I like the humor in the lyrics, fun track

what a fun song, writing humorous songs is tough, great job

Great fun this, really had a good laugh. And so true!

I wanted to make a comment, but I will be silent.. I will listen🎶, and smile with a Great pleasure😁

A real smile maker with fine playing and singing, a splash of humor, and a pinch of sage wisdom.  Excellent!

What a delightful song with great vocal delivery! I really feel these lyrics.

My small contribution to do something against this terrible war. The only thing I can do at the moment.
This is my very first DemoRecording Attempt.
VideoLink: https://youtu.be/WN3zEOmBduM

Song description and explanations:
Katyusha:
Katyusha is a russian patriotic folk song. It's about a Russian woman called Katyusha.
"Standing on a steep riverbank, she sends her song to her beloved, a soldier serving far away."
In Nat King Cole's english version, one line of the song reads: "Purple skies Remind me of Katyusha"
Another line in other translation reads: "Apple trees and pear trees went into blooming,"

The russians named also the "Katyusha Rocket Launcher" after it.
This was the idea for the line in my own lyrics. "these are the strange love greetings sent to us by Katyusha from afar."

The Herald was an officer whose duty it was to proclaim war or peace, carry challenges to battle, and messages between sovereigns etc.

"Roundup your sheeps and wolves back home to the flock"
Get your soldiers back. Those who did not want to go there and also those who fought there.

Full Lyrics:
I stand alone here on the steep curled riverbank border
watch how the sky reflects deep purple in the mirrorblank water.
How could it happen that my thoughts revolve only around this war?
these are the strange love greetings sent to us by Katyusha from afar.

I ask myself if it’s okay to wish for spring come to arrive
while all the people close to us are trying to survive
Will all the pear and apple trees - start bloom again this year
or do they let it be ’cause they can also feel the fear?

How can we carry on - when everything goes wrong?
how can we worry in the morning - when our shower goes not warm?
when all the brave ones stay behind - defend our liberty and life
We just watch swooning and afraid - without rushing to their aid. 

N O W - i swallow my fears - inside myself
W I P E - away all my tears from my face
B U R Y my anger - and this indescribable swoon
I summon all my courage - so that peace can return

Let light - get back into your eyes
Let love - return to your heart
Let trust - retrieve to your soul
But do not let his lies near you - better "Put-In"-To a deep burning hole 

Keep them away from us
Make him clear that we don’t trust
These words that seemed spoken by insane
We stand together, cause we all want the same

Lets send a Herald to proclaim the peace in the world - we all are united
Lets spread the news and the truth. And let our thoughts unfurled - we all have the power
Roundup your sheeps and wolves back home to the flock
Your hate will never win a war against us
united and in love It’s time for you to see - Who has the power

Oli Boli - Dear W.P.

Dear W.P. - We have the Power

Put In'Sane' In A Deep Burning Hole. - (We have the Power)

This all the music that i composed for the short movie "One More Cup of Coffee" which is based in early 1940 and tells a love story.

The Last Train

Many Thanks as always Ian for coming up with such great opportunities for producers!!!

Open Collaboration with @ipg1
based on 
https://soundcloud.com/ipg1/tha-boss-with-tha-sauce-vox-94-bpm
Credits:
Vocals & Lyrics: IPG1
Guitars, Bass, Drum Production, Mix and Mastering: N.o.b.S.

Tha Boss With Tha Sauce

Tha Boss With Tha Sauce - IPG1 & N.o.b.S.

A story-telling folk song about the English Civil War. Legend has it Oliver Cromwell sold his soul to the devil the night before the Battle of Worcester. He won the battle and the war, turning England into a republic for the first and only time, then died seven years to the day later - allegedly the term of his pact with the devil. But a "witness" claimed to have seen him arguing with the devil for twenty-one years, not seven. That's the detail that interests me. I grew up and went to my first school on the site of the battle of Worcester... and on the edge of the wood where Cromwell met the devil (allegedly).

Words, music and all instruments (guitar and various percussion) by me.

21 Summers

Sur un texte de Christian Portet
(translation above)

JEAN-MARC
 

À toi, Jean-Marc, mon vieil ami
Du temps des amours d' écoliers
Emplies de rêves qu' on lit aussi
Auxquelles on s’est identifiés

À toi, Jean-Marc, mon cher copain
Du temps des amours devinées
Et qui épatent les anciens
Parce qu'on se les est inventées

À toi Jean-Marc mon camarade
Du temps des amours rigolades
Où le baiser est moquerie
Où la caresse est fourberie

Refrain :
À toi, Jean-Marc, mon cher Jean-Marc
Du temps béni des amours mortes
Quand t’es venu de la capitale
Pour n’aimer que des provinciales

À toi, Jean-Marc, mon vieux copain
Du temps des amours incertaines
Ou l’on rigole de tout de rien
On voit une fill’ on la fait sienne

À toi Jean-Marc dans cette classe
Quand l'amour semble dégueulasse
Parce qu’on n’voit pas, qu’on ne sait pas
Qu’on croit qu'l'amour ne viendra pas

À toi, Jean-Marc, jeune écolier
Du temps des amours méritées
Parce que nous étions les premiers
Dans notre classe à en parler
(refrain)

Était-ce vrai, mon pote Jean-Marc,
Ces  histoires insensées de femmes ?
Était-ce pour le souvenir
Ou pour les mots à ne pas dire ?

Était-ce vrai l'ami Jean-Marc
Tes fragiles amourettes de gosse
Tes tendres et doux baisers précoces
Ainsi que tes rancunes amères ?

Était-ce un gros bobard, Jean-Marc,
Que t'aurais connu avant moi
L'intimité du toi et moi
Ou était-ce une image de marque ?
(refrain)

Paroles de Christian Portet
Musique de Myckaël Marcovic, 14 décembre 2022

JEAN-MARC
 
To you, Jean-Marc, my old friend
From the time of schoolboy loves
Filled with dreams that we also read
With which we identified ourselves

To you, Jean-Marc, my dear friend
From the time of guessed loves
And that amaze the old ones
Because we invented them

To you, Jean-Marc, my comrade
From the time of funny loves
Where the kiss is mockery
Where the caress is deceit

Refrain :
To you, Jean-Marc, my dear Jean-Marc
Of the blessed time of dead loves
When you came from the capital
To love only provincials

To you, Jean-Marc, my old friend
From the time of uncertain loves
When we laugh about everything and nothing
You see a girl you make her your own

To you Jean-Marc in this class
When love seems disgusting
I'm not sure what to do, I'm not sure what to do
And you think love won't come

To you, Jean-Marc, young schoolboy
From the time of deserved love
Because we were the first ones
In our class to talk about it
(refrain)

Was it true, my friend Jean-Marc,
These senseless stories of women?
Was it for the memory
Or for the words not to say?

Was it true, my friend Jean-Marc
Your fragile love affairs as a child
Your tender and sweet early kisses
As well as your bitter resentments?

Was it a big lie, Jean-Marc,
That you would have known before me
The intimacy of you and me
Or was it a brand name?
(refrain)

Words by Christian Portet
Music by Myckaël Marcovic, December 14, 2022

Jean-Marc (Christian Portet / Myckaël Marcovic)

The funky part is at the end!

Checking outta my roots
Seeing where I come from
Seeing what is missing
Seeing what is wrong
I gotta find the place to fulfill the space in my heart
I gotta make a start

I’m going back in my tracks
Tracking it back
Back to where I began
I’m going back in my tracks
Tracking it back
Back to where I began

Delving into my past
To my hereditary
Solving restless feelings
Deep inside of me
And when I find the tree of my ancestry I will reap
And harvest what I sow

I’m going back in my tracks
Tracking it back
Back to where I began
I’m going back in my tracks
Tracking it back
Back to where I began
Back in my tracks
Tracking it back
I’m turning, I’m turning, I’m turning back now
I’m going back in my tracks
Tracking it back
I’m turning, turning, turning back

Checking outta my roots
Seeing where I come from
Seeing what is missing
Seeing what is wrong

I’m going back in my tracks
Tracking it back
Back to where I began
I’m going back in my tracks
Tracking it back
Back to where I began
Oh, I’m turning back now
I’m going back
I’m going back
I’m going back
I’m going back in my tracks
 
I’m going back
I’m going back
Back to where I began
I’m going back in my tracks
I’m going back
I’m going back
Tracks, I’m going back
Back to where I began
Oh, I’m going, going, going back

Funky With You

Back In My Tracks

Written By:  Fuzzy Grubb; Jeremy Brizzi, James Seguin, David Homuth, and Sam Fiorenza.  

Shine

We drove past last night, just to see it shine
Right there for everyone to see and it’s all mine
I felt the soft twist, nerves messing with my mind
Another twenty-four hours and we’ll be under lights

Before tonight, did you know my name?
Shine.  Down on me.

Soft twist turns to nails.  Everything’s sped up.
Some people forget but I can’t figure how.
By the time they draw the curtain, I’ll be ready to play.
Five words live in me – ALL THE WORLDS A STAGE

Before tonight, did you know my name?
Shine.  Down on me.

Sweat displays my ecstasy, every drop like a dream
Living for the hope that you’ll feel the same, that you’ll feel the music in me
I’m alive now, so alive now, step inside and take a ride through my mind.
Take your time, fantasize, step inside, I can feel you shine!

Down on me.
Shine.  Down on me

Did you step inside?  Did you get to unwind?  Did you let it all go and lose yourself in the night?
Did you live the dream?  Did you live it through me?  Did you let it all go?  Did you set yourself free.

Did you get to?  X3 
Shine.  Down on me.

2023

Shine

SHINE (Fuzzy Grubb - 2003)

Esta canción está inspirada en María Fauro, la señora que limpiaba en la empresa  donde yo trabajaba y de la que tengo un entrañable recuerdo por su bondad y su coraje. Está dedicada a ella y, por extensión, a todas las mujeres de la limpieza, porque creo que no se valora su trabajo como se debería.

Hemos grabado dos versiones: en la de Carmen París se siente la fuerza y el coraje, mientras  que en la de Ana López Lorente destaca el cariño y la ternura. Y las dos están repletas de una entrega y sensibilidad que consiguen emocionar. Destacar, además, el piano de José Mª Berdejo, el chelo de Pablo Baleta, las guitarras de Nacho Abril y los “polvos mágicos” del ingeniero de sonido Juan Miguel Sánchez, del estudio de grabación Sin/Con Pasiones.

Para ver el video   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kAj3gxkoExc

SEÑORA MARÍA (Versión de Carmen París. Para escuchar la versión de Ana López Lorente  https://soundcloud.com/juan-fco-bueno/senora-maria-feat-ana-lopez-lorente?si=8b319bf6318f449caa2593e6a0ec4c22&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

Siempre agarrada a la escoba
cual si parte de ella fuera
siempre con cubo y fregona
día y noche compañeras.

Sus manos limpian el polvo
con destellos de ternura
que relumbran en sus ojos
rebosantes de amargura.

Estribillo 

Y es que no ha sido la vida
aquel camino de rosas
que soñara siendo niña
entre blancas mariposas

La vida a veces regala
sueños de miel al destino
pero otras muchas se ensaña
y de hiel riega el camino.

Señora María:
guerrera en la desgracia
que siempre se cobija
en su humilde morada.
Señora María:
¿dónde mana el coraje
que la mantiene viva
y le da tanto aguante? 
-------

Al despertar la mañana
la saludan las estrellas
la brisa besa su cara
ya marchita primavera.

Estribillo


Always clinging to the broom
as if part of her were
always with bucket and mop
day and night companions.

Her hands clean the dust
with flashes of tenderness
that shine in his eyes
brimming with bitterness

Chorus

And it is that life has not been
that path of roses
that she dreamed as a girl
between white butterflies

life sometimes gives away
honey dreams to destiny
but many others show
and gall waters the road.

Lady Maria:
warrior in misfortune
that she always shelters
in her humble abode.
Lady Maria:
where does the courage flow
that keeps her alive
and does it last that long?
-------

waking up in the morning
the stars greet her
the breeze from her kisses her face
already withered spring

Chorus

SEÑORA MARIA (Feat. Carmen París)

A song about always ending up where you started, despite how hard you try to escape

LYRICS:

Could have been a hurricane
A low flying jet plane
But it blew us all away
No, I don't know if I wanna go home
Don't know if I wanna go home
I know I don't wanna stay
here
with you
today
Here
with you
in pain

We were pulling on our loose threads
Making up our death beds
when the wind began to howl
Oh, we can't hide from the gathering storm
But can we gather in the towns we were born
and await our impending fates?
I'm here
with you
again
Again
I'm here
with you
No pain

I'm here
with you
again
I'm here
with you
No pain

No pain

No Pain

Mixed and Mastered by Woods Studio
@woods_studio

Mayberry vs. an angelic alien apocalypse?

Lyrics:

(Look up there..Oh my goodness...Operators are standing by...Please stand by...That's not funny...Things have happened that have never been explained)

It’s a most alarming morning full of panic and surprise,
Oh there’s trouble at the station ‘cause there’s somethin’ in the skies,
There’s a look of apprehension in the aging sheriff’s eyes,
Yeah there’s trouble at the station ‘cause there’s wonder in the skies.
 
Calls are flooding in, there’s a racket and a din
All the locals want to know what’s going on.
The deputy’s confused, and his ego’s getting bruised
Any patience that he had has come and gone.
 
It’s a monumental morning full of panic and surprise,
Oh there’s trouble at the station ‘cause there’s somethin’ in the skies,
There’s a growing consternation in the aging sheriff’s eyes,
Yeah there’s trouble at the station ‘cause there’s wonder in the skies.
 
Did you see that flare? It just came out of thin air,
And four guys on horses flying ‘cross the sun?
Did you see the wings on the ones dressed up like kings?
And those brilliant colours folded into one?
 
(Instrumental…)
 
Oo-sometime later in the day,
Oo-all the panic went away.
 
An apocalyptic morning came to some as no surprise,
There was trouble at the station ‘bout the somethin’ in the skies,
You could see a celebration in the aging sheriff’s eyes,
There was trouble at the station from the wonder in the skies
Yeah there was trouble at the station from the wonder in the skies,
Oooh,     Oooh.

Trouble At The Station

Mixed and Mastered by Woods Studio
@woods_studio

Mouths: Gary Waters

Lyrics:

Do you know talkaholics? They’re always there when I walk,
And even if I can’t see them, I can sure hear them talk,
They may be way down the block,
I’m talkin’ talkaholics, I hear them now behind me,
And when the setting’s bucolic, they’re sittin’ up in a tree
And on a blabberin’ spree.

When I’m walkin’ they’re talkin,’ when they’re talkin’ I’m walkin’
Sound important but they’re really sayin’ nada,
I’ll never be a fan, ‘cause I’m a grumpy old man,
It’s like an oral armada, just yada-yada-yada.

A lot of talkaholics, they bike in yackety packs,
They yell and holler at each other,
When I just wanna relax, it bugs me to the max!  
You know that talkaholics, jog in garrulous pairs,
And by the time they pass by ya,
You know all their affairs, and that can give you a scare!  

When I was a kid my report cards said,
“Oh he’s so quiet, but an asset to the class!”
Later on my boss would sing the same old song
While I’m quietly thinking “You can kiss my ass.”

Talkaholics - they have a little chatty phone,
And in a lovely quiet place, they’re chattin’ there in your face,
And they won’t leave it alone.  

When I was a kid all my teachers said
“Oh he’s so quiet. No he never makes a peep.”
Now that I’m old it’s what I’m still bein’ told,
But why can’t everybody be just like me? (‘cause you’re a freak)

You know that talkaholics – it’s an addiction, I know
But if you Google a 12-step, it’s got nothing to show
And they have nowhere to go.  

If you put a few together, (in a padded cell it’s better),
To tell their tales and talk themselves out,
All reason will diminish ‘cause no sentence will finish
And their heads’ll explode from the verbal overload.

Talkaholics. Talkaholics.   
It would be different if they, had something special to say, 
But instead it’s all blather, you know that I’d rather
Hear a hee-hawin’ mule than a talkin’ fool,
Here comes a blabbermouth, I’d better turn and head south,
It’s not that they’re corrupt, they just won’t shut up… “Shut Up”.

Talkaholics

Cavebar

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