Sometimes I can hear a song that's meant to be played with.
[[What do you mean played with?]]My old roommate VJ got me back into making music. Playing around with tracks on my computer, making new ones and modifying preexisting tracks.
Sometimes I get jealous when people make things that are better then what I can do.
When I can
play with them,
change them,
hold their hand,
that feeling of jealousness goes away.
[[Ok! lets contribute, lets compost!]]
The track that were going to be playing with today is PianoVerb (work in progress) by Joe Kvasnicka.
Its a couple bars, a line, of piano notes and chords.
[[Soo... how are we going to play with it?]]There are plenty of options... lets try...
[[Reverb]]
[[Chorus]]
[[Grain Delay]]
[[All Three]]
[[Beat Repeat]]
[[Tube Amp]]
i feel like i'm in a church basement
or maybe in the main room.
maybe in the kitchen area
<blockquote>
here i meet the spirit in old white walls,
</blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
their blank coldness contrasted with the warm faces of those in attendance.
</blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
those who put the celebrate in a celebration of life.
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote> <blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
Those who are getting older too, those who i may not see the next time
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
only on boards of thumbtacked kodaks
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
they shake my hand and warmly wrap me in hugs
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
hugs that only have an impact years later.
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
They look healthy i think.
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote>
three years later i'll get a suprised look and just a warm handshake
<blockquote>
one second uncle exiting a play.
</blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
The second half of they, lost to some unspoken illness.
</blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
without someone to mourn
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
we are without words
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
without a sprit between us
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
binding our bodies together in embrace.
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote>
i miss my grandma
<blockquote>
the house i used to live in every thursday after school
</blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
and all day at before there was school
</blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
where i told her that i was never going to learn how to read
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
that i didn’t need it anyway.
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
where sometimes i was a bit of a brat
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
but i really loved here
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
(the here from back then)
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
But i really loved her
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote>
i wish i had her records, the things she liked.
<blockquote>
i have so many questions for her now
</blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
so many that i didn’t know then.
</blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
god i miss her
</blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
and her soft fleshy hugs
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
The ones that hit you right now (then).
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote>
I know that I'll have so many questions for my parents too
<blockquote>
the ones i don’t know now
</blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
the ones i'll miss
</blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
i want to have kids when i'm ready.
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
when i'm sure i have enough time and money
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
but i want them soon enough to meet my parents
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
soon enough-
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
to generate their own questions.
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote>
<iframe width="100%" height="200" scrolling="no" frameborder="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/232745780%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-yR6O2&auto_play=true&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&visual=true"></iframe>
The first few days of elementary school.
Everything whirls past like a merry-go-round.
<blockquote>
Like the one I used to go to in Tilden park
</blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
with the rings dangling up high.
</blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
Wooden tigers and rhinos and sleighs.
</blockquote></blockquote>
Where you could go in the wintertime and pick out an ornament,
<blockquote>
or get stuck between picking three.
</blockquote>
When my dad got a //cool cat// ornament
<blockquote>
a tomcat with leather jacket and shades.
</blockquote>
One that reminded him of his father, and now reminds me of mine.
<blockquote>
Sometimes we almost got too lazy to dress up the tree.
</blockquote><blockquote>
One time we even got a tiny one
</blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
marveling at its simplicity
</blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
// why hadn’t we done this sooner// we laugh.
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote>
It fits easily into the back seat of our four door Toyota Camry.
<iframe width="100%" height="200" scrolling="no" frameborder="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/232745781%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-V6kI4&color=ff5500&auto_play=true&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false"></iframe>
Eventually we wore that tape to death.
<blockquote>
The Loggins & Messina tape you had in Buicks number 1 through 4.
</blockquote>
I would try to skip over the instrumental parts
<blockquote>
not realizing that the tape was flipped.
</blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
I would accidentally stretch out those parts forever
</blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
Fast forwarding a reversed tape
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
The parts that I'm pretty sure you like the most
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
//man the part without the singing are really long// I complained.
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote>
Driving me to sports practices that I didn't really like that much.
<blockquote>
but the moments in the car
</blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
I didn’t realize that they were the important ones.
</blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
I've said a lot of light things
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
and a lot of heavy things in those cars
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
but sinking into their cushion seats
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
the suspension didn’t seem to mind.
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote>
<iframe width="100%" height="200" scrolling="no" frameborder="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/232745777%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-NgLGF&color=ff5500&auto_play=true&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false"></iframe>Things are just all mashed together.
<blockquote><blockquote>
things that dont align
</blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
things dont allign
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote>
Things that loop forever
A little bit off kilter, a few millisecents behind.
<blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
out of sync
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote>
The meloncoly warmth of your mind filling in the gaps and making up for the bent pitch.
<blockquote><blockquote>
Distorting it back into half tuning.
</blockquote></blockquote>
<iframe width="100%" height="200" scrolling="no" frameborder="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/232745776%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-raphk&color=ff5500&auto_play=true&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false"></iframe>
I know that my memory will eventually go
<blockquote>
That all that furnishes my mind will break down
</blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
Into little bits of what they used to be.
</blockquote></blockquote>
Shreds of cloth
<blockquote>
stale sundried wood
</blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
sagging leather
</blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
the breeze of seconds and hours breezing them around my mind
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
there the same after all...
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote>
Someone might visit me
<blockquote>
sitting in my once favorite chair, now forgotten
</blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
I'll stare at their fresh face
</blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
still sharp in it softness
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
they will ask my questions, and I will show them my mindful rubble.
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
Their importance was unforgettable but not their form.
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
the melody half imagined, half recalled.
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote>
Nobody visited me today.
<iframe width="100%" height="200" scrolling="no" frameborder="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/232745771%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-UmDhq&color=ff5500&auto_play=true&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false"></iframe>Sometime I look at old guitar equipment
<blockquote>
the kind the lingers music store
</blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
Some one's wall to wall nostalgia
</blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
their youthful exuberance.
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote>
Feelings that I'll never understand
<blockquote>
Feelings that I'll neve pay five grand for.
</blockquote>
Someday my feelings will be like that
<blockquote>
Hanging on a wall
</blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
priced at a premium
</blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
until the day no one remembers it
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>
when no one can relive my exuberance.
</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote>
<iframe width="100%" height="200" scrolling="no" frameborder="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/232745770%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-TNreq&color=ff5500&auto_play=true&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false"></iframe>
[[You just got home]]
asdasd
<blockquote>Text</blockquote>i feel like i'm in a church basement
or maybe in the main room.
maybe in the kitchen area
here i meet the spirit in old white walls,
their blank coldness contrasted with the warm faces of those in attendance.
those who put the celebrate in a celebration of life.
Those who are getting older too, those who i may not see the next time
only on boards of thumbtacked kodaks
they shake my hand and warmly wrap me in hugs
hugs that only have an impact years later.
They look healthy i think.
three years later i'll get a suprised look and just a warm handshake
one second uncle exiting a play.
The second half of they, lost to some unspoken illness.
without someone to mourn
we are without words
without a sprit between us
binding our bodies together in embrace.
i miss my grandma
the house i used to live in every thursday after school
and all day at before there was school
where i told her that i was never going to learn how to read
that i didn’t need it anyway.
where sometimes i was a bit of a brat
but i really loved here
(the here from back then)
But i really loved her
i wish i had her records, the things she liked.
i have so many questions for her now
so many that i didn’t know then.
god i miss her
and her soft fleshy hugs
The ones that hit you right now (then).
I know that I'll have so many questions for my parents too
the ones i don’t know now
the ones i'll miss
i want to have kids when i'm ready.
when i'm sure i have enough time and money
but i want them soon enough to meet my parents
soon enough
to generate their own questions.
<iframe width="100%" height="200" scrolling="no" frameborder="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/232745780%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-yR6O2&auto_play=true&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&visual=true"></iframe>
Eventually we wore that tape to death.
The Loggins & Messina tape you had in Buicks number 1 through 4.
I would try to skip over the instrumental parts
not realizing that the tape was flipped.
I would accidentally stretch out those parts forever
Fast forwarding a reversed tape
The parts that I'm pretty sure you like the most
//man the part without the singing are really long// I complained.
Driving me to sports practices that I didn't really like that much.
but the moments in the car
I didn’t realize that they were the important ones.
I've said a lot of light things
and a lot of heavy things in those cars
but sinking into their cushion seats
the suspension didn’t seem to mind.
<iframe width="100%" height="200" scrolling="no" frameborder="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/232745777%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-NgLGF&color=ff5500&auto_play=true&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false"></iframe>The first few days of elementary school.
Everything whirls past like a merry-go-round.
Like the one I used to go to in Tilden park
with the rings dangling up high.
Wooden tigers and rhinos and sleighs.
Where you could go in the wintertime and pick out an ornament,
or get stuck between picking three
When my dad got a //cool cat// ornament
a tomcat with leather jacket and shades
One that reminded him of his father, and now reminds me of mine.
Sometimes we almost got too lazy to dress up the tree.
One time we even got a tiny one
marveling at its simplicity
// why hadn’t we done this sooner// we laugh.
It fits easily into the back seat of our four door Toyota Camry.
<iframe width="100%" height="200" scrolling="no" frameborder="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/232745781%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-V6kI4&color=ff5500&auto_play=true&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false"></iframe>
Things are just all mashed together.
things that dont align
things dont allign
Things that loop forever
A little bit off kilter, a few millisecents behind.
out of sync
The meloncoly warmth of your mind filling in the gaps and making up for the bent pitch.
Distorting it back into half tuning.
<iframe width="100%" height="200" scrolling="no" frameborder="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/232745776%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-raphk&color=ff5500&auto_play=true&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false"></iframe>
I know that my memory will eventually go
That all that furnishes my mind will break down
Into little bits of what they used to be.
Shreds of cloth
stale sundried wood
sagging leather
the breeze of seconds and hours breezing them around my mind
there the same after all...
Someone might visit me
sitting in my once favorite chair, now forgotten
I'll stare at their fresh face
still sharp in it softness
they will ask my questions, and I will show them my mindful rubble.
Their importance was unforgettable but not their form.
the melody half imagined, half recalled.
Nobody visited me today.
<iframe width="100%" height="200" scrolling="no" frameborder="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/232745771%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-UmDhq&color=ff5500&auto_play=true&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false"></iframe>Sometime I look at old guitar equipment
the kind the lingers music store
Some one's wall to wall nostalgia
their youthful exuberance.
Feelings that I'll never understand
Feelings that I'll neve pay five grand for.
Someday my feelings will be like that
Hanging on a wall
priced at a premium
until the day no one remembers it
when no one can relive my exuberance.
<iframe width="100%" height="200" scrolling="no" frameborder="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/232745770%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-TNreq&color=ff5500&auto_play=true&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false"></iframe>