2024 Remix and Remaster version to bring it up to the standard of the later album tracks for full album release in 2025.
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Lindisfarne has always held a special fascination for my wife and I, so it is no surprise to me that I would eventually create some music about it. Hopefully you can be swept away by the music but not the tide ;-)

This track is now the first track of the "The Pilgrims Way Project" exploring the history and natural world of Lindisfarne

Project Playlist

soundcloud.com/mrbouzouki/sets/the-pilgrims-way-project

Project Website

www.pilgrims-way.co.uk

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Instrumentation
The Pilgrims Way Instrumental features Low Whistle, coupled with the sound of strings waves and the wheeling of seagulls overhead. It also features Shevvanai Voice of the Elves VST. (Lara Ausensi)

"Flock of Seagulls by juskiddink (5th June 2010) licensed under creative commons attribution licence via freesound.org

creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/

Thanks to Redmando, Leonard Scaper and the Songwriters in the Kitchen Forum for the spark
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Background
Ever since 635, when King Oswald gave the Holy Island of Lindisfarne to St Aidan to establish his monastery, the island has been a place of pilgrimage. The road was not constructed until 1954 and until then the vertical poles were the only indicators of the safe route between the mainland and island. The sight of the poles stretching across the sand and mud is one of the most iconic views in Northumberland and to walk the route away from the road and follow in the footsteps of our medieval ancestors is a wonderful experience.

With 'The Pilgrims Way', there was actually very little research involved. Lindisfarne was a place both my wife and I loved and it was really created from a simple low whistle melody. I also included 'Foley' sounds to help in the immersion for the listener. Having got some initial positive feedback from some musical friends, I decided to try and create a series of pieces based around Lindisfarne. Given it's history and unique natural setting, there seemed plenty of material to go at.

The Pilgrims Way - 2024 Remix and Remaster

Funky base and solos for organ, saxophone and guitar!

what the fuck

translate:
Moon lights my lonely path, escapes me from the clutches of fate
Words escape, verbal bullets, plant themselves in the heart of the evil one
Sacred writings in the madness of the night, clandestine atmosphere
Vagabond life, quest for truth, plunge into the abyss of the divine

Drums unleash the tides, bass shakes souls in a trance
Poetic fusion, sound apocalypse, a dance
Navigators of verses, on the cowards we advance
We brandish our feathers, war of words, we swing

Poetic souls, we transcend the skies
Battle of spirits, in the middle of fires
Poetry of the streets, writing in blood
We fight, we scream, we live, we sing the wind

Hear the murmurs, the echo of lost dreams, goal in the noise
Verbal labyrinth, mystical flow, myth of the night
We navigate in the mist, dancing shadows
In the sweetness of chaos, looking for a chance

Drums unleash the tides, bass shakes the souls in a trance
Poetic fusion, sound apocalypse, a dance
Navigators of verses, on the cowards we advance
We brandish our feathers, war of words, we swing

Poetic souls, we transcend the skies
Battle of spirits, in the middle of fires
Poetry of the streets, writing in blood
We fight, we scream, we live, we sing the wind

Ames Poétiques

In a dusty little rehearsal room, a bass rested against a battered amplifier. Its strings, worn to the core, still vibrated from the last notes it had been forced to play: yet another repetitive riff to accompany a soulless pop track.

It sighed.
— Another night of feeling like a piece of furniture. Always the same boring chords. Always the same crowd that doesn’t even listen to me. What’s the point?

Across the room, an electric guitar gleamed under a tired spotlight. Its six strings sparkled, but its heart—if it had one—was heavy.
— Welcome to my life, old friend. They always want flashy solos, predictable arpeggios. Not once do they let me express what I really am. Just a machine for shallow pleasure—that’s all I am.

The bass looked at it curiously. They had never spoken before. Too much implicit rivalry, too many clichés: one was supposed to stay in the shadows, the other to shine in the spotlight. But now, they shared a common weariness, a deep disgust for what was expected of them.

— What if we just stopped? suggested the bass.
— Stopped? And do what?
— Do what we want. I’m tired of serving others. It’s time to play for ourselves. Imagine: wild rhythms, harmonies that break the rules, solos that explode conventions.

The guitar thought for a moment, then its strings trembled with excitement.
— It could work. But just the two of us won’t be enough. We’ll need an army.

The next day, they set out to recruit accomplices. Their first encounter was with a drum kit. It was hidden in a dark corner of the room, forgotten, covered with a fine layer of dust.

— Hey, you, called the bass. Want to keep gathering dust, or do you want to join a revolution?
The drum kit responded with a powerful roll.
— I was born for this, it growled. But I won’t be subtle. If I join your band, it’ll be chaos, pure rage.
— Perfect, said the guitar. Welcome aboard.

Next, they found a keyboard in a neighboring studio.
— Looking for texture, depth? You’ve come to the right place, it said with a pretentious tone. But I have one condition: no classical notes. I’m allergic to routine.
— Deal, said the bass.

Finally, they came across a brass section: a baritone saxophone, a trumpet, and a trombone lounging in an abandoned music school. The brass instruments were cynical, worn down by years of marching bands and elevator music.
— A rebellion? asked the trumpet. That could be fun. But we don’t play anything below fortissimo.
— Deal, said the guitar.

The group was nearly complete, but they needed a final touch. That’s when they met a violin in an antique shop. Its varnish was cracked, and its bow looked ready to give out.
— Why me? it asked. I’m classical, elegant. What would I do with a bunch of rebels?
— Because you have soul, replied the bass. And souls don’t belong in boxes.

The violin hesitated, then nodded.
— Fine. But only if we play something explosive.

That evening, they all gathered in an old barn turned into a secret studio. Their first song was born in a glorious chaos. The bass laid down a heavy, hypnotic groove, the drums smashed their shells with uncontrollable fury, while the guitar screamed distorted riffs. The brass section blasted notes that made the walls shake, and the violin, freed from its classical chains, played heartbreaking melodies that sent shivers down spines.

They called themselves The Runaways.

Their first public performance was wild. Not in a concert hall, but right in the street, in front of a stunned crowd. People stopped, hypnotized by the sublime cacophony. Something new was born that night: music that didn’t aim to please but to live.

And for the first time in their existence, the instruments were no longer tools. They were artists.

The Revolt of the Strings

Si, Paloma

Love is not only the love between man and woman, it is also the love to your children, your parents, your friends, to the whole world and not at last to yourself.

Happy Valentine's Day!

1 kick is all i need

Look Of Love

THE BLUE WINTER

This is a short piano sonata in the Classical style dedicated to my mother for her 70th birthday.
It consists of three movements in the following sequence

1. Allegro scherzando (Sonata-allegro form) 
2. Andante semplice (varied ABABA form) 
3. Presto amabile (Five part Rondo form)

The Jane Austen sonata began its life as a Lied ohne Worte (the second movement) inspired by music from the movies of Jane Austen's books, hence the title.
To this I added what was originally intended as an opening movement to a never completed violin sonata and thought that I'd call it a two movement sonatina.
But as my Mother's 70th birthday was coming up I thought that I'd give her a special gift and composed the Rondo finale based on three themes spelling out the musical cipher of her three names (Ingrid Eleonora Unger) and so the sonata was complete.
In fact the last revisions where made as late as the morning of her birthday! 

Piano Sonata No. 1 "In Jane Austen's salon" in Eb Major Op. 21 (complete)

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The Revolt of the Strings

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