Great gritty guitar and entrancing vocal tone...

I love this dialogue between the voice and the guitar where your beautiful poetry still reigns as a goddess of words, my dear friend!

I’m officially twisted and twanged upwards and down thanks to this stoner’s expose! Incredibly delicious stuff Jeff!

nice rhythmical acoustic guitar melody!!✨🎸✨

I just have to state again how much I admire how you turnedthose simple words into a holistic work of art, Jeff!

.... does not get outdated .... beauty .....

B-Lush Green Leaves

Composition Philippe Guitare rythmique/Slide/Wah-Wah @user-759566380
Texte et chant Guillaume @user-759566380
Instrumentation/arrangements/mixage/masterisation @Tulipe-records

Paroles

On voudrait faire une chanson
Écolo , geek et non genrée
Qui plaise aux filles et aux garçons
Sans gluten sans vulgarités
On enfoncerait toutes ces portes
Ouvertes sur nos libertés
De Washington à Aigues-Mortes
On chanterait le poing levé

On devrait parler de Poutine
Et de sa folie des grandeurs
Qui mettent le feu dans nos vitrines
Comme une canicule en chaleur
On balancerait notre avis
Sur le changement climatique
On tordrait le cou nous aussi
A ces idées fausses et sceptiques

Et puis on ferait un refrain
A faire tomber un dictateur
Un peu comme une voiture sans freins
Conduite par un jeune acteur
Et puis on ferait un refrain
A déranger les complotistes
Un peu comme une voiture sans freins
Conduite par un vrai journaliste

On devrait faire une chanson
Sur la Covid mais sans tabous
Sur ces experts yaka fokon
Qui savaient tout sur rien surtout
On parlerait de tous ces gens
De ces héros du quotidien
Qu'un imbécile de Président
A traité comme des assassins

Et puis on ferait un refrain
A faire frémir les chaînes infos
Un peu comme une voiture sans freins
Conduite par Docteur Renaud
Et puis on ferait un refrain
A angoisser tous ces bavards
Un peu comme une voiture sans freins
Conduite par Mister Renard

On dézinguerait les puissants
Qui n'écoutent pas la Planète
Les oreilles bouchées par l'argent
L'cerveau au chaud dans leurs braguettes
On allumerait ces people
Qui font souffrir les dictionnaires
Qui polluent les pages de Google
Tout comme du pétrole dans la mer

Et puis on ferait un refrain
A faire peur aux capitalistes
Un peu comme une voiture sans freins
Conduite par un communiste
Et puis on ferait un refrain
A effrayer tous les Bobos
Un peu comme une voiture sans freins
Conduite par un Populo

We'd like to make a song
Eco-friendly, geeky and gender-neutral
that appeals to both boys and girls
Gluten-free without vulgarities
We'd break down all those doors
Open to our freedoms
From Washington to Aigues-Mortes
We'd sing with raised fists

We should talk about Putin
And his delusions of grandeur
Setting fire to our windows
Like a heat wave
We'd throw our weight around
On climate change
We, too, would bend our necks
To these false and skeptical ideas

And then we'd make a chorus
To bring down a dictator
Like a car with no brakes
Driven by a young actor
And then we'd make a chorus
To upset the conspiracists
Like a car without brakes
Driven by a real journalist

We should make a song
About the Covid but without taboos
About those yaka fokon experts
Who knew everything about nothing
We'd talk about all those people
These everyday heroes
Whom an imbecile President
Treated like assassins

And then we'd make a chorus
To make the news channels quiver
Like a car without brakes
Driven by Docteur Renaud
And then we'd make a chorus
To scare the chatterboxes
Like a car without brakes
Driven by Mister Renard

We'd blast the powerful
Who don't listen to the Planet
Their ears plugged by money
Their brains warmed in their zippers
We'd light up these celebrities
Who make dictionaries suffer
Polluting the pages of Google
Like oil in the sea

And then we'd make a chorus
To scare the capitalists
Like a car without brakes
Driven by a communist
And then we'd make a chorus
To scare all the haves
Like a car without brakes
Driven by the rabble

© Guillaume DULER / Philippe SEGUINARD / TULIPE RECORD 2022

Sans Freins ( Tulipe & Jim ) TRANSLATED

Windy Night (All At Home)

I was inspired after listening to Jesus Flores Guitarrista's "Popurri The Beatles".

(Disclaimer:  I do not own the copyright to this song.  It is presented here in a non-commercial format and only for entertainment and educational purposes.)

Imagine (John Lennon Cover in instrumental form)

"Vinyl Ventriloquist" a poem by written by Jo Richter (Sonic Structures and Silent Stretchs)
.
.
people are busy
completing first lines
"recital by proxy"
confirming stylistic confines
.
resounding diaphragms
refresh prior engrams
raising the doorjambs
to tame toxic bedlam
.
.
everything that has grooves
everyone knows the moves
everything that resonates
precurses, premediates
.
.
syphilitic sibilants
pandemic plops
empowering resonance
as the chrystal pin drops
.
spiral recursion
runs down the track
affirmation, aversion
thwarted, played back
.
.
everything causing friction
sounds a prediction
everything that rotates
crescendoes and fades
.
.
praise luddite iconoclasts
who still dare to jam
creative enthusiasts
 la vie s'écrivant elle même

Vinyl Ventriloquist featuring a poem by Jo Richter (Sonic Structures and Silent Stretches)

Will the lonely oak tree remember the embrance of its sisters? 
What will she fell when she shades the men who left her orphan?
Will the human being ever learn that without enviroment there is no future for humanity?
Will it then be too late?

THE TREE THAT WAS FOREST

Blueprint for track that became 'Sandycove Milk'.

Inspired by wondrous music by Conin, whose track 'Kitty's Wake' reminded of the rich clay of Joyce's 'Finnegan's Wake'. This track, about the opening pages of Joyce's Ulysses, borrows coffee spoons, forever those of T.S. Eliot, in an effort to add sweet milk...drawn from the milk-well of honeyed Sandycove.  The lyric speaker is, notionally, Stephen Daedalus. For practical purposes, the lyric speaker is James Joyce himself. His aim? To hit Haines for a guinea [a pre-decimal unit of currency] before heading to France on a ferry. Whilst Haines still feels guilty (sheepish) about having fired his pistol at an imaginary cat he thought he saw in the fireplace in the Martello tower in Sandycove (now the Joyce Museum....a sacred...magical place, whose attendant Joyce scholars told me about the Haines' imaginary cat episode....it is all true...yet also dovetails eerily with the first chapter of Ulysses).

The reference to Haines having consumed Absinthe is a narrative fiction, invented to offer an explanation for his dangerous behaviour. No peer reviewed evidence capable of demonstrating Absinthe has hallucinogenic properties, exists, to my knowledge.


Lyrics

[chorus]
Gotta learn me some Italian
Gonna get me a guitar
Gotta learn me some Italian
Gonna get me a guitar

Hellenise me now
She come and go
talking bout Michelangelo
there will be time
there will be time

do I dare to eat a quiche?
I shall wear enchanted trousers
and float upon the beach

I’m still dreamin
something happened last night

Haines downed a snot-green bottle of Absinthe
started shooting at his Schrödinger's cat
in the fireplace
looks real sheepish this morning
gonna hit him for a guinea [a pre-decimal unit of currency]
and get outta here
gliding on the Emerald sea
to Paris
with Haines’ guinea in my pocket
when I’m at sea

gonna go uptown now
hitting the top deck of this here Martello
gonna watch the mailboat
glide on an Emerald sea
gonna rest my shiny elbows
on the jagged granite
just leavin the harbour

and here comes stately Buck
bearing a bowl of lather
crossed razor and mirror as well
holding the bowl aloft
and intoning...intonin

Introibo ad altare Dei
sacred chalice
sacred cross
and now I’m lookin at the sea
Thallata...sweet mother
Hellenise me
mailboat clearin the harbour
rage of Caliban inside me
cos of Haines....[firing a gun inside the Martello tower when drunk the night before, at a giant cat he imagined was sitting near the fireplace]
sweet Thallata
buttercups on the quilt
powdered musk and gauds of amber beads
calm now like the sea
there will be time
there will be time

Martello

Musings on mortality.


I hear that countdown clock ticking
Remaining time is flying by
I'm still alive and kicking
But there are dark clouds in the sky

We thought that we'd be young forever
The sun is always in the sky
Our spirits light as a feather
The rules of life do not apply

Hold on the line
Hold on the lifeline

The best part is behind us
Our race is almost run
Failing bodies remind us
Soon we'll be undone

Hold on the lin
Hold on the lifeline

Hold On The Line

HINDSIGHT - (JunkHeap (c) Refixed Apr 2023 / (c) Aug 02, 2003)

Things could have been so different, 
if they could have been done again. 
Countless times we see the chance, 
and let them go, they wont come again 

He remembered the glory and strength of his youth, 
wasted his older years yearning for its return. 
Never realized that wisdom is more than a fair trade; 
Beauty in ones' own introspection.

Things could have been so different, 
if they could have been done again. 
Countless times we see the chance, 
and let them go, they wont come again 

They never will...

Hindsight

Challenge was to make one of my shorter songs with one of my longer lyrics, so I 'had' to craft it into an amalgam of 9/4 and 4/4 signatures. Thus, it may feel crazy on verses but I hope also catchy on refrains.

Letra / Translated lyrics:

Sólo pido no tener deseos (Ya no quiero imaginar)  /  I ask only not to have desires (I don’t want to imagine anymore)

¿Puedes explicarme qué es lo que me pasa?  /  Can you tell me what happens to me?
Señor, llévate de mí esta confusión.  /  Lord, take away this confusion.
Quítame el don de la inteligencia,  /  Take the gift of intelligence from me,
pues si no pensara tanto, sería feliz.  /  because if I didn’t think so much, I would be happy.

Siento que este mundo me es extraño,  /  I feel this world is strange,
estoy a disgusto con mis sentidos.  /  I get displeasure from my senses.
No puedo comprender su funcionamiento,  /  I cannot understand their functioning,
ni siquiera amoldarme a él.  /  nor even get used to it.

Sólo pido no tener deseos,  /  I ask only not to have desires,
ya no quiero imaginarme nada.  /  I don’t want to imagine anything anymore.

Esta situación siempre es pasajera,  /  This situation is always temporary,
pero se repite una y otra vez.  /  but repeats itself again and again.
Este malestar de cuerpo y alma  /  This discomfort of soul and body
me hace desear dejar de ser.  /  makes me wish to stop being.  

Pienso entonces en todos los que me quieren,  /  Then I think of all those who love me,
o al menos en los que a veces lo parecen…  /  or at least about those who sometimes seem to…
¿Por qué es tan difícil la coexistencia  /  Why is coexistence so difficult
en medio de una sociedad inteligente?  /  in an intelligent society?

Sólo pido…  /  I ask only…

No deberías dejar pensar a algo imperfecto,  /  You should not allow something imperfect to think,
sino limitarlo a cumplir su función social.  /  but limit it to fulfilling its social role.
Sólo quiero ser un engranaje más, señor,  /  I only want to be one more cog, Lord,
en tu rebaño de almas, sin preguntas.  /  in your flock of souls, without questions.

Esta vida que me has dado, señor,  /  This life you have given me, Lord,
me tortura, de modos insospechados,  /  tortures me, in unsuspected manners,
a buscarle un sentido a mis dudas,  /  to look for a sense to my doubts,
lo cual, tal vez, sea precisamente su fin!  /  which, maybe, is precisely its purpose!

Sólo pido…  /  I ask only…

ER43FI10 97-18

Vinyl Ventriloquist featuring a poem by Jo Richter (Sonic Structures and Silent Stretches)

STONERJAZZ

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