Instrumental – George Blamey-Steeden

STARLESS MYSTERY

‘Drama’

Most everything we see becomes theatre
A wild sea the ocean’s one-night-only stage
Up above, storm clouds dancing to the gale’s orchestration
And on the shoreline it don’t need any seating to engage

An audience of strangers who never bought a ticket
This show, the dark clouds have put it on for free
Eyes wide open until the standing ovation
A curtain call for a starless mystery

‘Melodrama’

And I’m feeling alright come tonight, come the morning
And I’m feeling alright staring at a restless sky
And there’s never going to be a replay or brand new season
I’ll never know if the story was the truth or just a lie

Time for some music. A fierce number to match the dark sky. It’s called ‘One Man Band’. I hope you enjoy.

If you’re interested in my inexpensive PROMO VIDEOS FOR AUTHORS hit the link here or aim at the one at the top of this blog.

As ever, if any poets out there are interested in having their poems turned into songs then click here to check it out: POETRY TO SONG

If you are looking for all my other music then you’ll find it to download on BANDCAMP or you can stream and/or make a playlist of it on SPOTIFY

If you’re thinking about new t-shirts and similar for the summer, you might be interested in ZOOLON’S MERCHANDISE

THE SAD SONG SET YOU FREE

‘The Whole of The Moon’

Two pieces of music today. First my instrumental piece, ‘Summer Died on a Saturday’, then, after the words, a song called ‘Red Planet’. Both numbers were on my mind when writing these words. In-between each verse a few garden pics.

Places I’ve been yet never seen
And castles in the air
The shadows I knew are now but few
The landscape cold and bare

Summer died on a Saturday
Autumn died at birth
Spring fell in love with Winter
Grey clouds a poor disguise for Mother Earth

The last I heard of you, you left for Mars
It’s closer to The Sun
Closer to the source of life
The place where it all begun

I hope the Red Planet takes good care of you
I hope you might remember me
My guitar, my piano
And the night the sad song set you free

As ever, if any poets out there are interested in having your poems turned into songs then click here to check it out: POETRY TO SONG

If you are looking for all my other music then you’ll find it to download on BANDCAMP or you can stream and/or make a playlist of it on SPOTIFY

If you’re thinking about new t-shirts and similar for the summer, you might be interested in ZOOLON’S MERCHANDISE

DEVIL ON THE RUN

‘Covid-19 Art by Anasyasya Eliseeva via New Frame’

It’s not the sky that’s on fire
It’s humanity’s destiny
So stay locked in your prison cell
And let what will be – what will be

Don’t hide behind a miracle
Hide behind an old locked door
Say no to celebrations
Besides, you’ve seen them all before

Shit happens, we all know that
Shit happens every day
Let each day count for nothing
And remember not to pray

Pointless wishes, they’re a poor excuse
When the fragile have been led astray
Point the sufferers toward a better place
Let tomorrow best yesterday

Selfishness, the great divide
Now that’s kingdom’s come
Lie still, alone, in an open coffin
Laugh your head off – get the devil on the run

From my backing tracks on YouTube, a Bullish Grove for a bullish mood. An instrumental that also works as background music. I hope you enjoy.

As ever, if any poets out there are interested in having your poems turned into songs then click here to check it out: POETRY TO SONG

If you are looking for all my other music then you’ll find it to download on BANDCAMP or you can stream and/or make a playlist of it on SPOTIFY

If you’re thinking about new t-shirts and similar for the summer, you might be interested in ZOOLON’S MERCHANDISE

WHO’S THE VERMIN NOW?

The old man with a walking stick pointed it at the squirrels in the graveyard. He told the little kid walking with him that the squirrels were vermin. The kid said he liked them and wanted one as a pet. The old man answered, ‘No way’.

Ten years later, the old man with the walking stick now dead and buried, the same kid, now older, taller and on a skateboard, kick-flipping his way through the same graveyard saw a squirrel sat on his dead granddad’s headstone.

A girl with a camera was taking photos of the squirrel sat on the old man’s headstone. The kid, now older, taller and still on his skateboard, circling her, asked why she was taking pics of vermin. She never answered, just looked the kid up and down, then carried on taking shots.

Another ten years later, the world was coming to an end. The kid wasn’t a kid anymore. Now he was grown up and one of the few humans left alive following the apocalyptic asteroid crash. Seriously hungry, he broke into what was left of a farm, saw live chickens in a coop. Better still, he saw there were eggs to nick. That meant he’d not have to strangle the chickens. He didn’t fancy that. What he did do was to break in and start collecting eggs for himself.

Just as he was about to run off with a decent handful of eggs, the girl with the camera he’d met a decade earlier appeared out of nowhere. Like last time, she had a camera. But not like last time, she had a friendly little squirrel sat on her shoulder. ‘Snap’ – she took a photo of the thief. He asked her ‘Why? What’s the point of that?’

‘Squirrels get called vermin because they nick eggs. Who’s the vermin now?’

Time for some music. An curated instrumental from my album called ‘Scandinavian Something’. I hope you enjoy.

As ever, if any poets out there are interested in having your poems turned into songs then click here to check it out: POETRY TO SONG

If you are looking for all my other music then you’ll find it to download on BANDCAMP or you can stream and/or make a playlist of it on SPOTIFY

CLASSICAL GUITAR ADAPTATION

When it comes to classical guitar I like to keep my hand in but often other things get in the way. Not this time though. I made a new classical guitar adaptation of my song ‘Pain’ from my ‘Dream Rescuer’ album.

Press the play button to listen to the new adapted rendition. It’s only 1.51 minutes long. I hope you enjoy;

If you want to make a comparison with the original, here is that original – which is available to buy and download at BANDCAMP ;

Here’s the ‘Created Guitar Tab’/’Score-sheet’ for any musician that would like to learn/play along:

If it helps get the flavour of the adaption here’s the original lyric;

The nights are getting longer
Your days are drawing in
You lost the dice roll this time
In a game you could never win

Guilt is loves shadow yet we never forget
From the corner of my eye your silhouette
It was your time and my tears feel like rain
I traded my grief to end all your pain

The game is now over
I’m glad that we played
The wounded heart full of sorrow
Nothing betrayed

Now its official
Now its no dream
Always remember nothing is as it seems
It was your time
This short songs for you
To help ease this
Pain

If any poets out there are interested in having your poems turned into songs then click here to check it out: POETRY TO SONG

If you are looking for all my other music then you’ll find it to download on BANDCAMP or you can stream and/or make a playlist of it on SPOTIFY

THE LONGEST SHORT WALK

‘Station at Perpignan’
by Salvador Dali

I recently discovered this lyric from back in 2013 – my first year at uni. It was from a song I can’t find the demo of. I remember it was a simple acoustic ballad. Anyhow, at least I’ve got the words.

Day turns to twilight on the railway platform
I’ve been here forever or does it just seem that way?
I sit cold and alone as a new star is born
Wondering if I should leave now or should I stay?

It’s the waiting that kills me
Questions bought – questions sold
Knowing the answers
A future foretold

The last time I saw you – you told me a secret
Then took yourself off to where I don’t know
I heard on the grapevine you lost yourself somewhere
But you’re coming home now along with the snow

Trains now and then arrive at the station
Lovers and workers alight and go home
My collar is up to keep out the east winds
I wish that time would just leave me alone

Remember in summer – the lakeside – the orchard
The small narrow pathway to the top of the tor
Remember that secret – the one I believed in
Right now I wonder what was it all for?

The guard tells me the last train has now left for Zion
That there’s no point in me being here anymore
I nod in agreement – feel for my car keys
And take the longest short walk right out of the door

It’s the waiting that kills me
Questions bought – questions sold
Knowing the answers
A future foretold – a future foretold

What about a Heartbroken Groove? It’s another of my backing tracks that make for listening as well. I hope you enjoy;

If any poets out there are interested in having your poems turned into songs then click here to check it out: POETRY TO SONG

If you are looking for all my other music then you’ll find it to download on BANDCAMP or you can stream and/or make a playlist of it on SPOTIFY

THE SEAGULL & THE CROUTONS

I’m an idiot for not taking a video of the gull. I’ll tell you why.

For the first day in ages it had stopped raining and was just warm enough for me to have my breakfast outside a café – Eggs Benedict for what it’s worth. Halfway through eating I spotted this gull stood at the door of an estate agent next to the café. At first I thought he (maybe a she, but being a little arrogant I’m thinking a he) was clocking himself in the reflection of the window. However he wasn’t judging his good looks as moments later he was trying to open the door with his beak. When that failed he started to tap at the door – beak taps, that is – trying to get a reaction. Eventually a lady opened the door and gave him a good couple of handfuls of croutons she’d made especially for him.

Apparently the gull visits every single morning at 9.30AM – on the dot – for breakfast and the only reason he had to hang around was that the lady who had fried up the croutons for him had to let them cool down before serving them up. Once he’d scoffed the lot he flew off to wherever gulls go when their not eating or shitting on my car.

While I don’t agree humans should be feeding gulls who really ought to be out at sea fishing for themselves I couldn’t help thinking the interaction between bird and human was OK this time. It’s all about the relationship between a decent human and wildlife to me.

The oddest thing was that when eating the croutons this gull didn’t scream out boasting to all his gull mates that he’d had a result at the estate agents. That’s what usually happens with gulls just before a massive bundle kicks off as they fight to steal each other’s food.

I like seagulls. They’ve got attitude. The rappers of the bird world.

Once, a couple of years ago I was leaving a car park when some heartless moron deliberately drove over a young gull. He flattened the gull then drove off – at speed after spotting me in kill mode. The juvenile gull took a minute or two to die. Sadly I wasn’t brave enough to put it out of its misery. I still feel guilty about that.

I got the reg number of his car, rushed over to the police station but they weren’t bothered. “It’s one for the RSPCA, son,” was all they said. I often think about this. I often think the same thing should happen to that driver. A steam-roller would do nicely.

Here’s ‘Time Out’ my song for the gulls alive and dead from my Dream Rescuer album. I hope you enjoy;

Here’s my album ‘Rainbows End’ on Spotify. You can stream all my music there or free. Alternatively, for downloads of my work go to BANDCAMP Here’s the link SPOTIFY

NOTHING COMES FOR FREE

‘Etaples Military Cemetery, Northern France’ – 5 years ago

Nothing comes for free in times of war
You even have to pay for an unmarked grave
Don’t know your name but I can’t ignore
The price you paid for the life you gave

CASTAWAY
Respect

SEAGULLS, CROWS & PIGEONS

‘Tuesday, 11AM: No Sign of Life’

Unless you’re composing to a specific theme, deciding on a title for an instrumental piece isn’t always easy. The title has to reflect the music. I suppose it’s a bit like naming a kid after its been born. When there’s lyrics there is always a way to find a title. Somewhere in the words or often the title is the thing that creates the lyric. Either way you end up with a title.

Take my ‘The Pigeons Are Switzerland’ title for an instrumental. It even became the title track to one of my albums. Some people have asked where it came from. I thought it a good idea to explain that here on the blog.

It was evening in early spring this year. A hot day believe it or not. I’d just composed and recorded the music. Sat out in the garden I was listening to the track for just about the hundredth time. I was getting nowhere with the title but then I heard a massive commotion from up in the sky. An army of crows where fighting with a seagull militia. I guess the crows were after the seagull’s eggs.

The thing was that sat on the roof of the house about 30 pigeons, cool and calm and not moving an inch, checking out the bundle going on up in the sky. They were just watching and not getting involved. Like an audience watching a play.

That was the moment I thought to myself that the pigeons were neutral just like Switzerland is when it comes to a war. The massive plus was that the pigeons calm weirdness gave me the feeling that this strange instrumental was theirs to keep. Hence the name, ‘The Pigeons Are Switzerland’.

It’s a shame all countries aren’t neutral when it comes to wars.

Here it is. It’s only 2 mins 18 seconds. You can access the whole album, plus all the rest of my work on BANDCAMP The instrumental, ‘The Pigeons Are Switzerland’ below. I hope you enjoy;

007 & ME

James Gull, ‘Licence to Poo’ – all over my car on a daily basis

I first went to St Margaret’s Bay, just along the coast from Dover, a few years ago when I was capturing the sounds of the sea for a sound art project. I go over there every so often because it’s not a place that has tons of tourists and I can think there. I made my first visit this year early on Bank Holiday Monday, before the heat got silly hot in the hope it might help cure the dreaded block – writer’s block, I have to stress. It is posh and pretty after all. What I’d never realized is that it is the closest part of England to France. On the pic below you’ll see a White Cliff. The tip of that cliff is the exact closest place to France, just 21 miles from Calais. It’s that close when roaming your phone gets connected to French networks.

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After learning that possibly boring but true piece of information I then researched some more. Don’t ask me why. It just happened. Anyway, during WW2 the Brits built a massive fake wooden gun there. Even though it was a useless lump of sh…, sorry, timber, the idea was that the sight of it might put the Germans off flying over the area. The thing was the Germans worked out it was just a lump of wood and, for a joke, dropped a wooden bomb on it. Neat.

St Margaret’s Bay also has had some of the famous posh living there. For example, the next pic. My online guide advises me, ‘The two cottages at the end of the beach were owned by Noel Coward and Ian Fleming, who both enjoyed the sea views and walks in this tranquil area.’ The pic below is of where, Fleming – the James Bond author – lived.

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Also, although I haven’t got an actual pic, the guide says, ‘The picturesque location drew several well-known people to build holiday homes at St Margaret’s, including actor Peter Ustinov. His clifftop residence is now owned by actress Miriam Margolyes.’ I’ve heard of Ustinov but I’m not sure who Miriam Margolyes is so I’ll take their word for that one. I’m guessing the clifftop property must be one of those in this next pic.

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Enough was enough. It was at this point that the online guide was causing me to glaze over and lose the will to live, so I gave up fact finding and took a shot of a piece of the chalk that The White Cliffs are made of. You’ll note it’s not so white close-up.

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Given that this post is about cliffs and cliffs have edges I thought that my instrumental – with an electronic choir – called ‘On the Edge’ might just work. I hope you enjoy;