... lacrimae sanguis animae sunt ...
29 December 2008
Music, poetry, and other selfish affairs...
As I don't have one, I just write down some of the ideas, and lapidate them in the following days. And up to here I'm talking only about music. Poetry comes next. And at times it doesn't even come. I think music is a complete art. Therefore lyrics are a plus, something else; a fantastic thing, but not essencial.
I usually work on some musical stuff, instrumental ideas actually. And after all, if it fits, I try to write a poem which may complete the message I want to conceive. I never play my works in my gigs. There's no special reason for so, but in fact I think I compose and write for an unknown expectator. It doesn't mean I don't show the good results I get sometimes. It's just that I don't feel ready to play them live.
So, as a way of letting it go, of opening the dam, I post some lyrics here and in my fotolog. I don't expect critics, good ones and bad one either. I cannot deny it's good when someone tells me he is touched by something I created. Mr. Gilmour has said that "you only write for yourself and anything else is a bonus. Art is a selfish thing. If you aim what you call art at people, you won’t please anybody." Well, he's totally right.
I've been recording some of my songs lately. The ones I really think are not that bad I usually show to a couple of close mates. I show them because I feel it's time for the message to be sent. A usual and friendly reaction is what always comes afterwards. I prefer when people either tell me what they honestly think about my song or say nothing.
Just below, you've got the lyrics of my latest song, and below it link where you download my homemade version of it from. Please keep in mind I've got no good tone for singing, though my voice is tuned. That record was made with very precarious stuff, including a low quality "camelô" PC microphone, an audio board which is inapropriate for recordings and an acoustic guitar with old strings. Even so, it was made the best possible way, and I've struggled to deal with the troubles.
A cup of coffee, the keys on the desk,
The locks, the doorsteps,
And it just looks like another day
The same paper boy on his bike,
Brings the same old news and rides
His own way
Strange people passing by
And I’m just another crazy mind
Walking down the street
The same beggar on the corner asks
And I, always full of tasks,
Have never even looked at him
Oh, this could have been just another morning
Oh, and it wouldn’t have been so weepy
Yeah, this could have been just like another day
So that I could have gone to bed the same way
I get there and walking among graves
I feel so desolate
Gulls on the sky remind me
Of the sea
And you with me
I don’t wanna read your name
On that gravestone
I don’t wanna believe
I’d rather keep a good
Than live in total misery