Set up the player only to discover that without an index page the links on my site won't work. Rather than create an index page (who has time?) I uploaded direct and now you can hear us time travelers crank these modern melodies for you.
Time now quiets and stills as the torrent saps our wills. They hold up darker mirrors, and say we must see clear. Our fear is palpable, is tangible, as is our rage. We build, we build a wall around ourselves: a chosen cage. First, enemies chosen, then came the erosion of things held with all our might. They threw their wrench in out of spite. The machines kept running. They started creaking and humming. The discord growing strong, but we all just hummed along. Our fear is palpable, is tangible, as is our rage. We build, we build a wall around ourselves: a chosen cage.
2. Police State
So what now, we make America great now? A kid's in his grave 'cause his sweatshirt was weighed down. I'll give you the breakdown: The cops do a shakedown; the neighborhood playground, tasers to take down a single teenager, kid's laying there face down. Guns drawn. Injustice and hate, now. Cops fired off like seven or eight rounds into the back of a kid on the fucking interstate. Now I cannot see the difference on the six o'clock news 'tween the army in Fallujah and these uniformed state troopers fucking shooting dudes for moving bootleg movies, using gas on students, yeah of course they're fucking looting. Now you wanna curb the movement, saying "all lives matter" as you hide the blood spatters in the back of paddy wagons, pal? Now I'm seeing you laugh at your little wrist-slap, slap each other on the back. Face the facts we're in a Police State. No justice, there's no justice. Pick and choose their targets based on race. No justice, there's no justice. Divide, conquer, push and dominate. No justice, there's no justice. There's nothing they will not obfuscate. No justice, there's no justice. Fuck that. I see the fear in their eyes. They're more militarized, whitewashing their serial crimes with a series of serious lies, but they can't kill the truth and the reckoning's nearly arrived. How many more dead from their service revolvers you gonna absolve before the walls begin falling in? How many more lives before the rest of us stand up? Raise your fists now 'fore you can't 'cuz you're handcuffed.
3. Stupid, Pointless, Needless
Breath let out, ghosts in the winter: so's the truth. Facts get disfigured. Bleak symbols. Pointing of fingers. Rendered down: losers and winners. Dogs lie down, let out a whimper. Wolves rise up, their howls just splinter upon the walls of stupid, pointless, needless malice. Here comes the countdown: start backwards from 5. Just raise your fists, yeah, raise your fists; you might just survive. It's something so rotten it can't be defined, and what they said and what they did are burning in my mind. So it goes, hollow men the victors. Paint your face. Pose for the pictures. Loot the vaults. Let's see who's richer. Burn the sky. Smoke's getting thicker above the walls of stupid, pointless, needless malice.
4. What Can You Do?
They had a list of names and said "select one," showed you charts and graphs that proved you wrong. They dug a hole where no one will ever find it. Filled it with the ones that don't belong. I leaned against the wall. I cried and cursed them all. Dodedodedo. We're all screwed. What can you do? What does anybody ever do?We're locked inside this building; the walls are in flames and we bricked and boarded over all the windows and doors. The smoke is getting thicker. They chopped the world to tiny squares, then gave themselves the lion's share. What can we do? What can anybody do this time but scramble for the remnants? Prisons are for profit, schools are vagrant. "That kind of thing will never happen here." We put the keys in hands that shouldn't hold them. The sunlight through the stained glass disappears. What will we do? What does anybody ever do? The tide keeps getting higher, the sun sets the same but the blood in clouds has lit the world in anger it seems. I guess it's sort of fitting. Ones and zeroes, codes and keys. The lips you kissed are now diseased. What will you do? What does anybody ever do, except for scramble for the remnants?
6. Steve Bannon
From the rocks he slithers out, sowing fear and hate and doubt. Misdirection: wizard's trick; smoke and mirrors, bait and switch. They go high, he targets low. Diatribes from xenophobes. What's the truth? You'll never know. He calls the shots, he runs the show. Unkept hair and acne skin, stubble beard and double chin, architect of alt right tantrums: Fuck Steve Bannon, Fuck Steve Bannon. Breitbart news and Goldman Sachs. Eschewing need for proof and facts. Lit the fuse on a loose cannon. Fuck Steve Bannon, Fuck Steve Bannon.Free press should just shut their mouths. Stick with us or you're thrown out. Shrink it down until it drowns, that's how this whole thing turns around.
Take a trip with me as I proceed to hit rewind to age thirteen in 91. It was grade 9. I stood in line at HMV for Nevermind. It flattened me. It blew my mind. I played that tape million times. That baby with the dollar and the fishing line. Those grungy songs, they spoke to me like Cobain only wrote to me. From Lithium, I'd quote freely. The anger that awoke in me. It dawned on me that maybe I thought differently. That pimpled teen in wrinkled jeans in History at age thirteen: who the hell was he? Sometimes it seems some other guy. I can't decide. It's like he died. I find it hard, It's hard to find. Oh well, whatever, Nevermind. Maybe it's because all of my heroes died so early that I would say that I would never live to see past thirty. I'd say, "I won't get married and I'm never having kids 'cause I'd never wanna raise them in a world as fucked as this." Who was I, though? What did I know? I was only seventeen when that letter with Kurt's final words first flashed upon the screen. And on my notebooks, I would doodle and I'd write down all these quotes, words from songs and from that letter, and I'd tell myself they spoke to some voiceless fragment in my soul that wanted a mouthpiece. There was something in his anger and his pain that mirrored me. But now I'm older and I'm married, I'm a father of three kids, and it's hard for me to sympathize the way that I once did. I was a kid. Who the hell was he? But now and then I'll hear him on the radio; distortion and discordant tones will bring me back to long ago, and I can almost see it jutting out, like fossil half-revealed. I recall the way it felt back then, the way it made me feel, a tunnel through the years, the yearning, pain and rage and tears, to my former self, a hidden track that only I can hear. Only I can hear. Only I can hear it.
8. So Boring
Tired of fighting battles that I know that I never can win and preaching into the choir. Tired of bashing head against the walls of this cage that we're in, or is it a funeral pyre? Tired of chasing shadows to the corners that no one has swept, the spirit that it requires. Tired of pushing forward when the problem is rather of depth. This world is a dumpster fire. Keep your hope, I read the news this morning, this morning. A focal point for hate. I find it boring, so boring. Facts are there, but everyone's ignoring the warnings to rally 'round a lie. I find it boring, so boring. Tired of never knowing who to trust in this mess that we're in. Who has been compromised? Tired of being told to wait for better days that never begin, with "wait" being emphasized by people so indulgent that they burn the world for marginal gains. I'm sick of the sea of lies. Tired of feeling like the only chance I have is for me to change to something that I despise. Hopeful idiots all around me, all around me. Engine fails, I'm feeling so alone. But what does it matter now? Spiteful hypocrites' fog surrounds me, fog surrounds me. In this tailspin, sinking like a stone. How long til I shatter now?
9. Big Pharma
All the drug abuse that you've been viewing on the news originates with pharmaceuticals; big pharma, yeah it's true, y'know; these brutal empty suits, all to the bottom line so dutiful, their scruples been removed and so its business same as usual. They dubbed it therapeutic, say the benefits are beautiful but the neighborhood's in ruins and we're here now, it's a crucible, a funeral, a dissolution of communities, I speak the truth, so listen, dude, the proof is irrefutable, this system of corruption that's become so rich producing is as much an institution as the banks and worker unions and they're hard at work reducing all your fellow brother humans to another cheap consumable, yet hear their weak refusal to seek out a resolution or to see the lives we're losing? And how long before it's you? I see you sweating in your cubical, chewing nails and cuticles. This shit is inexcusable. The fuse is lit. The timer's set to explode. This neighborhood's all full of mangled-up souls. And what's the fix? Solution? God only knows. Who gives a shit? Sure not you, greedy asshole. In comes the heroin, flooding the whole area, the gravediggers burying sons of Americans, a harrowing time, crime's standing my hair on end, buzzing like a theramin and I don't care who I offend. My brain stem shimmies as it's struggling to comprehend hysterical narratives and the parables you're parroting. The future's in the air again, narrow prospects narrowing and wearing thin. And it's scary to the marrow, man. This needs your attention. We need intervention.
10. Selling Bricks
Shaky ground we tred upon now, and one by one we're knocked down, taken by surprise. Maybe it's already over. The faces on the posters are wreathed with filthy lies. No science, no reason. They smash it down to sell the bricks. Just violence and treason. Their hatred is their metric. Daily tweets betray the substance--or lack of it; there's nothing but need that won't survive. Taking everything, they'll keep it. Silence underneath them, a void behind the eyes. No raised fist, no punchline, no fervent speech can stem the flow. The faithful can't see it, still blinded by the afterglow. There's nothing left when he's done, but he gave them all a show. Darkness falls, a curtain call, then he disappears like smoke.
11. Sweet Boys
If you could strip away all of the shine, pare down particulars one at a time, what would be left as you turned out the light? Who'll hold your hands as you whisper good night? Wish you could see how you look through my eyes. Wish I could see every day of your lives. Hope you don't struggle the way we do now. Hope that your heads will remain in the clouds. I adore you. I adore you. Oh, my sweet boys. You're my sweet boys. Hope that you fail til you know how to win. Hope when you fall you can get up again. Hope that I taught you to love and to trust, share and forgive and to fight when you must. There'll come a day when we've drifted away. You'll have adventures, I'll wither and gray. When I am gone, just remember, my sons, raising you was the best thing that I've done. I adore you. I adore you. Oh, my sweet boys. You're my sweet boys. And since the first day I laid eyes upon you, I knew that my purpose was to defend you. I adore you. I adore you. Oh, my sweet boys. You're my sweet boys.
Had everything done and then found out the band leader hadn't created an account for us! Admittedly we're still trying to wrap our heads around this internet and computers and such, heck, the typewriter is miraculous to us! The kind folks at RPM Central helped us sort it out and our live set of rock and roll music is now here for your enjoyment. We jumped straight from steam engines to the world wide web so we must beg your forgiveness as we bumble through.
Here it is... On long steady stream on consciousness. I opened an ableton file at the beginning of February and uploaded this track at the end.
Finished another ! with alot of help from my friends, pitched the challenge to my friends and they came thru in a big way, four of us contributed songs, talent and hard work and came up with something special. 9 songs , 39 minutes.
SUNSET SUNRISE - Meditation Music by Rozalind MacPhail
SUNSET SUNRISE - Meditation Music by Rozalind MacPhail
Get yourself comfortable and take a moment to relax, rejuvenate and release your day! We hope this music will help you cope with life’s unexpected moments. May it ease you into the present moment, help you feel grounded and capable of facing any challenge that comes your way.
ABOUT THE ALBUM
"They say that people come into our lives for a reason, a season and if we're lucky, a lifetime. On December 10, 2016, we lost a dear friend in our community, stained glass artist, Graham Howcroft. Graham was a brilliant artist, an insightful intellect and an inspiring mentor to many. He was also my housemate. We only knew each other for one short year but his death had a profound effect on me.
After Graham passed, I couldn’t believe how the world kept moving so fast while my world seemed to stop. It wasn’t the first time I had lost someone close to me but it was the first time I observed an artist who I greatly respected deteriorate from disease in old age and it troubled me to my core. Losing Graham made me take a good hard look at the direction my life was going. My eyes were forced wide open. I could see that I had two possible paths ahead of me. One led me in the direction of abundance, joy, vitality and connection and the other led me to poverty, disappointment, dis-ease and isolation. It was during these reflective moments I decided to create an album that could be used as a tool to help others cope with loss, addiction, stress and the process of letting go. Meditation has gotten me through some of my darkest moments. There is a great need in our world right now to find ways of tapping into our inner peace while being in the midst of so much uncertainty.
SUNSET SUNRISE is a homage to our great life teachers. Graham savoured the breathtaking sunrises and sunsets from his St. John's apartment each day and this space is where I composed and recorded the flute and bansuri tracks, accompanied each morning by the sunrise over the Narrows. I wanted to create music inspired by the same beautiful view Graham had enjoyed and I used the RPM Challenge as my catalyst to create and complete the project during the shortest month of the year. I took additional inspiration in experimenting with flute effects from two of my favourite albums, Paul Horn's INSIDE and Kraftwerk's RALF UND FLORIAN.
The process of letting go was fresh in all of our minds throughout recording this album. Portland musicians Kim Henninger and Shawn Parke created their electronic tracks after losing a close family member, Ryan Parke in a tragic car accident. Woven in the electronics of “Sunset” is Ryan’s voice whispering the word ‘love’.
It can be so unsettling when we are forced to let go of loved ones, get rid of bad habits, deal with painful memories or change unhealthy life patterns. We hope this music will help you cope with life’s unexpected moments. May it ease you into the present moment, help you feel grounded and capable of facing any challenge that comes your way. Thank you to my friend and mentor, Stephen Vardy for these beautiful teachings."
- Rozalind MacPhail, St. John’s, Newfoundland (Feb 28, 2017)
THANK YOU: Kim Henninger & Shawn Parke, Anne & Julian Pickard-Vaandering, Jennifer May Newhook, Stephen Vardy, Jill Holden, Moksha Yoga St. John’s, Paddy Barry, Stephen Lilly, Émilie Beaupré, Abigail Pye and Josh Caine. None of this would have been possible without you. Thank you for supporting me every step of the way.
Dedicated to our departed loved ones, Graham Howcroft (1944 - 2016) and Ryan Parke (1974 - 2017).
released February 28, 2017
MEDITATION INTRODUCTION by Stephen Vardy
MUSICIANS: Rozalind MacPhail (effected flute and bansuri). Kim Henninger & Shawn Parke (electronics)
COMPOSED & RECORDED by Kim Henninger, Shawn Parke and Rozalind MacPhail
PRODUCED by Rozalind MacPhail
MIXING & MASTERING by Stephen Lilly
ARTWORK by Anne Pickard-Vaandering
PHOTOGRAPHY by Paddy Barry
DESIGN & LAYOUT by Émilie Beaupré
New record for 2017 RPM is titled In The Pure Of The Moment. It's a series of spontaneous acoustic guitar pieces recorded live and sampled acoustic guitar segments, later looped and manipulated in Pure Data, the open source programming environment for working with sound and media. I did a physical disc and mailed in this morning but will soon have this on Bandcamp.
It was hit or miss for a while! My stress level really couldn't take much more.. I wondered by day 20 through 28 if it was all worth it.
So thankful for this challenge as it took me out of my comfort zone! I actually wrote a catchy pop songs that I like! Likely never would have happened it it weren't for the RPM challenge. Spent more time on some songs than others.. tweaking. You can actually hear my dog crying in the background one of them.. but aint no time to rerecord that! She just wanted to be involved.
Congrats to all who took part! Can't wait to have a listen :)
Bleeding H, I Can't Believe Another One Is Done And In The Can Already
Well, I made it. I still need to decide a title, but for now I am calling it Vinyl, because Vinyl.
The mixes are a mess, there's sibilance everywhere, and nothing's balanced properly, but considering how I didn't even think about that stuff even in 2014, let alone 2006, I will call it a victory.
I plan on taking off a week or two and coming back to do proper mixes in mid-March or later.
By the way, I got a 12-String Gretsch last summer. Electric, semi-hollowbody, black...a real inspirational piece of wood to play. It's all over this record, and 9 of the 11 tracks were written on it, and to be honest, inspired by it. All 11 tracks have it somewhere, though not always as the main instrument.
Gary Fox's player:
Done! BUT can't edit my album? Halp, please!
So I uploaded my 10 songs by 11am on 3.1, but I can't seem to edit my album title, etc. https://screencast.com/t/PLr45Nx7Q
Is there any way around this? I feel so sad and left out!
Moderate Rebels 2.0 on Alonetone
Partying alone. With a cup of tea.
by Porter Harris
by A Beautiful Scene
by angie fights crime
Various and Sundry
by Gary Fox
One Fine Day
by Chloe Radcliffe
Can't make Portsmouth this weekend
by Keith Landry
For the love of it all
by Steve John Fortin
RPM Desktop Jukebox
by Alternate Modes of Underwater Conciousness
Moderate Rebels in the Jukebox
Final Blog of 2017, probably
by Matt Ferrara
11 YEARS!!! Feels like it was just yesterday.
by Balloon Marsupials
Choose track #1 carefully I guess
Apparently I am not allowed to make new Posts
by A Beautiful Scene