THE MUTE is a protean creature.

It has no face, no identity of its own. It is made of everything that constitutes the world around us: sensations, feelings and emotions. His face is therefore in constant evolution, depending on what he perceives around him.

It represents our time, its successes, its progress but also of its defects. THE MUTE is condemned to wander in our world and testifies of what he feels by the music and by the multiple visual expressions of his face.

Discover now this 80's retro synth pop full of melancholy.

Conversations Of The World

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https://youtu.be/wnp6gJGOzAc
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(Verse 1)
Well, I’ve seen men try to wrestle with the bottle,
Thinking they can beat it with a fight.
And I’ve watched hearts break beneath the shadow,
Of dreams they couldn’t make right.
You can’t lasso pain, can’t tie it to a post,
It’ll buck you till you fall.
So face your fears like a man in the mirror,
Before you come at it all.

(Chorus)
Tackle your demons, leave the cowboy alone,
He’s riding through his troubles on a path of his own.
It’s a wild, wild world, where the storms never cease,
Tame the war in your heart if you’re searchin’ for peace.

(Verse 2)
There’s a fight in every man who’s ever wandered,
A ghost that he carries deep inside.
And a cowboy’s just a drifter in the saddle,
Running hard from the truth he’s denied.
But your demons, they’ll haunt you, won’t let you sleep,
Till you stand tall and lay ‘em down.
You can’t outgun what’s under your skin,
It’ll chase you to the edge of town.

(Chorus)
Tackle your demons, leave the cowboy alone,
He’s got his own battles riding through the unknown.
It’s a dusty trail, and the fight’s never fair,
But you can’t break the wind with your fist in the air.

(Bridge)
You can’t ride forever without facing the fall,
The harder you run, the louder they’ll call.
And when you’re down in the dirt, and you’ve nowhere to go,
The only fight left is the one in your soul.

(Chorus)
Tackle your demons, leave the cowboy to roam,
He’s chasing his shadows, out there on his own.
Fix the cracks in your heart, find the strength in your name,
Before you saddle up blame and play the same game.

(Outro)
So grab that rope, and wrestle your pain,
Don’t be the fool who points out the rain.
The cowboy’s a mirror, and the truth is this:
The hardest battle’s one you can’t resist.

Tackle Your Demons, Not a Cowboy

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(Verse 1)
She’s in the kitchen, raisin’ all kinds of hell,
Throwin’ them plates like a shotgun shell.
Callin’ me clueless, sayin’ I’m wrong,
While I’m sittin’ here strummin’ on a brand-new song.
A storm’s a-brewin’, Lord knows it’s bad,
But a melody’s hummin’ through all of that mad.

(Chorus)
She’s breakin’ dishes, I’m writin’ rhymes,
She’s tossin’ cups, I’m keepin’ time.
She’s fussin’ ‘bout the man I ain’t,
I’m scratchin’ down words in a whiskey-stained page.
Yeah, she’s got fire, I got a hook,
Gonna spin this heartache into somethin’ worth a look.
She’s losin’ her mind, I’m hummin’ along,
She’s breakin’ dishes while I write another country song.

(Verse 2)
She says I never listen, well maybe that’s true,
But darlin’, this chorus is comin’ from you.
Every stomp on the floor, every tear in her eye,
Sounds like a sad tune ready to fly.
Love ain’t easy, it’s wild and free,
And a heart like hers don’t tame easy like me.

(Chorus)
She’s breakin’ dishes, I’m writin’ rhymes,
She’s tossin’ cups, I’m keepin’ time.
She’s callin’ me out, I’m holdin’ my ground,
Turnin’ her storm into a brand-new sound.
Yeah, she’s got fire, I got a hook,
Gonna turn this fight into somethin’ folks book.
She’s slammin’ doors, I’m pickin’ along,
She’s breakin’ dishes while I write another country song.

(Verse 3)
She grabbed her suitcase, slammed it down hard,
Said she’s leavin’ my dreams and my old guitar.
I just nodded, took another sip,
Turned her goodbye into another hit.
By the time her taillights faded from view,
Had another verse down ‘bout love gone blue.

(Chorus)
She’s breakin’ dishes, I’m writin’ lines,
She’s tearin’ me up, I’m takin’ my time.
She’s packin’ her bags, walkin’ on out,
I’m layin’ this heartache down note by note.
Yeah, she’s got fire, I got a song,
Gonna ride this mess ‘til the pain is gone.
She’s drivin’ away, I’m pickin’ along,
She’s breakin’ dishes while I write another country song.

(Outro)
Guess I’ll pour a strong one, play one more tune,
If she don’t come back, well, I’ll still have the blues.
If she does, well, that’s just fine,
I’ll just start writin’ the next good line.

Flying Chords Breaking Plates

This song corresponds to the bilingual world we live in (and the madness into which the world is slipping more and more):
Vérité Enterrée – Buried Truth
J'ai traversé les rues sous la lumière - artificial light that leads nowhere. 
Dans cette ville où tout le monde marche - after these lies so large.
Tout le monde - walks alone - Tout le monde - lives in silicone.
You and I we make noise this night, without voice, truth being noise.
Les ombres dansent sur les murs - show us what once was sure.
Chaque pas – could bring truth ahead -  quand ce sera jamais - truth is never said. 
Tout le monde - is alone. Tout le monde - lives in silicone.
Toi et moi on bruit dans cette nuit – but only we. 
Perdu dans la foule, mais trouvant du réconfort - dans notre monde à part, s'échapper d'un trésor
Tout le monde - flees from the treasure. - Tout le monde - leaves truth in seizure.
Toi et moi on bruit dans cette nuit - without voice, truth being nose.
Perdu dans la foule, mais trouvant du réconfort - dans notre monde à part, s'échapper d'un trésor
Tout le monde - flees from the treasure. - Tout le monde - leaves truth in seizure.
Toi et moi on bruit dans cette nuit - without voice, truth being nose.


Vérité Enterrée - Buried Truth

#leon #CoffeeBlues ft #RBJ

Music composed and played by the multi-talented KillaSoundBoy, discover his soundcloudpage and his instumental:

https://soundcloud.com/killasoundboy/resilience-krt-production?si=ba225eee1d044f41a8c4dcc4b883f6f2&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

He gave me carte blanche, to sing on it and at the end i added subtle tones of accordeon by a guest who wants to stay anonymous
Killasoundboy did the final mastering and delivered the artcover

I can not thank him enough for everything he did!

To my dear soundcloud friends: I hope you enjoy it an send you my love

You are resilient

I see you fall          
You hit the ground x2
You spring back, back on your place
You spring back, Just like a rubber ball				 Bounce

I see you fall
You hit the wall x2
I see you fall you hurt yourself
like a rubber ball
You spring back, Just like a rubber ball


               
you are resilient

And the scars on your skin 
and the scars on your heart
and the  scars on your soul

    
show you suffered hard
show  you ache but don’t break

You are resilient

You are resilient - collab killasoundboy

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https://youtu.be/y4FdNebnLRk
https://www.youtube.com/@theartificialhomewreckers
https://soundcloud.com/theartificialhomewreckers

[Verse 1]
My uncle Lou runs the hardware store
Says he ain't closed since the Civil War
He'll fix your screen door and your marriage if he can
Barber Don’s cut the same damn hair
Since Elvis had hips and cash was fair
His clippers hum like they’re part of a master plan
The town sign says “Welcome” — in duct tape and hope
Next to a tire swing hangin’ from a telephone pole
Where ghosts of the Fourth still crackle and pop
Even though the fireworks budget got dropped

[Chorus]
Cruisin’ slow
Wavin’ at folks I sorta know
Lay me down where the gossip flies —
Population: us and one weird guy

[Verse 2]
Miss Jolene runs the diner like a Sunday sermon
Hands out hashbrowns and half-truths, barely discernin’
If your coffee’s cold, it’s ‘cause she’s tellin’ you fate
The high school’s gone, but the bleachers remain
Where we learned about heartbreak and hydroplane
And painted bad decisions on license plates
Potts still guards his land like it’s Area 51
Says, “If God wanted condos, He’d have built one”
The mayor’s a dog — I mean, literally, it’s Ted
A golden retriever with a top hat on his head

[Chorus]
Rollin’ through
Same three streets and déjà vu
This town may be outta luck —
But we’re still in it, and we still show up

[Verse 3]
The church bell cracked back in ‘92
Now the ringtone's just someone yellin’, “Y’all come through!”
But we still dress up on Sundays just the same
The preacher’s got a tattoo of a lightning bolt
And he moonlights gigs at the local goat cult
You don’t ask questions — just smile and blame the rain
There’s a sign by the silo: “No aliens past dusk”
We put it there drunk, but now it's law — don’t trust luck
If you need directions, we don’t use GPS
Just “turn left where the barn burned down and guess”

[Chorus]
Coastin’ slow
Where the weeds and legends grow
Plant me here when the stories dry
Population: us — and we get by

Dead Phones & Tire Swings

KI DJ - Vol. 9

Small Town Friday Night

Bring It On

in Brazil injustices are rampant and we can't trust the justice system, the media or even the congressmen, they all do it all the time! Dálcio Garcia

Judges and prosecutors

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https://youtu.be/4H9vG4R_XGQ
https://www.youtube.com/@theartificialhomewreckers
https://soundcloud.com/theartificialhomewreckers
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https://music.apple.com/us/artist/the-artificial-home-wreckers/1787896253
https://theartificialhomewreckers.bandcamp.com/
https://theartificialhomewreckers.com/

[Verse 1]
Kid, you think you're outlaw-made?
Got that look, but will you fade?
Leave your badges at the door,
Trouble's what you're signing for.
Copper stills breathe dragon flame,
Life out here ain't no tame game.
Jump in shotgun, hold your nerve,
Speed and whiskey, life's a curve.
[Chorus]
Kickin' dust on midnight roads,
Outrun lights and lawman's codes.
Jar of thunder, outlaw zeal,
Brother, I'm hell behind the wheel.
[Verse 2]
Miles from town, we're in the clear,
Shakin' off the rearview mirror.
Raise that jar and take your shot,
Taste that burn, it's all we got.
Secret spots and whiskey drops,
Livin' fast, the run don't stop.
Wildfire sippin', eyes ablaze,
Freedom in these reckless ways.
[Chorus]
Kickin' dust on midnight roads,
Outrun lights and lawman's codes.
Jar of thunder, outlaw zeal,
Brother, I'm hell behind the wheel.
[Bridge]
Fence posts blur, ain't lookin' back,
Burnin' rubber, blacktop tracks.
Born to chase the lightning spark,
Moonshine dreams thrive in the dark.
[Chorus]
Kickin' dust on midnight roads,
Outrun lights and lawman's codes.
Jar of thunder, outlaw zeal,
Brother, I'm hell behind the wheel.

High Proof Highway

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https://www.youtube.com/@theartificialhomewreckers

Strumming their way through heartbreak, hilarity, and highway hijinks, The Artificial Home Wreckers are a country rock band like no other. Born from a chance encounter at a roadside diner with a broken jukebox, these renegades of rhythm specialize in songs that sound like a wild Friday night and feel like a hungover Saturday morning.

Their music is a cocktail of twangy guitars, foot-stomping beats, and lyrics that toe the line between tragic and downright ridiculous. From ballads about exes who "borrowed" their truck (and forgot to return it) to anthems about that one unforgettable karaoke night gone horribly wrong, they’ve got a tune for every lovable misfit out there.

Catch them on tour (if their GPS actually works this time), and remember their motto: “Breaking homes one chorus at a time!”

High Proof Highway

The Artificial Home Wreckers

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