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To equality, democracy, freedom, and hope 💙

A joyful jazzy march to dance the tightrope to 🗽

80-85 bpm

Ordinarily I use original LoFi audio that I have recorded from live subjects, but in this song, I use a single sample in my outro from a campaign video of Vice President Kamala Harris in Philadelphia, PA, October 27, 2024.

DAW: Apple Logic Pro X
MIDI: Akai MPK Professional 
E-instruments:
Concert Grand
Deep Organ
SoCal Ballad Piano
Upright Ballad Bass
Crystals and Voices synth
Rolling Chords synth 
E-percussion used:
Studio Brush Kit 
Warehouse Kit shaker
Classic House Remix Congas

Cover art is a derivative illustration with additions and alterations to the following photos:

Statue of Liberty in the afternoon by Eldar Kamalov in the public domain via Wikimedia Commons
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Statue_of_Liberty_2.JPG

 Didier Pasquette walking a tightrope between the twin statues atop the Liberty Building in downtown Buffalo, New York, as part of the opening of the 2010 Beyond/In Western New York art exhibition, by Dave Pape in the public domain via Wikimedia Commons
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Didier_Pasquette_BIWNY_1.jpg

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Tightrope

Wild Walking (Collab with Mistermark)

Ruggiero Miles - Love is all we got

Feather

noxpox - HOLY POTION

Monolith Drowned

Landscape V

"Living Mannequin" talks about the need to become what fashion and today’s world demand us to be in order to be accepted by society: different.
We’re expected to be unlike anything that ever existed, to reject our roots and the teachings passed down by our parents—ignoring knowledge in favor of a new world order that claims all of humanity’s acquired wisdom has become obsolete with the rise of A.I.
We have to be strange in order to be original.

Living Mannequin

Why be so different?
Why not be more normal?
If everything I see looks just the same,
Then the weird one is the original.
Why not be reversed?
The opposite of that basic verse;
If I wear red, tattoo on my knee,
Hair, a hat or some All Stars on me.

Making faces and poses,
Walking back and forth all day;
Drinking, smoking... doing dumb stuff,
Living just to impress in some way.
Pulling out sighs,
From people who just watch TV;
They search and don’t find, they look but don’t see
What’s really worth living to be...

Selling their own universe,
In exchange for some dumb stares;
The dream is money, death is the mirror,
Living in a harbor with no piers there...
Gaining experience,
In what they don’t want to learn;
Fashion sets the routine,
In minds where “to have” beats “to be” at every turn...

******************** PORTUGUESE

Manequim Vivo fala sobre a necessidade de sermos o que a moda e o mundo atuais exigem que sejamos, para sermos aceitos na sociedade: Diferentes. 
Temos de ser diferentes de tudo que já existiu, renegar nossas origens e os aprendizados passados por nossos pais, ignorando o conhecimento em pról de uma nova ordem mundial, a qual dita que todo o conhecimento da humanidade adquirido se tornou obsoleto, com a chegada da A.I.
Temos de ser estranhos para sermos originais.

Por que ser tão diferente?
Por que não ser tão normal?
Se tudo que eu vejo, parece com o mesmo,
O estranho é o original;
Por que não ser reverso?
Inverso do verso vulgar;
Se eu uso vermelho, tatoo no joelho,
Cabelo, chapéu ou All Star;
Fazendo caras e bocas;
Andando pra lá e pra cá;
Bebendo, fumando...fazendo besteira;
Vivendo pra impressionar;
Provocando suspiros;
Do povo que só vê tv;
Procura e não acha, enxerga e não vê;
O que vale a pena viver...
Vendendo ser próprio universo;
A troco dos olhos boçais;
O sonho é o dinheiro, a morte é o espelho;
Vivendo num porto sem cais...
Ganhando experiência...
No que não se quer aprender;
A moda dita a rotina;
Na mente ter ou não ser...

Living Mannequin (Manequim Vivo)

Best Boy Frank 1.

"Beau", also known as "I'll Never Forget a Dog Named Beau", is a poem written by American film and stage actor James Stewart.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beau_(poem)

He never came to me when I would call
Unless I had a tennis ball,
Or he felt like it,
But mostly he didn't come at all.

When he was young
He never learned to heel
Or sit or stay,
He did things his way.

Discipline was not his bag
But when you were with him things sure didn't drag.
He'd dig up a rosebush just to spite me,
And when I'd grab him, he'd turn and bite me.

He bit lots of folks from day to day,
The delivery boy was his favorite prey.
The gas man wouldn't read our meter,
He said we owned a real man-eater.

He set the house on fire
But the story's long to tell.
Suffice to say that he survived
And the house survived as well.

And on the evening walks, and Gloria took him,
He was always first out the door.
The Old One and I brought up the rear
Because our bones were sore.

And, he'd charge up the street with Mom hanging on,
What a beautiful pair they were!
And if it was still light and the tourists were out,
They created a bit of a stir.

But every once in a while, he would stop in his tracks
And with a frown on his face look around.
It was just to make sure that the Old One was there
To follow him where he was bound.

We're early-to-bedders at our house -- I guess I'm the first to retire.
And as I'd leave the room he'd look at me
And get up from his place by the fire.
He knew where the tennis balls were upstairs,

And I'd give him one for a while.
And he'd push it under the bed with his nose
And I'd dig it out with a smile.
But before very long He'd tire of the ball

And he'd be asleep in his corner In no time at all.
And there were nights when I'd feel him Climb upon our bed
And lie between us,
And I'd pat his head.

And there were nights when I'd feel this stare
And I'd wake up and he'd be sitting there
And I reach out my hand and stroke his hair.

And sometimes I'd feel him sigh and I think I know the reason why.
He'd wake up at night
And he would have this fear
Of the dark, of life, of lots of things,
And he'd be glad to have me near.

And now he's dead.
And there are nights when I think I feel him
Climb upon our bed and lie between us,
And I pat his head.

And there are nights when I think I feel that stare
And I reach out my hand to stroke his hair,

But he's not there.

Oh, how I wish that wasn't so,
I'll always love a dog named Beau.

Oh, how I wish that wasn't so,
I'll always love a dog named Beau.

Wild Walking (Collab with Mistermark)

A Girl From Wonder