The red sunset / Sad reggae

by Mournful Skank

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about

Another sad acoustic reggae trip...
"Home-crafted" between 2017 and 2019.
As usual you can freely download, listen, re-use in your own creations, sample, destroy !!
Provided you :
name the source,
never sale
publish your work under the same licence so others can create with your material too.
/// CCBYNCSA licence ///
MAY FREE CULTURE LIVE LONG ;)

Thanks to all helpers for any kind of support !

credits

released July 14, 2019

Credits
Joseph Sardin's samples
William Blake's poems
Jiddu Krishnamurti's recordings on "Apocalypse skank"
Samples of Depardieu and Serrault in Blier's movie "Buffet froid" + l'Abbé Pierre on "Tout ira très bien"
Tatjana's 2nd guitar on "The little vagabond"
Some Acid Pro's samples (Brian Daly, Dave Abbruzzese, Paul Black, William Tucker)
Choir on "A creative riddim"

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about

Mournful Skank France

Mournful Skank is an experimental project exploring sad reggae, acoustic dark dub, hybrid skank ;)

I support free music (enter 0 for price).
Still, you can contribute if you like or use.
My work is under creative commons BYNCSA

My music is influenced by William Blake, les Béru, Coil, the Gladiators, Horace Andy, Dead Combo, Portishead, Tom Waits, Castaneda. Ainsi parlait Zarathoustra.
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Track Name: The realm
I was a fat dirty old punk
keeping my angryness in a bunk,
or raging or gettin' drunk :
high values are so full of junk
- hidden in the backyard
they consumed me so hard.
It ain't about the money, it ain't about the fame,
a black flag stands over the rules of a twisted game.
No god will gently come to end your misery,
to blame you are the one for your own slavery...
I won't yell,
hear this peacefull riddim.
To the gates of hell
I will probably bear this dream.
Everywhere it is the same :
"work, fatherland, family"
- these words empty and vain
that shall never vary ;
everywhere they restrain our forces with luxury,
comfort and obtain we chop of life the tree.
Hm, I am dead - and if not have no life
for a small piece of bread or a meaningless strife.
I will not yell,
hear this peacefull riddim,
to the gates of hell
I will probably bear this dream.
It ain't about the money, it ain't about the fame :
a black flag stands over the rules of a twisted game.
Load your finest horn,
grab a shovel, dig their tombs,
raise poultry, grow corn
'cos these are the real bombs.
It ain't about the money, it ain't about the fame :
a black flag stands over the rules of a twisted game.
Track Name: Apocalypse skank
(Jiddu Krishnamurti extracts)

"Conflict, distractive brutality, aggression...
What the world is now :
blind, deaf and dumb.
Man has cultivated
the extrordinary contradictions of human beings
and to understand this extraordinary complex problem of existence,
one must have tremendous passion !
The radical transformation of the mind :
listening to what is actually taking place of"
Track Name: Knock your heads against that stone (W. Blake)
(William Blake extracts)

Some men created for destruction come
into the world and make the world their home.
Be they as vile and base as eer they can,
they will still be called
"the world's honest man".
he who binds to himself a joy
does the winged life destroy
but he who kisses the joy as it flies
lives in eternity's sunsrise...
Come, knock your heads against that stone !
Come, knock your heads against that stone !
("no doubt")
The errors of a wise man make your rule
rather than the perfections of a fool ;
thy friendship has often make my heart to ake,
do be my ennemy for friendship's sake !
Come, knock your heads against that stone !
Come, knock your heads against that stone !
Always take judgement from a fool,
because his judgement is so very cool.
Sleep on, while in your pleasant dreams,
of reason you may drink of life's clear stream.
Come, knock your heads against that stone !
Come, knock your heads against that stone !
Track Name: The little vagabond (W. Blake)
(Lyrics from William Blake)

Mother, dear Mother, the church is cold,
but the ale-house healthy, pleasant & warm,
besides I can tell where I am used well,
such usage in heaven will never do well.
But if at the Church they would give us some ale
and a pleasant fire our souls to regale,
we'd sing and we'd pray all the live-long day,
nor ever once wish from the Church to stray.
Then the Parson might preach & drink & sing
and we'd be as happy as birds in the spring,
and modest dame Lurch, who is always at Church,
would not have bandy children nor fasting nor birch.
And God like a father rejoicing to see
his children as pleasant and happy as he,
would have no more quarrel with the Devil or the Barrel,
but kiss him & give him both drink and apparel.
Track Name: Arganil
On the hill where everythin' has burned,
my nostrils can smell this bloody place had turned
into a desert
with no hope,
only this dirt,
evrery tree'd be fine to bear my rope...
The mist came upon my home on wheels
and brung me a twist : Sarah came like a ghost to chill.
I'm condamned to move,
life can't bear when I stand still.
Nothing to prove...
On the hill where everythin' has burned,
my nostrils can smell this bloody place had turned
into a desert,
with no hope,
only this dirt,
evrery tree'd be fine to bear my rope.
Oh then the mist came upon my home on wheels
and brung me a twist : Sarah came like a ghost to chill...
I won't stay
even if flowers grow on a dead land,
'till sunrays have warmed up my cold body on the sand.
I'm condamned to move,
life can't bear when I stand still.
Nothing to prove.
Track Name: Follow the hardest riddim
We are all guilty,
this world is worst than hell,
just a sum really
of the dreams in our cells.
I'm on my own
like an odd clown,
is it worth going on ?
Follow the hardest riddim
- I follow the hardest riddim.
We are all guilty,
this world is worst than hell...
A sum, really,
of the dreams in our cells.
My life had blown...
I am the pimp and the whore.
The messiah, the antichrist,
the dictator, the anarchist :
we are all guilty,
this world is worst than hell,
just a sum really
of the dreams in ourselves.
Follow the hardest riddim
- I follow the hardest riddim.
Track Name: Catharsis
Let them run, let them burn...
Me ? I am waiting for a stroke.
Let them eat and get fat...
It is a long time run
involving more than you and your gun.
'Cos I can cope with grief,
I'm already feeling dry as a leaf.
I am all alone since you're gone,
with open deadly wounds.
What have I done ?
I can see your bones.
You'll be all alone
with a dry or flappy bone.
Will only stay songs
that I sing on my own ?
Track Name: Gone by deceit
They are all there for your burial,
saying "it is a shame he's gone, after all",
but no one was there or fucking gave a call
when your troubles came and left you suicidal.
They pretend to care and build memorials
then redo the same...
I guess we all just play roles.
They swear they care
- they swear they care.
Like an acid rain, on your shoulders fall
the way they restrain your happy bouncing soles,
with fear and disdain in games where you're a doll :
the fake and the mundain are just rulin' this bowl.
You are waiting
for an end of this craving,
you are waiting...
You are waiting
for an end of this craving,
you are waiting...
Like a deer with a deadly wound,
you hide yourself in the bushes
and every time you hear a sound,
your fuckin' heart just crushes.
They are all there for your burial,
saying "it is a shame he's gone, after all",
Like an acid rain, on your shoulders fall
the way they restrain your happy bouncing soles,
They pretend to care and build memorials
then redo the same...
We all just play roles.
Like a deer with a deadly wound,
you hide yourself in the bushes
and every time you hear a sound,
your fuckin' heart just crushes.
Track Name: Awake
I swear I'm not lying...
I know you're not asking me anything,
but the thing is I'm nearly dying.
As Kurt, my heart is broke but I don't have no glue,
I am waiting for a stroke within or without you.
I know you're far from all this
and I am tired of all this;
ease me, kill me,
please help me to die !
Track Name: The ghost
The ghost is to be seen but he is never reached :
there you heard a grin, here you felt a pinch,
something in the air just tells you he was here
- wandering on a hill - hidding in mournful holes.
Healing his wounds, he keeps his hear on the ground...
D'you see that strange indian with no past and no land ?
As I understood, his intentions are good,
he comes out from the woods,
he has a strong will under a straight hood and he goes :
"you hear my voice 'cos I was mould into a warrior
- I have no real choice but to use sharpened words as a razor.
I'm the perpetrator of something resounding
and to properly vanish,
my task needs to be accomplished.
I wish my dreary history could have been thown overboard
and that shitty despair wouldn't flow in all my words
but I'm on a mission,
I won't throw down the shield nor the sword,
no reddition 'till I dismembled every sarg' of the horde."
Life ain't just no toss :
prior crimes should be endorsed.
Never pay attention to the cost,
walkin' with death's horses !
No remorse...
Forget your god damn wrath
- focus / swallow.
In the limbos the loneliest path is a decent one to follow.
Prepare for war with arrows and a bow
in a world of liars where the honnor has gone low.
Away from the shows
- no boose / no joint / no straw.
Unrelevant bounds and habbits are leading to a fucking hollow.
Nothing for ever is sealed :
every secret must be revealed.
You ain't lonely,
this madness ain't yours to carry.
No past / no future,
only your breath and your blood pressure...
Stop waisting your time
'cos outside the sun shines...
Track Name: The grey monk (W. Blake)
(extracts from William Blake)

"I die, I die" the Mother said,
"My children die for a lack of bread".
What more has the merciless tyrant said,
the monk sat down on the stony bed.
The blood red ran from the grey monk's side,
His hands & feet were wounded wide,
His body bent his arms & knees
like to the roots of an ancient tree.
His eye was dry, no tear could flow,
a hollow groan first spoke his woe.
He trembled & shudderd upon the bed
- at length with a feeble cry he said
For a tear is an intellectual thing
and a sigh is the sword of an angel king ;
and the bitter groan of the martyrs woe
is an arrow from the almighties bow.
My Brother starved between two walls,
his children cry my soul appalls,
I mocked at the wrack & the griding chain,
my bent body mocks their torturing pain !
Thy father drew his sword in the North
with his thousands strong he marched forth.
Thy brother has armed himself in steel
to avenge the wrongs thy children feel.
Track Name: The alchemist
Vampires try to steal your energy
to build empires on slavery.
Words were falling in a cold ear,
jewels can be crushed by a bear :
every day sins nail our coffins
- I grow but I never get old.
I turn lead into gold !
Life is not fun at all.
My soul land from the stardust
and if I'm here to eat earth dust
down from the hill of fear and lust,
shall thank the ones who taught me trust !
Track Name: The riddle
My time is right while the sunbeams
remind me it meant nothing.
From the very begining,
I killed myself by any means.
All single day I remember
pieces I quietly gather,
crying in front of my puzzle
- figuring out the strange riddle.

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