sur les pavés de ce vieux Nice ranssousse et plein de bruits bizarres sur ce marché multicolore, revoir Mireille, sa socca d'amour bien pébraté bien poivrée, servie d'un bon rosé bien frais. 
Si c'était à recommencer je dirais à tous mes camarades auteurs et compositeurs et bien d’autres encore, que je repartirais de nouveau pour un grand tour. Et roule ma sono sur les pavés gris-¬bleu au hasard de quelques allées embuées par ces buveurs de pastagas, cigarillos au bec qui se donneraient pour un quignon de soleil et quelques roses rouges sur des lèvres carnin. 
Si c'était à recommencer, je chanterais pour des caveaux de familles pour ces vieilles cancanières de bénitier, pour ce petit garçon qui sonnait les cloches de l'église et pissait avec ses copains dans les bénitiers d'eau de pluie. 
Oui Madame, oui Monsieur, je suis un coquin du Diable qui court encore comme Hopper sur le sable de San Pedro. Ce Hopper qui cherche d'où vient le vent de pluie.  
Si c'était à recommencer, donnez-moi un micro pour chanter vos chansons et les miennes z'aussi. 
Il ne faudra jamais parler de nos secrets, de nos poèmes de cœur, de nos amours cachées, de nos espoirs ratés.
On avait du talent, on était magnifique. Alors, moi le petit Niçois, je ne regrette rien ! 

Rainbow

If I had to do it all over again, I'd want to be that kid running and dancing on the pebbles of the beach below the sidewalk of the Promenade des Anglais in Nice-Ville. That kid on his way to school, his schoolbag in his hand and his rainbow marbles in his pockets, ready to do battle with his little friends in the school playground, where all their riches, all those marbles jumping and falling all around the trees in the playground of yesteryear, with friend Coco. 
If I had to do it all over again, I'd walk the same old path over the cobblestones of old Nice, full of strange noises and multicolored markets, and see Mireille again, with her peppery socca d'amour, served with a nice chilled rosé. 
If I had to do it all over again, I'd tell all my fellow songwriters and composers, and many others besides, that I'd go on another grand tour. And roll my sound system over the grey-blue cobblestones as I wander down a few aisles fogged by pastaga-drinkers, cigarillos in their mouths, who'd give it all up for a quignon of sunshine and a few red roses on carninous lips. 
If I had to do it all over again, I'd be singing for family vaults, for those old stoup gossipers, for that little boy who rang church bells and pissed in the rainwater stoup with his pals.
If you had to do it all over again, give me a microphone to sing your songs and mine too. 
We'll never have to talk about our secrets, our heartfelt poems, our hidden loves, our failed hopes.
We were talented, we were magnificent. So I, the little boy from Nice, regret nothing!

Arc-en-ciel (Jean-Paul Gaido-Daniel / Myckaël Marcovic)

Guitar, Lyrics, Vocals, Bass, Keyboards And composition by Robert Grigg.

All I Ever Need

let you go

We are the music makers. We are the dreamers of dreams.





Drag Them Up (Part One)

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