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Everything posted by Bobo

  1. Another new one - probably will end up on my album.. v1) Big steel princess, she slices deep within The scars don't speak sweet pleasure, merely sin I wonder does she ever feel the same? Crying never worked its tricks on you Tears, sweat and blood can wash pain away too I want to suck your play into my game br) It's seeming I'm bleeding, I'm crying, I'm screaming Tears pouring, blood seeping, was I ever dreaming? ch) I can dream of you, it brings it all back to me The way I was before I met destiny This was my dream when you turned my life around here But if you're not here, it's out of my hands I'm out of my life v2) I look at you, you laugh back in my face You offer me a beautiful embrace I beg of you don't ever let me leave Now I've lost my strength to see it thorugh I have to let you see you feel it too You may look fine at first but soon you'll seethe br) You're hating, you're aching, your self-worth is breaking You're sat here, drenched in fear, your conscience is shaking (chorus)
  2. I'm at the library at the moment unable to post it - and with a mother of a sore arm from having slept on it all last night while it was in an odd position, I will soon be going back to my house and making sure that I get it to you.. It'll be about 1 hour, still, but it definitely will/will not be worth it. See y'all Matt
  3. Bobo

    New Song

    Grins. Thank you. I'm not going to start recording the album until I've got the twelve songs for it - currently I have five, (I'm thinking this is going to be the fifth) and am thinking on working on more over the next week. It might be ready in two months time if I get my act together. Thank you for your comments, earth-angel. Matt
  4. Bobo

    New Song

    I should really come back here and say hi. Well, this is near enough my way of doing so. I've gotten a couple of new songs, this is the one I wrote in a 45 minute spell last night - it's definitely going on my new album, so long as I can tweak the song to make it what it needs to be before it can be recorded. Here goes - structure and all. v1) A searing kiss 'twixt me and you A knife for one, a blade for two Demeaning sickly treason fades away The twisting knife burns deep inside Sweet bleeding cannot be denied My dearest arrows evanesce to grey pre-chorus) But who needs to know When it's all my life depends on? There's no-one below So all I can do is remain so strong chorus) I'm weak, but baby how I need you here You freak but I console my dearest friends They needn't know anything about me You know I wouldn't ever want to let you down But if you leave there'd be no sound No way to know when if you smile you see me? Don't leave me dying here bridge) I'll never know so many things If we go solo we'll hear sorrow sings But never if we go together, baby I know you want to see me standing proud But when will your conscience be allowed to say That you weren't meant to save me? prechorus) You don't need to know When it's only me depends on Your beauty will grow But if you live you'll carry on chorus) You're weak, and you can't see me lying here So sleek, so damn unprepared for fear But never when you're there beside me Listen to me, I'm never gonna let you down When beat, the best defenders wear no crown of thorns They never knew that they denied me v2) Paraded for my soul to see I know you would want the same for me If you could only understand, my baby Girl, let me know he bleeds for two But he could never see that part of me is you My deadly sin, my flimsy paper lady prechorus) You don't need to know When it's only me depends on Your beauty will grow But if you live you'll carry on chorus) You're weak, you'll never know I'm lying here I'm gone at the very trace of fear So long as you're not prepared to face the fight Can't let you go, must tell you that I'm there for you I care, but I'm not there to see the pain of two You always knew I'd be there to see your light It seems lame that I'm begging for feedback, but.. Nice to see y'all again. Matt
  5. I certainly would have no idea whatsoever where he has gone. Ba-ba-da-ba. Where can I start explaining the reasons behind my absence? Moderatorship of a separate forum which desperately needs to change servers, unequivocal excitement at going to see The Tubes on tour, expansion of both my waistline and my Christmas-related CD collection.. and a task-master and a half in sweet Kina. There are others, but I can easily stick around for as long as you guys get sick of me, no sweat. Matt
  6. Why just quit at LSN? Let's throw in "(I Saw Santa) Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree", "Melekalikimaka", "Merry Christmas Baby", "Santa's Got An Airplane" and the frighteningly accurate four-part version of "We Three Kings". Rawk on!
  7. The most amusing, and perhaps the most peculiar thing of all, is that I could probably, at the very time I was writing the first message, preempt (is that really how you spell it? I'm as shocked as anyone!) any and all questions which were going to be thrust my way given any response I made. I hope you don't mind that my reply will probably seem as equally hazy as ignorant, given the fact that this was up to thirteen years ago. Thirteen years between which I have been five years old and eighteen years old, the two ages I've grown up in rather scarier ways than at the time I ever thought were possible. The second thing to mention is that, when I was five years old, I certainly did not know the true meaning of the word "amorous", and therefore this would have probably not been amorous love. I believe I can only answer with the strength of my limited wisdom and knowledge at that time. What kind of things was my knowledge saying at the age of five? Perhaps ironically, possibly more than an equally fertile brain such as the one I have now would be letting me. A clear explanation for this is to say that with more knowledge, comes less necessity to think about these things and less of a reason to wish to overload what is already there simply because you wish to build over the foundations of what's already there. Anything beyond, in my mind, has to be truly worth estimation, definition, and purpose. As a three-year-old, a four-year-old, a five-year-old, what went through my mind? Mostly my own thoughts about how things would be five, ten seconds from now. Things which would be happening now never crossed my mind. My main problem in my early years was one of trust. It has become that way recently, as well. Everyone's been through a stage where their mind, their heart, has only felt strong enough to let the thoughts, the feelings, of one other person in. The people who I should have been able to trust, close relatives, family, became to me an enigma. Something which would be so hard for me to understand without explanation. I found the people I was able to trust were people who, if life hadn't have turned one way or another so many times, I would never have met for as long as I lived, because they were so far away from anywhere except this single place I knew them from. Kina was the first real person in whom I found this trust. Fine, I'll concede that the ten-and-a-half year difference between us was a strange one, but so were the circumstances at the time, and as such, I think I should be allowed them. Besides of which, at the time I knew nothing else. I was happy enough to know that I was recognizing the same person, at the same time, for as long as mattered to me at that moment. I don't think any love at that age, particularly knowing my mindset at the time, could possibly have been anything particularly passionate, simply because, even though love (read "passion" if you wish) was retrospectively occurring, I didn't know what it was at the time. Having been invariably dependant on others ever since I was born, I thought this was just a different kind of dependancy, a different way, and most simply, a different person to be with, with no concern as to who was more "dependant" than the other, whereas, obviously now I am fully aware that that person was me. In that same sense, perhaps I'm attempting to imply that it wasn't some kind of twisted dependancy, but in fact it was some kind of infatuous will. Blah. I don't know what the proper conclusion to this would be. Yes. Or no. Either one would do. My thoughts are certainly not complete, by any means. Love and mercy
  8. I'm by no means implying life was tough. Confusing as heck for a four-year-old unaware of his surroundings, I'll accept, but that just happens to be the way things were. You are, as ever, astutely accurate, though. That was one of my most cherished memories and, as far as I know, being sorry about life being like that is apologizing for not only things which have happened already, but things that scare the living daylights out of anyone who dares. As ever. Matt
  9. Hmm. Too young? No. Too much love? Yes. At four years old (and about six inches tall, at that) one of the few things I remember about my time in my previous house (which, as you guys know, I moved out of two weeks after my fifth birthday) was a friend who stood by me every time I was in trouble, and who, every day I came back from pre-school, always met me and talked to me. What I don't remember (because my memory doesn't quite stretch back quite as far) is for how long this had been occurring. I would put an estimate on the majority of the two years which I went to pre-school, that the same thing would happen. At 12:15 sharp every afternoon, Annie (or Anakin, depending on my mood on that particular day), an infinitely sweet 14-year-old girl would come out of her school (the one where, at that time, my dad worked), situated about five metres away from my pre-school, and notice me. As the weather grew colder into October-November, these meetings became more frequent, as the time it took for Mother to get from home to pre-school became longer, more drawn out, more painful to deal with, particularly without the aid of someone to help me through. With Dad working five days a week, and Mother staying at home looking after my sister (who, at one-and-a-half years old, was going to start attending pre-school next September), Anakin became my best friend. Each day at 12:00, I would start waiting. I knew Mother was at home, and I knew the exact location of Annie's room by now, three or four doors to the right as we make a premature entrance into the school. By now we'd both wait for each other at a single place, just outside the school, at a single, almost coreographed, time, 12:03 in the afternoon, with as ever unchanged plans. Caked in black makeup from head to toe, with her softened eyes, the sweetest smile I've ever had the privilege of knowing, and a tender, alluring, almost hypnotic voice, she in terms of someone to look up to, was entirely different from the "surfer girl" image about which I nowadays generalize disgustingly. We would spend hours at a time, and, on several occasions, days, together. At that time of my life, I hadn't learnt much in the way of communication, and, as such, every morning, waking up at the same time as I ever did, I would get dressed into whatever clothes I felt like, on whatever parts of the body I felt like putting them, and, the moment madre woke up, I went to talk to her, pointing continuously at a picture of Kina, wishing to intimate that, on that day, I cared only about seeing her, and wondering what we would get up to together. I'm not fond of the word misfit. Chicks dig scars, misfits blend, rages cease, food gets eaten. All part of His plan, as far as I'm concerned. She, of course, towered over me in years, height and presence. I would recognize her from the crowd of faces immediately. Day after day the same would happen as it would either be me meeting her or her meeting me. As I saw her, my face lit up in expectance. She was always about the easiest person I know to alter from the world's biggest introvert, never anything but concerned about how everything about her should feel so right in itself, similar to how every time we met, the plan came together to meet each other at the same time, at the same place, whether planned or unplanned, to the world's biggest extrovert, always prepared to show me something, to teach me something either which she had learned, had seen, had done to her, and so on. As for me at that time, the scrawny, awkward pre-schooler wishing to crave acceptance from his own peer-group, satisfying myself inside by attaching myself to someone who wasn't part of my group. The ultimate paradox, perhaps. It wasn't until deep into a winter afternoon that I could safely put a finger on things. Meeting Kina on the last day of autumn, I blurted to her those two words which now mean so much more to me than if I could ever prepare to understand them back when they would have made more sense. In the chilling autumn breeze, I cried for her. Those two words, "Come home" meant more to me for the last four months than any words before or since. Sensing my desperate cry almost as if she was expecting it before it happened, she knelt down, reached an arm out to my golden hair, but before she could touch it, I rushed towards her in wordless panic, starting to cry and seeking desperate solace. Holding my arm around her in a show of what I see now as affectionate bribery, my methods, unplanned as they were, succeeded. The same chain of events happened between this time and Christmas Day, when I, determined as I was to meet up with her again, awoke in the motionless hours of the morning, got driven to see her, gave her a well-thought-out present, and stayed at her house for the rest of the day, one moment eating breakfast, the next watching cartoons curled in her lap, while all the time praying that we would never have to be apart again. Fleeting visits were one thing, but wanting to be there all the time was another. The same pattern occured until the last day of December, when, as we again began to cry, our stay would be attenuated. Even as the highly emotional four-year-old which I was, Anakin understood every reason for every emotion I was feeling and knew the exact moment to help. Our visits up until Easter that year were extremely frequent, as I would want to see her every day. I made a point of seeing her all the time when she was feeling poorly, for, as annoying as I could be, she claimed quietly, calmly and extremely sweetly, that it helped if I could be there. It was five days after Easter that year that we had to part, much against my wishes. Hardly to do with our parting, but more about the circumstances in which we had to buy a new five-bedroomed house instead of the four we were then living in. Almost as if I'd known about it in advance, I penned Kina a short note expressing thanks for the good memories she had given me, the good time she had let me have with her, and the person who she had brought out of this tangled mess forever known as Matt Burgess. Scrawled across the length of a piece of paper, the words "I love you. Matt" were folded up, enveloped, posted to her address, and, as I recently found out, kept in a safe place in her house ever since. Ever since they have happened, these memories have stayed with me as if they had happened yesterday. And given recent happenings, they're surely worth hanging on to. More thoughts will probably follow, but for now, that's all. Love and mercy. Matt
  10. This is stokin' me somethin' exquisite. Of course, I'd bags a slot at five in the morning - the time of the day when no music sounds quite the way it sounds at six in the evening, it's gotta be said. I just gotta work on a sustainable working relationship with our friend the Song-ghoti, though.. I don't think he would put up with a personally-mixed a cappella hash of Good Vibrations every thirty minutes, beautiful though it is.. That said, I could totally jinx the network with loads of crappy music and signal the end of music as we know it.. This is sounding so cool already..! *maniacal laughter* Until next time on Songfacts Radio, this is your pal, Matt, supercharged and ready to go go GO!
  11. Back when I was playing the piano on a regular basis and when my brain was working in gear enough to think of sentences ten words at a time, or, for that matter, I'm copying something which is being dictated to me, I used to be able to average around 100 WPM for twenty minutes or more. I once set myself a task to write a 25,000 word essay which I completed in just under 29 minutes. That said, with my new computer, comes a new, singlehanded keyboard, which I am not so good at using. These 100+ figures are from using my two-handed keyboard. I now have a slightly more tricky to use one-handed keyboard which isn't half as responsive when I use my fourth finger on P, L and M. I don't know what I'd average out at on this new keyboard, though. I gotta get started playing Typer Shark again, I guess! Love and mercy
  12. Hopes And Fears. Still riding the charts over here after so many weeks. Could write a thesis on it. Released, I think, two singles from it, though I could be entirely wrong and it be three, but the two I'm aware of were Everybody's Changing, and the one I bought, Bedshaped. Still looking for the other one. I do really like his voice, and the difference between Chaplin and everyone else, Healy included, is that he can pull it off live as well. So I was initially intrigued because they sounded like a great band, especially for their first CD. (Heck, we gotta remember that amongst bands who shouldn't be judged for their first CD's material include The Beatles). I researched further. Turns out, the lead singer formed the band in East Sussex, not five minutes away from where I was born. Super-groovy! Apparently (and you can never believe everything you hear, read, or absorb) a new CD is in the pipeline. Matt
  13. It's funny that the original poster to this thread came up with The Beach Boys as an example for those things that you hear during the songs which aren't part of the music. On the "Tracks" part of website cabinessence, there is a (not quite exhaustive) list of the noises which you can hear on Beach Boys album tracks). There is actually quite a lot of talking left on The Beach Boys' Capitol releases, and especially noticeable lots of talking on "Love You", their 1976 release, including a spontaneous profanity at the back end of "Honkin' Down The Highway" and a whole bunch of talking throughout their Christmas hit "Merry Christmas Baby". And while listening to their karaoke album Stack-O-Tracks, you can clearly hear backing and lead vocals being sung throughout "Catch A Wave", "Little Saint Nick" (which interestingly appears to be the single version on the album rather than the album release, complete with sleigh bells and fades out the last seven seconds with vocals rather than instrumental). And finally a note about Barbara Ann. Fast forward the Beach Boys Party album version to 1:33, you hear the words: "A little lower" "Saw" "Tried" And here is the reason that the laughing interlude is present on this part of the album. Trying to think of more as I continue, too, but that should do for now. Matt
  14. It's funny you should mention this song. You know who does a version of it on his solo album? Mike Love. Of the Beach Boys. It's enough to make me go insane, having heard it..! I don't wish it upon anyone, even as a huge fan.. Matt
  15. Personally I played the real thing with pen and paper and I'm pretty sure I got every one right (as I usually do..) though a couple of them were quite T+G. I never stopped to see the second half of the show, though, as I was tired and had to crash over at my girlfriend's. That said, I never did get the best of night's sleep. I'm sure there's some way to fix that..! Matt
  16. Beach Boys' Pet Sounds (mono/stereo) on CD. (Closely followed by Shania Twain. How's that for polarization?) Still got it, still listen to it frequently (even more frequently now as I myself am striving to emulate Brian and write the world's most perfect album. Ever. I'll get to it). As for Shania, "Come On Over", which incidentally has sold an incredible number of CDs over here, that wasn't mine originally and I got it as a gift from a friend. Still listen to it frequently. (I know, I'm so young and foolish!) Matt
  17. My name (information acquired from the last time I checked my underwear, Homer Simpson style), is Matt. Apparently if I had have been born a girl my name would have been Helen, but I wouldn't have been particularly fond of that, I don't think. Maybe it's just a general bad experience thing with people called Helen. Not that I'm not willing to try and improve things between me and them, of course..! Matt
  18. Bobo

    All Smiles

    Anyone checked out Plauder recently? I'm fairly sure it's changed URL since last time I checked.. which admittedly was a long while ago.. Matt
  19. Nice thoughts, CarsAndKites. This reminds me of a thread on another board of "Discourse In Art". What counts as art, what doesn't, where do we draw the line between art/disgust, art/torture, art/garfunkel.. whatever. To take a point which doesn't need embellishing, what can be taught is only what others know and can pass from one person to the other. What can't be taught are exaggerations on stories, or anything which requires another person to listen and mimic what's being said. There's also my school of thought which by now means that I sincerely believe that half of what scientists think is absolute bull, even to them. Maybe not of the advanced theses which they cling to so egotistically now, but theories which could chagrin others into hatred towards them. Coming back to the start again, that being, the best place of all to start starting. Being the best. Having come from the musical background which I do, I can safely make the following true statements: True statement number one. I, a grade seven pianist, am probably no better at playing the piano than a grade three pianist given the same amount of time at the same pieces within the same range of difficulty. Give me a grade three piece and I'll prove it. I simply b]can't sight-read. Sure, I'll get the basic idea of how a piece sounds, which notes go where and when, but time doesn't allow for me to hone the piece itself. Give me the same seven days on Rondo Alla Turka, and I'm screwed. We all know how that one goes, but whether we can reproduce it ourselves in sound form is all down to how good we are at adapting to a certain sound, a certain layout of fingers, of continuous sounds, of digital gymnastics. True statement number two: To me, my favourite music, is the best music. To me, the best music is the music to which I've been conditioned to, the best art is the art I've been conditioned to. Ask the same to a group of kpangolo players, they'll say the same thing. (While this is no slight on the kpangolo itself, which is a fine instrument, it's more a slight on my lack of current impetus on this otherwise valid musical subject). True statement number three: By learning from someone else, you also learn their beliefs, adopt their principles and attitudes, and ask about what they believe to be, a) the best way to do something, the most efficient way to do something, c) the easiest way to do something, and conversely, d) the most challenging and/or satisfying way of achieving something more difficult. I have my own personal opinions on my favourite music, most of which most people won't agree with. But damn, I know I'm right. Love and mercy Matt
  20. I seem to have missed somewhat of a rather philosophical conversation going on here! (For more on my thoughts on philosophical discussions, visit the moderators only forum!) Now, as with everything else about which I am generally so explicit, we have to split the title of this topic up into two separate sections. The first is musical influences for our own personal listening. Those who I have been closest to my heart have been the most knowledgeable about these. Most of my harmony knowledge has been very much thanks to The Beach Boys' Brian Wilson, who I've grown up listening to and deconstructing the harmony of. The other reasons I tend to write in these styles stem from the fact that I've been trained in classical music. It's so much easier to think in this way than any other for me. If I started composing something which to me was harmonically unsound, I'd begin to worry. The other side of the coin is the coin that I don't so much exhibit any more (for obvious reasons) which is my writing. As you may or may not be aware, things between me and my girlfriend have moved on at such a rate that... well, I can't tell you everything that's happened, for fear of inciting shock and hatred. If you know what's happened, you know, if you don't, you don't. This should be providing so much writing inspiration. At the moment, it isn't, but that will come with time. That and I'm worried about never being able to top some of my recent works. I might have to be going back to my old style of writing, dousing myself in everything spiritually beautiful in order to come up with some kind of writing. It'll be a hard job, but I'll do it. Eventually. Love and mercy Matt
  21. With my Princess Steinway in its worst state for 14 years, my only option left is to play all piano music silently.. My favourites on air piano include "Frank And Jesse James" by the late Warren Zevon, "Somewhere Only We Know" by Keane, a few selected favourites from The Everly Brothers, including "Arms Of Mary", and most Beach Boys material, particularly off the two initial albums. Personally, I believe it to be a relief that I'm not the only person who partakes in this skill (pastime, act, usw). Love and mercy Matt
  22. Tarzan Boy? The magenta text and offbeat comments may render me an idiot for not having realized this before, but..? "No, I don't know what schaudenfreude is. Please tell me because I'm dying to know!"
  23. Hi there Hannah I do this about three or four times every year at present. For reference and a pickup point I arm myself with a second-hand singles store in the centre of Telford, and Martin L. Newton's Top 40 Index. At the moment, what I do is collect every number one hit, which consist of everything from Peter Andre to LMV to Frankie's excuse for a track. Then I collect them at the end of the year and make four tapes out of them. (I even picked up a copy of soccer anthem "Yeovil True" from the town to put on as a joke. I don't even remember the track any more), along with Paul Weller's "The Bottle". As for upcoming singles, I don't know where the best place to look would be. So sorry. I'll keep on the lookout for you, I promise. Matt
  24. Furiously crafting an answer for this one, MuzikTime. I'll be with you shortly!
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