Tag: music

Albums that marked me, Pt. 2

On By Jon UreñaIn Arte, Escritura, Música, Reseñas2 Comments

As a solitary dude, all my life I have relied on music to connect with the world at large, to feel that my feelings weren’t that unique or detached from the rest of humanity. Over the years, I’ve returned to certain albums that have spoken to me in ways that can’t be fully put into words. I love discovering new albums, and perhaps that’s also the case for whoever is reading these words, so I’ll spend some of my limited time on Earth sharing some specifics about the albums that have marked me, and that in many ways changed me.

Today’s album is The Moon & Antarctica by Modest Mouse, released in 2000. It’s mostly a breakup album, possibly my favorite. Ages ago I read a review of this album that said something to the effect of, “every previous Modest Mouse album felt like Isaac Brock [the band’s singer-songwriter] was grasping at some truths in the static of an untuned radio station, but in The Moon & Antartica, the station came in clear all of a sudden.” Many of the songs in this album are perfectly attuned to what they’re trying to express, to the smallest piece of music. The result is a bunch of idiosyncratic songs that don’t sound like any other band I know of (I haven’t found “old Modest Mouse-like” anywhere).

This album has accompanied me through heartbreak, through loneliness, through derangement. Plenty of aspects of my self are reflected in these songs.

“3rd Planet”

This song ties together the relationship most of this album refers to, down to a pivotal moment when the future of the narrator’s life could have gone a very different path. It’s raw and mythical, with memorable imagery.

Everything that keeps me together is falling apart
I got this thing that I consider my only art
Of fucking people over

The third planet is sure that they’re being watched
By an eye in the sky that can’t be stopped
When you get to the promised land
You’re gonna shake the eye’s hand

Your heart felt good
It was drippin’ pitch and made of wood
And your hands and knees
Felt cold and wet on the grass beneath
Well, outside, naked, shivering, looking blue
From the cold sunlight that’s reflecting off the moon
And baby cum angels fly around you
Reminding you we used to be three and not just two
And that’s how the world began
And that’s how the world will end

Well, a third had just been made
And we were swimming in the water
Didn’t know then; was it a son, was it a daughter
And it occurred to me that the animals are swimming
Around in the water in the oceans in our bodies
And another had been found, another ocean on the planet
Given that our blood is just like the Atlantic, and how

Well the universe is shaped exactly like the earth
If you go straight long enough you’ll end up where you were

“Gravity Rides Everything”

This song depicts very well the moment in a romantic relationship when you know it’s dying, that she’s looking for the door, and you feel powerless to stop her from drifting away. The inevitability of it all feels like a weight on your feet.

Oh, gotta see, gotta know right now
What’s that riding on your everything
It isn’t anything at all
Oh, gotta see, gotta know right now
What’s that writing on your shelf
In the bathrooms and the bad motels
No one really cared for it at all
Not the gravity plan

Early, early in the morning
It pulls all on down my sore feet
I want to go back to sleep

In the motions and the things that you say
It all will fall, fall right into place
As fruit drops, flesh it sags
Everything will fall right into place
When we die some sink and some lay
But at least I don’t see you float away
And on split milk, sex and weight
It all will fall, fall right into place

“Dark Center of the Universe”

You used to love this person, who also loved you back, but now she has nothing but complaints about the same self that she used to like, and you have little else to offer back but bitterness.

I might disintegrate into the thin air if you’d like
I’m not the dark center of the universe like you thought

Well, it took a lot of work to be the ass that I am
And I’m really damn sure that anyone can
Equally, easily fuck you over
Well, God said something, but he didn’t mean it
Everyone’s life ends, but no one ever completes it
Dry or wet, ice never melts and you’re equally cheated

Well, an endless ocean landing on an endless desert
Well, it’s funny as hell, but no one laughs when they get there

“Perfect Disguise”

It’s done: the relationship is over, and now you’re lingering in the same town, having to watch this woman you used to love and who loved you back waltzing around town, shooting looks at you to figure out if you’re doing worse than her. And even though you don’t want to care anymore, you feel that something fundamental has broken in you.

Well, you’ve got the perfect disguise and you’re looking okay
From the bottom of the best of the worst, well, what can I say?

‘Cause you cocked your head to shoot me down
And I don’t give a damn about you or this town no more
No, ’cause I know the score

Need me to fall down so you can climb up
Some fool-ass ladder, well, good luck
I hope, I hope there’s something better up there

Broke my back
Broke my back
Broke my back

“Tiny Cities Made of Ashes”

A raw, angry, post-apocalyptic song. You’re done with the world, you’re sick of people, and you want to take it out on someone (possibly that woman, maybe not).

We’re goin’ down the road
Towards tiny cities made of ashes
I’m gonna hit you on the face
I’m gonna punch you in your glasses, oh no
I just got a message that said
“Yeah, Hell has frozen over”
I got a phone call from the Lord sayin’
“Hey, boy, get a sweater, right now”

So we’re drinkin’, drinkin’, drinkin’, drinkin’
Coca, Coca Cola
I can feel it rollin’ right on down
Oh, right on down my throat
And as we’re headed down the road
Towards tiny cities made of ashes
I’m gonna get dressed up in plastic
Gonna shake hands with the masses
Oh no!

Does anybody know a way that a body could get away?
Does anybody know a way?
Does anybody know a way that a body could get away?
Does anybody know a way?

“A Different City”

The narrator has moved away from the town that held too many memories. He’s holing up at some dingy apartment, wanting to isolate himself from everything. He feels that he’s losing it.

I wanna live in the city with no friends and family
I’m gonna look out the window of my color TV
I wanna remember to remember to forget you forgot me
I’m gonna look out the window of my color TV

Through the cracks in the wall, slow motion for all
Dripped out of the bars, someone smart said nothin’ at all
I’m watching TV, I guess that’s a solution
They gave me a receipt that said I didn’t buy nothin’
So rust is a fire and our blood oxidizes
My eyes roll around, all around on the carpet
Oh, hit the deck, it’s the decal man
Standin’ upside down and talkin’ out of his pants

“The Cold Part”

Fantastic auditory depiction of that state some people fall into at times: a mix of apathy, loneliness and resignation.

So long to this cold, cold part of the world
So long to this bone-bleached part of the world
So long to this cold, cold part of the world
So long to this salt-soaked part of the world

I stepped down as president of Antarctica
Can’t blame me, don’t blame me

“Alone Down There”

Althought I’m not sure about my interpretation, I always picture that this song is about reaching out to someone who hurt you, possibly even the ex this whole album is about, because that person is suffering. You can’t really help them; you’re sitting at the bottom of a well yourself, but you know how bad it gets. Still, you realize that reaching out to such a person is a terrible idea.

How do, how do you do?
My name is You
Flies, they all gather ’round me and you too
You can’t see anything well
You ask me what size it is, not what I sell
Ha-ha-ha, ha-ha-ha

Well, I don’t want you to be alone down there
To be alone down there, to be alone
Yeah, I don’t want you to be alone down there
To be alone down there, to be alone
But the devil’s apprentice, he gave me some credit
He fed me a line and I’ll probably regret it
I don’t want you to be alone down there
To be alone down there, to be alone

“Paper Thin Walls”

The narrator has settled down far away from the microcosm that caused him that pain. He’s beginning to take the rest of the world into account once again, but he isn’t the same person he used to be: he feels that he better take things lightly from now on, and stop sacrificing himself for the sake of others. Life in solitude is long and hard, but at least you won’t have to suffer further humiliation.

These walls are paper thin
And everyone hears every little sound
Everyone’s a voyeurist
They’re watching me watch them watch me right now
They’re shaking hands, they’re shaking in their shoes
Oh, Lord, don’t shake me down
Everyone wants two of them
And half of everyone else who’s around
It’s been agreed the whole world stinks
So no one’s taking showers anymore

Laugh hard, it’s a long ways to the bank
I can’t be blamed for nothing anymore
It’s been a long time since you’ve been around
Laugh hard, it’s a long ways to the bank

Tow the line to tax the time, you know
That you don’t owe
I can’t be a fool for everyone
That I don’t know

“What People Are Made Of”

I’m not that fond of this song, but it’s a great closer for the album as far as I’m concerned. The narrator is grasping at profound truths that he has gleaned from this ordeal. The experience has turned him into a different person, someone who will have a hard time connecting with those who haven’t gone through the same thing.

Ragweed tall, better hope that his ladder don’t crack
Or he’ll hit the ground low, hard and under his back
At the battle at the bottom of the ocean where the dead do rise
You need proof, I got proof at the surface
You can watch ’em float by

Way in back of the room, there sits a cage
Inside is the clock that you can win if you can guess its age
Which you never can do ’cause the time, it constantly changes
For lack or luck, I guess that is the saying

On the first page of the Book of Blue, it read
“If you read this page, then that’ll be your death”
By then it was too late, and you wound up on
An island of shells and bones that bodies had left

Brock offers the following lyrics as the closer of this uncompromising, raw ride:

And the one thing you taught me ’bout human beings was this:
They ain’t made of nothin’ but water and shit

Albums that marked me, Pt. 1

On By Jon UreñaIn Arte, Escritura, Música1 Comment

As a solitary dude, all my life I have relied on music to connect with the world at large, to feel that my feelings weren’t that unique or detached from the rest of humanity. Over the years, I’ve returned to certain albums that have spoken to me in ways that can’t be fully put into words. I love discovering new albums, and perhaps that’s also the case for whoever is reading these words, so I’ll spend some of my limited time on Earth sharing some specifics about the albums that have marked me, and that in many ways changed me.

Today’s album is Palabras más, palabras menos, by Los Rodríguez. A bit weird for me to start with this album; even though Spanish is my mother tongue, this one is the only album in Spanish that I have listened repeatedly over the years. I like the entire thing, but I find myself repeating four songs in particular.

“Todavía una canción de amor”

The song speaks of a love already dead and gone, but that has never let the narrator go. I discovered this album back in 1995, when I was ten years old, and I only came to fully understand the song years later, when I found myself sleepwalking to places that I had shared with a past lover, hoping but also dreading to see her appearing there as if summoned.

Death is a spurned lover
Who plays dirty and doesn’t know how to lose.

I’m trying to tell you I’m desperate waiting for you.
I don’t go out to look for you because I know I risk finding you.
I keep biting my nails of resentment day and night.
I still owe you a love song.

Singing is shooting against forgetting,
Living without you is sleeping at the station.

“Mucho mejor”

A song that praises losing oneself in sex and general debauchery, for when you don’t give shit about anything else but making love in the balcony with your likely quite underage lover; the ideal state of mind.

Sweet like wine, salty like the sea,
Princess and vagabond, deep throat,
Save me from this loneliness.

Honeymoon, paper moon,
Full moon, cinnamon skin, give me nights of pleasure.
Sometimes I’m bad, sometimes I’m good.
I’ll give you my heart for you to play with it.

They could accuse me, she’s underage.
We’ll go to a hotel, we’ll go to dinner,
But we’ll never go together to the altar.

“La puerta de al lado”

A haunting song about a man who has given up on life, has detached himself from anyone who knows him, and is staying at a motel that he expects will be the last place that sees him alive. Beautifully written, depicting very well that suicidal state, and ends the song powerfully by mirroring a previous symbol in an understated manner: he had mentioned someone having hanged himself next door, the door itself marked with a “Please do not disturb sign.” Now, the same sign hangs on the narrator’s door.

Let time pass
With a wandering gaze, no direction to follow,
A book always open,
Pages torn one by one, filled with resentment.

In some place,
On a secondary provincial road,
The light in the window
Shining with the noise of passing trucks.

And at the front desk, there’s a fake name.
No one in the world knows where I am,
Not knowing, not knowing where I am,
And now that I’m alone with my thoughts,
I’ll wait for the wind to come and find me.

There’s someone out there,
Talking in the hallway as if mocking me.
Laughter is heard,
And the sound of spoons, and a girl says “yes.”

And at the door, there’s a sign hanging,
That says: “Please do not disturb,”
Never again, never again, never again.

“Diez años después”

My favorite of their songs, it speaks to unresolved grief, regret, and other complicated feelings for a past love that he wishes yet dreads that it could restart. This song played in my mind many times as I wrote my latest novella, Motocross Legend, Love of My Life. I’ve been in love for more than twenty years with the lyrics of this song.

If ten years later I find you again in some place,
Remember I’m different now, but almost the same.
If chance brings us together again ten years later,
Something will flare up; I won’t be polite.

Ten years later, who can go back?
We’re here on earth for only a few days,
And heaven doesn’t offer any guarantees:
Ten years later, better to start anew.

If your trust has eroded somewhere,
Don’t forget I’m a casual witness to your solitude.
If ten years later we’re not the same, what can you do,
Another ten years and then, start together again.

That was a lovely spring,
But it was only the first one.
Ten years later, time starts to take its toll.
I still have bullets left in my chamber,
But I always save the first one for you.
Ten years later, better to laugh than to cry.

I gave you a letter I never wrote, unread by anyone.
Today, ten years later, everything remains the same:
It never reached you.

Within my heart, nowadays, there’s no room left.
If I lost my mind, it wasn’t because of love, but loneliness.

Life is a grand waiting room,
The other is a wooden box.
Ten years later, better to sleep than to dream.
You can’t live any other way,
Because otherwise, people don’t notice.
Ten years later, who can go back?

Ten years later, better to speak than to stay silent.

Life update (11/20/2024)

On By Jon UreñaIn Escritura, Slice of lifeLeave a comment

As I mentioned yesterday, I was recalled to work to cover someone’s medical leave. The guy will likely return next Monday, but still, that’s a new contract, three days of full-time work that I have to deal with. Whenever a new contract starts, I can almost be sure of a couple of things: the previous night I will barely sleep, and the combination of anxiety and dread will wreck my guts. Well, last night I didn’t sleep a single fucking hour, and I got anxiety diarrhea. I had to hurry to the bathroom three times to empty myself out real good.

I wasn’t in the mood to handle hours of rolling around in bed while my brain cycled through myriad bad memories; instead, I decided to delve into fictional bad memories by rereading about half of my latest novella Motocross Legend, Love of My Life. I had forgotten plenty of the specifics, which made me realize that, at least according to the same subconscious that urged me to write this story in the first place, the results are pretty good. Quite the haunting tale, wasn’t it.

Man, I wish I had spent significant time with someone like Izar Lizarraga in my youth. Not even fucking, just playing around and having fun. I was real close, but the sole person who resembled her, who also was interested in a relationship with me for whatever reason, well, it didn’t work, because I fucked it all up almost immediately. Last week I was feeling nostalgic enough about it that when I passed by her parents’ apartment building and I realized the front door was open, I hurried inside and checked the mail boxes. I hoped to recognize any of the last names. The issue about this one girl I regret not having known properly is that I only remember her name. I’ve completely forgotten her face due to my prosopagnosia. By now, assuming she’s still alive, she’s a thirty-nine-year-old woman, possibly married with kids. But still, I’d like to know what happened to her. Anyway, I didn’t recognize any of the last names in those mail boxes, so I assume they moved out some time ago. Fuck.

Last night, at four in the morning, two hours before I was supposed to wake up for work, I had the urge to grab my Gibson electric guitar, hook it up to my audio interface, and try to play Van Morrison’s “Brown-Eyed Girl.” That opening riff is a bit tricky, particularly in my case when I hadn’t grabbed any of my guitars properly since 2021. I started imagining myself heading out to the woods with my acoustic to play for the squirrels and the birds and the occasional annoying humans, which I did for quite a while back in the day. The issue when you quit playing the guitar cold turkey is that when you pick it back up you aren’t remotely as skillful as you expect, and you’ve forgotten pretty much every song you knew. Playing an instrument requires regular practice, and a particular mindset that isn’t very compatible with stuff such as writing a novel; when I started working on my story We’re Fucked back in 2021, I felt that I couldn’t play the guitar in the meantime. I’m sort of a single-minded maniac: if I’m focused on a project, I can work at it for 16 hours a day, but don’t ask me to do anything else, even take care of myself.

I’m at work, damn near losing it due to insomnia. Between tasks, I managed to sneak in another entry of my On Writing series, which is a way of distillating the myriad notes I took many years ago, when I was addicted to books on writing (I was sure that if I gleaned enough wisdom from them, I would get published). Almost as soon as I finished writing that post, my brain told me: how about you extract the code to prompt large language models from your recent Python project and use it for a new project, wholly about building stories? Just imagine it: want to generate plot points? Press a button and the app would prompt a large language model, feeding it some previous data of yours like the characters you’ve created, your concept, your general notions or whatever, to generate an arbitrary number of possible plot points given whatever angle you want to work with. You have already created some character profiles? How about the AI generates twenty plot points that would attack those characters’ weak spots?

Such a new Python project doesn’t seem very compatible with my previous one, which is mainly about playing through a formless story instead of building one, but you could very much build a story with this new possible Python project, then use the created story to play through it in the app I’ve already made.

Creative projects I can work on: finishing my ongoing novel, editing my poems to self-publish them, producing more songs with Udio, remastering the songs I’ve already produced, picking up my guitar again, adding more features to the Python project I’ve been working on recently, creating this new Python project… I have things queued up for years.

I figured that I may as well upload to YouTube my remastered songs produced with Udio. Here are the three already up, all of them from the fourth volume of Odes to My Triceratops:

A glitch in Udio caused it to cut like a whole second of the opening of “Knife-Beard Dreams (psychedelia version)”, which I couldn’t fix by then, and it annoys me every time I listen to that song that I otherwise love.

New songs by Colours Run

On By Jon UreñaIn Arte, Música2 Comments

If you want to know about my story with Tim Cameron and his band Colours Run, check out my previous post about it. In summary: back when I was a teen, until I was eighteen or so, I used to frequent some comedy forums named PWOT, where an English fellow by the name of Tim Cameron, and nickname of Camerhil, posted his songs. I found him brilliant. You had the sense that this guy opened his heart up to you. It’s like he felt he had little time to do that in this world, so he was in a hurry to make it somewhere with his music. In 2007 or so, along with his bandmates, he published an album, and then he disappeared to the US and was never heard from again. I never heard from him again, at least. As far as I can tell, you can’t even buy his works these days.

I used to treasure his songs, but I had lost most of them along the way. It was almost a miracle that I came across a twenty-year-old CD with about eleven songs of his, and that was all I had left. Last night, though, a kind soul gave me an early Christmas present; turns out that there are other former PWOT members out there who loved Tim’s music.

Without further ado, here are the missing Colours Run songs (apart from a few ones that are, let’s say, only for former PWOT members).

From the album Cynical Wonderful:

“On My Side”

“Pilot Light 30-04-07”

“Beautiful Waste of Time”

“Scars”

“The Traveller”

“Perpetual Motion”

“Apathy Ever After”

“Pilot Light”

“Marketplace Crisis”

“Good Night”

“Tethers”

“Song for the Doctor”

From the E.P. The Sticks:

“Old”

“The Sticks”

“Curiosity”

Doghouse Demo:

“Before the War (demo)”

“Chaos Song (demo)”

“Tethers (demo)”

Unknown:

“Pilot Light 1st Master”

“On My Side”

“Fireflies”

“The Snowline”

“Beautiful Waste of Time (demo)”

“Beautiful Waste of Time radio”

“Before the War radio”

2007 demos:

“Birnam”

“Gossamer acoustic”

“Gossamer with vocals”

“Gossamer”

“Methods of Escape (no drums)”

“Methods of Escape”

“Pilot Light 07-02-12”

“Pilot Light 30-04-07”

“Prelude in C”

“The Snowline 16-03-07”

“The Snowline”

“Wichita Lineman”

Now I have more songs by Colours Run and Tim Cameron than I ever did.

Song “Schizosaurus Rex” (Paisley Underground version) from Odes to My Triceratops, Vol. 4

On By Jon UreñaIn Arte, Inteligencia artificial, MúsicaLeave a comment

In case you don’t know, this year I’ve been exploiting the amazing AI service Udio to produce songs. I’ve already made and released two full albums based on a strange story I wrote back in 2021, named Odes to My Triceratops. It follows the adventures and misadventures of a trio of friends who live in a town lost in the map. The main dude is a songwriter named William Griffin, who’s passionate and sensitive, if a bit unhinged. Another character is William’s next-door neighbor Claire Javernick, a blind redhead. Then we have Lorenzo, who’s a sentient triceratops for no justifiable reason. You can download the first two albums of this story through this link.

So yeah, a fresh new song directly to your ears, this one in the style of the relatively obscure Paisley Underground movement, which is a sort of garage psychedelic rock with a Californian vibe. I’m very fond of how this tune turned out.

Lyrics below:

A beast from the deep,
The monster under your bed.
Eyes red like the setting sun,
Claws the size and weight
Of a heavy human soul.
It can’t die; it only transforms.
It can’t be stopped,
Unless it decides to stop.

I have a portal to hell inside my throat.
It hurts, but I’m getting used to the pain.
Still, I don’t know whom I hate more:
The world, or myself.

This isn’t the story of how I died.
This is the story of how I met a girl,
We fell in love, and she betrayed me.
She didn’t do it on purpose;
She was just a dumb kid.
Besides, the darkness drove her crazy,
Almost as crazy as me.

I ain’t a poet, couldn’t hope to be,
But I’m the only person left:
A castaway in a plastic kayak,
Drifting down the River Styx
Past skeletons clinging to rocks,
Reaching out for a bite to eat.

You and I, love, we shared our lives,
We did the best we could,
But the best we could
Was a steaming pile of dogshit.

Someday I’ll make it to that faraway shore
Where eagles soar on golden wings.
There, I’ll sit and rest in my blue suit.
I’ll watch as time goes by,
Not aging a day, not losing a thing.
The memories will blur and fade
Until all I have left is me.

EDIT: I fed this post to the Google AI thing that generates podcasts out of your material. Yes, I’m writing the lyrics, you guys (who are by the way unaware of the fact that they’re AIs themselves). Check it out.

AI podcast about Odes to My Triceratops, Vol. 3

On By Jon UreñaIn Arte, Escritura, Inteligencia artificial, MúsicaLeave a comment

This weird thing that Google has released automatically creates short podcasts based on any source of information you give it. I suppose it’s quite useful for serious purposes, but I’ve fed it all my posts about the AI-generated songs I made for the third volume of Odes to My Triceratops. Listening to these almost perfect AI voices talking realistically about my stuff is really eerie. They made a couple of mistakes assigning lyrics to their proper songs, though.

Anyway, I thought this was cool.

All the songs I have of Colours Run

On By Jon UreñaIn Arte, Música2 Comments

Back in my late teens I frequented the Pointless Waste of Time forums, a comedy site belonging to Jason Pargin, later writer of the John Dies at the End series. The little I remember of my teenage years was beyond miserable, but I looked forward to a few things; one of them was the songs that a member of that forum posted regularly. His name was Tim Cameron, an intelligent, funny and honest British fellow who made music that I still vibe with. He later formed a band that he called Colours Run. They seemed to be on the path to grandeur (appeared on live shows and such), only for Tim to suddenly call quits on the whole thing, move to the US, and never be heard from again. That happened about twenty years ago.

His songs disappeared from the internet. As much as I would have loved over the years to listen to them again, they were gone. A few years ago, though, I came across an ancient CD in which I had burned some, unfortunately not all, of his songs I had downloaded.

I want others to know of this creative dude and his talents, which used to brighten my horrid days, so I plan to post on here all twelve recordings I have left of his. Tim, if you happened to google your old band out of nostalgia and came across this site, I’ll take them down if you want. And thank you for your songs.

A couple of weeks ago, I posted the first song of theirs I intended to post. Back then, I wanted to focus on a single song per post, but I’ve been busy with other stuff lately, so I ended up not posting any more. To my surprise, someone who also likes Colours Run found my post and urged me to share the rest of their songs, particularly “Tethers” and “Apathy Ever After.” I suspect I have never listened to those songs. Looking back, right at the end I stopped visiting the forums for personal reasons, and that’s when Colours Run released their “real” album, that is now unavailable for whatever reason. All the songs I have of theirs precede that album.

Without further ado (and no lyrics this time):

“Before the War”

“Before the War” (live)

“You-Centric Song”

“Alphabet Soup”

“Sand”

“Plastic Cups”

“Winter’s Day”

“Chaos Song”

“Curiosity”

“Paper Cord”

“Paper Cord” (live)

“Colours Run”

Listening back to these songs, it’s a disgrace that Tim and his boys didn’t make it. They were the real deal. Even decades from now, if I live that long, I’ll still love his stuff.

If you reading this are a fan who has stumbled upon this blast from the past, if you happen to have other songs of theirs that have otherwise been lost to time, by all means tell me where the hell I can find them.

EDIT: I found “Tethers” on YouTube:

This one’s “Beautiful Waste of Time”, from the YouTube channel posted in the comments:

Song: Before the War, by Colours Run

On By Jon UreñaIn Arte, Música2 Comments

Back in my late teens I frequented the Pointless Waste of Time forums, a comedy site belonging to Jason Pargin, later writer of the John Dies at the End series. The little I remember of my teenage years was beyond miserable, but I looked forward to a few things; one of them was the songs that a member of that forum posted regularly. His name was Tim Cameron, an intelligent, funny and honest British fellow who made music that I still vibe with. He later formed a band that he called Colours Run. They seemed to be on the path to grandeur (appeared on live shows and such), only for Tim to suddenly call quits on the whole thing, move to the US, and never be heard from again. That happened about twenty years ago.

His songs disappeared from the internet. As much as I would have loved over the years to listen to them again, they were gone. A few years ago, though, I came across an ancient CD in which I had burned some, unfortunately not all, of his songs I had downloaded.

I want others to know of this creative dude and his talents, which used to brighten my horrid days, so I plan to post on here all twelve recordings I have left of his. Tim, if you happened to google your old band out of nostalgia and came across this site, I’ll take them down if you want. And thank you for your songs.

Without further ado, here’s the original version of “Before the War.”

Here’s a recording of “Before the War” from a live event they did:

Lyrics below:

When we lost the human race
All our brains got replaced,
And all these robots never laugh
At my jokes.

So take me back before the war.
Take these things, they’re all yours.
There’s nothing, nothing worth
Fighting for.

You stole my drugs, crashed my car,
But you left no lasting scars.
Retribution slipped so soft,
Like a blade.

We blew it up, knocked it down.
Never tried giving ground, and now
There’s nothing left of love
But what I saved.

I get tired winning games
When the pieces never change,
And all the clever moves you make
Seem so tame.

You can sulk if you want.
Don’t you wonder what’s the point
When there’s nothing left of love
Worth sulking for?

Did you cry when you left me?

Another year older,
The world on my shoulders,
And I’m still no closer
To finding a girl
Who won’t bore me to tears.
Not here.

There’s nothing worth fighting for.
Don’t remember what I did before the war.

Remastered “Behind the Door” from Odes to My Triceratops, Vol. 3

On By Jon UreñaIn Arte, Escritura, Inteligencia artificial, MúsicaLeave a comment

Udio released the ability to download your produced songs in parts (bass, drums, other instruments, and vocals), so naturally I’m remastering all songs I thought done. And I wanted to tackle as soon as possible my favorite of all I’ve produced: a strange piece that somehow feels like it encapsulates most of my life in eight minutes and thirteen seconds of pitch-perfect emotion.

Udio uses AI to divide each song into stems, and it had trouble with this one: the wavering instruments and vocals turned up in different stems, only to return to the original. I haven’t seen it do this with any other song remotely to this extent, which adds to the strangeness of the for me timeless song. Too bad I came up with this one before Udio improved its audio quality.

Song “Knife-Beard Dreams (psychedelia version)” from Odes to My Triceratops, Vol. 4

On By Jon UreñaIn Arte, Escritura, Inteligencia artificial, MúsicaLeave a comment

In case you don’t know, I’ve been obsessed with producing songs lately by exploiting the amazing AI service Udio. I’ve already made and released two full albums based on a strange story I wrote back in 2021, named Odes to My Triceratops. It follows the adventures and misadventures of a trio of friends who live in a town lost in the map. The main dude is a songwriter named William Griffin, who’s passionate and sensitive, if a bit unhinged. Another character is William’s next-door neighbor Claire Javernick, a blind redhead. Then we have Lorenzo, who’s a sentient triceratops for no justifiable reason. You can download the first two albums of this story through this link.

Here’s the second version of “Knife-Beard Dreams,” this time a mix of psychedelia and indie folk. I’m very impressed with how this one turned out. While the other three songs I’ve produced for the fourth album are unnerving to some extent (which sometimes the subject matter and/or vibe require), this one is so pleasant-sounding and groovy that I see myself listening to it over and over. Add to it Udio’s improved sound quality and my growing mastering skills, and even the MP3 version of this song sounds fantastic.

Lyrics below, same as the other version:

The words on the page,
They’re too plain.
I can’t read.
I have no clue what anything means.

The man in the heavens had a plan
To prove I’m insane.
He sent the sky crashing down,
And it crushed me into dust.

Deep down, the darkness whispers;
It calls and calls, and I must heed.
I can’t take my life,
But I can’t live the one I have.

Why the hell am I singing?
Nobody’s around to listen.
I should just shut up
And go back to sleep.

Maybe I’ll dream about a giant worm
With a beard made of knives.
Maybe I’ll dream of homicide,
And wake up with a big smile.