So that you can browse my works more effortlessly, I have gathered everything into three albums:
1. My Musicbox - for all my musical and audio works.
2. May's text records- for my pros, poems, tiny stories, ,etc...
3. May's visual records - my less frequent attempts at photography and drawing.
ATTENTION: With the new layout here, you have to open this record in a new page in order to access these three albums. Just click again on the title at the top that says "MY RECORDS (music, art, & text)".
Calling all DRUMMERS, BASSISTS, and HOWLERS!!!
DRUMMERS: thinky sexy and creepy. I know that might seem ironic, but the two go together well. Use 60's retro tones. Put the swing of a woman's hips in your groove.
Come in on the first chorus (don't touch the first verse). remember to hit that musical break on the last bar of the chorus and the verses- hit the one and then pause for three counts. Feel free to do a quick pick up back into the beat. During the musical interlude at the end go crazy. Build that section up with fills and symbols. Then let it collapse on the 5th progression's end, so that that last progression shrinks back down to a more tranquil sound. ALSO. Please record to this track but do not mix your drums into the track... just upload your stems solo style.
BASSISTS: sexy creepy stalky bass. Hit the root notes and creep around sparsely between them. Come in on the first chorus (don't touch the 1st verse). Remember to hit that musical break on the last bar of the chorus and the verses. During the musical interlude at the end run a little more. This is where the song explodes and all the wolves come out to play. ALSO. Please record to this track but do not mix your bass into the track... just upload your stems solo style.
HOWLERS: We need more howls! Record yourself howling, snarling, etc and add it to the collab!
Chords: Gm, Cm, D7, Cm, G#, Gm
Tempo: Largo. 55 Bpm.
Please contribute your records to the wolves in the woods collab, and source this 7.0 record. (i.e. don't source Wolves in the Woods 4.0) Can't wait!
Added background vox. So. Can I get a drummer on this? Or Beats? Hit Me! Amen. Think Harry Nilsson's The Point or The Beatles' Sgt. Peppers Album. Be playful.
Second track off of 'Spilt Milk'. Have at it!
Nothing like a good ol' beating
to make a proper fool out of me
I've taken a torch to everything i own
and shamed my family.
I keep a will in my back pocket.
Another one is tucked in my boot.
And if you're lucky enough to see me coming,
don't hesitate before you shoot.
But I'm gonna go to church on sunday.
Make a proper fool out of me.
Lord, let me make it to sunday.
To wash all of my sins clean.
I'm gonna disappear in the evening.
Take flight before the sun bleeds.
And don't ask the sky for no reason,
or shake me down by my trail of rosary beads.
There's nothing you can pray I aint prayed for
nothing you can say I aint heard
no morning I don't wake up shaking
God damn I hate that mocking bird.
But I'm gonna go to church on Sunday
-make a proper fool out of me.
Lord, let me make it to Sunday
to wash all of my sins clean.
this footage contains: dancing heels in fishnet stockings, hands playing with very sparkly jewelry, jewelry being pulled off of the edge of a bed by a hand from below, and a shot of what is either a sleeping or a dead girl in a ncie dress next to a necklace.
just providing some stock for you to mess around with.
I plan on making this my most comprehensive collection of my very favorite audio works. so this is subject to additions weekly. but i'll be picky about it.
1. The Universe is Us (audio) by TongueCutSparrow- It took me perhaps a bit longer to stumble upon tonguecitsparrow's devillishly joy-division-with-a-little-more-meat-on-the-bone style. But I love it.
2. Sick Again (audio) by RegularJOE - Is it hitREcord cliche to feature a RegularJOE record? Sorry, heh. But personally i feel this captures a certain bed-ridden-malaise that perhaps it was meant to quite perfectly. My compliments.
3. Notre Belle Descente by Madrond101 -Beautifully faltering piano lines, and whimsical accordion. So perfect for silent film.
4. When We Were Invisible by wirrow - Firstly, I'm a sucker for delicately used handclaps as minimal percussion. Theres a nice dichotomy to this song. somewhat sad, somewhat magical, somewhat cheerful, somewhat full of exhaustion. it makes the world slow down, that's for certain.
5. Dark of Love by The Morning Hollows - This song makes me feel good. I like beats that sound like they were recorded by holding a taperecorder up to the radio.
6. Fuck You, Spider by sexymoustache - this would be great to animate. the song has all the cutesyness of The Moldy Peaches sense of humor and all.
7. Bad Habits by Ryan patrick - dreamy folk. dreamy folk.
more descriptions later.
This is a more dramatic one I recorded today 01/28/11
I was humming this in the shower, and I decided to record it. Here are the results. Let me know what you think.
Eleven Years With Gloam
Years ago, if I can remember time at all, I made a mistake. One fickle mistake. One flippant momentary lapse of judgment that any ordinary day-walking, earth-turning, time-fumbling person might callously allow themselves. Yet I, and I alone in my stupidity, unwittingly and unknowingly was the one to make it. But let me say here and now, while I have any last grasp of human consciousness that it was a mistake- a terrible and irreversible mistake.
You see, I was like you once. A sun-kissed, womb-nurtured, hat-wearing, key-toting, nine-to-five average. I sat up every morning to an unforgiving sun baking my flushed skin through my bedroom window. I lathered myself with doses upon doses of foams and oils. I fitted myself in bright seasonal garbs- in yellows, and greens, and ceruleans, and crimsons. Oh how I miss those crimsons! But something dim happened to me, or I happened upon something dim.
There was a time when I would give anything for a nights rest. For a pillow that didn’t pull at my cheek like a cat’s tongue. For a body that could lie horizontal with steady slumber. For a few hours where I retreated easily into my bed’s horizon- where I could peer out of my window, salute the sunset, and nod knowingly. But my body and I were always in disagreement. My body always seemed at odds with the general way of things. Human nature was running on a clock that ticked too slowly for me, and I was always left waiting for the hour hand to come round again. Somewhere in time, man and the world shook hands on a deal, and I was the unqualified wager.
Then, one casual evening, I changed. As the neighborhood people retired to their cozy bundles, yawning out their nightly affirmations, and shut their lids to block out what they were not meant to see, I surrendered to my devastating consciousness and stood peering- wide eyed and fixated. I wouldn’t protest any longer. I wouldn’t return to the pressing hours of linen turmoil. There would be no more struggle from me. If twilight’s nightly lullaby failed to sedate me, then I would harness the night- my very worst idea... in retrospect.
Take the utmost heed of my words now, so that you never fall prey to my mistake. If you find yourself struggling with the ways of human living, no matter how painful, no matter how futile, never stop struggling. Fight to obey the laws of human nature. Fight to function like your brothers and sisters. Fight your insomnia, your apnea, your restlessness. Because it is in that struggle that you straddle the line between your world and this one. It is when you surrender that you open the door to Umbra.
I should mention that the name ‘Umbra’ is as closely as I can dictate in human English the word that the Shadow Beings use to call this place. Language here is aloof for a former daywalker like me. Shadow Beings, especially Gloam, haven’t the very parts necessary to make human consonants and vowels. Instead, they use the sorts of sounds that human beings would find very difficult to emulate.- the kind that at human’s very best attempts, are only onomatopoeias. The shadow language is like a heavy gust of wind laden with rusted machinery, settling houses, and polished glass. Even my name here, my new name, sounds something like the swing of swollen door. I should think that every letter in Umbre was manifested out of some dark corner, some deep crevice, or some long hollow place where sound wafts between something hard and something harder. It's almost as though the whole of Umbra is one endless tunnel.
Intuitively, I would guess that I’ve been stuck here in the darkest corner of Umbre about eleven human years. Time is nearly inconceivable here. The occupants of this territory, the Gloam, have spent much energy trying to explain to me qualitatively and quantitatively just how they measure time. From what I can gather, one human year here is the equivalent of one half of what they call a ‘blink’, which is the third smallest significant measurement of time they have ever bothered to name. So you see, Umbre is consumed with a certain slowness that makes cognitive thought rather impossible for me. This part of Umbra, which I have never found the borders of, is completely seeped through with a sort of exhaustion. This world is thick with a sort of languid lucidity, which makes moving inside of it much like moving inside of a dream. The beings of Umbra function in what is almost a waking sleep.
Now that I've estalished a bit of the logistics, I can begin getting into the plot. Ive figured out how economy and currency works in Umbra, as well as how the Gloam plan to revolt against the current class system and why. If anyone would like to collaborate on my concept of this world, please contact me for details.
if this were my song, i would keep it this simple. Tambourine, backup vocals, a little extra guitar. Specially in scoring a film. However since I posted this, I have posted a newer version with better mix. here: http://www.hitrecord.org/records/1126066
first track on album 'spilt milk', but copyright shmoppyrights. right? rights.
and someone asked for the lyrics:
drag your feet, keep your life strapped to your shoulders.
if you don't carve your age into your belt, you wont get any older
it's a mixed up masquerade, a penniless arcade
every face a frown, oh what a crazy town
hang your head, they'll steal the toes right off of your feet
you're lucky to count all ten, when you're living on the street
its a story thats been told, a body thats been sold
'round and around and around. oh what a crazy town
(see) joy around here comes in a little pink balloon
and if you got out of here yesterday it wouldn't be too soon
it's a cardboard palisade, a pocket change brigade
every way is down. oh what a crazy town