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Length: 14 pages. Word Wise: Enabled. Enhanced Typesetting: Enabled. Page Flip: Enabled. Language: English. Audible Download Audio Books. Tonight ft. Step Into Midnight ft. Nicole Willis can do no wrong, either, as she steps up to deliver further damage on the flip. Calling Medellin, Colombia home for the time being, these 2 tracks were the last songs Bosq made in his US studio.
The brainchild of R. After a 20 year hiatus from producing music, hunkering down and delving deep into his esoteric studies while amassing one of the more impressive record collections focused on library music, his ascension has been ignited by his exposure to a young and eager audience as a tour DJ for cult surf-rock crusaders The Growlers. Leaving crowds mesmerized throwing down hard Disco and Funk while exploring the groove alongside them gyrating and slithering shirtless on stage.
The music of Sweet Maya is an extension of each member. As individuals they bring together diverse backgrounds, as a group they blend it all into a sound that is exciting and full of warmth. The six-piece group of multi-talented instrumentalists has five lead singers, four songwriters and four arrangers. The music that grows from the contact of such persons is evidenced in this album. It is Sweet Maya the Illusion that flows through and shapes the many idioms of their music.
Good Day Lousiana Song Gotta Find Out Crazy Coldness Surround Me The Earth Has Music Papa Taco Illusions People Suite Angisa Alusa Live Setting aside Ableton and his laptop for production and going the hardware route using a combo of the OP-1, Machinedrum UW, PO and a Korg Minilogue, his shift in gear also results in a slight shift in direction with flavors of house and dance music filtering through the sound.
Brown Sabbath Vol. II cranks up the level, rocking harder than the original with a brew of ballistic horns, pummeling guitar-riffs underscored by a funky, driving rhyhm section. II crosses over more to hard rock territory. An 8-piece outfit formed ten years ago by members of Grammy Award-winning Latin revival orchestra Grupo Fantasma, Brownout has evolved into a musical force all its own. With a succesful tour of Brown Sabbath under their belt including Bonnaroo and Austin Psych Fest while earning their third Austin Music Award, the band has continued to produce music that is unflinchingly progressive, while evoking the classic influences of artists such as WAR, Cymande and Funkadelic.
Brownout now has four albums under their belt including Brown Sabbath Vol. II, will be announced shortly. Basil, a multi-instrumentalist, long-time record collector, and energy healer is a man that's been making music for a long time under many different guises and in many different styles. Most of this music has been around for the entirety of the 90's and 's without being heard because despite Basil's outspoken appearance described by many as looking like Iggy Pop's twin brother and would never be caught wearing a t-shirt no matter the location he's very quiet about his musical output.
Body Rogers is also part of the Non Stop group and is a master of electronics and engineering. It's crazy, it's sexy, and it's sleazy. With collectors, record shops, and fans alike clamoring for a vinyl version, the 7in was hands down the preferred format of choice. Late one cold winter night, our Little Drummer Boy found himself alone in his chilly recording studio. Busting out the Jingle Bells he decided to break the unseasonably eerie Silent Night and play himself a song or two.
Old Saint Mick joined him on the black and whites and the two of them knew that as long as they had tunes, they would not be alone this Holiday season. Where are you from? What A Wonderful World of music I hear! After a few more pleasantries the father decided to ditch the mother and child and join the Little Drummer Boy and Old Saint Mick for an all night sherry-fueled funked-up jam session. They left the tapes rolling and the CD in your hands might be the result of this session. Either way, Christmas has never been so funky!
The group started working on the record in the summer of , but Gean was able to lay down his signature gravelly vocals on only two songs before he became ill and fell into a coma. He remained unconscious for twelve days, and it was during that time he heard God's voice telling him to get back to work. Gean took that admonition to heart. He was rushed to the hospital two days after the second session. It was a rough mix but all the elements were there, all the righteous energy and joyful passion that had been the Relatives' trademarks since Gean formed the group in Gean asked Earnest to play the track twice.
He smiled all the way through as he listened to it. Gean West grew up in a musical family in Dallas that was well known within gospel circles. As a young boy, Gean preached door-to-door for nickels and quarters. He began touring with the Sensational Golden Knights in , and, as leader of the Shreveport Southernaires, even cut a 45 with Houston hitmaker Don Robey You Gotta Do Right No Man Is An Island He Never Sleeps What You Say The psych-funk pioneers reunited in '09 and have been active ever since, touring the world and releasing their first proper full-length The Electric Word in The new record, Goodbye World set to drop in early is an elegy of sorts, since it showcases the final recordings of the Relatives' founder and leader Reverend Gean West, who died in February at the age of 78 in the midst of working on the album.
His signature vocals can be heard on the A-Side along with his brother Tommie West on top of a slow-rolling, bottom-heavy funk groove. Soul singer Gloria Ann Taylor has no rags to riches tale to tell. Her story is one of personal sacrifice, failed relationships, and missed opportunity. She was leading a hard knock life before being swept-up by the flash and promise of a marriage and business partnership with a successful record producer. But in the end she rejected professional singing, the music business, and the lifestyle that came with it.
Thankfully for music lovers, before Gloria closed the doors on her singing career, she left us with some amazing soul songs. Deeply shaded by gospel roots, her haunting sound clearly comes from the gut. Gloria did not fake the funk. They released five Gloria Taylor singles between and In the studio Whisenhunt would work up a unique musical brew that mixed northern soul with exotic percussion and fuzzy psychedelic guitars.
He moved Gloria through a range of tempos and stylings from ballads to disco. Her gritty vocal performance was set to orchestral arrangements creating a juxtaposition of grandeur and solace. Reminds me a little of Beck. Just avoid Evan when he has the blender. Having reached a number 1 spot on Bandcamp by way of a vigorous Reddit and 4chan campaign and catching the attention of head curator Andrew Jervis, Evan chose not to rest on his laurels but jumped head-first to record what will be his sophomore effort.
Dropping in late , Coils finds him continuing his growth as an artist and serves to further establish him as a talent to keep an eye on in the future. Many of the songs recorded over the last year began as guitar compositions, which were then painstakingly recreated electronically, building layers of arrangements consisting of electronic instruments, field recordings and his own vocals over an acoustic foundation.
Channeling a live analogue sound that borrows from the Illinois blues of Muddy Waters, as much as it does to the maverick electronica of Aphex Twin. At the heart of the group lies their live performance, a place where raw synth lines and brooding vocals form a safe haven away from the digital age. Working out of a converted garage in Venice, Lavashark craft a nomadic sound that when played live, forcefully raises you to your feet and questions whether this is old or very new. Nearly two years after his debut album, Bosq Y Orquestra De Madera, burst onto the scene with its varied rhythms and moods, Bosq is unleashing another batch of music for the dancefloor.
Slated for an October release, Celestial Strut is extending summer well past the autumnal equinox. Not content to produce one style of music, Bosq takes you through disco "Bad For Me". Thinking of each album like a DJ set, he's always determined to inject many flavors but still keep a cohesive sound. Helping to craft the album, collaborators such as Nicole Willis, Jesus Pagan Y Conjunto Barrio, and Kaleta chipped in with lyric writing, vocal duties, and riveting soundscapes.
Recalls Bosq, "Jesus and the Conjunto Barrio helped me to re-record all my parts into live ones which gives it a greater authenticity and better musicianship. I then took those parts to rework and modernize them. Having already received extensive coverage through outlets like Wax Poetics, OkayAfrica, Remezcla, and Sound Color Vibration as well as DJing around the country at nightclubs and even Boston's Museum Of Fine Arts, he's traveled extensively to locales such as South America and Puerto Rico since his last album to find new inspiration and perspective.
So this album definitely has a sense of my travels and spending time in other cultures, whether on the road or with my girl and her family. All that Latin culture immersion has opened up my cold Northeast heart a lot! Expanding outside of the Boston metro area has opened his eyes to a greater appreciation for his music when he plays his tracks in his DJ sets. Celestial Strut is a confident record based on musical and life experience that finds Bosq less constrained and focusing more on musical textures than genre conformity.
Although he contends that there is so much more musically that he wants to learn, his love for creation and the learning process continues to push him to produce some of the most exciting dance and internationally-flavored wax dishes this decade. That's what United Vibrations has brought to the table their entire career. Various writers and reviewers have tried their best to categorize the sound of London's United Vibrations using terms like Afrobeat or jazz. However, this unique group may be best described by the feelings their music instills instead of through a genre classification.
Call it spiritual, or call it vibrations, for that matter. Vibrations for the sound waves produced by their instruments and voices as well as for the emotions that it stirs from within. Comprised of three brothers - Ahmad, Kareem, and Yussef Dayes - alongside close friend Wayne Francis II, the group prescribes to the mantra, "Out of many must come one. While their early material was developed by busking and each song created separately, on The Myth Of The Golden Ratio they fused the process for writing and recording according to Kareem Dayes.
Citing access to more instruments in the studio, the band has felt even more creative freedom to enhance their sound. The bulk of the album was written over six months, while two older tracks "Far Far Away" and "Grow" were treated with new arrangements for this project. In listening to their Ubiquity debut, their passion for creation is clearly felt and heard. That same love has been admired by audiences and critics alike for their live performances.
While many acts perform for or to their audiences, United Vibrations relishes in their ability to perform among and with theirs. In fact, they consider the crowd the most integral part of the experience, with the energy becoming cyclical - the crowd feeding the musicians feeding the crowd. Oftentimes they utilize call-and-response to elicit participation that helps to create and maintain a musical and divine space. People from different life experiences and demographics have become a united force through this creative space at festivals and concerts across the UK and Europe.
It has been written for children and anyone with children or a childlike mind. We are inviting people to join us in the search for the Golden Ratio. Crafting a sonic and aural odyssey for a movie that exists only in his mind and imagination. Similar to his other projects such as his debut album Adventures as Dandy Teru or the Wonderland EP as MSQ, this new opus was roughly composed in a very short time, in about a week or so while also working on collaborations and releases with other artists.
The busy schedule and loads of studio time provided the necessary inspiration and state of mind to construct the LP properly. The end goal was to pay tribute to the compositions of various soundtracks of both old and more recent movies, and to show the producer's love for composers such as Umiliani, Piccioni, Goraguer, Legrand, Cliff Martinez, H. Zimmer, Danny Elfman, and Alexandre Desplats to name a few.
With sci-fi cinema as the main foundation, and using his fascination for astronomy along with personal existential queries about life's origins, one's purpose and our place and scale in the universe as building blocks, a story emerges sketched out of rough compositions and surreal mindscapes. In his own words: "Technically, I wanted it to sound dusty and ethereal. Full Moon Wizard is the story of the creation of a world from the largest scale of its complexity to its smallest. It's a route from the beginning of something we don't have the knowledge and skills to understand yet to things we are more familiar with today, trying to make the connections between the dots along the whole journey.
Definitely an album for nightowls, for mood music and soundtrack lovers. But it's more like vibes, rather than real tracks from start to end Perfect midnight soundtrack. The mid-tempo 4 on the floor beat is backed by a rolling, seemingly reversed bassline and interspersed with the beautiful vocal melodies and acoustic guitar rhythm from the original.
Starr Straddles Stumps 1: The Awakening
Responsible for crafting Common's sound, and now working as his music director, Khan has clocked more than two dozen years in the music industry. Featuring another helping of Kon with co-headliner Ohmega Watts, taking turns remixing and reimagining another Twilight classic. The deep, minimal intro gives way to a swinging groove with the chorus interspersed in perfectly to sync with the tune.
The latest installment from the highly acclaimed and sought after Rewind! Although originally intended to be a digital-only compilation, fans everywhere of the Rewind! Staying true to their M. Make some more room in your 45 collection as the boys from Nizhny Novgorod, Russia have created another highly collectable 7in single, adding to their seemingly ever-expanding canon of sure-fire, raw soul and funk. Look for the debut full-length Soul Surfers album to drop later in with a possible tour in the US.
The B-side is another heavy slab of dense percussion and an afrobeat style horn section with a groove that falls somewhere between afro-latin, dancehall, and house. Horn genius Evan Laflamme handles the entirety of the section as well as ripping a Baritone solo that anchors the track in the middle and perfectly walks the line between musicality and groove.
Take Over Take Over Less Patient Edit The culmination of sensory exploration. The Soul Surfers Soul Rock! But The Soul Surfers are sincere, and their geographic location matters little when it comes to chicken scratch guitar, syncopated drums, throbbing bass lines and overall attitude: this is funk for the universal get down. Deep, rich authentic soul music made with real passion.
And there is no barriers with people worldwide - everybody can do what they love together, don't believe the shitty words of politicians! Formed in , the piece band consists of musicians that have worked and collaborated with each other in different projects ranging from rock, jazz, folk, reggae and funk in the ever-evolving and musically diverse underground music scene in Poland.
Inspired by the masters of Afrobeat, world music, as well as African tribal music which is evident in their lyrics and choruses that repeat and weave in and out of deep, hypnotic grooves infusing it with a transcendental quality. Stop Signs Empty Words No Such Thing Only Now Usurpation Close To Far Which Direction Your Way Let It Flow The result is the most straight up heavy dance floor disco in the Bosq catalog thus far.
The track is dense with that afro-latin-disco percussion you would expect, bubbling with thick funky bass lines, rhythm guitar from "disco" Tom Noble himself, and a wide open piano driving it all. Nicole's perfectly nonchalant vocals sit just right in the groove effortlessly tying the track together and repeating the phrase we've all uttered at least a few times.
Bad For Me But guess what? Adrian Quesada is a man on a mission! He has been killing it in both the recording studio and on the live stage. The band of brothers created the music in the same fashion as their debut but with a noticeably fuzzier more dirtier edge. The album starts with Flexi Funk. On this track the drums were recorded straight to Flexi disc on a 's tube machine which sounds other worldly and crusty as f k!!!
Other highlights include the psych pop gem Spread The Jam which declares the duos intentions. Two of the hardest working musicians in show bidness and from the looks of it, just getting started! Flexi Funk Beer Good Spread The Jam Stealio Go Go Go Tennis Elbow Mister Pink Damn Skippy Austin City Limiter Jenn Wu The Soul Surfers return with another heavy psychedelic funk treat from their cosmic alter-ego Sputnik The boys from Nizhny Novgorod, Russia have created another collectable 45rpm 7in single, laden with cosmic goodness with plenty of tripped-out synthesizer grooves.
Awash in organs, and synths backed by the heaviest of drums. The B-side "Outer Space Bossa" veers toward the Brazilian side as indicated by the title of the tune. The heavy drums are still there along with the organs and synths starting off as a mid-tempo Bossa Nova groove then building up to a spacier and decidedly more funk heavy sound. All Hail The Mighty Sceptres! Nick and I have had the chance to focus together on writing and arranging, and though we've co-written many songs previously, this was a new level of freedom and responsibility for us. By enlisting the help of Chris Pedley The Baker Brothers as a producer who in turn brought in Benedic Lamdin Nostalgia 77 to help him with the final mix of the album, they were able to achieve just that.
Look for their debut full-length album dropping in ! Siren Call I Found The Letter Shy As A Butterfly Just Didnt Mean It Jerk Chicken Nothing Seems To Work Sting Like A Bee Gentle Refrain Land Of Green Ginger Krazy Kat That Ol' Feelin' The result is a heavier, more progressive and darker sound albeit with their signature funk and groove remaining intact as the foundation.
Their designated ring leader Masta Conga remains the driving force behind the group, and cites library music by Vladimir Cosma, Michel Colombier, and Francois de Roubaix along with French progressive acts Magma and Zao as the main influence for the album especially in terms of the groove. Contemporary classical music by Pierre Boulez rounds out the list of inspiration listed by Masta Conga in terms of constructing song structure and composition.
Always willing to create new and original rhythmic forms, we hope that it will satisfy you!! Kagemusha Pulsion Rituel Resurrection La Traque Homo Analog La Blanche Complot Shaman Drama En Sursis Chroniques Marxiennes French Connexion Code Panthera Perpetually fueled by a sunny, feel-good groove, the tunes on Hits the Hits are commendable for Mr. Lee's arrangements and embellishments that often improve upon the original sources. Somewhere, Magic Dick is smiling. He is also known to breaks n'beats collectors as the man behind " The Ape Breaks " and " Planet of the Breaks " series which were sampled by everyone from Guru to The Gorillaz.
Bosq of Whiskey Barons - "Bosqtucada" Bosq of Whiskey Barons feat. Tita Lima - "Paciencia De Jo" John Beltran - "Bota Foga" The Echocentrics feat. Tita Lima - "Mundo Pequeno" Shawn Lee's Ping Pong Orchestra feat. Curumin - "Nao Vacila" John Beltran - "Sun Musica" Tita Lima - "Jardim" John Beltran - "Pica" Ohmega Watts - "The Platypus Strut" Ohmega Watts feat. Tita Lima - "Adaptacao" John Beltran - "Kiana" Remaining true to the darkness, bombast and fuzz of Sabbath's sound, Brownout reinvents the music with their trademark flavors of Latin-Funk and Psychedelic Rock.
Hand Of Doom ft. Alex Maas Hand Of Doom Instr. The Wizard ft. Alex Marrero The Wizard Instr. After garnering their third Austin Music Award last year, the band has continued to produce music that is unflinchingly progressive, while evoking the classic influences of artists such as WAR, Cymande and Funkadelic. Tour dates to support the release of their fourth studio effort, Brownout Presents Brown Sabbath, will be announced shortly. The Wizard Iron Man Black Sabbath Hand Of Doom Into The Void Florent F also from France, adds some heavier live drums to create a harder-hitting version on his mix.
Instrumental Notes bassist Vince Chiarito, "Thinking of all the great music that has come out of the Daptone Studio really pushed us to refine our songs and grow as a band. It was really inspiring to record there. The self-titled debut captured the raw energy of us playing live and the new record is much more of a studio effort. Psychedelic textures weave in and out of the grooves while the horn section offers an explosive response. The songs are heavy and danceable and show our moodier, more melodic side. The Offering Stone By Stone The Beast By Hook Or By Crook Rio Grande Last Stand Cover Your Tracks Chosen Path The Illusion Never before seen photos along with corresponding liner notes from DJhistory.
Get Cha Girl Swing City Rhythm Nowhere Fire Inspired by songs from Mike James Kirkland's "Don't Sell Your Soul" anthology from his earlier days as part of "Mike And the Censations", the Soundsational album pays homage to the amazing source material that's been sampled, chopped and reconstructed while preserving the soul of the originals. The result are 10 songs that delve deep into Hip-hop's Golden Era with the boom-bap sound and soul samples combined to create an instant classic.
The Soundsational Instrumentals came about due to a massive demand for the instrumental counterpart of the album. Understand the Message inst Inner Energy inst Styles Dub Version inst Soundsational inst Deception inst Rastaman inst Get Even inst Styles inst Soundsci returns with two new remixes off their Soundsational album on a limited 7in single! Instrumentals for both tracks are included with the digital download and are also available on the upcoming Soundsational Instrumentals album.
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Styles Dub The Mighty Sceptres sound like a lost musical treasure from the vaults of soul. The song itself is rich with significance. Its heritage is firmly in the minor blues tradition, exemplified by tracks like Rose Mitchell's 'Baby Please Don't Go'. Angeline is heavily influenced by Alan Lomax's recordings of prison songs and spirituals, and also by Emily Bronte's classic 'Wuthering Heights'.
The eerie music seemed to lend itself to the development of a story around a little lovelorn ghost returning to its beloved, hiding shyly and tapping on the window when it felt its confidence surge. The song evolves into a swinging tempo as the ghost realises the futility of her endeavour With influences as diverse as Sam Cooke, Jackie Wilson, Irma Thomas, The Impressions and The Soul Brothers Six, getting the "right sound", from the writing through to the recording, engineering, production, mixing and mastering, is of paramount importance to this sort of music. As such, The Mighty Sceptres are careful to work with people who understand where they are coming from, while using suitable vintage instruments and analog equipment that will help achieve an authentic sound.
Kryzysztof Oktalski, who co-produced the debut single is himself a big Northern Soul collector, with an encyclopedic knowledge of recording, engineering and mixing techniques from the best studios and labels of the 60s. He stays true to the original but packs a bit more punch into the groove while keeping the focus on the catchy vocals and chorus on the A-side, and doing it Dub-style with minimal vocals and plenty of echo on the flip. The Tropicalia-inspired sound backed by Brazilian chanteuse Tita Lima was the perfect song for the summer. Looking to keep the fall season at bay, Tall Black Guy drops a Brazil-by-way-of-Detroit remix ensuring a few more days of sunshine.
Instrumentals for both original and remix are also included. He fashions the beginning of his remix much in the same way as the original but replaying the keys with a more subdued feel and jazzier flavor. Paciencia De Jo Remix Paciencia De Jo Remix instrumental Paciencia De Jo original On the flip we have Bosq of Whiskey Barons turning up the dancefloor quotient level to 10 with his remix. Look for the full-length album debut from Warsaw Afrobeat Orchestra in Only Now Instrumental Only Now Bosq Remix Paolo takes an already perfect track and gives the dancefloor and the listener an additional treat with an extended edit over 7 minutes long!
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Running In The Rain Original Both heavily steeped in studio experience and amazing multi-instrumentalists in their own regard, partial songs and sometimes single tracks were recorded and sent back and forth across the pond. The spontaneity, freedom and fun both had in making the record is evident by the relatively short two month period it took to finish. The Rain Backstreet Wall Cold Blood Dreams El Prudence Big Tweed Alfonso Mono Man The Devil Mama Lion Going In Circles Christophe Waltz Most commonly known for its inclusion on the single-sided, clear vinyl Yes LA compilation that was released on the Dangerhouse label and also included songs by The Germs, The Bags and others.
Down At The Laundromat Tujunga original Ben finishes up his musical tour de force with a couple of classic instrumental House tracks with some modern flavor. Paciencia De Jo feat. Tita Lima Never Feel Cold feat. Mendee Ichi Get Involved More Heavy feat. Wuk Up feat. U-George Dem Know feat. Pura Candela feat. Jesus Pagan Movin' On Land of the Old Thirteen! Massachusetts land! Land of the ocean shores! Land of boatmen and sailors! Inextricable lands! The side by side! The great women's land! Far breath'd land! Arctic braced! Mexican breez'd! The Pennsylvanian! O all and each well-loved by me!
O I at any rate include you all with perfect love! I cannot be discharged from you! O death! O for all that, I am yet of you unseen this hour with irrepressible love, Walking New England, a friend, a traveller, Splashing my bare feet in the edge of the summer ripples on Paumanok's sands, Crossing the prairies, dwelling again in Chicago, dwelling in every town, Observing shows, births, improvements, structures, arts, Listening to orators and oratresses in public halls, Of and through the States as during life, each man and woman my neighbor, The Louisianian, the Georgian, as near to me, and I as near to him and her, The Mississippian and Arkansian yet with me, and I yet with any of them,.
Yet upon the plains west of the spinal river, yet in my house of adobie, Yet returning eastward, yet in the Seaside State or in Maryland, Yet Kanadian cheerily braving the winter, the snow and ice welcome to me, Yet a true son either of Maine or of the Granite State, or the Narragansett Bay State, or the Empire State, Yet sailing to other shores to annex the same, yet welcoming every new brother, Hereby applying these leaves to the new ones from the hour they unite with the old ones, Coming among the new ones myself to be their companion and equal, coming personally to you now, Enjoining you to acts, characters, spectacles, with me.
For your life adhere to me, I may have to be persuaded many times before I consent to give myself really to you, but what of that? Must not Nature be persuaded many times? No dainty dolce affettuoso I, Bearded, sun-burnt, gray-neck'd, forbidding, I have arrived, To be wrestled with as I pass for the solid prizes of the universe, For such I afford whoever can persevere to win them. Still the present I raise aloft, still the future of the States I harbinge glad and sublime, And for the past I pronounce what the air holds of the red aborigines.
The red aborigines, Leaving natural breaths, sounds of rain and winds, calls as of birds and animals in the woods, syllabled to us for names, Okonee, Koosa, Ottawa, Monongahela, Sauk, Natchez, Chattahoochee, Kaqueta, Oronoco, Wabash, Miami, Saginaw, Chippewa, Oshkosh, Walla-Walla, Leaving such to the States they melt, they depart, charging the water and the land with names. These, my voice announcing- I will sleep no more but arise, You oceans that have been calm within me!
O you and me at last, and us two only. O a word to clear one's path ahead endlessly! O something ecstatic and undemonstrable! O music wild! O now I triumph- and you shall also; O hand in hand- O wholesome pleasure- O one more desirer and lover! O to haste firm holding- to haste, haste on with me. I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil, this air, Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same, I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin, Hoping to cease not till death. Creeds and schools in abeyance, Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten, I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard, Nature without check with original energy.
The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the distillation, it is odorless, It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it, I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked, I am mad for it to be in contact with me. The smoke of my own breath, Echoes, ripples, buzz'd whispers, love-root, silk-thread, crotch and vine, My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing of blood and air through my lungs, The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the shore and dark-color'd sea-rocks, and of hay in the barn, The sound of the belch'd words of my voice loos'd to the eddies of the wind, A few light kisses, a few embraces, a reaching around of arms, The play of shine and shade on the trees as the supple boughs wag, The delight alone or in the rush of the streets, or along the fields and hill-sides, The feeling of health, the full-noon trill, the song of me rising from bed and meeting the sun.
Have you reckon'd a thousand acres much? Have you practis'd so long to learn to read? Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems? Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems, You shall possess the good of the earth and sun, there are millions of suns left, You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books, You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me, You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self.
There was never any more inception than there is now, Nor any more youth or age than there is now, And will never be any more perfection than there is now, Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now. Urge and urge and urge, Always the procreant urge of the world. Out of the dimness opposite equals advance, always substance and increase, always sex, Always a knit of identity, always distinction, always a breed of life. To elaborate is no avail, learn'd and unlearn'd feel that it is so.
Sure as the most certain sure, plumb in the uprights, well entretied, braced in the beams, Stout as a horse, affectionate, haughty, electrical, I and this mystery here we stand. Clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul. Lack one lacks both, and the unseen is proved by the seen, Till that becomes unseen and receives proof in its turn. Showing the best and dividing it from the worst age vexes age, Knowing the perfect fitness and equanimity of things, while they discuss I am silent, and go bathe and admire myself.
Welcome is every organ and attribute of me, and of any man hearty and clean, Not an inch nor a particle of an inch is vile, and none shall be less familiar than the rest. I am satisfied- I see, dance, laugh, sing; As the hugging and loving bed-fellow sleeps at my side through the night, and withdraws at the peep of the day with stealthy tread, Leaving me baskets cover'd with white towels swelling the house with their plenty, Shall I postpone my acceptation and realization and scream at my eyes, That they turn from gazing after and down the road, And forthwith cipher and show to me a cent, Exactly the value of one and exactly the value of two, and which is ahead?
My dinner, dress, associates, looks, compliments, dues, The real or fancied indifference of some man or woman I love, The sickness of one of my folks or of myself, or ill-doing or loss or lack of money, or depressions or exaltations, Battles, the horrors of fratricidal war, the fever of doubtful news, the fitful events; These come to me days and nights and go from me again, But they are not the Me myself.
Apart from the pulling and hauling stands what I am, Stands amused, complacent, compassionating, idle, unitary, Looks down, is erect, or bends an arm on an impalpable certain rest, Looking with side-curved head curious what will come next, Both in and out of the game and watching and wondering at it. Backward I see in my own days where I sweated through fog with linguists and contenders, I have no mockings or arguments, I witness and wait. Loafe with me on the grass, loose the stop from your throat, Not words, not music or rhyme I want, not custom or lecture, not even the best, Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice.
I mind how once we lay such a transparent summer morning, How you settled your head athwart my hips and gently turn'd over upon me, And parted the shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged your tongue to my bare-stript heart, And reach'd till you felt my beard, and reach'd till you held my feet. Swiftly arose and spread around me the peace and knowledge that pass all the argument of the earth, And I know that the hand of God is the promise of my own, And I know that the spirit of God is the brother of my own, And that all the men ever born are also my brothers, and the women my sisters and lovers, And that a kelson of the creation is love, And limitless are leaves stiff or drooping in the fields,.
And brown ants in the little wells beneath them, And mossy scabs of the worm fence, heap'd stones, elder, mullein and poke-weed. I do not know what it is any more than he. I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven. Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord, A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt, Bearing the owner's name someway in the corners, that we may see and remark, and say Whose? Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation. Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic, And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow zones, Growing among black folks as among white, Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I receive them the same.
And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves. Tenderly will I use you curling grass, It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men, It may be if I had known them I would have loved them, It may be you are from old people, or from offspring taken soon out of their mothers' laps, And here you are the mothers' laps.
This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old mothers, Darker than the colorless beards of old men, Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths. O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues, And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for nothing. I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men and women,. And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring taken soon out of their laps.
What do you think has become of the young and old men? And what do you think has become of the women and children? They are alive and well somewhere, The smallest sprout shows there is really no death, And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it, And ceas'd the moment life appear'd. All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.
I hasten to inform him or her it is just as lucky to die, and I know it. I pass death with the dying and birth with the new-wash'd babe, and am not contain'd between my hat and boots, And peruse manifold objects, no two alike and every one good, The earth good and the stars good, and their adjuncts all good. I am not an earth nor an adjunct of an earth, I am the mate and companion of people, all just as immortal and fathomless as myself, They do not know how immortal, but I know.
Every kind for itself and its own, for me mine male and female, For me those that have been boys and that love women, For me the man that is proud and feels how it stings to be slighted, For me the sweet-heart and the old maid, for me mothers and the mothers of mothers, For me lips that have smiled, eyes that have shed tears, For me children and the begetters of children. The youngster and the red-faced girl turn aside up the bushy hill, I peeringly view them from the top. The suicide sprawls on the bloody floor of the bedroom, I witness the corpse with its dabbled hair, I note where the pistol has fallen.
I am there, I help, I came stretch'd atop of the load, I felt its soft jolts, one leg reclined on the other, I jump from the cross-beams and seize the clover and timothy, And roll head over heels and tangle my hair full of wisps. The Yankee clipper is under her sky-sails, she cuts the sparkle and scud, My eyes settle the land, I bend at her prow or shout joyously from the deck. The boatmen and clam-diggers arose early and stopt for me, I tuck'd my trowser-ends in my boots and went and had a good time; You should have been with us that day round the chowder-kettle. I saw the marriage of the trapper in the open air in the far west, the bride was a red girl, Her father and his friends sat near cross-legged and dumbly smoking, they had moccasins to their feet and large thick blankets hanging from their shoulders, On a bank lounged the trapper, he was drest mostly in skins, his luxuriant beard and curls protected his neck, he held his bride by the hand, She had long eyelashes, her head was bare, her coarse straight locks descended upon her voluptuous limbs and reach'd to her feet.
The runaway slave came to my house and stopt outside, I heard his motions crackling the twigs of the woodpile, Through the swung half-door of the kitchen I saw him limpsy and weak, And went where he sat on a log and led him in and assured him, And brought water and fill'd a tub for his sweated body and bruis'd feet, And gave him a room that enter'd from my own, and gave him some coarse clean clothes, And remember perfectly well his revolving eyes and his awkwardness, And remember putting piasters on the galls of his neck and ankles; He staid with me a week before he was recuperated and pass'd north, I had him sit next me at table, my fire-lock lean'd in the corner.
She owns the fine house by the rise of the bank, She hides handsome and richly drest aft the blinds of the window. Which of the young men does she like the best? Ah the homeliest of them is beautiful to her. Where are you off to, lady? Dancing and laughing along the beach came the twenty-ninth bather, The rest did not see her, but she saw them and loved them. The beards of the young men glisten'd with wet, it ran from their long hair, Little streams pass'd all over their bodies. An unseen hand also pass'd over their bodies, It descended tremblingly from their temples and ribs.
The young men float on their backs, their white bellies bulge to the sun, they do not ask who seizes fast to them, They do not know who puffs and declines with pendant and bending arch, They do not think whom they souse with spray. Blacksmiths with grimed and hairy chests environ the anvil, Each has his main-sledge, they are all out, there is a great heat in the fire. From the cinder-strew'd threshold I follow their movements, The lithe sheer of their waists plays even with their massive arms, Overhand the hammers swing, overhand so slow, overhand so sure, They do not hasten, each man hits in his place.
I behold the picturesque giant and love him, and I do not stop there, I go with the team also. In me the caresser of life wherever moving, backward as well as forward sluing, To niches aside and junior bending, not a person or object missing, Absorbing all to myself and for this song. Oxen that rattle the yoke and chain or halt in the leafy shade, what is that you express in your eyes? It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life. My tread scares the wood-drake and wood-duck on my distant and day-long ramble, They rise together, they slowly circle around.
I believe in those wing'd purposes, And acknowledge red, yellow, white, playing within me, And consider green and violet and the tufted crown intentional, And do not call the tortoise unworthy because she is not something else, And the in the woods never studied the gamut, yet trills pretty well to me, And the look of the bay mare shames silliness out of me. The sharp-hoof'd moose of the north, the cat on the house-sill, the chickadee, the prairie-dog, The litter of the grunting sow as they tug at her teats, The brood of the turkey-hen and she with her half-spread wings, I see in them and myself the same old law.
The press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred affections, They scorn the best I can do to relate them. I am enamour'd of growing out-doors, Of men that live among cattle or taste of the ocean or woods, Of the builders and steerers of ships and the wielders of axes and mauls, and the drivers of horses, I can eat and sleep with them week in and week out.
What is commonest, cheapest, nearest, easiest, is Me, Me going in for my chances, spending for vast returns, Adorning myself to bestow myself on the first that will take me, Not asking the sky to come down to my good will, Scattering it freely forever. The drover watching his drove sings out to them that would stray, The pedler sweats with his pack on his back, the purchaser higgling about the odd cent;.
The bride unrumples her white dress, the minute-hand of the clock moves slowly, The opium-eater reclines with rigid head and just-open'd lips, The prostitute draggles her shawl, her bonnet bobs on her tipsy and pimpled neck, The crowd laugh at her blackguard oaths, the men jeer and wink to each other, Miserable! I do not laugh at your oaths nor jeer you; The President holding a cabinet council is surrounded by the great Secretaries, On the piazza walk three matrons stately and friendly with twined arms, The crew of the fish-smack pack repeated layers of halibut in the hold, The Missourian crosses the plains toting his wares and his cattle, As the fare-collector goes through the train he gives notice by the jingling of loose change, The floor-men are laying the floor, the tinners are tinning the roof, the masons are calling for mortar, In single file each shouldering his hod pass onward the laborers; Seasons pursuing each other the indescribable crowd is gather'd, it is the fourth of Seventh-month, what salutes of cannon and small arms!
Seasons pursuing each other the plougher ploughs, the mower mows, and the winter-grain falls in the ground; Off on the lakes the pike-fisher watches and waits by the hole in the frozen surface, The stumps stand thick round the clearing, the squatter strikes deep with his axe, Flatboatmen make fast towards dusk near the cotton-wood or pecan-trees, Coon-seekers go through the regions of the Red river or through those drain'd by the Tennessee, or through those of the Arkansas, Torches shine in the dark that hangs on the Chattahooche or Altamahaw, Patriarchs sit at supper with sons and grandsons and great-grandsons around them, In walls of adobie, in canvas tents, rest hunters and trappers after their day's sport, The city sleeps and the country sleeps, The living sleep for their time, the dead sleep for their time, The old husband sleeps by his wife and the young husband sleeps by his wife; And these tend inward to me, and I tend outward to them,.
And such as it is to be of these more or less I am, And of these one and all I weave the song of myself. I resist any thing better than my own diversity, Breathe the air but leave plenty after me, And am not stuck up, and am in my place. The moth and the fish-eggs are in their place, The bright suns I see and the dark suns I cannot see are in their place, The palpable is in its place and the impalpable is in its place.
This is the grass that grows wherever the land is and the water is, This the common air that bathes the globe. Have you heard that it was good to gain the day? I also say it is good to fall, battles are lost in the same spirit in which they are won. I beat and pound for the dead, I blow through my embouchures my loudest and gayest for them. Vivas to those who have fail'd! And to those whose war-vessels sank in the sea! And to those themselves who sank in the sea! And to all generals that lost engagements, and all overcome heroes!
And the numberless unknown heroes equal to the greatest heroes known! This is the press of a bashful hand, this the float and odor of hair, This the touch of my lips to yours, this the murmur of yearning, This the far-off depth and height reflecting my own face, This the thoughtful merge of myself, and the outlet again. Do you guess I have some intricate purpose? Well I have, for the Fourth-month showers have, and the mica on the side of a rock has. Do you take it I would astonish? Does the daylight astonish?
Do I astonish more than they? This hour I tell things in confidence, I might not tell everybody, but I will tell you. What is a man anyhow? All I mark as my own you shall offset it with your own, Else it were time lost listening to me. I do not snivel that snivel the world over, That months are vacuums and the ground but wallow and filth.
Whimpering and truckling fold with powders for invalids, conformity goes to the fourth-remov'd, I wear my hat as I please indoors or out. Why should I pray? Having pried through the strata, analyzed to a hair, counsel'd with doctors and calculated close, I find no sweeter fat than sticks to my own bones. In all people I see myself, none more and not one a barley-corn less, And the good or bad I say of myself I say of them.
I know I am solid and sound, To me the converging objects of the universe perpetually flow, All are written to me, and I must get what the writing means. I know I am deathless, I know this orbit of mine cannot be swept by a carpenter's compass,. I know I shall not pass like a child's carlacue cut with a burnt stick at night.
I know I am august, I do not trouble my spirit to vindicate itself or be understood, I see that the elementary laws never apologize, I reckon I behave no prouder than the level I plant my house by, after all. I exist as I am, that is enough, If no other in the world be aware I sit content, And if each and all be aware I sit content.
One world is aware and by far the largest to me, and that is myself, And whether I come to my own to-day or in ten thousand or ten million years, I can cheerfully take it now, or with equal cheerfulness I can wait. My foothold is tenon'd and mortis'd in granite, I laugh at what you call dissolution, And I know the amplitude of time. I am the poet of the woman the same as the man, And I say it is as great to be a woman as to be a man, And I say there is nothing greater than the mother of men.
I chant the chant of dilation or pride, We have had ducking and deprecating about enough, I show that size is only development. Have you outstript the rest? It is a trifle, they will more than arrive there every one, and still pass on.
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I am he that walks with the tender and growing night, I call to the earth and sea half-held by the night. Press close bare-bosom'd night- press close magnetic nourishing night! Night of south winds- night of the large few stars! Still nodding night- mad naked summer night. Smile O voluptuous cool-breath'd earth! Earth of the slumbering and liquid trees! Earth of departed sunset- earth of the mountains misty-topt! Earth of the vitreous pour of the full moon just tinged with blue! Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river!
Earth of the limpid gray of clouds brighter and clearer for my sake! Far-swooping elbow'd earth- rich apple-blossom'd earth! Smile, for your lover comes. Prodigal, you have given me love- therefore I to you give love! O unspeakable passionate love. I resign myself to you also- I guess what you mean, I behold from the beach your crooked fingers, I believe you refuse to go back without feeling of me, We must have a turn together, I undress, hurry me out of sight of the land, Cushion me soft, rock me in billowy drowse, Dash me with amorous wet, I can repay you.
Sea of stretch'd ground-swells, Sea breathing broad and convulsive breaths, Sea of the brine of life and of unshovell'd yet always-ready graves, Howler and scooper of storms, capricious and dainty sea, I am integral with you, I too am of one phase and of all phases. Partaker of influx and efflux I, extoller of hate and conciliation, Extoller of amies and those that sleep in each others' arms.
I am he attesting sympathy, Shall I make my list of things in the house and skip the house that supports them? I am not the poet of goodness only, I do not decline to be the poet of wickedness also.
What blurt is this about virtue and about vice? Evil propels me and reform of evil propels me, I stand indifferent,. My gait is no fault-finder's or rejecter's gait, I moisten the roots of all that has grown. Did you fear some scrofula out of the unflagging pregnancy? Did you guess the celestial laws are yet to be work'd over and rectified? I find one side a balance and the antipedal side a balance, Soft doctrine as steady help as stable doctrine, Thoughts and deeds of the present our rouse and early start.
This minute that comes to me over the past decillions, There is no better than it and now. What behaved well in the past or behaves well to-day is not such wonder, The wonder is always and always how there can be a mean man or an infidel. And mine a word of the modern, the word En-Masse. A word of the faith that never balks, Here or henceforward it is all the same to me, I accept Time absolutely.
It alone is without flaw, it alone rounds and completes all, That mystic baffling wonder alone completes all. I accept Reality and dare not question it, Materialism first and last imbuing. Hurrah for positive science! Fetch stonecrop mixt with cedar and branches of lilac, This is the lexicographer, this the chemist, this made a grammar of the old cartouches, These mariners put the ship through dangerous unknown seas. This is the geologist, this works with the scalper, and this is a mathematician. Gentlemen, to you the first honors always!
Your facts are useful, and yet they are not my dwelling, I but enter by them to an area of my dwelling. Less the reminders of properties told my words, And more the reminders they of life untold, and of freedom and extrication, And make short account of neuters and geldings, and favor men and women fully equipt, And beat the gong of revolt, and stop with fugitives and them that plot and conspire.
Unscrew the locks from the doors! Unscrew the doors themselves from their jambs! Whoever degrades another degrades me, And whatever is done or said returns at last to me. Through me the afflatus surging and surging, through me the current and index. I speak the pass-word primeval, I give the sign of democracy, By God! I will accept nothing which all cannot have their counterpart of on the same terms. Through me many long dumb voices, Voices of the interminable generations of prisoners and slaves, Voices of the diseas'd and despairing and of thieves and dwarfs, Voices of cycles of preparation and accretion, And of the threads that connect the stars, and of wombs and of the father-stuff, And of the rights of them the others are down upon, Of the deform'd, trivial, flat, foolish, despised, Fog in the air, beetles rolling balls of dung.
Through me forbidden voices, Voices of sexes and lusts, voices veil'd and I remove the veil, Voices indecent by me clarified and transfigur'd. I do not press my fingers across my mouth, I keep as delicate around the bowels as around the head and heart, Copulation is no more rank to me than death is. I believe in the flesh and the appetites, Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag of me is a miracle.
Divine am I inside and out, and I make holy whatever I touch or am touch'd from, The scent of these arm-pits aroma finer than prayer, This head more than churches, bibles, and all the creeds. If I worship one thing more than another it shall be the spread of my own body, or any part of it, Translucent mould of me it shall be you!
Shaded ledges and rests it shall be you! Firm masculine colter it shall be you! Whatever goes to the tilth of me it shall be you! You my rich blood! Breast that presses against other breasts it shall be you! My brain it shall be your occult convolutions! Root of wash'd sweet-flag! Mix'd tussled hay of head, beard, brawn, it shall be you! Trickling sap of maple, fibre of manly wheat, it shall be you! Sun so generous it shall be you! Vapors lighting and shading my face it shall be you!
You sweaty brooks and dews it shall be you! Winds whose soft-tickling genitals rub against me it shall be you! Broad muscular fields, branches of live oak, loving lounger in my winding paths, it shall be you! Hands I have taken, face I have kiss'd, mortal I have ever touch'd, it shall be you. I dote on myself, there is that lot of me and all so luscious, Each moment and whatever happens thrills me with joy, I cannot tell how my ankles bend, nor whence the cause of my faintest wish, Nor the cause of the friendship I emit, nor the cause of the friendship I take again.
That I walk up my stoop, I pause to consider if it really be, A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books. To behold the day-break! The little light fades the immense and diaphanous shadows, The air tastes good to my palate. Hefts of the moving world at innocent gambols silently rising freshly exuding, Scooting obliquely high and low. Something I cannot see puts upward libidinous prongs, Seas of bright juice suffuse heaven.
The earth by the sky staid with, the daily close of their junction, The heav'd challenge from the east that moment over my head, The mocking taunt, See then whether you shall be master! We also ascend dazzling and tremendous as the sun, We found our own O my soul in the calm and cool of the daybreak. My voice goes after what my eyes cannot reach, With the twirl of my tongue I encompass worlds and volumes of worlds. Speech is the twin of my vision, it is unequal to measure itself, It provokes me forever, it says sarcastically, Walt you contain enough, why don't you let it out then?
Come now I will not be tantalized, you conceive too much of articulation, Do you not know O speech how the buds beneath you are folded? Waiting in gloom, protected by frost, The dirt receding before my prophetical screams, I underlying causes to balance them at last, My knowledge my live parts, it keeping tally with the meaning of all things, Happiness, which whoever hears me let him or her set out in search of this day.
My final merit I refuse you, I refuse putting from me what I really am, Encompass worlds, but never try to encompass me, I crowd your sleekest and best by simply looking toward you. Writing and talk do not prove me, I carry the plenum of proof and every thing else in my face, With the hush of my lips I wholly confound the skeptic. I hear bravuras of birds, bustle of growing wheat, gossip of flames, clack of sticks cooking my meals, I hear the sound I love, the sound of the human voice, I hear all sounds running together, combined, fused or following, Sounds of the city and sounds out of the city, sounds of the day and night, Talkative young ones to those that like them, the loud laugh of work-people at their meals, The angry base of disjointed friendship, the faint tones of the sick, The judge with hands tight to the desk, his pallid lips pronouncing a death-sentence, The heave'e'yo of stevedores unlading ships by the wharves, the refrain of the anchor-lifters, The ring of alarm-bells, the cry of fire, the whirr of swift-streaking engines and hose-carts with premonitory tinkles and color'd lights, The steam-whistle, the solid roll of the train of approaching cars, The slow march play'd at the head of the association marching two and two, They go to guard some corpse, the flag-tops are draped with black muslin.
I hear the violoncello, 'tis the young man's heart's complaint, I hear the key'd cornet, it glides quickly in through my ears, It shakes mad-sweet pangs through my belly and breast. I hear the chorus, it is a grand opera, Ah this indeed is music- this suits me.