Funk Cabal are set to release their brand new double single  ‘I’m Getting Too Old For This Shit’ / ‘I Could Never Love You (Like I Love House) on November 6th. Rumbling bass, sultry vocals, swung beats and an eclectic sci-fi aesthetic collide in Funk Cabal’s latest offering of two laid-back electronic funk jams.

Funk Cabal is Tom Livingston and Drew Davies. They formed their unholy musical alliance following a late night tête à tête outside Glasgow’s Devil of  Brooklyn bar. 

Set against the backdrop of Glasgow’s ambient nightlife their music balances the light and dark of modern living; tales of desperation and loss marry with intimate vocals, driving electronic beats and cascading synthesizers. 

The tracks follow their debut EP ‘Open Up’ and were produced and mixed by Funk Cabal and mastered by Graeme Lynch - Circa Waves, Bugzy Malone,  Asake, Skepta, UMG.

I'm Getting Too Old For This Shit

Bass Intuition

have the light of life.

And he said unto them, I beheld Satan as lightning fall from heaven.

Rise Up

to the glory of God.

For sin, taking occasion by the commandment, deceived me, and by it slew me.

CloudBlueSky

A Gentle Extraterrestrial

Piano only draft, I think I do intend to layer some synths and such almost immediately.

Lyrics:

The fools clearly cannot stop me deary
I'm now powered by Functional Programming and Category Theory

Punk in twenty twenty five
Is a giant list of rules
Like some experiment that strives
To sort the donkeys from the mules

I was dealing with the stressors
And the chill going through my bones
And getting nasty bouts of cooties
Indiana Jones
Is a fantasy about a professor
With no admin duties

In the midst of all the spam
I found this nugget to be true
That you can just meet a cutie on a tram
And form a sex cult of two

She made an involuntary glance at my pecs
And said look you silly chud
If a man is scared of period sex
He shouldn't have sex peery ud

What a pity it isn't a sin to drink water
For how good it would taste
And when i saw the rich guy's daughter at the table
I had decided
That she wasn't going to waste

Not to get too raw
About contextualizing Fick's law
But women are position
And men are momentum
So to cap off his patron's tantrum
Her father's chef was giving a rendition
Of his confused proclivity
To identify with kinematic diffusivity

This budding culinary poltroon
Spun his wooden spoon like a virtuoso torsional
He said your nose and your weenie length are proportional
This tends to trump your looks
The girls all to go for bestial
Therefore Pinocchio writes the history books

He had his mind in the gutter
But his take was immaterial
For he wasn't just cooking
He was pan frying with butter
Something downright magisterial

I'm far too busy keeping my hair and nails in sheen
But the male brain cannot comprehend
Pasta with no protein

Are the twenty-twenties going to be known
For an anticipated hype bubble
Their entire length
I try I swear to stay out of trouble
But Lord give me strength

She was an actuary
With a minor in geo-visceral
The mailed fist in the soft glove
And had a habit of mogging
And I balked at her solipsistic
Acrobatics and took to deriding her fake
Emulation of the yokel frankly it was rather sus
Her take on politicization of movement or the lack thereof
Was That Bedrotting is aristocratic
Taking a walk is communist
Hiking is reactionary
Riding the bus is social democrat
And Jogging is neoliberal

I'm way ahead
On getting her to make me a sandwich
You need to get up to speed
I'm impressing her in her DM's
Saying things in a dead language
She can't even read

With eyes that pierced me like a laser, she asked
What the fuck is this Frutiger Aero erasure
I'd lost the plot somewhere but I knew
She'd never been where she was referring back to

I said self-improvers trying to give advice
Are like here are the numbers i used to win the lottery
And then I paid the price
She screeched at me
Kind of like a peer reviewer
When you try to sneak in irony

I decided to hit below the belt
I said hey don't pout
This pasta is delish
And you look positively radiant
But as regards Billie Eilish
I'd venture that sleepy trout
Probably have a perfection gradient
Just like anything else
My remark may be out of place
But who are we to dump on her creative space

She fired back
We went to Plymouth Rock
And your idea of being expressive was
Sorry if you find the terminal moraine
Insufficiently impressive

The backers of mass media found out how to
Find their way to society's garbage disposal
They overestimate humans' entertainment value
Except in the absurdity of the proposal

Welcome to the you and I verse
It contains a bunch of lines
Instead of being rather terse
X and Y combines
Some things that could be worse
Like making wine before it's time

Sex Cult For Two (Acoustic Draft)

The final synth version.  The mastering (by me) prior to Dolby further-mastering it, is far from perfect but I gave it a serious try.

Lyrics:

The fools clearly cannot stop me deary
I'm now powered by Functional Programming and Category Theory

Punk in twenty twenty five
Is a giant list of rules
Like some experiment that strives
To sort the donkeys from the mules

I was dealing with the stressors
And the chill going through my bones
And getting nasty bouts of cooties
Indiana Jones
Is a fantasy about a professor
With no admin duties

In the midst of all the spam
I found this nugget to be true
That you can just meet a cutie on a tram
And form a sex cult of two

She made an involuntary glance at my pecs
And said look you silly chud
If a man is scared of period sex
He shouldn't have sex peery ud

What a pity it isn't a sin to drink water
For how good it would taste
And when i saw the rich guy's daughter at the table
I had decided
That she wasn't going to waste

Not to get too raw
About contextualizing Fick's law
But women are position
And men are momentum
So to cap off his patron's tantrum
Her father's chef was giving a rendition
Of his confused proclivity
To identify with kinematic diffusivity

This budding culinary poltroon
Spun his wooden spoon like a virtuoso torsional
He said your nose and your weenie length are proportional
This tends to trump your looks
The girls all to go for bestial
Therefore Pinocchio writes the history books

He had his mind in the gutter
But his take was immaterial
For he wasn't just cooking
He was pan frying with butter
Something downright magisterial

I'm far too busy keeping my hair and nails in sheen
But the male brain cannot comprehend
Pasta with no protein

Are the twenty-twenties going to be known
For an anticipated hype bubble
Their entire length
I try I swear to stay out of trouble
But Lord give me strength

She was an actuary
With a minor in geo-visceral
The mailed fist in the soft glove
And had a habit of mogging
And I balked at her solipsistic
Acrobatics and took to deriding her fake
Emulation of the yokel frankly it was rather sus
Her take on politicization of movement or the lack thereof
Was That Bedrotting is aristocratic
Taking a walk is communist
Hiking is reactionary
Riding the bus is social democrat
And Jogging is neoliberal

I'm way ahead
On getting her to make me a sandwich
You need to get up to speed
I'm impressing her in her DM's
Saying things in a dead language
She can't even read

With eyes that pierced me like a laser, she asked
What the fuck is this Frutiger Aero erasure
I'd lost the plot somewhere but I knew
She'd never been where she was referring back to

I said self-improvers trying to give advice
Are like here are the numbers i used to win the lottery
And then I paid the price
She screeched at me
Kind of like a peer reviewer
When you try to sneak in irony

I decided to hit below the belt
I said hey don't pout
This pasta is delish
And you look positively radiant
But as regards Billie Eilish
I'd venture that sleepy trout
Probably have a perfection gradient
Just like anything else
My remark may be out of place
But who are we to dump on her creative space

She fired back
We went to Plymouth Rock
And your idea of being expressive was
Sorry if you find the terminal moraine
Insufficiently impressive

The backers of mass media found out how to
Find their way to society's garbage disposal
They overestimate humans' entertainment value
Except in the absurdity of the proposal

Welcome to the you and I verse
It contains a bunch of lines
Instead of being rather terse
X and Y combines
Some things that could be worse
Like making wine before it's time

Sex Cult For Two

A fusion of jazztronica, electronic grooves and chilltronica, created with AI.
Lyrics inspired by Fernando Pessoa’s poem “Conselho.” 🌿✨   
Fusão de jazztrônica, grooves eletrônicos e chilltrônica, criada com IA.
A letra é inspirada no poema “Conselho”, de Fernando Pessoa. 🌿✨

Build your dreams behind calm walls,
Where light and shade can softly play.
Place bright flowers by the gate,
So kindness greets who walks that way,
And all they see brings peace today.

Shape your paths with quiet care,
Let gentle colors guide the view.
Show the world a garden fair,
Keep the rest for skies of blue,
Where simple seeds find life anew.

Hold within a tranquil ground,
Where stillness hums a steady tone.
Let your calm be what is found,
A garden open, yet your own —
A peaceful place the wind has grown.

Gentle Colours

And brought them out, and said, Sirs, what must I do to be saved?
And they said, Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved, and thy house.

A therapeutic journey into a mix of jazz, classical, and a blend of types of electronica.  And a wry, gradual observation that promotion tends to only go as far as you push it.  At least I make my fellow musicians laugh a little.

I’ve always been an improbable mix — a clueless amateur artist and a curious hacker full of them. Maybe it comes from my equally odd background: half dancer, half systems analyst.

At the dawn of the internet, I fell in love with Blogger, created Tempoética, and somehow ended up featured as a Blog of Note. Pure luck. Years later, armed with a cybershot and zero training, I made videodance experiments and small documentaries. One of them eventually became a feature film, selected for the São Paulo International Film Festival and In-Edit Brasil. Still trying to figure out how.

I’ve never stopped being amazed at how technology keeps expanding the playground of creativity — giving dreamers like me a chance to play, remix, and get lost in the process.

Now I’m exploring the wild frontier of artificial intelligence — blending code and verses from my favorite poets to create songs I always wished some real artist had made.

Welcome to Neural Verses.
Half wonder, half bug — all heart. 🎧

———

Sempre fui uma mistura improvável — um artista amador sem noção e um hacker curioso cheio delas. Talvez venha do meu passado igualmente estranho: metade dançarino, metade analista de sistemas.

Nos primórdios da internet, me apaixonei pelo Blogger, criei o Tempoética e, sem entender muito bem como, acabei virando destaque como Blog of Note. Pura sorte. Anos depois, com uma cybershot e zero formação, fiz experimentos de videodança e documentários. Um deles acabou se tornando um longa-metragem, selecionado para a Mostra Internacional de Cinema de São Paulo e para o In-Edit Brasil. Até hoje tentando entender.

Nunca deixei de me espantar com a forma como a tecnologia amplia o parque de diversões da criatividade — dando a delirantes como eu a chance de brincar, remixar e se perder no processo.

Agora estou explorando a fronteira selvagem da inteligência artificial — misturando código e versos dos meus poetas favoritos pra criar canções que eu sempre quis que algum artista de verdade tivesse feito. 

Bem-vindo ao Versos Neurais.
Metade encanto, metade bug — tudo coração. 🎧

Hip hop beats.

Royalty Free Music.

Electronic Tracks.

Songwriter and Producer, music is part of my life!

New tracks tagged #Jazztronica