Name: For Mom by Tyler Strittmatter
Duration: 5 min 11 s
Description: After my mom passed, I wrote this song on his birthday.

After my mom passed, I wrote this song on his birthday.

For Mom

Summer In The Snow

Seasons Re-Mixed

From the album, “Honey Venom Wings” - On Bandcamp:  https://chrispellnat.bandcamp.com/album/honey-venom-wings

Lyrics:

On the Ground

I’m on the ground and I’m gonna rise up higher
I hear the sound and I feel like I’m on fire

I’m not so sure I understand it all
It’s the hand I was dealt but I chose it all along
Now I’m just a voice in a rising song

I’m on the ground and I’m gonna rise up higher
I hear the sound and I feel like I’m on fire

I’m through pretending that fools aren’t in my way
Waste another minute - just wasted another day
Chasing monopoly money as it blows across the stage

I’m on the ground and I’m gonna rise up higher
I hear the sound and I feel like I’m on fire

When are we going to get higher?
When are we going to get higher?

I closed my mind and watched the years just run
Tried to close my heart - as if that could be done
Now I’m wide open to everything that’s coming

I’m on the ground and I’m gonna rise up higher
I hear the sound and I feel like I’m on fire

I’m on the ground and I’m gonna rise up higher
I hear the sound and I feel like I’m on fire

When are we going to get higher?
When are we going to get higher?

On the Ground

I'm very happy that Terry was inspired to lay down some improvised, free-style, clear-eyed observations on where the ? we're going : )to the tune of 'out there . . somewhere'. https://soundcloud.com/learningtoplay/out-there-somewhere

If you haven't discovered Terry's wonderful music, writing, performance yet, do yourself a favour and go directly to: https://soundcloud.com/user-536194718

guitar by learningtoplay // beats, bass, free-style poetry & vocals by Terry Wigmore (improv transcript below)

I have half a mind to write something profound: something that would not easily be forgotten.
And then my thoughts run away with my logic 
Running to the extremes of existence, thoughts of the cosmological meaning of
a grain of sand, on a polluted beach, soon to be underwater, from global warming.
Temperatures rise, people's feeling's rise, dough rises, yeast...
Flat bread, Flat earth... how can we connect all these tings?
Line ups on the top of Mount Everest! Who would have thought that this would be a thing that you could see in a movie clip on the evening news? Breaking News! Mountaineers fall to their deaths waiting in line, through lack of oxygen. Maybe we should give a few politicians some lack of oxygen and see how they fall?! Too much air on the airwaves, not enough content. A million channels, high -speed delivery system...no one listening...no one cares.
Shoe-box size satellites, 60 of them released. Supposed to be putting the internet to every space available on the surface of the earth. Internet? How about food? How about clean water? How about a place to feel safe? How about a place of refuge for a refugee? A place of comfort for those who traveled and struggled all their lives, escaping one form of persecution only to fall to a legal entanglement that keeps them dying in cages. So much to ponder, so little time.
Life is full of these enigmas. Or is it that life is full of mystery wrapped in an enema?
A whole lot of house cleaning to be done.
What does it take? What would it take for us to to work together for once, just once? Solve the problem of , “I don't like you, but I'm willing to work with you?” “ I don't like your...thoughts, your clothes, the colour of your skin, the books you read, the celebrations you have,...but I'm willing to work with you...”
Because I don't need to be right, I just need to be free...free from HATE.

We all came from somewhere. We're all migrants from a place that we called home. Whatever that place looks like now, home is where the heart IS...where you feel connected! You might have been unplugged, perhaps forcefully unplugged, but you're here NOW. THIS is home! This is where we have to work together, to love, to live, and to build together, to Be Free...

(T Wigmore, in the flow with learningtoplay's 'Out There . . Somewhere')

out there . . somewhere (ltp + Terry Wigmore)

Vanity Fair

a collection of some old, some new beats, coming on spotify and itunes soon..

tracklist:
1. t h e r e v i v a l
2. FM 555
3. s t u c k .
4. awake
5. dreamweaver
6. 2 dollars
7. countingthedays
8. nowherenow

last bit of lofi I think i'm planning on releasing for a while. Maybe I'll come back to it, but I wanted to go out with a final w this ep. Over 6 years of doing music on sc, its been one hell of a ride, and these songs were made in the best and worst of those times. Heres to that, and rip to the last chill beats to study to..

- rob

looptape_vol.01 [desc.]

9 12 19 (unfinished)

i see you all
you sang to me
surrender to me
all your shame
i will burn it away
surrender to me
all your pain
i will kiss it to flames

ॐ

in f major (a=440)
written, performed, and recorded by viola moonshape in october 2019
mixed and mastered by brahma
copyright © 2019 viola moonshape

ॐ

korg minilogue xd > apollo twin > ampex atr–102 > logic (tracks 01, 02)
lowden f–25 > neumann u87ai > apollo twin > logic (track 03)
gibson es–335 > vox ac15c1 > neumann u87ai > apollo twin > logic (track 04)
vocals > neumann u87ai > apollo twin > logic (tracks 05–11)
fender squier precision bass > apollo twin > logic (tracks 12, 13)
korg wavedrum > boss rc–505 > apollo twin > logic (tracks 14–16)
yamaha reface cp > apollo twin > logic (track 17)
vox guitar > neumann u87ai > apollo twin > uad raw > logic (tracks 18–20)

ॐ

cover by brahma
photography by viola moonshape
copyright © 2019 viola moonshape

ॐ

All Your Shame

Live in the Studio

Safe Zone

This song is dedicated to one of my best friends. A fascinating person, but one who is permanently under the pressure of electricity, driven by a burning desire for deep inner peace and yet constantly restlessly searching. In one of our intensive conversations he said about himself: "My longing is holding me tight". - And in this way the title of this song was born. 
Yesterday he called me and said: “Karl, the Corona crisis is terrible on the one hand. It creates a lot of illness, financial threats and, due to the increasing restrictions on the exit, possibly an escalation of violence. 
On the other hand, the rapid disruption of everything that has been my daily habits forces me to face more of the three basic questions of life that I have been running away from so often:
Who am I really? How do I want to shape the relationship with my loved ones?And: What place do I basically want to take in society and the world?”
And then something happened that I had not known about him before: He paused, and there was a pleasant silence on the phone line. Finally he said: "You might be surprised; with all the shit that Corona brings with it, the forced deceleration associated with it does me a tremendous amount of good. I finally get a little bit of that inner peace I've always longed for.”
Maybe this little monologue of my friend will help all those who are struck with the Corona crisis (...and therefore me, too) to see in this current "world tsunami" also a chance for profound change...      
 

My longing is holding me tight

I am so drunk again.
Have just drained the whole Wissky

The Corrupting Scoundrels
Stand with me in a “fake flirtation”

My soul full of holes
Uninhabited and unfournished

My hands on endless search after a drop 
From the sea of love far away from me

The meadows in me full of scars
The skies inside me: Starless

The garish colours have been melted away
The once so wet womb is almost dried out

My Longing is holding me tight
Holding me tight

Alwas played for my life
Often I begged the moon

To float free for a second
For a moment, that happiness invites me

Used to sleep in tall trees
Built myself deep caves there

Sought peace among grazing sheeps
Confided in healers and gurus

Inside me the murmur of the graves
The sound of the demons howling

I'm eternally put off till later
Been fooled so many times by a will-o'-the-wisp

My Longing is holding me tight
Holding me tight

My longing is holding me tight

My Longing Is Holding Me Tight

They say the music I love is dying and poetry's already dead. I suppose that makes me a resurrector. 

For Mom

Tyler Strittmatter

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