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I have been recording for five decades now.

quote by Chuck Mangione
Added by Lucian Velea
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The History of Now

The recording of culture is history;
but our culture is more than that.
It's the world of human action,
and the myths we make of the fact.

The recording of history is culture,
but our history is more than that.
It informs a hidden agenda.
Unconscious of motive we act.

It's the history of now, the history of now.
It's only the present that exists as endowed.
It's the history of now. The moment - KAPOW!
That knocks you right over and muddies your brow.

Through the prism of language, we know what we know.
We carry our baggage and stories of woe.
Victor and vanquished pride cannot budge,
the dead weight of hatred and ancestral grudge.

We fight our good fights with our hand on our heart;
the music is swelling as loved ones depart.
As sheep to the slaughter, the script cannot chart,
a course more ignoble: the propagandist's art.

The recording of history is culture,
but our culture is more than that.
More than the great individuals,
the scholars so love in their tracts.

The recording of culture is history;
but our history is more than that.
Not simple dates or statistics,
the full horror and gore still attracts.

It's the history of now, the history of now.
A strange contradiction that makes sense somehow.
It's the history of now, a mystery and shroud.
The past and the future: best fiction allowed.

poem by David SmithWhite
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Fields Of People

Wildflowers grow everywhere
Vibrations flow, things will have to change
(good evening, madam. its a recording. yes.)
Strange new ideas fill the air
Some people leave, others grieve
Some were bare but things will change
Old concepts go, new ones grow
All at once the world begins to love again
(..... hello uncle bill)
And the wildflowers grow out of fields
Fields of people
Theres no such thing as a weed
Seeds of hatred
Plant them and soon they will breed
(going to the pub, are you? evening madam.)
Wildflowers grow everywhere
Vibrations flow, things will have to change
(good evening, madam. its a recording. yes.)
Strange new ideas fill the air
Some people leave, others grieve
Some were bare but things will change
Old concepts go, new ones grow
All at once the world begins to love again
(..... hello uncle bill)
And the wildflowers grow out of fields
Love of people
Theres no such thing as a weed
Seeds of hatred
Plant them and soon they will breed
Fields of people
Theres no such thing as a weed
Seeds of hatred
Plant them and soon they will feed
Wildflowers grow everywhere
Vibrations flow, things will have to change
(good evening, madam. its a recording. yes.)
Strange new ideas fill the air
Some people leave, others grieve
Some were bare but things will change
Old concepts go, new ones grow
All at once the world begins to love again
(..... hello uncle bill)
And the wildflowers grow out of fields
(theres a bloke out here looking for the band)
Theres no such thing as a weed
Seeds of hatred
Plant them and soon they will breed
Theres no such thing as a weed
Seeds of hatred
Plant them and soon they will breed

[...] Read more

song performed by Electric Light Orchestra
Added by Lucian Velea
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[ Untitled]

What do you think--what do you make out of that recording?
I dont know, gloria, I just--
Some kind of singing. they sound like all kinds of people, right?
Yeah.
And then it says another child is born in india every time you call this number, right?
Yeah, right.
Does that make any sense to you?
No, it doesnt make no sense to me.
And the guy that spoke--i dont know who he is.
Yeah.
But that--it doesnt sound like no answering machine, right?
No, it aint an answering machine because theyre not saying anything, theyre just--
But what does he get--how does he make money on this? whatever hes advertising in the paper, thats the part that dont make no sense.
Oh, hes advertising this in the paper you saw it.
In the village voice, yeah. they got--thats where the kiss clinic, but they give you another number if you wanna join it. and I got intellectuals meet with other intellectuals.
Yeah.
Speak another language.
Yeah. oh.
They meet at la mai--la maisonette restaurant. they give you the price. then they give you another number to call if youre interested. this guy, all you get is this here recording, but I dont
Ow he makes money.
Yeah, yeah.
You know what Im saying? its just--they got the craziest things in that paper.
Yeah.
They come over with all--they got the craziest things. but this one here-- there must be giants, its called. and it says, call machine, and they got the phone number.
Yeah.
But what kind of money does he make? it dont make no sense. well, he dont make any money, right?
No.
But, then--then hes a nut, right? do you see--do you see any sense to that? there may be giants? that re--that recording I have on. the new one. did you hear it? I changed it. I too
The intellectuals. I put on there may be giants.
What?
Whos they may be giants?
What are you talking about?
Thats whats on my--the phone, there may be--argh, well I cant explain it. cause I dont know what it is. look in the paper, dont blame me if the guys a nut.

song performed by They Might Be Giants
Added by Lucian Velea
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Buzz Aldrin, Space Imperialist

Buzz Aldrin, Space Imperialist,
discovers a tiny brown lesion
on the end of his nose.
he uses his wife’s
concave make up mirror
to examine it more closely
and confirms his worse suspicions:
It’s malignant.
Coolly, he makes
one appointment with his dermatologist
and another in Samara.
After brushing his teeth
he takes another look
at the tiny brown Angel of Death.
It flakes off
-a brown booger.
Buzz cancels his appointments
and craves a celebratory drink terribly,
but summons his fantastic will power
and resists the urge.

II
Buzz Aldrin, Space Imperialist,
lands on the Dark Side of the Moon
and meets the indigenous Moonpupiks,
who are heavily armed yet friendly.
He has sex with many tribeswomen,
but fends off the attentions of the polymorphous perverse
tribesmen, and tells all that they must
dropp their religion and adopt the
State Religion of NASA, Tanglicanism,
which uses Tang for communion wine.
The natives say they don’t mind a bit
as they are lapsed Moonitarians
and were looking for something to fill the gap.
Disappointed they don’t offer more conversion resistance,
Buzz orders the leaders beheaded
and claims the Dark Side of the Moon
in the name of Rio Tinto,
an Australian mining corporation
whose logo he wears on his helmet
and ship.
Then he wakes up.

II(a)
Buzz Aldrin, Space Imperialist
takes another nap and,
against the advice of his fellow astronauts,
brings 4 or 5 Moonpupiks (MOON pu pix)
back to the Court of Richard Nixon, Imperial Vizard,

[...] Read more

poem by Percy Dovetonsils
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When I Lost Myself

There are those who are forever searching and
After many decades have passed lose themselves to another world-
Although with much certainty and disillusionment
I can hardly remember living much of a life in
This world where people walk with confidence and self-assurance everyday-
Memories of nights as a child so young
Hearing voices others did not hear and
Seeing frightening sights others did not see-
Feeling alone although in the midst of myriads of others, afraid to speak,
Fearful to walk the streets others took for granted-
I was only six years old when voices threatened to kill
Would invade my already troubled mind and
I found myself an outcast for reasons I hardly understood-
The purple tree with golden flowers that grew inside of my bedroom-
As strikingly stunning as it was,
I fell to the floor when I tried to climb,
Because it only existed in the fortress of my mind-
My journey to find myself began when I learned to walk-
I learned to scream before I learned to speak-
Decades have passed and memories are evading me-
Walking the same path day by day-
While others are looking for a place in a world I feel I am not a part of,
My journey to find myself continues-
I walk upon a different path and have climbed many mountains
Seeking purple trees and my own garden of Eden-
Or merely for others that would accept and just remotely understand
The person I am and the world I have lost myself to-
Although my spirit at times evades me,
In the back of my mind I know in reality there must be a place for me and
Although at times my only wish is to climb that phantasmal purple tree
Until I reach the sky and disappear within only a moment’s notice
I will not give up the fight- I was born into this world so there must be a place for me-
Many decades have passed and today I see the sunlight peering through the clouds,
Though an outcast, I have a heart, a mind and feelings as does everybody else-
I continue to walk the streets everyday and my visions of purple trees, and
My dogged determination are what makes me unique- and someday people shall
Respect the person that I am and understand that flowers grow on every tree and
Every flower is unique, has its own special scent and every flower is
In its own way- magnificent and beautiful…

poem by Claudia Krizay
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Stranger in Strange Crowd

STRANGER IN STRANGE CROWD

Dreams stranger’s path divide
from crowd’s uneven t[h]read
who's tissue, issues poorly understood, through dread
is left behind, swirls second rate as flotsam on life's tide,
noise windmills, senses silent, life-blood sped,
bled white, so often fearing fear, by wisdom wide,
unblessed, unsteady set sights low instead.

Despite stress, sentiments denied, imagination set aside,
stranger story stores till head heeds heart, until desires well led
fire understanding rich allied with empathy sustaining ride.
Swift Pegasus is supplied
with neither saddle, A to Zed accoutrements life tears to shreds
when vested interests, motives pure collide.

Defy temptations of soft ride
along straight road which, comfort fed,
selects ‘safe way’, too often dreads
free choice, autonomy. Self-pride
corresponds to quest for bread.

Distrust that moment Fortune’s tide
entwines in fickle thread
conformity, convention wed.
Scorn empty homage, those who glide
through vain p[l]ain life, misled.

Survival instinct, safe homestead, a ‘living wage’, priorities
appear, as opportunities to seize as each spins finite set
tripped, snipped, then ripped by Norms with ease.

Far from madding crowd who dares assign
himself true rôle in life, who thinks,
who sifts chaff, grain, drains lees from wine, palms pearls from swine?
Who, intact, acts and interacts, discerning fiction, facts,

opposes expedience, authority which hoodwinks
manipulated herd unheard, which lacks
true overview impartial, thus reacts
rather than responds, its armour: chinks.
On each new generation weigh rigid systems spawned by Fate unkind.
As pawns most men play puppet parts in Time’s relay game of tiddly-winks.

Is search for self through mirrored minds
just base reflection on sight lost?
Insisting on base ‘skills’ man finds
intuitions atrophy - cost

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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No One Remembers Implementing

The signs of these times,
Are all over the place.
They have been there for decades.
Now today someone is sought to blame.

The signs of these times,
Are all over the place.
They have been there for decades.
Now today someone is sought to blame.
The revolving door remains the same.

Those who push are followed,
And those following are themselves also pushed,
To reap from a sowed calamity.
The kind no one remembers implementing.

The kind that sat uninvolved but irritated.
The kind that becomes argumentative,
To state opinion upon unresearched facts.
The kind whose lips flap.

The signs of these times,
Are all over the place.
They have been there for decades.
Now today someone is sought to blame.
The revolving door remains the same.

Those who push are followed,
And those following are themselves also pushed,
To reap from a sowed calamity.
The kind no one remembers implementing.
The kind that becomes argumentative,
To state opinion upon unresearched facts.
The kind whose lips flap.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Future Watch Burma To Syria Conflicts Rising

been watching
the future today...

from past lens astray

Burma as expected
has developed
ethnic problems

with sudden absence
of strict communist
dictatorship firm leash

Burmese are no longer
all brother communists
controlled by the state

past civic grievances
rise from postmortem
state of frozen stasis

past horrors play
on revenge rabid minds
need exercising?

past spectre struggles
post World War II conflicts
leave skeletons in closets

frozen nightmares divisions
war atrocities split Yugoslavia
post familiar communist thaw

emotively haunted people
seem to need to grim settle
past trauma before each

can move on embrace
future possibilities opportunities
in free market societies

when no longer linked
in brotherhood communist
cast iron citizenships

emotively many people
seem to need to settle
the past before they can

move on

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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And for me the only way to live life is to grab the bull by the horns and call up recording studios and set dates to go in recording studios. To try and accomplish something.

quote by John Frusciante
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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T Bone and I grew up together in Fort Worth, Texas. He had his own recording studio by the time he was seventeen years old. When we were both nineteen he made the first archival recording of my voice.

quote by Betty Buckley
Added by Lucian Velea
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Nowadays, it's like two different arenas, recording and touring. When I started way back in the day, doing both was nothing, you didn't have to think about it, the road and recording.

quote by Bootsy Collins
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My recording career has luckily run the gamut of recording environments.

quote by Matt Cameron
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You can alter movie singing so much because you go into the recording studio and, just technology for recording has gotten so good, you can hold out a note and they can combine a note from take 2 and a note from take 8.

quote by Anne Hathaway
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The thing is that I have a really intense, almost compulsive need to record. But it doesn't end there, because what I record is somehow transformed into a creative thing. There is a continuity. Recording is the beginning of a conceptual production. I am somehow collapsing the two - recording and producing - into a single event.

quote by Rem Koolhaas
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Prototype

[Intro]
I hope that you're the one
If not, you are the prototype
We'll tiptoe to the sun
And do thangs I know you like
[Hook]
I think I'm in love again [repeat]
[Verse 1]
Today must be my lucky day
Baby, you are the prototype
Do sumn' outta the ordinary
Like catch a manitee
Baby you are the prototype
I think I'm..
[Hook]
[Verse 2]
If we happen to part
Lord knows I don't want that
But hey, we can't be mad at God
We met today for a reason
I think I'm on the right track now
[Hook]
The Scene
Come here
[Hook]
[Outro (ad libs)]
Girl, right now I wanna say, I wanna say
I wanna say stank you very much
For picking me up
And bringing me back to this world
I can't, I'm not
I can't afford to not record
I thank I wanna say
I thank I wanna say stank you, stank you
Smelly much!
For picking me up and bringing me back to this world
Hey, hey John! Are we recording our ad libs?
Really?? Were we recording just then?
Let me hear that, that first one
When I first started

song performed by Outkast
Added by Lucian Velea
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Never Wanna Be Without You

(performed by vanilla ice)
Love at first sight and I recite
Feelings in my heart, I hope that we will never part
You are the girl for me and I wanna see
You and me together, baby Ill leave you never
Heartfelt emotions and desires, Im on fire
Your love can take me higher
After this you know that Ill never, ever doubt you
Cause sweetheart, I never wanna be without you
Chorus
Never wanna be without you, never, no
I never wanna be
I never wanna be without you, never, no
Ooooo
I never had a love affair like this
I wanna kiss your lips, hold on tight to your hips
Press your body real close, close than most
And every glass Im gonna, to raise a toast
To our love and every moment we shared
And all the times you showed me that you cared
I love everything aout you and baby love
I never wanna be without you
Chorus
Never wanna be without you, never, no
I never wanna be
I never wanna be without you, never, no
Ooooo
Bridge
Every time I think of you I get a rush
I wanna touch you very softly, cant you tell?
Youre the one for me and you will always be
Our love will reach further than the eye can see
Cause I never...
Chorus
Never wanna be without you, never, no
I never wanna be
I never wanna be without you, never, no
Ooooo
Never wanna be without you, never, no
I never wanna be
I never wanna be without you, never, no
Ooooo
Written by vanilla ice, gail sky king, pricesa, sylvester stewart
Produced by: vanilla ice & gail sky king
Mixed by: gail sky king and david sussman
Mix engineer: david sussman
Recording engineer: kieran walsh
Keyboards and programming: peter daou
Vocals and vocal arrangements: will downing
Recorded at d & d recording, new york

[...] Read more

song performed by Vanilla Ice
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I Was Made For Loving You

Back when I was dating Rich,
he gave me Kiss’s guitar pic.
Gene Simons handed it to him,
in the 1978 recording session.
“I Was Made For Loving You Baby”
the song they were recording at the time,
Gene was playing the bass and singing just fine.
Now if I google the price of this guitar pic,
It would be the price of ten times 9.
But I’m not selling I’m sorry to say,
I will play my guitar with it someday.

poem by Christina Sunrise
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I Was Made For Loving You

Back when I was dating Rich,
he gave me Kiss’s guitar pic.
Gene Simons handed it to him,
in the 1978 recording session.
“I Was Made For Loving You Baby”
the song they were recording at the time,
Gene was playing the bass and singing just fine.
Now if I google the price of this guitar pic,
It would be the price of ten times 9.
But I’m not selling I’m sorry to say,
maybe I will play my guitar with it someday.

poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Get Witit

(performed by vanilla ice)
Disaster, systems break when I quake
Make no mistake, the crowd stays awake when im
Shakin and bakin and Im takin all mcs
Smilin on the mic cause Im gonna make big gees
Pow! holy cow! its like a bang or a boom
Mcs see me comin and theyre clearin the room
Ouuta my path cause theyre scared of the result
Dont wanna battle cause to me thats an insult
Man, I wouldnt even lower myself
I got your record and put it on the shelf
I didnt play it, I used it as a frisbee
Your girl saw me doin it and she kissed me
A good sport cause the balls in my court
And in the long run Im takin no shorts
Slayin competition till the parties done
You want a non stop jam
Heres the right one
Chorus
Gotta get it going on
Get wit it
Bust that beat
Yes, Im blessed and I must confess
Put me to the test and youll say Im the best
I dont joke, I dont even jest
Every line in my rhyme makes me better than the rest
Ill live high on the hog, on the fat of the land
Goddamn, Ill be so hot Ill have to walk with a fan
On the brink of success, champagne & caviar
In limos, just like a superstar
Business. leave your number at my office.
Not for sale, but the fans all bought this
Money pourin in. just like a faucet left on
Cause my rhymes are that strong-last long
Just like the coppertop battery
You think Im dope, come on, dont flatter me
cause I been hearin that stuff for years
Respect from my peers and Im changin the gears
Of that hip-hop engine, not to mention
Retire at 21 and get a pension
Gonna bust it out and your welcome to come
You wanna non stop jam heres the right one
Chorus
Heres another rhyme to break the ice
You couldnt purschase my talent at any price
Dont chase a roni cause I know that I can get em
Im not the type so I dont even sweat em
Ill love a girl and then dis the same one
Cause you know that theres more
Where that came from

[...] Read more

song performed by Vanilla Ice
Added by Lucian Velea
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Lingering Legends

The course of human history.
A complicated tapestry.
Composed of interwoven strands.
The work of three blind sisters hands.

Each strand recording some event.
Almost as if by accident.
I have no doubt that they will be.
Still recorded accurately.

The strands are closely intertwined.
Which makes it difficult to find.
A single strand you can purse.
You hope in time will lead you to.

Some one you can identify
Which other sources verify.
Some one well know to history
No longer wrapped in mystery/

But now exposed to public view.
So we can prove their legend true.
It seems to me won't succeed.
Until the day we learn to read.

The never ending tapestry.
.The sisters weave industriously.
Which they have done since time began.
With total disregard for man.

We try and try without success.
Our efforts doomed to be fruitless.
The three blind sister can ensure.
Their secrets will remain secure.

Perhaps that's how its meant to
We have to face reality.
If we had been supposed to know
We'd have succeeded long ago

The sisters weave their tapestry.
Recording human history
But they make sure we can't unwind.
The strands deliberately entwined.

Monday,18 June 2012

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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