as you know Iove listening, when you sing and when you read you poetry.  Thank you for your lyrics, always so very beautiful.

The sincerity and wisdom in the words cannot be overstated, in your element here Peter!

Sober reading and listening. Great single take!

Coming to this late my friend, seems I was frying other fish, but none as important as what you served up here.  The battle lines were drawn and opposing forces dug in by Christmas Eve of 1914, and God said, "I will try to get their attention one more time" and a beautiful and spontaneous armistice broke out that silent, holy night, and continued through the following Christmas day. It was precious gift to the trench weary, and a longer peace, perhaps permanent peace could have been figured out.  But the ones in charge of war also enjoy the profit of war, so the war must continue.  God placed his head in his hands saying "alright then, have it your way".  The rest is dismal, bloody history of so much lost and nothing gained.  Please pardon my going on, but dear friend, your beautifully written reflections and songwriting encouraged it.  Thank you for not forgetting.  I have been moved to tears every time I watch this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NWF2JBb1bvM

Marvellous yet sad observation on the human tendency towards self destruction.  Lions led by donkeys...and the donkeys are still calling the shots. Foolish dictators and idiotic 'strongmen' seem to crawl out of the slime on a regular basis!

I'm way too late hearing this Peter;  these things are important to keep in mind, esp when someone with no skin in the game can try to send or even shame (like your other song) someone else into going into hell

A beautiful song. A wonderful singing voice to present stories!

A tender yet stark rendering that conveys so well the heartbreak of this cutting piece of history. So well done, crystal clear on all fronts, bare and rich all at once. Thanks for sharing this Peter. Durge

Yes, this is a relevant and sad as it ever was.

LULLABY OF THE WAVES.mp3

remix complet : instrumental et vocal du morceau de bE AnOthEr mis en ligne il y a 6 ans ...

My inner secret stach

Weeping crown

EXPEDITION
Backing Track: Paploviante & Friends
https://soundcloud.com/paploviante-and-friends/expedition-offer-open-collaboration
Vocals: www.Ghosthack.de
Lillithe : adding Vocals, Violin, Guitar ,Sound effects, Brass & Wind and Orchestra Trumpets

EXPEDITION  by Paploviante (Remix)

Music by Jussi Welin
Alto horn by georg-boehme

Anymore (Conover/Welin)

Dope Jam Band-TheSmokingTrout
This is my first time participating, but Smoking Trout's other songs are also great, 
so be sure to check out the album! 
Oh~~Yeah! 
Thank U 4 Listening!!!

* Uziel @user-455619833 -- Vocals, Lyrics, and Vocal Production

* TexMex Shaman @texmex-shaman -- Lead & Rhythm Guitar funkiness

* Stonerjazz @user-911083679 -- Modulated Guitar & Vocaloid melodies

* Tot - @tot-beat -- Beat & Drums

* Tea R. Sea -- Synth, Sound Effects & Production

-------------
Catch up with the first 5 tracks of our work-in-progress concept album, Quest for the Holy Dumpling: on.soundcloud.com/FR63a

Listen to the Smoking Trout's first album, The Land of Zed (2021-2022): on.soundcloud.com/WB34q
-------------

Lyrics:

All those normal little things... pass us by, pass ussssssss
mirage of migrant, trucks full of food tiny boutiques nose up looking down
street dancers, performers, the arts little stalls selling fruit

and the bus tumbles through

HOWEVER GUS, You remember Gus? The driver of this bus...
Regretfully informs us that our engine food is at the edge of E, and the only thing we'll be running on soon is fumes

And as we approach, We can hear
A dusty massive heart beating city industry eldritch being and foreboding
Sitting atop his sky scrapers gloating
"Hungry enough yet?" It's beastly maw cries! "It's 10 for 5 and the price only went up 6.7%
Nothing to you, you're worker bees and you can make more honey, can't you?"

While yes that's true
We are the life blood that flow through
But people like me and you
Can't afford it

Fortune cookie flavor our journey
It's the last I got
I'm looking for the old woman
The gate keeper to the other side
Where we have the wholly divide
Away from this hellish relish
And Instead:
Dumpling soup, dumpling plump, fried in foie gras butter perhaps?
Holy condiment burns through fiery on your Thai chili adjusted tongue,

BUT THAT'S JUST ME! It tastes different for everyone

"OH, I can't help it!

We are all starving, the bus is outta' gas, and spewing smoke, Gus is cussing up a storm, Roberta's lighting up her last swiff... I think Larry's getting water"
said Jimmy to Sally and Stu

All digging through our pockets to get the last crumb or two
Looking forward to what we share
But it looks like
It's not a lot

Dumpling Stew (Smoking Trout's HOLY DUMPLING #6)w/ Uziel, Stonerjazz, TexMex Shaman & Tea R.Sea

The Traveller From Nowhere.

======================

When I was a teenager I loved to write. Sometimes it was poetry, other times short stories, other times it was songs, and I even imagined their music, accepting that perhaps I would never hear them performed. Finally, he also expressed moods, experiences, concerns and desires through simple strokes.


Based on a written line, 5 years ago, I composed music about one of those texts.

Now, thanks to the collaboration of my friend Peter, his impeccable translation, diction and correction of the text, I have been able to incorporate and modify said composition, but, obviously, with text in English.

Thank you Peter, again, for your enthusiasm and help.

Lyric.

The Traveller from Nowhere

Like a whisper that drifts on the breeze. Our eyes fixed on each other,
watching time slither by. Time that ends beyond the lifespan of people and
the backdrop of their murmuring.

It seems I don't know where I'm from or where I'm going. I think and feel like
the traveller from nowhere, either crossing great distances, or, perhaps,
locked in a tiny room. Never to leave.

I imagine I am someone I am not, incarcerated and blind, ignorant of the
counting of the days, a spectator watching his own life trickle past himself,
wasted.

Thus I become a random observer from here, my place, failing to understand
with my diffuse logic all that surrounds me, and the banalities of the human
condition: evil, value, love, desires, and countless other emotions, character
traits.

Indeed, I am suffused with these emotions, emotions on which I greedily
feed, trying to comprehend, dissect and analyse the secret triggers that
generate them, all within an eternal search whose horizon is infinite. So, in
the end, when all is said and done, I realise that I know neither where I'm
from nor where I'm going... then, and only then, finally, do I grasp my destiny.

I am the one who once was somewhere, or possibly not. The one who
imagines worlds and lives but never really lives them. The nomadic one who
becomes that curious traveller from nowhere; surreal, anonymous, ethereal,
imaginary……drifting on the breeze.


====================================



13 tracks of native instruments and the Xewton forum.

4 imini Arturia tracks.

4 track flowtones synth

1 xpad track

3 tracks kv331

DAW. Music Studio 2

Hardware. ipad.

Thank you for your comments.

Paco

The Traveller From Nowhere (2023) Narrated By Peter

As each November approaches I try to make my own little Remembrance-time tribute.  Seems more relevant as each year passes...

Following the huffing and puffing empire lunacy in the summer of 1914, the next four years would see 40 million casualties, half of them deaths and of those, half were civilian.  

40 million.

40 million tales of poignancy, pain, grief and human tragedy, through times that can often seem littered with coincidence, symmetries …. bookends and mirrors.

In the Military Cemetery of St Symphorien near Mons rests John Parr.  At only five foot three inches and several years under age he (amazingly) managed to enlist in 1912 - hoping to see the world, and get the advertised “two square meals” a day.  He was the first British Army casualty, killed in the battle of Mons aged just 17, his body left behind, fate unknown until much later in the conflict;  the army unable to answer his mother’s letters of enquiry about her “silent” son.

By pure coincidence, John lies just a few yards from the last British soldier to die in the great war.  George Ellison served for four long years including at the same first battle of Mons as John, and most of the famously grinding, attritional infantry battles of the conflict.  His working life bookended by military service, George had first enlisted in 1902, leaving the army in 1912, just as John joined, he became a coal miner, re-enlisting at the outbreak of war to dig mud not coal and fight from trenches he helped excavate.  George was killed just 90 minutes before the armistice took effect at 11:00 on the 11th day of the 11th month.  The futility of the conflict was cruelly illustrated by the fact that George’s war had started and ended at exactly the same place, Mons in Belgium.  They had literally gone nowhere.

As a postscript to progress since "the war to end all wars" the human race is currently reckoned to be engaged in 7 major wars, 15 significant ongoing conflicts and 21 “minor” conflicts (the latter defined as up to "only” 1000 deaths per year).  By way of another macabre bookend, the longest of these has been going on, unbelievably, since the year .... 1918.

As always, this simple ballad is offered as a live one mic one take effort - please excuse the fluffs and gaffes.
_______________________

Bookends and Mirrors

Sun turned cold ‘cross every sky in the summer of ‘14
The Good Lord shook his head, and he placed it in his hands
Braided declarations flying, whose like was never seen
Lunatics in feathers stockpiled lead, bagged their sand.
Slapstick Mephistopheles, unleashing of his flame
Spiral minds lobotomised in the waltz of the insane
Simple lives unknowing of the mud that would become
A mirror in the resting place of two Holy Mother’s sons.

Signed the line, five years young, fingers crossed behind his back
Chance to see the world, grab a future, two square meals.
At 17, John’s angels sung, first to fall in dawn’s attack
Abandoned and forgotten, deaf to all his ma’s appeals.
Never knew the miner, his bookend pal to be
Fighting down the line, many battles that he’d see
Full four years in trenches, George’s hell lived through them all
Cruelty was smiling wide at England’s last to fall.

In service time they travelled nowhere, nothing to achieve
Embracing 40 million weeping mothers left to grieve
The crime of puffing chest bravado beggared to believe
Hall of mirrors seeping others’ blood of the innocent naive.

Now John and George lie facing each to seek their mirrored peace
Raise my eyes and brim a tear for the lessons never learned
Pray God, don’t ever let them know man’s insanity but increased
The war to end all wars a mere sequel oft’ returned 
By comedies of leathered fools stuck on infinite repeat
Bemedalled and bejewelled, they prosecute their moral defeat
But here, on sallow turf twixt heroes, broken mirror in my broken hand
Met by my own broken eyes, I still fail to understand.
_________
Photo by Michael Yuan on Unsplash

Bookends and Mirrors

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