Tag Archive: Music


Day 22- The Conductor


Hey! Today, someone called ‘Woyi OC’ would be taking over. Enjoy.

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THE CONDUCTOR

After much preparation it is time.
You take the stage with violin in hand.
The conductor faces you.
Eyes meet then she turns to the crowd, announces the symphony that is about to be played.
She turns back to face you.
Silence

You begin to play.
You’ve prepared for a long time.
You hope you have learnt from all the mistakes you made over the times.
You start to play.
The crowd watches.
They feel like its all perfect.
But the conductor knows; she knows what note is to come next.
They can’t truly see.
You’re nervous as you play the violin.
The conductor gestures away; frantically at high tempo upbeat parts,softly at low key parts.

She’s telling you what to do.
Even after all the practice, she still needs to show you.
Because she’s the conductor; he knows it, you play it.
The symphony is half done.
You’re getting it right.
Her face is still stern.
She does it to tell you half a success is none at all.
You keep playing.
You’re at the climax of the song.
That high part that gets the blood flowing fast.
You play with your mind and might at its peak.
Power and precision.

She smiles, the conductor smiles.
Its almost over.
You’re doing well thus far.
She’s happy with you.
The crowd doesn’t see; her back is turned to them.
But you know it is not over till its over; mind and body still sharp, you play frantically.
The symphony is almost at its end.
Just a few notes more, almost there.

It’s done.
You can’t look her in the face.
You know that she’s in charge.
You know she knows the music best.
You summon the courage to look at her.
She’s smiling, She’s happy.
You did it.
The crowd is applauding, but it doesn’t mean anything if she’s not smiling.
She is still smiling.
You are happy, she’s happy.

The crowd doesn’t understand.
But you both do.

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Happy Sabbath and good luck with guessing what this post is REALLY talking about 😉

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Day 17


So it’s Monday and I know how we all love Mondays. Oh you didn’t get the memo? LOL. -_-
Yes, we love Mondays and I decided to write about something i tweeted last evening.

Disclaimer: Blame this shit on Caffeine.

So saw a Retweet about a Sex playlist and this shit struck me as funny. Apparently, some of you have songs you want to have sex to?
Really?
How does that work?
When do you put on the music or when is the right time to put on the music? I’m asking girls because guys don’t do that shit. (If you do, you’re gay, in which case, you’re a chic.)
Let me get this straight:
You and a dude all giggly and messing around, soon the play kisses get intense. You undress. Dude is ready to charge and you say “Hold on let me put on some music.”
Really??????
You now put on some gay ass song with a gay-ass singer (Hey Trey) singing about sex and that shit supposed to be romantic?
If I were a guy, my erection would die instantly. I mean why the hell would I want to listen to some guy telling me he wants me to touch his body?
Or is it R-Kelly? What if the song you put is the guy’s fave song and dude FUCKING STARTS TO SING AND TWERK INSTEAD OF GIVING YOU SOME!!!!? WTF IS THIS?!!
AN INDIAN PORN MOVIE?
Niggas be thrusting and shii and all of a sudden, a couple of other naked niggas appear and y’all break into a fucking dance. That’s what I think of when I hear ‘SEX PLAYLIST’.

How does that even work with quickies? Say he’s driving and suddenly feels the need to offload (It happens!). He parks the car and leads you into a bush.(It happens!) He’s tryna raise your skirt quickly because you’re wearing no underwear (IT BLOODY HAPPENS!) And all of a fucked-up sudden you say something like “Hold on, let me get my phone”
Mans would think you wanna put it off or something and you scroll to the Sex Playlist on your phone and click play?
If I was yo man, I’d leave your music-loving ass in that bush, walk to my car and drive off! I hope your music attracts some wild-ass animals to taste your MUSIC. LOVING. ASS! LET’S SEE HOW YOU’D LIKE THAT!
CRAP!

If I were to make up a sex playlist, I’d make it an Igbo traditional music. Have you heard the drums on them things? FAST!
I would expect the guy to pump in time or faster to that. Now THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT.
But let’s be real, no sane guy would agree to shag to that cause his faggoty-ass don’t gat no rhythm!
That’s some hip-shaking music! That’s the way to conceive FUCKING CHAMPIONS! Hercules wasn’t conceived to bloody Akon singing ‘I just Had sex’ in the background!
If you ain’t gonna do some Igbo Heavy Metal, TURN THAT SHIT OFF!!!
Let us both scream and make our own music; well in my case, you scream in pain and I scream in laughter.

The only reasonable reason I see why you’d want to play music is so no one knows what you doing. In which case, I suggest you to just put on a bloody Christian song. But you wouldn’t would you? You can’t get your groove on with Akanchawa playing in the background can you? Because it would feel like Jesus is watching yo wide, naked ass, calling some next guy yo daddy. You dirry, dirry girl!
If you wanna mask the sound so bad, listen to Celine Dion. But is that possible? I mean one minute he’s pulling your hair the next y’all are hugging and crying, singing “Every night in my dream, I see you, I feel you…”
CRAP!

As I said in my tweet, If you have the time to put on music, the you really aren’t horny to be frank with your thirsty-ass self. I mean it’s  a NEED! Your body is SHAKING! LIKE GRRRRRRRR AMMA GRIND THIS GUY TO THE GROUND! AIN’T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR MUSIC AT THIS POINT!
YOU THROW THAT NIGGA ON A WALL, YOU RIP THOSE CLOTHES OFF AND YOU BLOODY. GET.  IT!!!!!
Maybe after the 15th or 16th round when his weak-ass is near death, then you can play some music to revive him, Nahwhamsaying??

If you REALLY insist on a song, I’ll recommend one. Ladies, this song would tell your man exactly what you want. I recommend this STRONGLY.

Tie me Down by Concentus.

Tie Me Down and Fuck Me (Hard)
tie me down – fuck me hard
tie me down – fuck me hard
tie me down – and fuck me hard

come tie me down – bring the cuffs (At this point his sorry-ass better be working!)

come strap me in – and make me sin
come suck me dry – until i cry
come fuck me hard – until i’m sore (AHMEAN!!!!! PREACH!)

make me scream
make me bleed
make me scream
make me bleed 

tie me tighter
ride me harder
ride me till i can’t speak or scream

tie me down – fuck me hard
tie me down – fuck me hard
tie me down – and fuck me hard

come strap me down – bring the whip

come strap me in – and make me sin
come suck me dry – until i die (Ok. Pause. Dafuq…?)
come fuck me hard – until i bleed

tie me down – fuck me hard
tie me down – fuck me hard
tie me down – and fuck me hard

never foreplay
come on and tie me down – never foreplay (This right here is the bridge. THIS IS WHERE YOU GO FOR GOLD LIKE YOU IN DA OLYMPICS!)
come on and fuck me hard – never foreplay
come on and suck me dry – never foreplay

tie me tighter
ride me harder
ride me till i can’t speak or scream (HE BETTER OBEY DAFUGGING INSTRUCTION SISTAH!!!)

Wanna know the beauty of this song? IT’S FRIGGIN’ EIGHT MINUTES LONG! It’s long enough for a round! AND YOU CAN BLOODY PUT IT ON REPEAT!

If yo man runs outta the house clothes in hands once it starts playing, HE AIN’T MAN ENOUGH!
If he breaks up with you cos he thinks your preedy ass is psycho, HE. AIN’T. MAN. ENOUGH!

It’s that simple.

I am done.

Have a lovely Monday. I know I will…

Disclaimer: Blame this shit on Caffeine.
In case you didn’t see it the first time, bloody bat-eyes.

Day 6


Hey.
Well today’s post is courtesy of an idea by @nosmaass_EFX.
Jaded mood so pardon me if I stop making sense. I’ll be writing on Music.

Those who know me know my favourite music genre is the almighty Rock and Roll. I love Rock.
Before, the opinion about Rock was all ‘OMG Demonic music’ Yada yada. I am not writing to disabuse you of that notion. Believe whatever the fuck you want.
I love  Rock mostly for one this: Guitar solos.
A rock song is like a sacrifice. The worship builds up until the bridge where the guitar solo comes in. That is the highpoint for me; the point where the virgin’s head is cut off for sacrifice. The Crux!
Life fades way for me at that moment. My whole being is concentrated on extracting the nectar from what I am listening to.

Take a song like Sweet Child O’ Mine by Gunz’n’Roses. If you haven’t listened to this song, do. Old skool beauty. When Slash takes up the solo, I am lost.
I feel this crazy euphoria inside me. My heart pounds. My hands shake. My eyes become blurry with tears. My body unites and merges. In my head, I am the guitar and Slash is using his fingers on me. I rock to and fro, I hug myself. I try to dance but my legs feel too heavy. The rhythm weighs me down. I lay down and cover myself, praying for it to go on forever. This madness stops when Slash’s solo is over. Moments like these are the reasons I’ll forever adore Rock and Roll.
Another song Hysteria by Muse. The chorus gets me. Then the Solo. Lord Jesus, the solo! I have tears in my eyes EVERY TIME IT STARTS. I’ll probably go to a Muse concert with a box of tissues. I’ll bawl my eyes out. Lol. Listen to this song. Even if you don’t like Rock. Listen. You won’t regret.
Third song I’ll recommend for good guitar solo, Far From Home by Five Finger Death Punch.
Solos touch something dormant in me. There is a garden of Eden inside us and beautiful music taps into that core. I feel like a baby after a particularly good song; incapable of hate. Of course it fades (because reality is shit) and I have to tap into  it again and again.

Note, these songs are not Metal. I know Metal isn’t everyone’s cuppa so won’t go into it.

That is the beauty of Rock. There is something for everyone.  The genre is so diverse, some sub-genres would soon become genres.

As much as I love Rock, I love other genres as well; Jazz, Old Funky tunes, Old Skool Head bobbing hip hop.

The thing with music is that I am attracted by instrumentals. Heavily.
I am not a lyrics person. Couldn’t care (most times) what is being said. I just want to immerse myself in the melody; the harmony. The discordant arrangements of music that somehow manages to blend in the ears.
It’s all about the background music to me. In fact, I do think the singers are the background noise; they’re the accompaniment. They can shut up and the song would still be as beautiful.

My music list is a weird mix: Death Metal bands like Kalmah, vying for space with James Brown, Elvis Presley and Tom Jones.

I was going to talk about how Music acts as a spiritual gateway for summoning celestial beings but I doubt you wanna know about that…or If I wanna write about it just yet.

That’s it really. Hope I feel better.
Have a good day.

 

Untitled


This isn’t a story; a musing of some sort.
Listening to Disappear by Hoobastank and my eyes are suddenly becoming teary. No, I am not sad. Wistful.
The first time i heard this song, I was about 15 and it was on Rickdees.
I still remember how reality faded as I listened to the lyrics.
“Do you know that every time your near, everybody else is far away?”
No, i wasn’t a teenager in love. I had no love then but these words moved me.
I remember i recorded the song. I’ll sit in my room, phone in hand, listening to Disappear. Hot Sunday afternoon, aunt in the kitchen screaming my name. I would hear no one.
“Make them disappear. Make them disappear!”
I would mutter these words like a mantra.
Make them disappear.
I love it when songs have these kinds of effect on me.
Another song that reminds me of these teenage years, Sugar We’re going down by Fall Out Boy.
This was more jaunty. I would kick my feet in the air and do an air tap dance to the beats.
My aunt would come in and switch off the radio and order me into the kitchen. I just pilfer her phone and I am back on Rickdees.

The Reason by Hoobastank would come on and I’ll find myself crying. Again, i didn’t have a love or some broken relationship. There was just this sadness i could detect in the lyrics.
“I’ve found a reason for me, to change who i used to be. A reason to start over now. And the reason is you”
Yes, i used to tell myself that if i eventually had a boyfriend and he hurt me, if he sang this song to me, I’ll forgive him. Not sure about that now; might still be the same. Or not.

Another one was Photograph by Nickleback. This, i first heard with my dad. One of the few memories i remember of him listening to a song with me in silence. Normally, he’ll switch it to something else. When the song ended, heard him murmuring “Good bye, good bye” and i had a funny smile on my face.
It was cute.
This song also touched me because I always had this fear of leaving my classmates after school. And this song was about reminiscing on old days.
Funny thing is i am listening to it now and remembering old school days. My friends and I would listen faithfully to the radio, waiting for whatever rock song got played. We’d write it down and come to class, singing and making up out own words.
Children of the Radio. Faithful to the stereo.
We never eve touched that dial.
Ah.
Disappear is playing again.
I should sleep.


*set to In The End by Vanessa Carlton*

The keys black and white, like him and her.

His ochre skin glistened with sweat as he thrust into her, over and over. She arched her back into him, crying furiously as he took her. She wrapped her hand around his neck and squeezed, her wiry fingers compressing his windpipe with unnatural strength. Her eyes were sad, but they shone with a preternatural light as his thrusts intensified with the tightening of her fingers. He began to gasp as her body began to spasm under him and he buried himself deep into her, his outstretched arms  rested on flat palms on either side of her face. In a mindless lust filled haze, she bucked and was rewarded with a resounding snap. His head lolled and his arms gave way, his naked body collapsing onto hers. She wrapped her hands around his torso and cried softly, the relief of taking a life washing over her, silently savouring the warmth leave his body and the gentle weight that slowly grew on her as his blood stopped to flow and his limbs turned to lead.

It took ten minutes for his body to transmute from healthy ochre to a sickly ash and she laid under him through it all, arms wrapped around his neck, legs spread beneath him. With some effort she crawled out from under him, the smell of death upon her. It is just as it should be, she thought to herself, walking through the dimly lit belfry towards the little square of light cast by the moon through the stained glass window. The kaleidoscope of colours bathed her pale skin in the glorious hues, a mockery of the blackness she was inside. Her youthful skin, milky white in spite of the years she spent in the desert sun, playing away the beautiful concertos that she had longed to play in the darkened halls with beautiful high ceilings. Her breasts blue and yellow from the light cast by the robes and cherubic face of the Christ child, they had stayed small as they were when He first fondled them in that back alley, when he made her spirit soar and her skin flush with light and her womb bloom with his seed. Her flat belly was the cream of the sheep that lay beside the manger, the fertile pudgy sheep that bowed its head in adoration of the child. Hers would never rise, never. He’d taken that from her because she took his seed away from him. The only thing that continued to thrive was her raven hair falling to her plump buttocks, hiding the scars of her trysts with Him as He prod her over and over, every season she sook him out to lay with her.  He’d obliged her each time, but he forbade her to look upon his beautiful face, bent her over and took her, sinking his claws into the small of her back and raking deep gouges that took a year to heal. He thought he was punishing her, but she knew better, he was the only one who could hurt her and pain was better than the numbness she felt.

He would ask her to play for Him wherever they met, in a crowded market or a dingy slum or an upscale hotel. It never mattered to him how many would die after. It never did.

“I have missed my violin, Tana.” He would say. “Play me a little piece? I want to hear if he has been tuned and oiled like you promised.”

She would play, from mournful to joyous, from jubilant to brooding, astute to languid, and they paused  where the music carried. Young, old, beautiful, juvenile; it didn’t matter to Tana Brooks’ violin. They would stop in their tracks and gather around her, transfixed by the sounds her bow wrought. He would disappear into the mist as he always did, smiling at his creation. She would play as long as they wished her to, minutes, hours, even days. She would tap out melodies that reminded suited business men of their childhood dancing to folk songs and they would dance in helpless abandon while she cried for now she was so in tune with the violin she could see the deaths that would come for them. Eventually they would all get sated with her and as a swarm they would disappear to their deaths and leave her with the burden of being judge and executioner. And she would disappear until, her scars healed and compulsion drew her to seek Belial again.

“Doh! Doh! Doh!” came the melodious whisper from the aged piano in the corner. Tana shook herself from her reverie and noticed the light was much stronger now; she had stood there for hours. She turned to the sound and a smile parted her lips. Ashy and stiff, he perched naked on the tiny stool that faithfully stood beside the crumbling piano hidden in the darkened corner of the room, his frozen fingers picking notes of a child’s lullaby. His neck jutted out an angle and his glassy eyes stared into the dark but he didn’t need to see the keys to play. She stood in the light and watched in awe as his skin regained its lustre and his joints became fluid once again, his neck slowly inching its way back up, righting his head full of curly hair. She saw it every other night, but each time he rose from where they had coupled and healed, it awed her over again. He turned his now straight head at her and smiled ruefully, seguing from the jaunty march he had been playing into a languid waltz. Play with me, his eyes pleaded.

Tana picked her violin from where she’d laid it by the window sill and tightened the frogs. She tested a few notes ensuring her notes rang true to his, and plunged herself into the music; following his lead, complementing his dips and shoring the silences between his transitions. They played so beautifully, two angels of death, harbingers of doom, cursed by their chance meetings with Lilith and Belial to wreak death in all they did. She played the half tones that her heart had longed to sing and the dirges she couldn’t play at the funerals of all the people she’d loved from afar and watched slip into darkness and he played the grand hymns he had dreamed of subsuming himself in at the cathedral where he had grown up, on the colossus of an organ behind which he had prayed for eighteen years tightening screws and waiting for his turn to glory in its melodies. Lilith found him and cursed his eyes to stay forever open and his hands to freeze in death each time he ever played for another’s entertainment, she’d taken all he cared for away from him on a petulant whim.  She was his salvation and he her companion, the perfect waltz, the girl on the violin and the boy on the piano.

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This piece was written in 45 minutes as an imagined sequel to the  epic Girl On The Violin (read it here) set to the haunting song In the End by Vanessa Carlton. Our boy on the piano is none other than Johnny Depp. I hope I did justice to Tana Brooks. Shalom.

On Music


Hello Humanity!
This is not a story. As if i had to say that.
I like celebrating the achievements of my family and today is another ‘Aren’t We Awesome?’ day.
My brother started a Neo-Jazz-Hiphop band. Yeah that’s what i call it. So yeah, he started this with his friends late last year. They call themselves Psylus.
Whatever that means.
I watched and listened to their recordings few days ago and i was totally impressed!

Therefore, decided to share the YouTube links to their available videos.
Psylus at Round House

Psylus night-busking at Waterloo

You can check out the collaboration they did with a Hiphop group Refractory on their website: http://www.psylus.co.uk

They are all between the ages of 17-21.
They’re going to be big!!!
Oh and my brother is the one on the drums. 😀

That being said, have a lovely day! I most definitely won’t.

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