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 👀
This is a synopsis of Reg's favourite movie put to music. Sorry about the length but what can you do, when you have a story to tell, you can't cut it short can you? This is one to download for the car to listen to on that boring journey or when…
Dry lines of newspaper reports that day, including:
Desirae Loy, also known as *Johnny's Girl*, said: I swear he don't trust me no more that or he is realy *jelouse*
my contribution/offering to this years RPM...Does it ever happen that angels or devils perhaps walk among us mortals here on our earth?? Winter Nacht is a 11 act dialogue between two travelers who meet in the winter twilight, on a road in the…
~and finally to fight~
Finally: the struggle of opposites, the conflict between light and darkness, inconsistencies of beginning and end. Type of music: the Messiah. Or what we understand as it is.
Assured of that morning has already come, the person, hardly having risen, has approached to a window. "Here you are, my old friend Madness" - he thought, and stepped forward. The wall did not succumb, though. The windows were not.
~no way out~
This is a bootleg tape of Reg's last music therapy session from when he was in prison prior to his release. It was acquired from his psychiatrist for fee......................
The path to liberation - is a fraud, and he, of course, well aware of this when paying for the record [that you could get for free]. in fact, that money was for...
1st voice: how, he still reads newspapers?
2nd voice, answers: probably yes ...
1st voice bewilderment: why does he do it?
Third voice (presumably female): he thinks it it the way to join the world.
1st voice, thoughtfully: Yeah ... How much he still must go to ...
~communication breakdown~
Title song from this years RPM Challenge.
Lyrics:
Shot dead
is what I felt when I first looked into your eyes
Shot dead
Is what I became, I tell you that ain't no lie
My head
it just exploded when I saw that way that you dance
Off…
Reworked the vocals a bit (quite a bit). And yet again! And now, Gumbo Stu is singing backup bits. Thanks for the vocals Gumbo, a very welcome addition!
And, as requested, here are the lyrics:
I'm Not Afraid
You can blow me up
You…
In response to a suggestion of Dr. Ozan Yarman I tried a tuning he created for a different project. I realized the composition using Garritan Personal Orchestra Baroque organs, Garritan World sample set Oud and Santoor samples performed on an…
During therapy Reg has had a break through thanks to another visitor to the cellar another friend of Elvis's Pavarotti .........then Reg thought the orchestra was too much so he sacked them and just left pianist to accompany the vocalist.......
~hardly way to see you~
I knew a guy who is very early married a girl with the same name as this song. They lived-lived, have "amassed" three sons, a bobcat and no treasures but friends. I don't be surprised if I find out that they live so far, and enjoy that The Man with the funny scarf sings a wonderful song about them. Miracle.
Was Reg daydreaming had Robert Plant really just come down the cellar bar to visit Elvis and sang while he played. He shook his head and resumed playing .....................
Reg has seriously got the blues and can't seem to leave the empty bar, there is just him and Elvis in there. The strange thing is that the tables and chairs are there, the bar and the stools but there is no booze behind the bar just empty glasses…
~immersed~
They all said: Do not go in blues so deep, don't. I did not listen and slid down, down. It was cool, was cool, then cold. And who remembers me now as someone who trudged from the sounds of Led Zep, eh?
This is like a mission for the Doom Patrol
I need a robot body for my brain
Miss Callas calls
the dopamine exhanges
the sound of down
And there is danger everywhere
the scissor men are coming
House of icons
Felt like cards
The brilliant…
This was one of several songs I recorded in a session on the night of my 29th birthday. I had decided to just start playing and see how many tunes I could write straight through without stopping. My only rule was that these tunes had to be totally…
~too heavy a burden~
... he'll never wake up, nor to fly off. He calls it the "blues-soul-comes-out". He still remains with us, the poor sinners. We, however, only do not know: to rejoice over it, or what? Yeah-h...
~that's true, baby, true~
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
~...he was just stutterer, Reggy~ I was here until the end and realized not all, of what was here. Why d-do they look at-t-t me, hmm? :-)
Dry lines of newspaper reports that day, including: Desirae Loy, also known as *Johnny's Girl*, said: I swear he don't trust me no more that or he is realy *jelouse*
~and finally to fight~ Finally: the struggle of opposites, the conflict between light and darkness, inconsistencies of beginning and end. Type of music: the Messiah. Or what we understand as it is.
Assured of that morning has already come, the person, hardly having risen, has approached to a window. "Here you are, my old friend Madness" - he thought, and stepped forward. The wall did not succumb, though. The windows were not. ~no way out~
How wonderful to hear this - the successor of real Apple/Parlophone sound/nature.
The path to liberation - is a fraud, and he, of course, well aware of this when paying for the record [that you could get for free]. in fact, that money was for...
1st voice: how, he still reads newspapers? 2nd voice, answers: probably yes ... 1st voice bewilderment: why does he do it? Third voice (presumably female): he thinks it it the way to join the world. 1st voice, thoughtfully: Yeah ... How much he still must go to ... ~communication breakdown~
~Angry Roller~
It makes me well. And brave.
~Dead.Can.Dance~
~visitor to the cellar of the soul that waits. Waits for the opera to come~
~hardly way to see you~ I knew a guy who is very early married a girl with the same name as this song. They lived-lived, have "amassed" three sons, a bobcat and no treasures but friends. I don't be surprised if I find out that they live so far, and enjoy that The Man with the funny scarf sings a wonderful song about them. Miracle.
~here is a Rush voice~
O!
...and resumed to sound to the now empty room, for the empty room...
~immersed~ They all said: Do not go in blues so deep, don't. I did not listen and slid down, down. It was cool, was cool, then cold. And who remembers me now as someone who trudged from the sounds of Led Zep, eh?
~and there was no danger~
~in a mellow tune~
~sweetheart of mine~
~too heavy a burden~ ... he'll never wake up, nor to fly off. He calls it the "blues-soul-comes-out". He still remains with us, the poor sinners. We, however, only do not know: to rejoice over it, or what? Yeah-h... ~that's true, baby, true~