After reading the songs of Milarepa when he entered his cave above Demon Lake, a famous lake in North India where it is believed an octopus like demon lives. Thing is that the area is amazingly beautiful and the evil from west of there has not yet destroyed the life of this mountain region, where Pakistan cannot earthquakes try, so the Hundred Thousand Songs of Milarepa continue. Here there were three demons waiting in his meditation and sleeping cave to taunt him and to convince him they were minor angels here to bring him news of God. Milarepa saw the grinning death, as our Southern Blues sees that devil smile grinning into hell, so did he, so he sang them songs to mesmerize them and seduce them into a state of wonder. He was then able to disperse of them, as we should of those around us in whom we see thievery, deception, slothful slinking taking of what is you and these are marks of minor Deceptors. Stare down the shrouds that hide their nature and you will see, and then what? Sing. Charm. Seduce and lead them down into your own “demon lake” and as far away as possible before they suck away every touch of love, peace, in your soul.
Extended. new piano track, drum track. When I finished i realized I had been so sick for a month that all I wanted to do was see a revolution in this land of ours. Toss all government workers elected or not off the payroll and start over with people who pass civics tests, who have studied the humanities, who understand more than two languages, who are not fascists, who see government as for the people, to elect those who READ legislation, find the insurance Paul Ryan types and Paul Ryan and hang him on nearest lynching tree you can find right next to fat empty headed me me me shit for brains Trump. Burn this shithouse down and start again. INSURANCE FOR ALL> and the government workers from the bottom up have the same as we do and they lost it after their terms, no lifetime on our dime. There is a philosophy in this work of music and that is it, and more. And if not, dig the sounds and feel the dawn open up her eye to the world below. Very few souls are left to see.
Dawn showed itself and I heard this melodic drone shoveling death wings and swords out of my mind, baring my teeth at death and saying fuck off not yet, I will not play your games, I will not live your lie, no,
not yet you devil’s mate, I will not open all the piles of death letters at my door, I ain’t ready yet, no, not yet, I know when you want me really, Oh I know your drums and fife corps at the rivers edge.
7 levels Yamaha grand, full string orchestra, crotales, timpani, Bossendorfer grand, French horns and probably a string thing or two whispering its way around the orchestration and bombast. It is a eulogy, nonetheless, this is a eulogy. I hope you feel the consoling measures as well as angry timpani and horns here and there. Maybe feel how she smiled, and then a prayer to be had for her life, her soul, and those she loved.
This is as in the title, a eulogy, so there are up lifting and joyous moments but the leit motif one of sadness and loss.
Bess Burkett was loved by us all and those beyond. I hope this piece does her justice. I thought on her all night, then worked on this for a few hours, slept a few and started on engineering this Peace and I was fine with it in tone and effect.
This has the impression of the last movement of Berlioz, Symphony Fantastique, but it was unintentional. It was fun , the more I thought of Sessions going down for Russia connections and dirty Beauregard deals the more I got into the piano beat halfway in. For a dark march to the gallows pole, I had fun. Hope you do as well.
This has gone through a dozen transformations from five piece down to two. I was happy with two. Each piano has two different programming techniques. Each note is played. I started on it yesterday, slept, and returned to the piano when I woke up, drinking cardamom tea, so it is radically transformed from what it was in the first four to 11 styles, playing, instruments, everything. Manticore is from Emerson, Lake and Palmer. I have written many dedications to Keith Emerson who we lost last year along with Greg Lake. I attribute their entire work to introducing a generation to modern classical music as well as prog rock. I hope you feel the dedication to an artistic idol in this 8 minute work. Love. Peace. Hope. To all, peace love
Thinking about Keith Emerson, the glory, the vibe, the darkness that consumed his brilliance and left such wonder and beauty behind for us all.