can't wait to say ...you got me with your smooth voice and words ...strong song!!

 This is excellent! You want a record contract? You remind me of Kenny Rogers 

Fine country ballad with some sage advise in sweet-flowing song.

Wonderful to hear softer country 🔥🔥🔥

listening again ...soooo smooth ...racing feelings ...

Cafe Risque

Running Wild Running Free

The sacred chant ‘Salve Regina’ is a beautiful thing and to paraphrase Stewart Copeland and Caroline Shaw ‘...transcends religion itself’. This is one of a few rearrangements/improvisations I’ve tried. The harmony etc. is still there but the tele leads the way.

Salve Regina

And yes, listen carefully to the passing of time, the lament of the hourglass... 

___🎹_____A_N_O_T_H_E_R___M_U_S_I_C_____🎹___
_____BE CURIOUS, CREATIVE, INVENTIVE, DARE!____

🛠 - Made with MOOG & Modular / Multi-tracks
🎹 - Composed, arranged, performed, produced by Pier WILL & Studio 4H09
🔲 - Artwork - Pier WILL
🙏 - Acknowledgements - Ableton, Arturia, Audacity, Cantabile, MSI, Focusrite, Korg, M-Audio, Sony, SoundCloud, Teac, Techniks, Yamaha.
⚙️ - #Ambient #Movies #Electro #Experimental #Minimal #Space

❤️Love, 🕊️Peace, 🙏Respect

Hourglass Lament

“Someone Saved My Life Tonight” - Elton John,
cover by Marisa Bettina 

🧿🩸

Someone Saved My Life Tonight

Leavin Lonely

Como pueden mirar, verlo y no llorar?
como pueden mirarlo, ver y no llorar?
Donde guardan la rabia? Donde esconden la tristeza?
Como calman la ira y porque no sienten dolor?

Queda solo mirarlo o tentarse y hacerlo, si total no es delito
Es un delito menor.

Un delito que no vas a lamentar.
Algo que tal vez ni sucedio.
Algo que no tuvo otro testigo que ésta cancion y este cantor.

Y si quedan las ganas y aparece de nuevo.
No la dejes pasar, despues no va a volver.
Despues viene la nada de la que no hay retorno
Y si lo ves le decis al Juez. Fue un delito menor.

Delito Menor

Originally recorded in 2011, 3D sent the stems to me ten years later as he felt the song was never done justice - and as it turns out, this is a more appropriate time to release it for many reasons.

Around this time I was working on some music by artist/multi instrumentalist Paul Dews (How Far To Hitchin) whom offered to paint this wonderful cover art based on the lyrics. As is usual 3D has posted the track to Bandcamp and I've posted here, it would be great if you followed the link and checked out some more of his music and maybe buy some! 

“One day the ground you're standing on just feels about to fall away,
Just spread the wings we never use unless we're trying to escape.
Gliding above the houses which we cling to just to weigh us down,
the insignificance of Gaia's claims on us seems smaller still.

…And on the earth we search for ways to further disconnect ourselves,
while in the air we somehow always call the fire from the sky.
Release your mind from limitations that we place upon our will,
and free your heart from expectations gathered through our damaged lives.

Maybe one day we reach the stars and try to spread our seed around-
perhaps we have and all our memory of what we are is lost?
Can we forget the petty things that will not let our race evolve,
and save our judgements for the ones that try to tell us we're not free?

If there's an answer to these questions maybe we should look within,
since pointing fingers somehow always seem to end up pointing guns.
As this denial all the while fuels the fires we use to hurt,
could an awareness and humility make dreams reality?”

Darren Douglas Danahy: Synthesizers, vocals, guitars, acoustic and electronic percussion

Russ Sinfield: Mixing, mastering, co-production

Paul Dews: Illustration

Bandcamp Link

Second Renaissance by D. D. Danahy

"Up in the Gallery" (German: "Auf der Galerie") is a short piece of fiction written by Franz Kafka. It was created between November 1916 and February 1917 and published in the collection „Ein Landarzt“ (A Country Doctor) in 1919. The story offers two versions of a scene in which a young man watches a circus ringmaster and a woman on horseback. (Wikipedia)

The picture shows a section of: At The Circus Fernando, The Rider
by Henri Toulouse-Lautrec (1888)

Public domain translation by Ian Johnston (November 2003)                     


Up in the Gallery

If some frail tubercular lady circus rider 
were to be driven in circles around and around 
the arena for months and months 
without interruption 
in front of a tireless public 
on a swaying horse 
by a merciless whip-wielding 
master of ceremonies, 
spinning on the horse, 
throwing kisses and swaying at the waist, 
and if this performance, 
amid the incessant roar 
of the orchestra and the ventilators, 
were to continue into 
the ever-expanding, gray future, 
accompanied by applause, 
which died down and then swelled up again, 
from hands which were really steam hammers, 
perhaps then a young visitor to the gallery 
might rush down the long stair case 
through all the levels, 
burst into the ring, and cry “Stop!” 
through the fanfares 
of the constantly adjusting orchestra.


But since things are not like that,
(Since things are not like that…rep.)         

since a beautiful woman, in white and red, 
flies in through curtains 
which proud men in livery open in front of her, 
since the director, 
devotedly seeking her eyes, 
breathes in her direction, 
behaving like an animal, and, as a precaution, 
lifts her up on the dapple-gray horse, 
as if she were his grand daughter, 
the one he loved more 
than anything else,
as she starts a dangerous journey, 
but he cannot decide to give the signal with his whip 
and finally, 
controlling himself, gives it a crack, 
runs right beside the horse with his mouth open, 
follows the rider's leaps with a sharp gaze, 
hardly capable of comprehending her skill, 
tries to warn her by calling out in English, 
furiously castigating the grooms holding hoops, 
telling them to pay the most scrupulous attention, 
and begs the orchestra, with upraised arms,
to be quiet before the great jump, 
finally lifts the small woman down from the trembling horse, 
kisses her on both cheeks, 
considers no public tribute adequate, 
while she herself, leaning on him, 
high on the tips of her toes, 
with dust swirling around her, 
arms outstretched and head thrown back, 
wants to share her luck with the entire circus—
since this is how things are, 
the visitor to the gallery puts his face on the railing and, 
sinking into the final march as if into a difficult dream, weeps, 
without realizing it.  (rep.)

Up In The Gallery (Kafka, 1919)

Several generations in....the land holds memory and blood.


A warm, rootsy ballad with fertile soil in its soul. Out Here... Nobody’s Watchin’ captures the quiet resilience of rural life where things might look rough, but they’re workin’. Slide guitar, understated vocals, and grounded imagery....that reminds you of home, healing, simplicity, or the slow grace of everyday living.


LYRICS

This land is hard and needs some help
Eight generations in, we depend on self
Ain't got no time...for no pity
While them crops out there are sittin pretty

Chorus
Its rickety , looks rough..but it's workin
Like a man who's seen hard times...just hurtin
Scotch irish strong.. bred to the bone..
My pappy told me.. boy, you ain't alone

Verse 2
My wife.. she's borne five men strong
The backbone of this family
Always smiles, hardly complains
She brings me to my knees..

Chorus
Its rickety , looks rough..but it's workin
Like a man who's seen hard times...but keeps hurtin
Scotch Irish strong.. bred to the bone..
My pappy told me.. boy, you ain't alone

Verse 3
Us farmers gotta take a stand...
Ain't gotta be loud or grand but
Nothing like feelin fresh soil in my hands
Knowing we feed America from the heartland

Chorus
Its rickety , looks rough..but it's workin
Like a man who's seen hard times...just hurtin
Scotch Irish strong.. bred to the bone..
My pappy told me.. boy, you ain't alone

Out Here...Nobody's Watchin

Out Here..Nobody's Watchin

HOUSE A HOME

What You’re Living For

I knew at an early age that music would be a part of my life forever. In music I found my self-esteem and a way to make people feel. I began singing in public at nine years old and playing drums at thirteen.  In the tenth grade I auditioned to play drums and percussion with the South Georgia College and got the "gig". I performed in many musical productions there until I graduated high school and joined the army.  I continued performing in the NCO clubs while serving.
After obtaining the G.I. Bill I attended the University of South Carolina, where I played with several local bands. In 1982 I graduated college and taught special education until retirement last May. There, I witnessed the magic of music through my students.
I now enjoy the peace and solitude of a farm in the middle of "God's Country" here in Tennessee. With much help from family and friends, I am able to share my original songs with you.
I sincerely thank you for taking a bit of your time with me. I hope you receive a blessing from a song or two and as you listen, I hope you hear my heart in each and every one.  Tony

Running Wild Running Free

Tony Harrell

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