Tag: blues

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Pure

Video for the song “Pure” from the album, Flagship.

Pure

Stole me away into the black of my mind
Brought me near the shore of insanity
But then she came and swept me away
Now we’re smiling; nothing left to say

God is good; God is great
I’m in love and I won’t hesitate
To tidy my mind and get my soul straight
‘Cause there’s nothing I want
That Love can’t create

And of knowing you,
I hope this is only the dawn

There’s only one thing left to be done
That is to take our place in the sun
Beneath the bright sky
We’ll commandeer the breeze
And drift through the universe
Like autumn leaves

Of the world that’s brought me down
You’ve been my cure
Because you love me and challenge me
To be pure

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Deezer

Same Mistake

“Same Mistake” from the television performance on the show, AMPED, filmed in Wilmington, NC.

Magus & The Plastic Infinity

Adam Charles on drums

Josh Kidd on bass

Trent Boswell on guitar and vocals

Words and music by Trent Boswell

Support more music, poetry and madness from Trent Boswell, at: Patreon

Latest book release:

remission

Other Titles Available:

More Information

Patreon/Magus72

Perception

A new music video for the song “Perception” from the full-length, studio album, Flagship by Trent Boswell.

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iTunes/Apple Music

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Conjure Work

More Cool Junk

https://c10.patreonusercontent.com/3/eyJhIjoxLCJwIjoxfQ%3D%3D/patreon-media/p/post/45543356/0114204adf4a4bb2b4c492b3e1d80cbd/1.mp3?token-time=1609345733&token-hash=2ZL8WItz55_ogZDHvUN7Am6ticXKPOwsOUgMUTJy7_k%3D

Blind In The Sun

If you like bands like Queens of the Stone Age, Jane’s Addiction, Jimi Hendrix or The Mars Volta, then you’ll probably dig this.

This is a brand new recording of the song that I wrote many years ago but never had a chance to record it until now. I’ve played it live with my band quite a few times but unfortunately, we never caught it on tape.

I’m playing the bass and guitar parts and singing. Everything that you hear on this track is me, except for the drums. That’s because I don’t have access to a live drummer right now. Besides, feeding and caring for a wild animal like that is expensive.

Here’s the full video on YouTube. Don’t forget to hit the thumbs up 👍 subscribe ✅ and the notifications bell 🔔

The song is called blind in the sun and the lyrics are below. Originally, it was a poem and I set it to music (hence the Roman numerals in the lyrics).

The .mp3 file is attached to my Patreon page, so you can go there, download it (for free) and play it whenever you want.

I forget sometimes that people don’t always follow my rather eccentric, artistic choices, so I will explain something about this track. I purposefully chose not to clean up the sloppier guitar licks on this track, because it’s the feel that I was going for… teetering on the edge of the abyss.

Going back and punching in smoother, cleaner guitar parts is easy enough. I just didn’t want ’em, not for this. I’ll mention two songs that inspired my playing on this. One is “God”, by Tori Amos. Her guitar player is way better than he sounds on that track. It’s dirty, gritty and foul, for a reason. The song is about existential angst and the loss of faith, so it’s gotta be grimy.

The other is “Come On (Let The Good Times Roll)” by The Jimi Hendrix Experience. On that song, he does what jazz musicians refer to as “going outside”, meaning that he lets his solos wander just a little bit out of time and out of key, on purpose. Of course, he brings it back in or it wouldn’t be interesting. I chose to step outside on this track but hopefully not too much.

Feel free to share the link to this page or the Patreon page, or the YouTube link on your social media, that’s the best form of advertising there is for underground artists. I thank you in advance. Enjoy!

Just click that big, unwieldy link, below, to listen to the track. Or go to the Patreon page. You can download the song from the Patreon page and have it for your very own. Just don’t forget to water it every few days and never feed it after midnight.

Blind In The Sun

Blind in the Sun⠀
Can you cringe beneath
The shadow of a fly?
You’d better try
Running ‘cross the sand
Fire in the hearts of your band
In the joy of being alive
Stripped of delusion
And so forwardly stride

Lost in the garden
with canonized illusions
There are the keepers
Of the tower
But I am not a member
Of the dark December
The light of the sun refracts
In my eye

II.

Everything is water
Electric fluid matter
In a paper cup
Called Time

III.

Somewhere in the North
There are real vampires
I know you go to visit
From time to time
To roll in the stench
The decadence of
Thirst for blood
To dine with a pack
Of wild gods

I have no intent
Of adopting your bent;
Partying down with the devil
On your shoulder

I have no intent
Of going where you went
Beating on a skull
In a hellish midnight circle

But who am I to say?
That you are not ok?
I will simply stay
Behind

Latest book release:

remission

Other Titles Available:

KevinTrentBoswell.com

SoundCloud Blind In The Sun.mp3

2020

Death’s message heralded on dragonfly wings

Silent trumpet sounding, the whole day long

Loss, now the winner of so many things,

Lords over the grieving, threatening the strong

Kevin Trent Boswell

Now available, on Amazon:

Liber ex Liberi; The Book of Children

Support the work at my Patreon page: https://www.patreon.com/magus72

I cross-post the public works here. Patrons-only content is available, on my Patreon.

Battle Against the Public

I think what this pandemic was lacking is a song, a tune that the people can hum. Therefore, to fill the current need, I have adapted an old favorite, with new (improved) lyrics.

I present to you, “Battle Against The Public”.

[sung to the tune of the famous song, Battle Hymn of the Republic]

Mine ears have heard the glory of the

Omniscient, Orange Lord

He is trampling on the facts

About the PPE we’ve stored

He hath loosed the fateful virus

By the terrible signs, ignored

His untruth is marching on!

(Chorus)

Story, story, tell it to ya!

It ain’t no worse than the flu… duh!

Praise him or he’ll remove ya!

Our Nonsense marching on!

I have seen His message echoed in the

Online, Right-Wing camps,

They have builded Him an altar

Where truth‘s secured with iron clamps;

See through His dimwit message

By the light of Logic’s lamps

His toupée is marching on!

(Chorus)

Friends, who you thought really knew ya!

Tell you it’s a hoax, come to screw ya!

Sit and wait at home, like Buddha!

His Orange is marching on!

I have read a fiery gospel, writ

In CAPS of angry steel:

“Those who deal with My opponents,

Get respirators that might heal”

Let the Orange Nero, play the fiddle

Let Americans all kneel

Trump is God and nothing’s wrong!

(Chorus)

Derogatory, press is unfair to ya!

Common sense has got the blues-a!

From Miami and NY to Chattanooga!

The virus marches on!

He has sounded forth the trumpet

By Easter, we will have it beat;

Well, never mind… but admit,

That the idea was pretty neat!

Doctors say… he’s a mo-ron!

(Chorus)

Gory, the doctors all conclude-a!

Fateful end, you’ll come to-a!

On breath machine, you’ll turn blue-a!

The buck He’s passing on!

In reports that came from China,

South Korea, Italy

The Donald was duly warned

Of illness, born across the sea,

With mighty golf club in his hand,

He said “Let’s wait and see”

As He lied to make men wealthy,

Let us try to make men see,

While the President blathers on!

(Chorus)

Glory, brave souls who blew the!

Whistle, sorry no supplies get to ya!

Your on your own, He never knew ya!

Our health care, shat upon!

Kevin Trent Boswell

The new book is out now, on Amazon:

Chaos Comes Apart

Take a look at my Patreon page at https://www.patreon.com/magus72

I’ll be cross-posting here, what I publicly post, over there. Patrons-only content will be available, over there.

Morning Flies Far

Confounding the stupefied senses, the

syllabus, schedules of uninformed winner

you’ve reliably opened a festering wound,

spending lunch money upon trinkets of dinner

Empty the cup that was never quite full,

all the seats cold and audience, waiting

there’s no more rind or gristle to eat

and no one left, to hear the debating

Slink down now into entertaining covers

and call it all finally done, for a life

wasted and somehow full of wonder,

no loud report, but fish round for a knife

And instantly recall, in blissful drudgery,

some things can’t be cut by the cannon gun

whether eight more lines or only a million

some faces watch, from which you don’t run

Quiet cannibals, eating your sorrows

angels who lift any plagues from your land

mouths that sit, ready for morsels

morsels that come from only your hand

Sing now, with wretched rooster of morning

sing loud of his majesty and curse his name

take small solace in dimwitted knowledge…

no one is salvation and no one’s to blame

Magus

(Kevin Trent Boswell)

Take a look at my Patreon page at https://www.patreon.com/magus72

I’ll be cross-posting here, what I publicly post, over there. Patrons-only content will be available, over there.

Art Matters

I wrote a post, over at ConjureWork.com that I feel is important. It pertains to art, poetry, music and accurate thinking and how we all need it more than we may realize.

Rather than recreate it here, I’m just linking it: Art Matters.

a glass of yesterdays

at nineteen

I was smitten with a girl

who loved gin and tonic

she was a preacher’s daughter

in South Carolina

I discovered that

all of what people say

about preacher’s daughters

is blissfully true

I introduced her to

the bubbly summer fizz

and she introduced me to…

well, let’s just say…

I learned to mix

a mean

gin and tonic

as she lay beside me,

naked and asleep

on that motel bed,

I took tequila shots

and reveled in the majesty of

Austin City Limits

the television and I,

both sloppy drunk

with the sounds

of John Hammond

slurring curses through

a mouth harp,

the tube on his finger

causing that steel guitar

to scream bloody murder

and holler for its momma

I sat stupefied

on the edge

of a cheap mattress,

covered in awe

and still coated

with her

Delta Blues cut

jagged holes

into my memory,

with its muddy banks

flesh, sights, screams,

wailing demons

and wobbling fingers

only a cheap television screen

and a cigarette ash,

backlighting

the carnal event

she, now quiet on the bed

Hammond on the screen,

now brutally howling

as if in some type of

infernal pain

a blistering welt

from the bite of a hell hound,

now sulking somewhere

in the mosquito-infested

darkness

“Oh!!! Say,

my momma don’t allow me…

to stay out

aaaaall night long!”

I, now

consumed completely

by cactus juices

and cascades

of flaming guitar notes,

flying out of the

Devil’s fingertips

I straighten my back

and draw in closer

to breathe in her hair

then, toward the television screen

and I fall sleepily beneath

the heavy spell

of it all

now,

standing in a friend’s kitchen,

I think back

on all of it

I spy a bottle of gin

with a little less than

a shot left in it

I open the fridge

lo and behold,

a fresh bottle of

tonic water

I mix the two

and raise

a toast

to the various potions

of summer’s forgetfulness…

to the southern gene pool,

with its extraordinary ability

to produce the most

exquisite specimens

of the female form…

to the Delta blues

its vinyl static,

scratched into my soul…

to John Hammond,

masterful and

merciless…

to the claw marks

on my back…

to the fear

of Jesus

Magus

(Kevin Trent Boswell)

I am getting back on to my Patreon page at https://www.patreon.com/magus72

I’ll be cross-posting here, what I publicly post, over there. But other, patrons-only content will be available to patrons, there.