Started writing this after first moving to Illinois as a birthday present for my oldest niece, playing into that homesick sort of nostalgia vibe, but focusing on the coming-of-age aspect of my oldest niece.

There are unfinished lyrics that mostly delve into how growing up, my father and brother were there to provide me with important life lessons, and how if my father were still alive, he’d be able to gift her a different kind of love than he was able to pass on to me and my brother, as he gained a patience and grace that wasn’t present when I was her age. But there will always be those aspects present in her father and me, and that no matter what, there will always be a piece of him within us, and within her by proxy.

Kinda too heady and ambitious for a simple acoustic riff and a simulated-heartbeat drum track 🤷🏻‍♂️

I hope to finish this one day and actually give it to her before she becomes a full adult, but she’s basically a full adult already, and might not need this sorta thing anymore. Ah well… it’s here for anyone else’s enjoyment! Lol

Andrew Maloney's Album

RoughDraft1

First draft, simple riffs, will improve later

(choked)scratch tracks

Scratch demo, temp vocals and temp lyrics.

"Dirty mouthed, gutted out,
We all know
That we are not the prophecy.
They came to speak.
We came to scream.
They came to sleep.
We came to dream.
Oh, we all know
That we are not the prophecy"

(Choked)scratch track demo

A MIDI only scratch track.

As I am a one man band, when I record I input all audio data as MIDI first, so I can tweak how it all fits together and adjust as needed on the fly. This is the skeleton of a finished MIDI that will get replaced with actual instruments.

There Were Rats (Yeah, Big Ones) MIDI ONLY

Unprocessed Addictive Drums lick, Hofner bass groove, and a shitty Les Paul culminated into me trying my hand at recording an improv guitar solo. Nothing is mixed, and it needs a shit-ton of work. The first guitar bit was an idea I was going to try, and decided to just free-form some stuff. I did one take, and left it for now, since I need to go to bed.

This Is Planet What 1

Soon to be known for hypnotic rhythms, driving baselines and memorable hooks

Ghost Stories New Guitar Test Demo 2

Simply Undefined

Yeah.... Ha...
Shut is to ill though

(Verse 1)
So what, I'm back again to deliver these upper cuts/ to the upper gut, On these upper cuts/ henny cobra clutched/ hand on my nuts, cup full of suds/ when last night was blur, ol girl will concur/ flows stupid as hood ideologies that brought us up/ not giving a fuck, pressing your luck, you will touched/ like a sign requesting the opposite, I'm on polick shit/ artistic in my own ways, minus the bullshit politic/ ugh, polish my topic of discussion through percussions I/ leave all my buttons submerged so what you pushing huh?/ there ain't no hitting home with me to catch me where it hurts/ I handle my own, and in my dome is where I leark/ I rash on shit some might call it poison I be/ on top of this world on this dark knight you'll find me/ With my bad bitch beside me looking lively/ fly as poison Ivy, to my right, never behind me/

(Hook)
These days fly by we waiting on the hands of time/ to call our number so we kick it sitting bent reclined/ trapped in a state of mind, define by the bishops eye/ we pawns to the world lost... With no sense of time/...
These
days fly by we waiting on the hands of time/ to call our number so we kick it sitting bent reclined/ trapped in a state of mind, define by the bishops eye/ we pawns to the world lost... Simply undefined/ 

(Verse 2)
Tonight alive Let's describe the inscrutable/ immutable thoughts of dyeing so Unusual/ scribble with pens and pads tags on you cubicle/ ol girl looking bad Got my logo on her cuticles/ visions of rap super stardom, pardon if I space out/ I lay the pace out, and break out/ on some lead the chase out, doors are locked break the chase out/ or stomp that shit out on some rugged boot to the face style/ Look what we face now, the day weighs heavy on us/ eye are getting lower, sitting bent up on the corner/ burnt out marijuana as evidence trying to out run The stress/ far from that elegant delegate suited at his desk/ I'm suited up in my best, my flannel jeans and a vest/ Yankee fitted on my wig, SB dunks on the set/ street dreams, tv screens is what we looking at/ fuck it ain't no looking back bitch now take a look at that/ 

(Hook)
These days fly by we waiting on the hands of time/ to call our number so we kick it sitting bent reclined/ trapped in a state of mind, define by the bishops eye/ we pawns to the world lost... With no sense of time/...
These days fly by we waiting on the hands of time/ to call our number so we kick it sitting bent reclined/ trapped in a state of mind, define by the bishops eye/ we pawns to the world lost... Simply undefined/


Simply Undefined (Single)

I wrote this for my father some time after he died. I never wound up finishing it, but decided it would be worth a shot just putting it out there. As far as I am aware, no one besides me has ever heard it. I had pretty much stopped playing music for months, maybe close to 1.5 years, because of how hard and frustrating it was trying translate anything I was feeling into music. I'm fairly pleased with how this came out. It kind of speaks for itself. I still have a hard time listening to this. I know the second half of it is "hard to listen to" but it was intentional.

This track uses a variation on a riff I have used in the past, usually when I need to express some form of loss.

This Is Planet What 1

wokeupinapanic