It was a few strange April days in our little town of Bad Münder. The sky was low and completely filled (with clouds?), and a yellowish light spread as if from below, and from everywhere. Irene had said at the time that it must have been the wind…
It was a few strange April days in our little town of Bad Münder. The sky was low and completely filled (with clouds?), and a yellowish light spread as if from below, and from everywhere. Irene had said at the time that it must have been the wind…
...and suddenly I realise it's Christmas Eve, and it's The Day Before. Years have passed and you don't expect anything special for a long time, and at least in Lower Saxony there is no snow, at all. But the magic of the childhood is still there…
...and suddenly I realise it's Christmas Eve, and it's The Day Before. Years have passed and you don't expect anything special for a long time, and at least in Lower Saxony there is no snow, at all. But the magic of the childhood is still there…
I write letters, but I don't send them and they go unanswered. I take them out and rewrite them, picking up the words and clarifying the meanings. I wait in hope that a reply will come someday.
I continue the conversation when it's long over…
Someday there will come a time when there will be no Monday. And there will be no need to remember about work or to follow the schedules. For some, it is temporary, for someone forever.
For Anton
06.06.2021
Robert Frost - On Looking Up…
Lebenslinie (Life Line)
Life, if you look back at your own one, or at the stories of others, often seems to be presented as an ornate line. This line is trying to branch out, but since a person is indivisible, that lifeline is always one, but…
Unless of course your life is out of control and the path spirals ending the center of the island after circling for the same answer again and again and never finding it
I write letters, but I don't send them and they go unanswered. I take them out and rewrite them, picking up the words and clarifying the meanings. I wait in hope that a reply will come someday.
I continue the conversation when it's long over…
I write letters, but I don't send them and they go unanswered. I take them out and rewrite them, picking up the words and clarifying the meanings. I wait in hope that a reply will come someday.
I continue the conversation when it's long over…
I write letters, but I don't send them and they go unanswered. I take them out and rewrite them, picking up the words and clarifying the meanings. I wait in hope that a reply will come someday.
I continue the conversation when it's long over…
I write letters, but I don't send them and they go unanswered. I take them out and rewrite them, picking up the words and clarifying the meanings. I wait in hope that a reply will come someday.
I continue the conversation when it's long over…
I write letters, but I don't send them and they go unanswered. I take them out and rewrite them, picking up the words and clarifying the meanings. I wait in hope that a reply will come someday.
I continue the conversation when it's long over…
Someday there will come a time when there will be no Monday. And there will be no need to remember about work or to follow the schedules. For some, it is temporary, for someone forever.
For Anton
06.06.2021
Robert Frost - On Looking Up…
Whistling a tune, I walk up to the house and meet a cat on the doorstep. We are going to have supper, and at this time a blizzard begins. April.
05.04.2021, live recording.
Whistling a tune, I walk up to the house and meet a cat on the doorstep. We are going to have supper, and at this time a blizzard begins. April.
05.04.2021, live recording.
Goldfishes tell fairy tales to each other, slowly moving their tails and fins as if moving the air with their Chinese fans. They do not mind that we listen to these stories too. After all, everything is in there: simple joys, and emotional experiences…
This is not the same ponderous endless time being that was mentioned by someone, somewhere. But rather I touch the water lightly and expecting the circles to disappear. And again.
This is not the same ponderous endless time being that was mentioned by someone, somewhere. But rather I touch the water lightly and expecting the circles to disappear. And again.
As you age, as you improve your speaking skills and gain experience, you try to speak to others more accurately and concisely. And immediately you are faced with the problem that you have nothing to say, or with the fact that most of what is said…
Midday field. I watch the lark, which serenely rises in circles up to dissolve there, forever. He sees no danger around. Why [should] I care?
---
I recall that in childhood we all watch adventure films (or performances), and here the children…
Actor: me too, Trev. There is definitely a difference in roles since childhood, but how it affects us humans is not known. Creators and users? Listeners and performers? Probably deeper. Not worse, just deeper. I wonder of how it will be for AI 👀
Reg is back on the drink there was no escaping it. He found out that Desirea was not what he thought she was, she had been telling him lies and his hopes were dashed again.............. theres a little mess up on the Xylophone but what can you…
~too many lies can not exist - there are only many hopes we describes as unfulfilled, dashed, ruined... Depends on hopeless person who hoped~
...he's been drinking, he was drunk, hopes were dashed. The story, again. P.S. I think I'll drink too, you know. Ehh...
This is a piece written for 37signals, made to accompany a [fun video they did on Letterpress printing](http://37signals.com/svn/posts/2795-a-letterpressed-thank-you)
The track is best listened to in context of the video, since it's scored…
This is a piece written for 37signals, made to accompany a [fun video they did on Letterpress printing](http://37signals.com/svn/posts/2795-a-letterpressed-thank-you)
The track is best listened to in context of the video, since it's scored…
An art piano piece inspired by poem Kontrapunkti (Counterpoint) by the Finnish poet and author Eeva-Liisa Manner who was a frontline figure in the Finnish post-WWII modernism. You can find an English translation of the poem here: http://nordicvoicesinprint…
~Bless the Beasts & Children~
Shades of feeling. How do I transfer them to the music unless only I can is to roar as the buffalo? Overload from top, firmament from below. Play one note. Then another, then a third. Then overdrive them, all…
Reg has decided to write this song about an English serial killer known as the Crossbow killer to make those young trusting women well aware that some men are not always what they seem ................. as in the case of Stephen Griffiths who…
Written & Recorded: Feb 26, 2011
GADGAD Capo III, DADGAD Capo III
This is probably my last track for this year's RPM Challenge (leaving it incomplete for 2011). I'm kind of worn out and not feeling super inspired this year and I sort of…
~Bless the Beasts & Children~
Shades of feeling. How do I transfer them to the music unless only I can is to roar as the buffalo? Overload from top, firmament from below. Play one note. Then another, then a third. Then overdrive them, all…
Reg has got a little soppy since he met his new girl, the widow Desirea. His pretty sure she's the one but the old fears keep rising. He knows he has to put the past behind him if any relationship is ever going to stand a chance of working…
Aw, we tried to make this a bit more pro, but sometimes the really fun moments in life are fleeting. So here it is warts and all. But don't mind that - just get out onto the dance floor with Reg! It's ok: he's up to date on his shots.
When…
Written & Recorded: Feb 26, 2011
GADGAD Capo III, DADGAD Capo III
This is probably my last track for this year's RPM Challenge (leaving it incomplete for 2011). I'm kind of worn out and not feeling super inspired this year and I sort of…
Reg has decided that he doesn't want hurting again so he has decided to be up front about what he wants.................. Love me for who I am........
Love me, Love me, for who I am
Love me, take me for what I am…
~By Mother Goose~
In fact, the only thing that each of us wants to hear is that we're loved, always. Loved no matter what we are and what we do. It's in us from childhood (though someone will say - from God). Or from mother nature.
Reg has decided that he doesn't want hurting again so he has decided to be up front about what he wants.................. Love me for who I am........
Love me, Love me, for who I am
Love me, take me for what I am…
A lot of different types of people get down the cellar since Elvis moved in and Reg has been taking notice.........
A BLUE BLOODED JUNKIE
................................................
A Blue blooded junkie has the time of his life…
Comments on igor's stuff
very excellent work! Thank you for sharing!
Just beautiful as always
Merry Christmas be sure to go to bed early
Simply gorgeous! Thank you! Wishing a warm and lovely Christmas to you and yours.
So that’s who wrote the letter I didn’t receive I sent a telegram but forgot to write the message
Beautifully played expected like the rising sun
Unless of course your life is out of control and the path spirals ending the center of the island after circling for the same answer again and again and never finding it
I agree with the hauntingly beautiful …….you must be a ghost
Beautiful piece. A melancholy feeling.
Nicely done. Lots of emotion in your playing.
Just fabulous - stunning!
hauntingly beautiful... what a poignant and terribly sad concept you pose in the description...
Wow. Delightful. Conjures many images in my head.
To some snow cements that winter is here to stay To others a sign spring is on its way
Very nice! You kept that opening chord progression peppered throughout. Well crafted and dreamy!
Beautiful
indeed beautiful!
I could listen to this gorgeous music all day
beautiful
Actor: me too, Trev. There is definitely a difference in roles since childhood, but how it affects us humans is not known. Creators and users? Listeners and performers? Probably deeper. Not worse, just deeper. I wonder of how it will be for AI 👀
Comments made by igor
~low~
~we're missed, we'll being missed~
~too many lies can not exist - there are only many hopes we describes as unfulfilled, dashed, ruined... Depends on hopeless person who hoped~ ...he's been drinking, he was drunk, hopes were dashed. The story, again. P.S. I think I'll drink too, you know. Ehh...
...I meant I like it :-)
~pretzel music~
~addio piccola mia~
~dead drops of Mozart~
...the break at about 3 min is a break before taking the new weight, you know? :-)
Telegraph & Argus/Bradford: "Be always, be on guard".
~Dark Sun~ It has a very different feeling, with or without darkness, you know?
La démarche irrésistible de l'irréversibilité
just play it loud, dude mine
~will follow the light~
~swansong~
~You Will Meet a Tall Dark Jonnie~
Hard Dance Reg as we know him. Yeah..!
First class.
~By Mother Goose~ In fact, the only thing that each of us wants to hear is that we're loved, always. Loved no matter what we are and what we do. It's in us from childhood (though someone will say - from God). Or from mother nature.
~hopeless..?~ Crowd from the outside, it sounds louder. The same. Again. It comes and comes. Talks didn't helps. We saw, we saw...
Tiger Lilies, in bloom. Sign of Spring ...or a Fall....