Analog loops, guitars, feedback and poetry about impossible alleys, 8 seat bars, villages with book shops, woolen scarves, Fado, Kathmandu mud, and umbrellas thwarting tactility.
Made by “Thorvald and Thurston” in a Provo basement, 2018
Category Archives: Spoken + Song
sometimes i record these sorta spoken word / sorta sung songs and sometimes i record other people playing songs or sometimes people record songs i wrote
Wildflower, for Foster (song)
Words by Dave Olson with Mikael Lewis written in Pokhara, Nepal
Music, vocals, guitars Mikael Lewis, recorded in Utah, USA
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Wildflower (for Foster)
Foster can you tell me
where the hell you left those tapes?
I was riffing on my first guitar
you were mouthing poetry scapes
I’d go to visit your gravesite
but I’d hate to waste that precious hour
you don’t belong in flat mown lawn
when you are a wildflower
Recorded in my parent’s basement
our earnest, green, unflinching truth
unaware that three short years later
you’d be cashing in on your youth
Don’t need to pour one out for you
or leave a fat one rolled
I’ll just light the signal fires
To make sure your story is told
The tale of the wildflower
I ignored their useless platitudes
self-serving, cliched and quaint
You and I both know what the truth is
And so I share this brief lament
I visit you atop the mountain
Where freedom lives and truth is found
When morning light first hits that meadow
I’ll have proof that the wildflower lives
April 1 & 2, 2017
Words by Dave Olson and Mikael Lewis
Music by Mikael Lewis
Cold Water Flat (song)
Words by Dave uncleweed Olson (written in Pokhara, Nepal) with additions by Mikael Lewis
Music, vocals, guitars by Mikael Lewis (recorded in Utah, USA)
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Cold Water Flat
Landlady’s always angry
So I keep strangers hours
Meditate to TV static
Decorate only with the freshest flowers
Use the payphone down the stairs
Still has that old rotary dial
Instant coffee in electric kettle
Takeaway leftovers wrapped up in foil
I will wait in this cold water flat
Rent paid out 3 months in advance
It’s lonely, but I’m not alone
I’ve got memories of you… for to keep me warm
Registered under a fake name
Though I’ve really nothing to fear
Endearment terms are always wide open
And your affections are always quite near
Hot water register yawns and moans
Damn thing either freezes or it burns
Three tarnished coins run the washing machine
Dirt spins round and around as I yearn
I’ll wait in this cold water flat
Yes I’ve mailed you a dark scribbled map
It’s lonely here, but I’m never alone
I’ve got memories of you…to torture my soul
Gave up on the smokes and the booze
I like to think I’ve paid all my dues
Now my addictions are much more complex
I just torture myself with my memory of you
Larry “auto” Harper ~ Zzyzx Rd, 1990
Blurb: After inspiring thousands of minds as a University creative writing and philosophy professor, US Army veteran Larry Harper now spends even more time paddling forgotten box canyons, soaking in hot springs and hugging friends and strangers alike.
[curated & produced by pal/student Dave uncleweed Olson]
Squatters In Zion – Lenker + Weed (song)
My pal (and frequent collaborator) Wm. Lenker wrote this song but didn’t record it for his fine West of 101 album – i liked it so much that one cold January evening, i showed up at his house on Steamboat Island Road at the end of the Puget Sound and *demanded* that we go into the woodshop and record for my entertainment.
He kindly obliged and laid down various tracks, with guitar, vocals and banjo. I recorded and mixed down the rapidly recorded takes to suit my own old-timey taste, complete with heartfeltness, loquaciousness and longing – background noise of fire and beers included.
Billiam does all the instruments and most of the singing (little bit of my ghost vocals) and i’m on the hook for the recording, producing and mixing.
Change My Route (to think about the neighbourhoods) – spoken song
While in a cabin in Jamaica, i recorded a sort of spoken word song made from loops, samples and layered tracks of sorta-singing and spieling about the changes in my city and the importance and interestingness of observation. Available in poetry only version as well.
Humble Boys Club of Westmoreland – spoken song
From a cabin in Jamaica comes a spoken word song made from loops, samples and layers of spoken and sorta-sung vocals inventing stories about a workers’ boarding hall which burned down years back and the foundations sits, still.