Tag Archives: song

“This Time Tomorrow” (with apologies to The Kinks) on baritone ukulele

Did you know goats love music? They are social creatures and lack ability to tell me to “stop it already” so while darling wife and adorable son went to visit the pig (update: eaten), i played this decidedly un-good version of a vastly underappreciated song.

the goats were amused and that’s what matters

Yep, it’s a trainwreck – fits and starts, off key, dropped chords – but hey, it’s at a goat farm and it’s well-intentioned…

Smart listeners will recognize this as *yet another* song from Wes Anderson’s Darjeeling Limited soundtrack.

Smart folks may well avoid listening in general, but this is what you call “not getting better” but having a good time.

“Barefoot Hugo Hamilton (gone, gone, are we gone)” on ukulele

“Barefoot Hugo Hamilton (gone, gone, are we gone)”

[demo of original, on baritone ukulele]

Within a brief window of time, 3 people died – one I knew, one I knew of, one who didn’t know me – yet, in my meditations, realized I could draw a gossamer line between the three. And somehow I kept coming back to these tenuous but verifiable connections.

Please, watch till the end (and remix as needed)

And, watching the aftermath of their passing – announcements, reactions and whatnot – all on various ephemeral “platforms/channels”, couldn’t help but to think they deserved a song, not only about just “them” rather the importance of remembering and how fleeting memories are when not “carved into stone” or, made into a folk song, to be passed along, possibly changed along the way to fit circumstance.

I meant to record this “properly” (tracked with drums at which I’m reasonably competent, tidy up the ukulele, add guitars, proper singing etc. – though not necessarily competent and any of those skills) instead of this hasty demo type spontaneous recording in which my hundred dollar baritone ukulele (which my three-year-old son often uses for caber toss) and me fumbling chords, buzzes and hums, changing tempos / time signature, tripping over my own lyric and so on.

Eventually, will receive a better treatment but for now: perfection is not the intention, yet celebration of impermanence is key.

This is for three families, hundreds of friends, thousands of admirers and mostly for the future. Let no one be forgotten.

Please accept my humble offering on those terms.

{Originally written on Ushimado Beach while vacating Tsuchida Cottage due to a tatami might infestation and subsequent fumigation, recorded in “Giggling Piglet Studio” Okayama Japan.

Fondly, daveo

Eventually, I’ll record this more pretty, with help but for now…
Lyric (D.A.T. Olson, 2023)

V1

Barefoot Hugo Hamilton
Drifting so far from shore
Can't see you with my
periscope
Guess need something more

V2
Fine-tuned to spot the roots
branches and twirling vines
Catch cryptic fleeting runes
From Montreal to the Seine

Pre
They say you're gone
But still I wonder
Are any of us ever here?

C
(but) I lack capacity to be existential
But well tuned to care
Only thing I know for sure is
"we are the stories
we share"

V3
Artifacts and creations
More than momentary reaction
The Egyptian's got it right
Not dead til they're forgotten

B (spoken)

Craft an archive
From a shoebox
Filled with incense and receipts
Leveled and spaced
with precision
Framed with gentle grace

Each took a different path
Towards exit velocity
Trousers, rants and plays left behind
Before you charted your trajectory

C

V4
The obits followed on schedule
Timed in zeros and ones
Dispatched with gentle nuance
Pathos sure, but just gone gone & are we gone?

C

“Where do you go to (my lovely)” by Peter Starstedt, on baritone ukulele

At our friends annual musical party “Kojo piano club” where I added a bit of a “charming train wreck” to the evenings festivities.

Just look at that jacket though

While my (usually) adorable son “accompanies me” by attempting to decapitate the audience with an ukulele of his own, I stumble through an abbreviated version of Peter Starstedt’s lovely song on a baritone ukulele with a few buzzes (seriously, it’s not me… Right?) and some dodgy singing (yikes) but still, it’s fun-ish.

And dang, my red embroidered coat makes up for everything. Thanks Andrew M!

Keen observers might recognize this song from Wes Anderson’s “the Darjeeling Limited” film.

“Postcard” spoken word in Winterkeep’s ambient musical postcard

postcards inside of postcards

“Winterkeep is the artist name of Mat Tyrrell, currently living in Queenstown, New Zealand”

Backgroundr: in the blur of all the Internet communiques, a musician from New Zealand reached out asking permission to use spoken word from my “Postcards from Gravelly Beach” pod – which i think of as audio collages delivered via RSS.

I was slow in returning his request (travelling) but of course the answer was “fill yer boots”. Due to the delay, the track is not on *the album* but can listen via YT above. Of course, the album tracks all being named as “postcard #x” is appropriate.

I was very curious to see what he would come up with and while i of course recognize my disembodied voice, somehow removed enough to where i don’t recall what and where the reading emerges. Such curious joy – somehow the music often fits the foggy riffs my brain talks to itself with (if’n ya know what i mean): explorations, traveling outside of time and constraints and contexts, dream state in between gasps of breath.

Winterkeep’s Blurb: Taken from an upcoming album exploring discarded postcards from another time. Absolutely inspired by discovering Richard Skelton recently, it’s given me a new direction to take my music. I hope you enjoy ☠️ Words courtesy of Dave Thorvald Olson – Postcards from Gravelly Beach

I replied:

Holy smokes, I have arrived back from a ramble in my erstwhile home country (Canada) to my accidental home (Japan) and here is my voice, recorded somewhere I can’t quite remember… On a ramble by train, by ship, by tuk-tuk… Was it the Himalayas? Arabia? The Mediterranean? or was it here in my backyard barn? The details don’t matter, the impact, I’m hearing myself remixed and floated back while I am wiped out in bed under a mosquito net – is a uniquely powerful intrigue.

Dig in on all channels:

Items, by post (from Diego Garcia, Gifu, Tōkaidō highway, and “no country”

1) Stamps from British Overseas Indian Territory Diego Garcia, thanks Cmdr

items, arrived by post

2) Postcard re: podcast “writers read their early sh!t” from an affable gentleman boxer in Gifu / Tip: he’s featured in a “beat sushi“ video

3) Kurt Vonnegut’s “A Man Without a Country” – pleasing to the feel hardback

4) small collectible card from Tōkaidō highway which came packed with satchels of seaweed and seeds to make a sort if savory rice porridge. Working on the series

+ etc

Pleasant chat with dear sensei Larry Harper in Utah this morning. Grateful for his kind words and to hear steps forward with his health and housing.

near Ken Sleight’s pack creek ranch
Continue reading Items, by post (from Diego Garcia, Gifu, Tōkaidō highway, and “no country”

Hey Cam, its your 50th birthday

Cam’s 50th birthday video with ukulele

My pal Cameron Uganec of Lynn Valley hit 50 so i made a spoken-song-arts-and-crafts-thing / its not long because he suggests “brevity is key” so i tried to not ramble on as per usual – making a “Ramones-sized song”.

Sharing here so i remember the fun making this for a great pal including: my Mom’s heavy duty pinking shears; Dymo labeller; scribbling “lyric and chord” writing; and a pink insta-camera + mighty hat a’la Richard Brautigan (made in Utah), and a Royal Stewart tartan jacket.

Thanks for being a top-notch gent Cam (and always driving and getting coffee etc).

You, Me & the Algorithm

Just wrote a “song” (more of a sprechgesang) – working title: You, Me & the Algorithm (trying to figure out nuclear fission) for the album called “Poste Restante” (or maybe “General Delivery” so dont hafta explain.)

As usual, its Dylan-esque– not in its quality per se but rather because it has like 14 verses, 3 bridges and maybe a chorus, or maybe 13 of those. I’m not sure but either way, I’ve got to figure out how these chord progressions work :) ive got a G C E Am kinda F & D & Gdm (or is it 7th?).

Then i can perform on this lovely “stage” (which is where the now-deprecated pool oasis was before typhoon) for audience of the wild boar living in the bamboo forest and possibly Ichiro, and you if i can track down the tripod. Bring your own lawnchair. Hot water provided for tea.

Then again, might just get lost in the notebook or maybe transcribed and posted in the “old man punk” category of my web archive waiting on someone who knows all the chords to make all song-ish. Who’s to say?

I just write the lines about “Columbus BJ Honeycutt hams” plus something about Plato & Leonard laying it down &/or Zeus & Buddha on a Pan Am flight sharing pack of Salema. Isnt that enough? Whew.

Nice bath, good night lovelies.

Note: R. Hunter re: Ripple and Festival Express

Q: How about “Ripple”?

A: We were in Canada on that train trip [the Festival Express, 1970] and one morning the train stopped and Jerry was sitting out on the tracks not too far off, in the sunrise, setting “Ripple” to music. That’s a good memory. That was one of the happy times, going on that train trip.

Janis [Joplin] was the queen of that trip. One of my greatest memories is having breakfast with her on the train. She was having Southern Comfort and scotch, and she asked me if I heard that song by Kristofferson, “Sunday Morning Comin’ Down,” and she sang it in my ear. Can you imagine?