Magnifico trabajo, me encanta la percusión

Ozion

F Mayor – 4/4 – 80 BPM – 2:42
Intro: 8 compas
Outro: 4 compas
Parte A: 8 compas 
Parte B: 8 compas
Estructura : I-A-BB-A-B-O
Instrumentación:
Drums: Abbey Road Vintage Drummer Ivory kit lite + Msoundfactory Cinematic percussion + snare maker
Bajo: Ample bass acoustic
Piano Kontakt The Gentleman + Arpegiattor presonus
7th Harps Hybrid Keys
Cello section Presence
Session Horns Kontakt
9 pistas de voces, 5 armonizadas, pista Quadravox y Open air,TR5 De Esser – compressor presonus – room reverb presonus. Melodyne. Letra en Inglés.
Mezcla: TR5 One “Soul enhancer”
Master: Ozone 9 elements – contemporary jazz
Sobre la canción:  The lyrics are taken from a poem of a young Welsh poet D. R. Geraint Jones, ‘Let Me Not See Old Age’, written in spring 1944. Geraint Jones was just 22 years old. Marzo 2023

The complete poem is as follows:

Let Me Not See Old Age

Let me not see old age: Let me not hear
The proffered help, the mumbled sympathy,
The well-meant tactful sophistries that mock
Pathetic husks who once were strong and free,

And in youth’s fickle triumph laughed and sang,
Loved, and were foolish; and at the close have seen
The fruits of folly garnered, and that love,
Tamed and encaged, stale into grey routine.

Let me not see old age; I am content
With my few crowded years; laughter and strength
And song have lit the beacon of my life.

Let me not see it fade, but when the long
September shadows steal across the square,
Grant me this wish: they may not find me there.

Sophistries for Geraint Jones

l am so happy to make Guitar Noises with these Two cool cool Dudes--What a TREAT! please take a listen to the original:):)     Texmex-shaman – Shrooms

Shrooms with TexMex Shaman & One Blind Mouse

you're wrapped up today, it's 9.10 am and -2 degrees, it's been snowing overnight, some a them's been there since before 6! you walk down familiar streets, almost drag yourself there, feeling empty of emotion and desire, ambivalence consumes your integrity,  running commentary conversations with yourself contain more contradictions and paradoxes than thought itself. Horns tooting as you pick up the pace on Coburg street, nearly there now, must show willing and a pulse of positivity. You see your uncle Derek walking the dog, he's not really your uncle, you're not too sure if that's really a dog, it is a dog though, it's jumping up at you, fuck! it's at eye level, big dog that Derek! You make a bit of small talk about the football, and the dog, there's nothing small about the dog. He doesn't agree with the strike, I should be offended, but I don't give a flying fuck, it's nice to see him, have a bit crak and even getting bulldozed by that beast of a dog didn't seem to bother me. See you then Derek, tell the family I was asking after them. Turns out I would see him on my stroll to the picket line a week later too.

Big turn out today, you're genuinely impressed and start to feel a pang of guilt that you're really not feeling it. Try to fit in, you're more like them than they are themselves, it should be a stroll in the park. You start to make conversations and mooch about a bit, you don't  see anyone that you're desperate to avoid. Gallows humour is gallowing in pride, ready to take a bite out of anyone that doesn't subscribe to their own gallant gallowness. Sharing a thought invigorates your being, you start to reminisce and replay memories of this place and anything within a 2 mile radius. Across the road there was the last place you had a proper conversation with your cousin Pirrie, he wasn't really your cousin, but it was really a conversation; not like in the hospital, that was just the odd grunt here and there, a movement or two. There's Sydney Court, your Aunty Jean lived there since the 60s or 50s?  she wasn't really your Aunty, but it was built, and she was your mams aunty, so that's pretty close. You feel a genuine appreciation for this area and the folk who dwell upon it, you dwell with them, Gateshead town, blood sweat synagogues and thieves. Walking round the picket line, soak it all up, retain it, when you get home wring it out. Group therapy plasters over the cracks, you feel so good that you self diagnose yourself with bi polar. Although time grinded it's heels towards the end, it was worth losing a day's pay, you'd pay more for a therapist, and you'd gotten a good idea for a song.

Sydney Court

my mood is changing like the weather
my spirit rising like the sea
and all the things that I once held and cherished
don't really matter that much to me

as I wander round old Gateshead town
blood sweat synagogues and thieves
I lost my cousin in the Metropole bar
his ankles hanging round his knees

there ain't a single thing
left around here no more
not even a photograph
of Sydney Court

my mind is like a patchwork dreambelt
I'm blowing hot air in then cold
for when did I become the man's 
worst nightmare
never believing what I'm told

and as I'm riding down the Sheriff's Highway
and I watch the old Tyne valley flow
getting lost on the Tuxedo Princes
man it all seemed so long ago

there ain't a single thing left around here no more
not even a photograph of Sydney Court

where did you go
where did you go

recorded at home in my 8 track, thanks for listening, very much appreciated 👍






Sydney Court

Credits for the beginning passage and ending passage
https://soundcloud.com/adrianhallam for music vocals and composition
Backing vocals and pixie dust applications here and there by conover.

Credits for center section
Lead vocal and lyrics by @j-rivas
@jonathan_beckenstein on 1st guitar
@matt-warnick-58962582 on 2nd guitar
Music Bed by unknown collaborator that went unfinished and unlabeled
BGV by conover
Mastering by @blake-cranford said

You Took The Road and came for that Feeling again (Hallam/Conover)

Call My Name

A tribute to one of my closest friends Andy who passed last year from cancer. He left two beautiful daughters and his wonderful wife behind. 
Also a long lasting effect on me and I never got to tell him he really was one of my kings.
This is a raw live recording because that’s seems  more relevant to him coming from a punk background. 
I worked, socialised and shared some unbelievable memorable moments with Andy stretching over a 30 year period.
He was an original punk rocker in his younger days and played as a drummer in many different punk bands. Carried the tattoos of punk and that period carried him through the rest of his life. Very knowledgeable about music and cultures. 
He always got up behind the kit and blasted out at our soundchecks and when we were breaking down after the gig, he just couldn’t help himself. Always supported live new music and my band projects. 
Andy was one of the Co founders with me of underground music magazine Blag. Known as Andypunkrock to the readers.
I will never forget him and think about him everyday.
You don’t realise until certain people leave you how much it affects you. 
RIP Andy you were One Of My Kings.

One Of My Kings (Acoustic Live RIP)

Only a love song. Not more, not less.
A very easy song, very easy to play, very easy to sing, perhaps a song to sing along? We composed this music, what could you do with this? It developped into a love song, what else could this music be? We usually don't write ordinary love songs, but why not occasionally...

Time With You Began

Vocals, Vocal Melody, Lyrics by Nadia Selvaggi
Instrumental & Mix by Garddwr Porffor: https://soundcloud.com/garddwrporffor
Photo: Wall Street crash, 1929

Suit 
by Nadia Selvaggi

Behold the bewildering horde 
swimming upstream like rats
towards Wall Street's charging bull

Watch the greedy, wretched whores
snatch Abbie Hoffman's dollars
before they hit NYSE's floor

Gold, diamond cuffs, an expensive shave
make you forget you're still
a demon's soulless slave

Bow down before the Golden Calf
Indulge every desire,
follow every darkened path,
while you starve in your dazzling cashmere suit

You're a dupe --
wasting your precious life
on a shallow, meaningless pursuit

You're just a suit 
living an unexamined life of disrepute

Twin serpents coiled around a sword
creating money out of nothing
from the numbers on a banker's keyboard

Proud American still unaware 
this whole system is still run
from a blue blooded bandit's royal chair

Selling out your country's precious sovereignty
To a selfish traitor
freedom's just another commodity

Bow down before the Golden Calf,
indulge every desire,
follow every darkened path,
while you starve in your dazzling cashmere suit

You're a suit --
wasting your precious life
on a shallow, meaningless pursuit
You're just a suit
living an unexamined life of disrepute

Suit by Garddwr Porffor & Nadia Selvaggi

... Easter with toothache, but now pain-free, thanks to antibiotics :-) ... so I can devote myself to somewhat morbid humour and use molars as scatter patterns :-D ... I hope this blues is not as bad as my tooth ! Anyway, the Electronic Wind Controller is useful for problems of this kind, you don't have to blow so hard ;-)

molar blues

Bone Slinker Invocation

BoneSlinker

rosE mE is the project of Sophie Mercier, Belgian woman of the X generation (1974). Living in Spain (Altea) since 2005. All the lyrics are… obviously or not, inspired by real life events. If I sing that there is a horse in the living room, this is because there is a horse in the living room. “Belgian accent” songs, melancholic with a touch of hope, made for you if you’re not obsessed with performance or technicity and are able to recognize humour of fourth degree and self-derision. Since 2021, I discovered the world of virtual instruments and I started to do all by myself with the Studio One DAW and the Komplete Kontrol. Sometimes, I play real instruments like Chelo, sax, clarinet and whatever I find in my littlemountain home studio. May be if you like #Francoizbreut #dominiqueA #miossec #francoisehardy #cristinarosenvinge #tindersticks #josepharthur, we should have something in common. May be it’s music to listen to, unprejudiced, driving a camper, a truck or lying in the sofa, in full consciousness (would be the best), interested in giving a second chance to words and sounds. Seeing Jean-Luc Godart's Adieu au Langage (Ah Dieux, Oh Langage) on Filmin recently, I smiled and thought: poorly edited, horrible soundtrack, the truth of which is incomprehensible to the common human being (except what is said about dogs), a bit like my songs!!!

PD: Sorry if I'm not used to let comments to your songs. I'm listening to your music when driving a truck and Android Auto doesn't let me write at the same time, I can only put Hearts!!!
https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLhuUlO8NOGS7YufCl3QTzYJc00L-z7ceX

https://open.spotify.com/intl-es/artist/55alI1SdsspIFwMcc9CFWd?si=Pk0FVzOSSnuI7SV5yRbU2A

https://www.instagram.com/littlemountainaltea/

Sophistries for Geraint Jones

rosE mE

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