‘Forgotten & Rediscovered’
by Zoolon

At last I’ve got all my Zoolon Audio albums out there for streaming on Spotify and iTunes – no cost to the listener.

Here is my instrumental album ‘The Forgotten Daughter of Zeus’ in its entirety on Spotify. It’s mixed genre and I like to think, relaxing. ‘Listen while you work’ type music. If you are looking for the iTunes equivalent then just type in ‘Zoolon Audio’ and stream.

All my albums are still available for download purchase on BANDCAMP

If you do enjoy the music, a ‘follow’ on Spotify would be most appreciated.

G4 (B&W)

Copyright © 2019 Zoolon Audio.  All rights reserved.  Unauthorised copying, reproduction, hiring, lending, public performance and broadcasting prohibited.


mari13 (2)‘Weird but Harmless’

‘The more things change, the more they stay the same’ – A French expression

On a sunny Saturday the white bloke wearing khaki shorts, a Disney ‘Lion King’ t-shirt and a battered tin hat carrying a rifle shot a pregnant lioness. Chuffed with himself he had his wife take a photo of him standing over the furry corpse. Come Sunday morning he went to church to thank his god for his good fortune. He got on well with his god although even he had to admit it was generally a one-way conversation.

Come Monday he carried the furry corpse off to the taxidermist to have it stuffed. The taxidermist was up for the gig but pointed out that inside the body of the furry corpse there were three unborn lion cubs. Two females; one male. The taxidermist asked the bloke still wearing khaki shorts, a Disney ‘Lion King’ t-shirt and a battered tin hat but no longer carrying a rifle if he wanted the embryos stuffed as well. The bloke who shot the lioness said, “No thanks. I think that’s disgusting.” The taxidermist just shrugged and got on with his work.

On the Tuesday, the lioness and the ‘cubs that never were’ killer got a phone call on his landline from a midwife who worked in the hospital down town. She told him that his daughter was about to give birth to triplets. Two girls and a boy.

Rather than take the shower he needed he changed out of his Disney ‘Lion King’ t-shirt because it was chucking up a bit into his Disney ‘Beauty & The Beast’ (remake design) t-shirt but kept the rest on, even the battered tin hat. He left his rifle locked up safe in the cupboard and drove off to the hospital.

When he got there he was introduced to his new grandchildren, Eric, Derek and Moonbeam. He wasn’t sure about the name ‘Moonbeam’ but kept his mouth shut. After telling his daughter he was chuffed to be a grandad he showed her the pic of him with the dead lioness. The daughter told him he must be sick in the head.

By Wednesday he was down in the dumps about falling out with his daughter. She’d also told him to get out of her and her kids’ lives. Finding that hard to take he went back home thinking he’d have a private chat with his god. His god must have been busy that day.

His wife asked him if it were possible would he bring the lioness and her three unborn cubs back to life if it meant getting along with his daughter again. He said ‘Yes, I’d never shoot a lion again. If that was possible I’d shoot Elephants instead’.

His wife left him on the Thursday. By Friday, to help get back into the hunting zone, he’d shot the taxidermist dead, just prior to doing what he saw as the honourable thing.  He got himself a Disney original ‘Dumbo the Elephant’ t-shirt.

This post was prompted by a thing I saw on the news last week about some idiot Englishman who called himself a conservationist who thought it great to get over the South Africa and get photographed with lion he’d just murdered.

While on the subject of weirdness here’s probably the weirdest song I’ve ever written. It hasn’t had an outing for ages, so here it is. I hope you enjoy;

derek owl (2)‘I Like Birds’ – An Eels song title

I like birds as well. In Australia they discovered the 19 million year old fossil of a giant parrot that stood over one metre tall. That got me wondering how tall pirates must have been back in the day as they generally have a parrot on their shoulder. Anyway, here’s the song ‘I Like Birds’ from Eels;

Copyright © 2015 – 2019 Zoolon Audio.  All rights reserved.  Unauthorised copying, reproduction, hiring, lending, public performance and broadcasting prohibited.


france24 2019 (5)‘Class Graffiti’

Coming home from Canterbury the other day I saw a squished magpie in the road. Dead obviously. Magpies mate for life. The magpies partner was hanging around confused, flying this way and that, sometimes landing nearby, not convinced his or her partner was dead. I’m guessing the squished one was feeding on carrion because that’s what they do, when it got run over. It looks like the partner will have to feed this year’s clutch in their nest somewhere. Tragic.

Anyway, first some music, my song ‘Rainbows End’. As far as I’m concerned France is a place I’ll always be attracted to however this stupid Brexit pans out. To me it’s a rainbows end. The French do art and passion better than most. This world needs more of that.

Here’s some more pics of things that caught my eye the other week when I was over there. I hope you like.

france32 2019 (2)‘House in the Middle of Nowhere’

france13 2019 (3)‘Art for Art’s Sake’

DSC07781 (2)‘Don’t Look Down’

france28 2019 (3)‘An Exhibit in the Holocaust section of the History Centre of La Couple in Wizernes’ –Heart breaking.

Here’s the link to all my published music;

Copyright © 2017 – 2019 Zoolon Audio.  All rights reserved.  Unauthorised copying, reproduction, hiring, lending, public performance and broadcasting prohibited.




cleopatra 1658 guido cagnacci‘The Death of Cleopatra’ by Guido Cagnacci – 1658

The air was still. The day was cold and bleak. From the chimney stack, all along either side of the rooftop there was a static murmuration of starlings looking a bit worried. I gave up counting when I got to sixty.

In town, what’s left of the roof of what was once a posh hotel until it got burnt out years ago, maybe the same number of pigeons, maybe more. I had to look up the collective noun for pigeons. I wish I hadn’t because they’ve got loads. None of them very imaginative. Then again, pigeons don’t major in creativity. I settled for just the two. A bunch of pigeons flying is a ‘flight’; a bunch of pigeons hanging out together is called a ‘flock’. Why double up?

There’s a reason for everything that happens. In the case of the murmuration of static starlings and the flock of pigeons hanging out doing nothing much except looking worried, it was because the sky immediately above the rooftops was a sea mist so dense the sun had got bored and given up on trying to burn it off.

Seagulls? None to be seen anywhere. I guessed they’d all flown across The Channel to France where the skies were blue. Good thinking.

Later, in the music shop, the owner didn’t leave me in peace when I was road-testing a guitar. He kept talking on and on and on. I kept trying to play the guitar. I lost the will when he said apropos nothing that he could restring a guitar blindfolded. I gave up on road-testing his guitars.

On the way out of the shop his wife at the till where I wasn’t spending any money called me over and told me that her husband was a liar and couldn’t restring a guitar blindfolded. I’d already guessed that. Only a genius could do that.

Outside I got to thinking why do blindfolds exist when anyone, if they really wanted to, could just shut their eyes and get the same effect. It gets annoying when people put things inside my head that I didn’t want to know in the first place.

Back home instead of starting work I had to check out on Google exactly why blindfolds exist. What I learnt was that they’re used as sleep masks; when playing ‘pin the tail on the donkey’; kidnapping victims; executions, sex games and some other odd things. I wish I hadn’t checked it out as all those things could be achieved by just closing your eyes and I knew that in the first place. Another ten minutes of my life I won’t get back.

Time for some music. A new composition. The first time I’ve created music using my new Fender Vintage American Telecaster. It’s called ‘Goodnight Cleopatra’. I can only compose guitar genre instrumental stuff when I have a picture in my head. On this occasion it was Cleo around the time she let a poisonous asp have a bite of her to end it all. I tried to reflect in music what would have been her mindset variations at the time. I’m liking the build. I hope you enjoy;

Below, my albums for sale at Bandcamp;

Copyright © 2018 Zoolon Audio.  All rights reserved.  Unauthorised copying, reproduction, hiring, lending, public performance and broadcasting prohibited.


magpie sized

A Magpie’s Loss

I never got to see the event, I just got told about it.

There’s a single storey extension at the back of the house. It has a flat roof. On the flat roof there’s a bird bath kept full of water so that any number of bird species can drop by, have a drink and take a bath. It’s had tons of birds visit this seriously hot summer, from neat little bullfinches to giant ‘in your face’ seagulls and, my favourites, the sparrows – loads of sparrows.

What happened was that a magpie set on having a drink got his/her calculations all wrong making the approach, attempting to touchdown on the bird bath.  In doing so he/she just before crash landing dropped the ‘thing’ he/she had in his/her beak; a ‘thing’ that glinted in the sunlight. It was found in the guttering next to the birdbath. I took a photograph – it was a tiny, soft alloy butterfly. How special is that? I just wished I’d seen it all happen.

shadow sized1

The Evening Witch’s Shadow

The self-same day, the evening sun blazing through the window onto an original painting on the wall (background art by Dave Cooper, Artist of Dover) the mysterious witch’s shadow appeared again, only a smaller version than the shot I posted a few weeks back. I guess the sun is lower in the sky since then.

Whatever, her shadow put in another appearance. That was not all on the ‘shadow’ front. I took a couple more photos of mystery shadows; shadows that are hard to pin a name to;

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Shadow in Incognito Mode


The Private Life of a Shadow

I’ve always been fascinated by shadows. Maybe that’s because I sometimes get called The Pan because I refuse to grow up. The Pan was into his shadows as well. I’ve even written songs about them. Here’s a couple of those songs. First ‘In Praise of Shadows’ from my ‘Dream Rescuer’ album, following that, ‘Just a Shadow on a Wall’, an older number of mine. Hope you like them;

My new EP, plus my albums are on sale at Bandcamp via the below;

Copyright © 2016/2018 Zoolon Audio.  All rights reserved.  Unauthorised copying, reproduction, hiring, lending, public performance and broadcasting prohibited.


cloud‘Magic Glue’ by Zoolon

I made quick pen and paper notes while I was in Belgium, hoping I could read back what I wrote. My handwriting is useless. The photo above I took from ground level in a wild garden in a town called Braine Le Chateau. Here’s a few of the random words I wrote down, unedited, just as they arrived in my head. I’m a songwriter, I’ve never claimed to be a poet or a regular writer.

The sky isn’t angry, it’s in love with itself. A new arrival. Humidity. Air so sticky. A fat bellied storm full of whiskers, waves and wonders.

Sunshine clouds and blue skies mating. Sweating. Together they don’t care who’s watching.

Old man’s beard on flint. Bonfire sparks morph into angry bolts, split trees in two, get pissed off with rubber soled shoes spoiling the show. Blinding light wants to be blind darkness. Then it blinks. Eyes shut easy. Succeeds, then vanishes. Safety. What they call blue still looks yellow to me.

In a hollowed out trunk of a dying willow tree the blue tits go feed from an unwritten menu of titchy insects. The dragonflies leave all well alone aside from other dragonflies. Territorial dogfights. Winner takes all.

Baby black moorhens paddle in the reeds in hidden corners of the lake. Safe? No water rats. A heron glides above. Doesn’t need binoculars. Just checking things out. For now.

Sound Art is a choir of multicultural birds jamming. They make it up as they go along. Sing whatever they fancy on the day. Best free dawn to dusk gig in town.

The forest of pine silhouettes blankets dead earth in nowhere land. I’m not lost, but feel lost there. The garden has its own secret history. Tries to share with me, but we’re on different wavelengths. There’s something dark about the decades empty stables. No idea why.

Mushrooms and magic until they come to mow the grass. A crime against something? Buttercups, most likely. Maybe daisies, but I don’t think they’re that bothered.

Outside the big black gates a two way lane no wider than an obese human. No place for a fast getaway. Not safe to put your foot down.

I saw my first eagle today.

In the big garden of that place I felt like it knew the meaning of magic. I wonder if I’ll ever get a lyric out of that.

For some unaccountable, maybe easily understood thinking about it, reason, the garden reminded me of a lyric from my song on the Dream Rescuer album, ‘Rexie Believes in Magic’. Time for a reprise. I hope you like it;

Lastly, the magical Aurora from Norway and her take on Bowie’s ‘Life on Mars’.

Apart from the Bowie number, Copyright ©2017 Zoolon Audio.  All rights reserved.  Unauthorized copying, reproduction, hiring, lending, public performance and broadcasting prohibited.



‘Tracey the Seagull’ by Zoolon

I met Tracey last week when I was crossing the Channel from Dover to Calais on the way to Dunkirk. When she posed for this photo I had no idea just what a freeloader seagull she was. After the photoshoot, outward bound, just outside of Dover Harbour, Tracey had a bit of a think then had a casual catwalk glide across to the sunny side of the ship and found a spot on the deck rail out of the way of, but still in sight of, human passengers on board. It was there she got herself sat down comfortably and didn’t move a muscle, taking in the rays, until we reached the Port of Calais where she joined Francois the Gull and his pals on a croissant hunt. What a life.

Anyway, I think a memory stick found in a drawer is the modern-day version of dusty old suitcase found in an attic. You take a look inside and find stuff you’d totally forgotten about. I found this, a thing I wrote in 2013 when I was living in a house close to a pebble beach in a road called Canada Road. I forgot I’d ever written it.


It’s a shame there’s no trees down on Canada Road

Got no autumn leaves down on Canada Road

You’ll hear the ghosts of Marines, in their infantry greens

Marching to a band down on Canada Road


A young mum pushes a pram down on Canada Road

Her mobile glued to her ear down on Canada Road

The bloke up the ladder, he couldn’t look sadder

Clearing out guttering’s on Canada Road


On Canada Road I see an old man

Outside the chemists, some pills in his hand

He’s swearing at a biker, he thinks Arsenal need a new striker

Down on Canada Road


You can’t be invisible down on Canada Road

Eyes peek from behind curtains on Canada Road

Sally Army and Mormons and some pissed up morons

Doing their thing down on Canada Road


Get salty storms down on Canada Road

You can’t beat the sea breeze down on Canada Road

Except when it blows from the East, it’s one mother of a beast

They say Julius Caesar invaded England down Canada Road


I’m down on my knees down on Canada Road

There’s just you and me down on Canada Road

And some blokes digging holes, stuffing ham and cheese rolls

Repairing a gas leak down Canada Road


It’s a shame there’s no trees down on Canada Road

Got no autumn leaves down on Canada Road


Time for some music. ‘Silent Films’ from my Rainbows End album. Hope you enjoy;

To liven things up a bit, here’s Marina & The Diamonds and their song, ‘Hollywood’. I understand she’s in the studio recording a new album right now.

My albums on sale at Bandcamp;

Apart from Marina – Copyright © 2017 Zoolon Audio.  All rights reserved.  Unauthorized copying, reproduction, hiring, lending, public performance and broadcasting prohibited.




Brian, ‘The Don of The Sparrow Mafia’ wasn’t there at first. There were twenty or so of his mob flying from table to table trying to nick a few crumbs here and there, that’s all. Then, when he eventually showed up, all the other bloke sparrows did a runner and as ever his harem of girl sparrows took to the bushes and watched his every move.

As you can see from the picture Brian let me take his portrait. Nice touch, I thought. I seem to be getting on well with Brian. He didn’t even mind that I wasn’t sharing my croissant with him (I did leave him the crumbs when I left).

The thing was a rich looking well-padded Italian lady (she sounded Italian), not ‘old, old’ but certainly not young, wearing expensive sunglasses, smothered in jewellery and lipstick, was watching me take the picture and she asked what I was doing. The inside of my head answered, “Baking a cake, what does it look like I’m doing?” Being polite, I just pointed at the camera, then pointed at Brian. I whispered to Brian, “We don’t like her” and Brian nodded back.

She took a sip from a glass of what probably wasn’t diet lemonade, then she said, “You look so very, very worried.” My team, The Arsenal were playing Manchester City a bit later in the afternoon and I was worried they might lose again. It must have showed. Anyway, I replied, “I’m worried about Man City.” She replied, “MAN City, sounds like pure heaven to me, darling boy.” Scary stuff. Also, the way she emphasised the word, ‘MAN’ sounded predatory.  After that she gave me what I can only describe as a ‘knowing wink’ asking if I minded her moving across to my table.   That’s when I decided to escape.

Driving home I had the random thought that I should have said, ‘Manchester City’, not its commonly used shortened form ‘Man’ City, grateful that I’d avoided the old bird’s clutches.

This post is an update on the previous ‘Brian the Sparrow’ post;

Time for a piece of music. Hope you enjoy.

If you fancy a visit, the Zoolon Audio website it is at




Copyright © 2016 Zoolon Audio.  All rights reserved.  Unauthorised copying, reproduction, hiring, lending, public performance and broadcasting prohibited.



sparrow (2)


I first met Brian the Sparrow about a month ago. Spring was beginning to happen. The day was just about warm, so I was sat outside having a breakfast of hot chocolate and a croissant. When I’d finished   eating I left a few croissant crumbs on my plate. It was at that point a bold Brain landed and ate my leftovers. He didn’t seem bothered that I was sat only a couple of feet away.

I’ve met him a few times since. He has much darker neck feathers than his mates, so he is easy to recognise. Also, he seems to be the alpha sparrow; the Don of the local sparrow mafia. Brian himself has his own prime location, living in the posh bit of the hedgerow on the harbour side.  For what it’s worth Brian has a harem of lady sparrows following him about wherever he goes, all tweeting ‘we love Brian’ sort of tweets. Thinking about it, Brian’s living the dream.

The photo above is of Brian’s butt. I’ll explain. Before he landed on my table the other day, he was sat on the wall and his girlfriends were all sat in the bush besides the wall next to him. Brian had a look at the girl’s, then a look at me, but fell foul of making an assumption. What happened was that he saw me and guessed I was having my usual croissant. He guessed wrong.  The second he landed he realized there was nothing for him to eat. So, he turned his back just as I was taking a photo of him and then flew back to his girls. The net result was that all I got in the pic was a view of Brian’s butt just before he flew away.

We met again this morning. Brian doesn’t seem to hold any grudge against me.


Since being a little kid, we, that is my parents and me have used the Eurotunnel service that takes you into Calais in France. From there you can drive off to any place you like in Europe. The thing is there’s a sign at that check-in saying that if there’s a ferret in the car it must be declared. Why? Or better put, why single out the ferret from the entire global animal population? A few weeks back, having spent years asking Eurotunnel staff what this ferret thing was all about, I found out. An older lady on the check-in that day said ‘ferrets must have special passports’. That caused me to have a few random thoughts.

  1. How does a ferret fill in the form to apply for a passport?
  2. Does the average ferret’s passport photo look to be the worst photo ever – as it is with human passport photos?
  3. Where does a ferret get the £72.50 it costs to get a regular passport, let alone a special one?
  4. When I asked the lady if weasels and stoats, both animals much like a ferret, needed passports and she answered as far as she knew, ‘No, they didn’t’. Discrimination against ferrets? I think so.

Odd and confusing. I pity ferrets wanting to holiday abroad suffering discrimination. Although as far as Brian the Sparrow is concerned, he could just fly across The Channel and land wherever he wanted to in France, never having to worry about a passport. I wonder if the mademoiselle sparrows would take to him? Probably a ‘yes’ to that one.


Lastly, terminal boredom. I like football but right now my main team The Arsenal keep losing as do my other favourite team Gillingham. A mate and I went to watch Gillingham play on Saturday. The photos below are highlights from probably the worst game of football I’ve ever seen – we lost 1-0, the goal coming just 1 minute from full time. You’ll note that the only interesting part of the game was at half-time when they watered the pitch.

gills2 (2)

gills9 (3)

The final photo, also taken at half-time when most of the other spectators were off buying a half-time pie, is of me terminally bored out of my brains.

gills7 (2)

It doesn’t take much for me to get bored.

If there are any musicians or sound artists out there looking for inspiration for new compositions, then visit where we sell a range of varied sample packs all made ‘in house’ and produced by Zoolon. We even offer a reward scheme for regular customers, plus a free taster download, in order that you can try before you buy.

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