Excellent vocals. Clear & distinctive sound.

Oh yeah!!  Tremendous Byrds vibe here.  The lyrics and phrasing/rhyming cadences are super effective.

Good imagery and almost a 60s folk-rock kind of sound which has got to be a good thing

Nice nostalgic quality to your style! I appreciate it

First song I hear from you, so sweet. Will check out more. I do feel like the rhythm guitar is a bit loud in the mix, but it's a matter of taste.

Nice flowing melody. Well structured for sure. Congrats!

Your melodies are amazing!  Great songwriting.

Artwork: Robbie
Written and first recorded in 2016

Rise from the dead, come on sleepyhead,
There's a new world to be seen.
We'll go explore, and open the door to the dream.
Old memories fade, new ones are made
On the trail dividing the hills.
We'll find the way, follow the day past the stream.

Curtains of light, green, gold and white
All along the evening sky,
Silently move, shifting along with our eyes.
Ask a for a sign, moments sublime
That will lead us through the trees.
On to the shore, there must be more than we see.

Night tears, the darkest fears and rain dissolve at dawn,
Then the light lifts our sail, sets the course, tells the tale,
Helps us glide through the gale.

Back to the dead, resting your head,
There's a new life that we've seen.
Opened the door, met at the shore of the dream.
Now that we fade, we're not afraid
Of the trail dividing the hills.
We passed this way, followed the day down the stream.

Night tears, the darkest fears,
And rain dissolve at dawn.
Then the light lifts our sail,
Sets the course, tells the tale,
Lifts our hearts when we fail,
Helps us love on the trail.

The Trail (Remix)

When I start to daydream
My mind turns straight to a woman
Into deserted land lost in time, lost my mind
Go on and ride across the universe flying high
I want to go for a ride
I think I made up my mind
I am on a feather
Good to be lighter
I'm on a ride
No more in danger
I think she's an angel
I want to hide
There may be nothing out there
In the dark side of the sound
Above she's a screamer I can't take another little bit too fast
I cannot take another lonely day to blast
I wanna go for a ride
I think I made up my mind
I am on a feather
Good to be lighter
I'm on a ride
No more in danger
I think she's an angel
I want to hide
On a bass ride, on a bass ride, on a bass ride
He's ready to play a bass ride
That's right
I am on a feather
Good to be lighter
I'm on a ride
No more in danger
I think she's an angel
I wanna

Bass : Frédéric Van Linden @mokeit 
All other instruments & vocals : Christophe

Ah Shit

Nice Weather

https://open.spotify.com/track/3EGhykPMYhFNw5Sj67OGqf


ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ɴᴏᴛ
(𝘕𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘝𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯)

As we tread through the labyrinth of existence, we face decisions that shape our future, evoking a sense of ambiguity and wonder. And this was me, as though I was running out of time maybe I am or maybe I'm not. But still... here you are

Peace and Stars Mom,
see you in the clouds...


Recorded between May14/15 2023



𝙁𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙞𝙣𝙛𝙤 𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙩:

https://open.spotify.com/artist/0o3xeERjREtlDMHOGUUitT

https://instagram.com/andreaevmusik

https://youtube.com/@andreaevmusik

☿



Lyrics:


Saw your future in advance 
You took a pose and shot a frame
Drop that picture in the sand
I might get back or sail away

Every fire has spoken
Every made-up broken wall

Here's your future in your face
You become water, fire and breath
Here's your future in the sand
Another you another place

Everyday is stuck and
Everyday is stuck and you roam

Every fire has spoken
Every made-up broken wall

Everyday is stuck and
Everyday is stuck and you roam

-------------------------------------
Andrea Ev, May 18th 2021

℗ © Andrea Ev - 2023

Maybe Not (Night Version)

Music ,vocal double-bass, cello by Arash Zarabi 
Lyrics,main vocalist, voice vocal arranging melody  Faunoos

we are 16 grams (feat. Faunoos)

We Are 16 Grams x Faunoos

Passenger Prod by 9ovem

Northern Lights

Lyrics::

Good to see you, Ms beautiful
I’ve dreamt up doubts, as the worlds grown cold
Please, darling, be tonights savior
I’ve trailed the light, become pale through envy's war
I’m so upset
As I hold in my bladed hands
The sound of music
As days go by, the more I have felt
The lingered and wasted time, dancing on a wishing well
Please darling, be tonights savior
I’ve traveled blind, and I’ve gone too far
I’m so upset
As I hold in my bladed hands
The sound of music
As I hold in my bladed hands
The sound of music
Music
Music
Music
Music

Words and Music by Indio Romero

My Hands

I don't wanna fall asleep because I miss you too much (prod. Dianasty)

Escape

Escape ZarrBi X Faunoos

Kami Enzie

https://www.chicagoreview.org/from-river-of-love/

Like a morgue of oranges inside the lower crisper laid. Loose rinds bruised, and if not torn, still their battered segments will again never repaired be, not really. Waxy bodies deep welled yet near zested to rot, petrified. Peels touched with white mold and darksome burns as if brushed by green fire, brown spots (black rot) at their blossom end or in their navel growing. Forlorn inside the bottom storage pan that glides beneath the shelf spare with souring yogurt and wrinkled, loose grapes slumped in dewy condensation across the frosty pane. Nor am I able to divine the cleromantic significance from this found constellation of scattered fruit, relevant to our pursuit of liberty, of money. In your sleeping presence, my eyes switch ac/dc in their sockets.  I inevitably find myself back inside the fridge. I clean the countertop, the petite canyon of dishes. Trash the pizza box.  The sinking river running through it gushes voiceless pounding down. I pour two glasses of orange juice. I stream Ballroom  Throwbacks, scroll through bitch tracks and entwine both hands around my head to fashion an emoting crown of fingers.  I peek into the fridge door for proof of light and something larger, before the empire strikes again wrapping epiphanic darkness in gauzy bolts of light. In the morning, you will find breakfast readied from things present and good in our pantry. I  will help you shave your back like a lamb. Before the mass grave of oranges, the appearance of weathered, severed pygmy heads inside red mesh polypropylene bags, every dimpled, sensuous body grew fat in a buffet of CO2 and sunlight in halcyon blue Egypt, South Africa, Daytona, down the international supply chain, carrying idiosyncratic ways of wanting to be peeled open without breaking apart unique to the individual.  We drove them home one night in the backseat from the Hy Vee on North Dodge with mutual approval and excitement. Safe together. Nothing more to spark from the orange manes of mold that rhyme with sun. When the trigger wedge for the refrigerator light flies away into the ceiling, may velvet dark keep sleep in your crystal castle. When the covey scatters from your window, dream me a place of rest inside that ziggurat.

The Trail (Remix)

Cavebar

Recent comments

LOONY DE BUSSY

Paul Stephanides

The Strums

Graeme Winton

Related tracks