Sembra di camminare su questa strada sotto il sole...bello il ritmo che hai scelto per la batteria, interessante l' arpeggio e bei suoni!

Awesome Hybrid sound!!!! Excellent with the progression & guitar!!!

Nice build up! Phantastic guitar playing! Touching! 👏

Great soundtrack.. Very nice dramarturgy..

Love the oriental feel, and the pad that sounds like a gong. Smooth bass moves too.

K3EF - In Stormy Seas

Insight

Third part of my father trilogy.
The father trilogy ends with my naïve and youthful attempt, at the age of 23, to break away from my father, who seemed overpowering at the time, and stand on my own two feet: 
To move as far away as possible from my provincial hometown, to throw myself into a Berlin that was completely foreign to me at the time and completely overwhelming. 
My saviour at the time was my oldest friend, who had already been living in Berlin for a few years and took me under his wing like a big brother.     
But even with his help, I soon had to realise that the attempt at a radical inner "patricide" could not succeed in any way. The early imprints he had left on me, the demons I had 'inherited' from him, were all still there. No matter how much I turned my outer life upside down, there was no escape from the central patterns and beliefs that I had learnt from my father in the first 10 years of my life.
In this respect, the song title "The Singular Man" is a "Mission Impossible". It was only three years later, and especially after his early death, that I realised more and more that a lifelong confrontation with my inner father images could lead to a closely linked dialectic:
An ever deeper and visibly more reconciliatory bond with my father and, at the same time, an ever-increasing self-realisation    
 
The Singular Man  (Lyrics in English)

Run through streets crooked and skewed 
The bridges criss-cross

All around me the stink of the city
An army of people everywhere

Turn in somewhere now
Fall in at your door

You are alone
Your corridor infinitely long
Your walls high and wide 
Your front door broad and welcoming

You push me through the corridor now 
At the windows the siren-
song

I get scared and bang 
Am I still
Your catch of fish
Your silhouette
That only plays at being free

And yet I have escaped you 
Escaped!

I take off all hinges
Hang out the windows
Make me a magic wand
Grey Berlin becomes a colourful bouquet for me 

Ride on a peacock wheel
Take a foam spring bath in the Spree

All light 
Time thrown into the air

Pain-free in a glittering dress
An ecstatic feeling of life

But something pushes back
Under the carpet lies the hanging rope
The spider's web is
Still there
The old danger

I only know about her now 
Keep me out of her more 

Oh man, the singular man
Man Oh man, the singular man
Man Oh man, the singular man
Man Oh man, the singular man


Der Singuläre Mann (Deutscher Originaltext)

Lauf’ durch Straßen krumm und schief, 
Die Brücken kreuz und quer

Um mich herum der Großstadtmief
Überall ein Menschen-Heer

Bieg' irgendwo jetzt ein
Fall’ bei Dir zur Tür herein

Du bist allein
Dein  Flur unendlich lang
Deine Wände hoch und weit 
Deine Eingangstür willkommens-breit

Schiebst mich jetzt durch den Gang 
An den Fenstern der Sirenen-
Gesang

Mir wird Angst und Bang 
Bin ich immer noch
Dein Fischfang
Dein Schattenbild
Das das Freisein nur spielt

Und doch bin ich Dir entflohen 
Entflohen!

Lege alle Scharniere ab
Häng' die Fenster aus
Bastle mir einen Zauberstab
Grau-Berlin wird mir zum bunten Strauß 

Fahr auf nem‘ Pfauenrad
Nehm‘ in der Spree ein Schaum-Frühlingsbad

Alles leicht 
In die Luft geworfene Zeit

Schmerzbefreit im Glitzerkleid
Ein rauschhaftes Lebensgefühl

Doch etwas drängt zurück
Unterm Teppich liegt der Häng‘-Dich-Strick
Das Spinnennetz ist
Immer noch da
Die alte Gefahr

Kenn‘ mich jetzt nur mit ihr aus 
Halt mich mehr aus ihr raus 

Oh Mann, der Singuläre Mann
Mann Oh Mann, der Singuläre Mann
Mann Oh Mann, der Singuläre Mann
Mann Oh Mann, der Singuläre Mann

Der Singulare Mann (The Singular Man)

Der Singuläre Mann (The Singular Man)

Sometimes, life gives you a new start, a new chance.

Covert art by https://www.fiverr.com/s/lqkl9a

A New Beginning

Find time to meditate.. for the body, mind and soul!! Namastè

Meditation

The Dagda was the creator god of the Irish fairy race, the Tuatha Dé Danann, who, in Celtic myths, ejaculates into the River Boyne, dedicated to the goddess Boann. Here I combine this star metaphor with our growing knowledge about cymatics, and about how archaeologists discovered that the shapes of the shells of the fossils change all at once, at the beginning of every Vedic Age (25,772 years). 

Lyrics:

The Dagda stood, phallus firmly in hand 
One foot on Red Mountain, the other on Newgrange. 
While miles below him flowed the River Boyne 
And the pleasure boats of happy folk 
Oblivious to the existence of 
This giant of the Tuatha dé Danann, 
The creator god of their race. 

He was waiting for Her. 
He was waiting for Boann, 
He was waiting for Her Voice, 
As he had done, many times before, 
Over countless aeons... 

He was waiting for Her Voice, 
The love song that would sing into being 
The turning of the Ages, 
The command for the waves to change their shapes. 

Only He could hear Boann’s Voice, 
Only The Dagda’s ears were pure 
From the chattering white noise 
And seductive sirens’ spells 
That others were bound by. 
He had no interest in their words. 
To him they were just like 
The mating cries of hump-backed whales, 
A long way off in the distance. 

He wondered what she’d sound like, this time? 
What love song would She sing 
To build the new waves of the new Age? 
Then he heard it. He heard it... 

It was coming towards him on the wind. 

Suddenly her soft lips were on His ear, 
And she sang Her song 
Into the long, winding labyrinth 
That led to the serpents in His sack, 
Who instantly, at the sound, leapt up 
On fire, and whirling with desire 
To enflame Him with Her command, 
To send Her song to the waters, to the waves
And to the seas, to turn the Wheel of the Age. 
And He could hold back no longer. 

With a vast groan of ecstasy 
Tinged only with the agony of waiting, 
He released Boann’s love potion, 
Like a colossal creamy fountain, 
Into the flowing, glistening milky way 
Of Her river below. 

Lyrics and vocals by Annie Dieu-Le-Veut
© Annie Dieu-Le-Veut, January 2024 
Music by Paul Foss
© Paul Foss, January 2024
Contact: paul@paulfossmusic.com

Cover art: Carina Nebula, a collosal stellar entity spanning 460 light years and emitting some of the most stunning formations of gas and dust in the Milky Way.

The Dagda

The beak-faced, egg-breasted Bird Mother is the oldest known supernatural deity and she was worshipped in the oak groves of these isles long before any other more humanoid entities.

I wrote this after learning that frequency spectographic research found the dawn chorus builds, with its sound, what looks like cathedrals of light. (More here: https://anniedieuleveut.com/2021/01/14/the-cathedrals-of-light-sung-by-the-dawn-chorus/) 

I am very grateful to APi-ZZ (Andreas Pirner) for composing such enchanting music. You can find him here: https://soundcloud.com/api_zz

Words and vocals by Annie Dieu-Le-Veut
© Annie Dieu-Le-Veut, January 2024 

Music by APi_ZZ (Andreas Pirner) 
© APi_ZZ (Andreas Pirner), January 2024 

Cover Art: Detail from a stained glass window at Dornoch Cathedral in the Scottish Highlands, taken by John Haslam. 

Poem: 

All honour to the Crane bag of the Bird Mother, 
with its Ogham runes and snakes' eggs blue 
that birth the laws to protect the young, 
and those who will later come along 
to live under Her eye of the Moon. 
Our groves were grown for her Offertory 
and even now that they have become churches, 
her birds still intone sonic cathedrals of light 
to wind Saturn’s clock for each new day ... 
and will do for so long as the Earth is.

The murmuring Starlings keep vigil in the dark, 
sparkling in their bright constellations. 
A Long-Eared Owl hoots the Magnificat 
through the cloisters, to prepare the Mass 
for the sleep-dreaming congregations. 

An Eagle arrives at the lectern 
to conduct the Liturgy of Hours, 
its hawkwind-breath inspires and expires 
through the lead-slated roofs and copper spires, 
with prayers reaching up to Her flower-decked bower.
Then a Martin begins the morning Matins 
by swift-spiralling above to show 
we’re all part of the round robin rhyme 
of the tic-tocking Wheel of Time, 
here in our nests and bowers down below. 

At Lauds, a Lark ascends through tree-lined arches 
into the heavenly fan vaulting, 
a glorious Gloria trilling on its tongue, 
that the Sun will keep its promise 
that a new day will come, 
its joy unstinting and unhalting, 
As through the leaded panes of the old church Quire, 
skies are turning from blusher to butter, 
while songbirds in serried ranks, brightly arrayed, 
are chirping and whistling a dawn chorus of praise 
to Her Blessedness, the egg-breasted Bird Mother.

At Prime, a Peregrine Falcon flies to the tower, 
to squawk in the new Sun. 
Then a Torquoise Jay emerges at Terce 
to Gregorian chant the chapter and verse, 
now that the third hour after dawn has come. 

White Swans take flight from their lakes 
to lead the sublime symphony of Sext. 
They soar past choirs of stone-winged angels 
to ring the bells and the Summer Triangle, 
all down the nave and through the transepts. 

Next it’s the turn of a red-cloaked Cardinal.
He intones a psalm, accompanied by a bassoon. 
It is Nones, which marks the ninth hour since sunrise, 
and so we have now reached mid-afternoon. 

Long purple shadows are silently descending 
from the wings of a bald-headed Vulture 
flying in for Vespers at this juncture, 
So we know that the day She gave is now ending.

 Finally, at Compline, a black Crow arrives, 
the incense to light, and to recite the Agnus Dei.
He perches on the altar in full magisterium, 
to hoarsely croak out a sombre Requiem, 
“...aeternum dona eis, Domine.” 
to bring down the thick velvet curtain of night. 

And then a Robin sings the Last Rites. 

All this, in honour of the Crane bag of the Bird Mother, 
with its Ogham runes and snakes' eggs blue 
that birth the laws to protect the young, 
and those who will later come along 
to live under Her Eye of the Moon.

© Annie Dieu-Le-Veut, January 2024

A Cathedral of Birds

Surf And Sun (resurrected)

Beyond The Wall

In Vedic myths, Lord Vishnu sings all the worlds into creation by the means of mantras. 

Words and vocals by Annie Dieu-Le-Veut
© Annie Dieu-Le-Veut, February 2024 

Music by Ryan Kenneth Ford
© Ryan Kenneth Ford, February 2024

Multiverse (music by Ryan Kenneth Ford)

Written and performed by Stefano Colleoni

https://songwhip.com/stefanocolleoni/the-silk-road

The Silk Road

Guitarist, musician, composer based in Italy.


For licenses on my music:
https://www.songtradr.com/user/profile/stefano.colleoni

The Silk Road

Stefano Colleoni

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