There was a time I thought my little songs could actually "change the world"; that perhaps music could make us all more kind, compassionate, tolerant, empathic, less violent, less greedy, or at a minimum, happier. 

I have always hoped we could navigate our differences with words rather than weapons and that humanity could as a whole, truly practice reverence for the planet and all the living creatures who share it with us. 

But, I see now how absolutely naive I was. The despair, suffering, destruction, and apathy that continues now, many years after I wrote this song, has not changed. Some things, are better but many things, are not; however, I remain hopeful that humanity will eventually work things out and I, in any way that I can, will keep trying to make things better. And so I decided, I would finish producing this song and include it in my first album; an album which on many days might be the continuation of a journey, or on other days, could be the end of a journey.



© 2024 Lyrics, Music, Content By Brenda Doss

I should be happy  
With all of my life
I should be satisfied 
But I’m not
Why do I carry 
The weight of the world on my back
Why should I care
When no one else does

I am a slave 
To the thoughts that I have
I need to change the world
With these tired hands 
Don’t turn me off 
Don’t turn me down
Don’t shut me in 
Don’t throw me out
And I might go crazy
But you might come around
       
At the back door 
You will find me
And I might never leave
At the back door 
You will find me
These tired hands are bleeding
 
Should I worry
If it all goes to hell
Can I live my life in apathy
Like everybody else
Why am I here 
What can I change
These reckless times  
I’m not to blame
Isn’t anybody out there
Isn’t anyone afraid

At the back door 
You will find me
And I might never leave
At the back door 
You will find me
Begging on my knees
At the back door 
You will find me
These tired hands are bleeding

I’m your disease
I’m  your despair
I’m like a flea
I’m in your hair
I’m breeding in your conscience
When you don’t want me there

At the back door 
You will find me
And I might never leave
At the back door 
You will find me
Begging on my knees
At the back door 
You will find me
A wounded heart grieves
At the back door 
You will find me yeah yeah yeah

At the back door 
You will find me
And I might never leave
At the back door 
You will find me
Cause I'm begging on my knees
At the back door 
You will find me
A wounded heart grieves
At the back door 
You will find me
These tired hands are reaching

Debut

Back Door

Sur les Traces ses Aïeux est une chanson française aux influences pop-rock anglo-saxonne assumées. Après une intro digne d’une musique de film fantasmagorique, la chanson emmène, au travers d’un texte poétique, dans les pensées, les hésitations et le choix d’un personnage dans lequel chacun peut se reconnaître à différents moments de sa vie.
Sur les Traces ses Aïeux est le premier morceau coproduit par le trio Esteban the late Artist / Ze Scott / Bribinvoile et le premier morceau d'Esteban diffusé sur les plateformes musicales.
Écriture, composition et interprétation : Esteban the late Artist 
Composition, arrangements et vidéo-clip : Ze Scott
Composition et mixage : Bribinvoile
Janvier 2025

Un grand merci à Arnaud Bréchet du groupe Brüle qui a permis la prise de voix d'Esteban. 

Pour les écoutes et les avis sur le mix, merci à Fadoua A., Grégoire M., 
Guillaume F. du groupe Bess, Jean Pierre P., Jorick D., Julie B., Marie C., Maxime D.J., Nicolas, Romane S., Sylvain F.,

Pour les captations vidéos de Bribinvoile dans le Caux Maritime, merci à Grégoire B.
Pour les prises vidéos d’Esteban,  merci à l’EHPAD « Les Capucines » à Argelès-sur-Mer . 
Lien pour le clip : 

https://youtu.be/UqAUVary0es?si=_8bOnNH5TkPJPnB-

Lien plateformes: 

https://musics.to/70117GvZvL

Sur Les Traces De Ses Aïeux

A bittersweet little song about saying goodbye to someone you love

'Til The End

Could it really be humanity's seriously thought-out plan that, when we tore down the Berlin Wall a few years ago, we are now building new walls of barbed wire and weapons between each other. Both between countries, and between us humans?.......So.... how high do you want them?.....

A song for all the children of the world, the only real capital we have for a future humanity, suffering the torments of hell, in a world of destruction and death, filled with shattered illusions and dreams..........How the hell can we behave like this towards each other, and above all towards the children of the world?.......Hmmmmm.

Vocals, lyric processing, musical ideas - Peter the Poet: https://soundcloud.com/user-264930040/tracks
Music, Mix & Production, Artwork - Seagull; https://soundcloud.com/farout-music-studio

How high the walls?

Classroom whispers slither down the empty halls
In a vacuum of confusions
A trillion children’s brightest dreams
Snuffed to black by fissured cracks in lunatic schemes
That shattered their illusions.

Lost in the stars
Mindless strife leaking life from our weeping scars
In profanity’s profusions
Still the scaly lizards lead
De-moralised and stupified by their boundless greed
That shattered our illusions.

Miss mother’s touch
Compromised and sacrificed for nothing much
In her optimist’s delusion
How high the walls?
Can we jettison the great pretend, re-ascend, reverse the fall?
Fix what shattered our illusions…

Shattered Illusions - How high the walls? Seagull & Peter

Put Light On - Epic Dark electronica

A little song(a bit rough around the edges) about the late great comedian Bill Hicks
It's a musical tribute to his It's Just a Ride monologue, which is on YouTube, and I have spliced it into the song
Bill died of pancreatic cancer only 32 years old in 1994 when he was at the height of his  career.
Memento Mori............................. a reminder for us all to enjoy the ride while we can.............................................                Run Free Bill...We still listen and remember 


Riding With Bill Hicks

It's just a ride, this life, this moment  C A7
It's a Tilt-A-Whirl of the mind             Dm Fm6
So if you please, please take a seat  C A7
Buckle up it's party time                        Dm G
Feel the thrills and chills and colors    F C
Round and round a dizzy trick            Dm Fm
My mind on rewind                               C
Back to ‘89                                            Am
Now I'm riding with Bill Hicks             F G C

Some people get so worried
They can't believe it's just a ride
Big bank accounts and fancy cars
Live to work the sweat and grind
And those war machines must be time machines
They always turn up in the mix
Leave the fear behind
Keep an open mind
Now you're riding with Bill Hicks
                                                      
The profound meets profane            F C
Swift barbs of the dark brigade        Fm C
Fantastic at sarcastic                         F
Homemade hand grenade                C b Am
Unfiltered and unafraid                      Am G

Break

As I sit here tonight and ponder
Growing softer in my Easy chair 
Bill's dream's still a dream for this mean old world
Bombs are dropping everyday out there
Another good one gone before his time
Just like his jogging foe Jim Fixx
Hope they are lighting up a fat one on the other side
Rest in laughter William Hicks

Riding With Bill Hicks

Original song by Nick Drake

Lyrics:

When I was young, younger than before
I never saw the truth hanging from the door
And now I’m older see it face to face
And now I’m older gotta get up, clean the place

And I was green, greener than the hill
Where flowers grew and sun shone still
Now I’m darker than the deepest sea
Just hand me down, give me a place to be

And I was strong, strong in the sun
I thought I’d see when day was done
Now I’m weaker than the palest blue
Oh, so weak in this need for you

Place to Be (live acoustic cover, orig. song by Nick Drake)

Dedicated to Donbass, the city of Donetsk,  town Rodinskoye, my parents ---                                                 I was born and raised in the city of Stalin
Yes, no one told me - the country forgot about it
Trains rumbled to the sound of steam train horns,
That they were pulling black gold wagons in it

Life was simple then – people lived by work
There were books, friends, and short-wave radio.
And the wounds of war have told us over and over again.:
- Life is hard, and not just for holidays!

Now it's hard to believe that there was a city of Stalin
And the miner spoke about the leader with a sigh.
Those days are over and the dope has covered all the "progress",
And the country disappeared, following the repentance.

Surreptitiously, as it happens, in the silence of the offices
The power and money went to the skilled scum of the country
"Power is from God," the newly born demon suggested
No, Donbass did not believe that Bandera's icon was "the best"!

I was born and raised in the city of Stalin
No one told me, the country forgot about it.
I was born once in the city of Stalin
They don't even remember what his country was anymore.…        Посвящаю Донбассу, Донецку, Родинскому, моим родителям. ---         Я родился и вырос в городе Сталина
Да никто не сказал мне - забыла о том страна
Громыхали составы под свист паровозных гудков,
Что тягали вагонами чёрное золото в нём

Жизнь текла тогда просто – люди жили трудом
Были книги, друзья, пело Ка-Вэ радио
Да и раны войны говорили нам вновь и вновь:
- Жизнь трудна, и не только для праздников!

Теперь трудно поверить, что был город Сталина
И шахтёр о вожде говорил с придыханием
Те прошли времена и накрыл всех «прогресса» дурман,
И исчезла страна, вслед за покаянием

Исподволь, как бывает, - в кабинетной тиши
Власть и деньги достались умелым подонкам страны
- Власть – от бога, - внушал вновь новорожденный бес
Да Донбасс не поверил, что Бандеры икона – «the best»!

Я родился и вырос в городе Сталина
Да никто не сказал мне, - забыла о том страна
Я родился когда-то в городе Сталина
Да уже и не помнят, что была его страна…

I was born and raised in the city of Stalin
No one told me, the country forgot about it.
I was born once in the city of Stalin
They don't even remember what his country was anymore.…

І was born in Stalin's city -Я родился в городе Сталина

A New wild ride with my talented friend https://soundcloud.com/billy-korg
Lyrics :-
I wonder what
I was doing
Not a lot
Before all this
I wonder what
Was my calling
Stuck in a rut
Before all this

And day by day
And year by year
It fades away
Becomes unclear

Is this the path I should be on
Now that I'm here

A midnight chancer
A moonlight dancer
A real champagner
An entertainer

Billy Korg / winkandwoo 2025

Before All This

Bob Dylan's "Roll On John" is an elegy to John Lennon, inspired by a public minibus tour Dylan took of Lennon's childhood home in Liverpool in 2009. The song explores themes of fame, aging, and mortality, contrasting Lennon's tragic death with the enduring legacy of St. John the Apostle, another "John" who suffered but whose "light" shines on.
The Stanleys come from Liverpool and initialy made this cover from a jam session as John Lennon has always been a big influence.
The Beatles tour starts at a near by place called The Picton Clock and Dylan’s visit is well known here in Wavertree Liverpool. Our take on this song which is over 5 minutes may have a difficult time getting heard for obvious reasons. Recently it was pointed out that all the songs on Rubber Soul are around 2 minutes long. To get the full experience of this production it’s important to listen to the end. We hope you do that and enjoy the version. Kind regards The Stanleys : Ged, Ste and Tom. Peace…make music not war!

Roll on John 6 ( Dylanesque cover by Ged smith Tom mcguinness and Ste Power)

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(The New) 
Reality of Higher Consciousness - Radical Curiosity
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dropped
sunday, november 2nd, 2025
4 pm central european time
zone tea time - happy sunday
to all of you
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Roll on John 6 ( Dylanesque cover by Ged smith Tom mcguinness and Ste Power)

tom mcguinness