<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6057947956642933986</id><updated>2012-01-20T17:21:21.524+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Wastrel's Homecoming</title><subtitle type='html'>This is the official OG nostalgy site, from Wastrel to Woodbine Garden Sessions (2001-2006). They asked me to play and write, and through a curtain of smoke the wastrel came home. No, I didn&amp;#39;t quit. But I was prepared to le[a]v(itat)e / step aside since the beginning. However, there were three sides to every story, so read carefully. And you have the right to see it all the way you want. &amp;quot;There is no bad blood. And no blaze of glory, either.&amp;quot;</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wastrelcominghome.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6057947956642933986/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wastrelcominghome.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Antti Filppu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06693144030135250287</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-039uFBPYu9o/TuTA1WNJf0I/AAAAAAAABDw/hKCCjDX8HnA/s220/20111015_344.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>5</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6057947956642933986.post-20052695504946915</id><published>2010-03-17T16:57:00.054+02:00</published><updated>2011-12-07T14:08:27.848+02:00</updated><title type='text'>How To Sing Like Elvis?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rsF0UGiJtcE/TSIW1LyHP2I/AAAAAAAAAuU/OJ060XxDEU0/s1600/semikuvalevitating.php.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 198px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rsF0UGiJtcE/TSIW1LyHP2I/AAAAAAAAAuU/OJ060XxDEU0/s320/semikuvalevitating.php.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558029993080471394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SING LIKE ELVIS!&lt;br /&gt;(June 2005)&lt;br /&gt;Music: Harri Pikka, Words: Antti Filppu.&lt;br /&gt;This song was originally called &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Sing, Bastard!&lt;/span&gt;. The lyrics are as they were, with the exception of the word "shotgun", which had to be taken along recently to replace "bastard", as the latter seems to be in use everywhere nowadays. (In 2006 I had a cowboy song title &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Sing like a gun&lt;/span&gt;!, but since then there have been too many shoot outs in real life, so better let it go). This was and still is a joke. But it says something about the truth, also, as jokes often do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They don't let me sing&lt;br /&gt;But I don't wanna growl no more&lt;br /&gt;It's all fucked up, I know&lt;br /&gt;And they laugh, Then they say&lt;br /&gt;It sounds like Tom Waits&lt;br /&gt;But I can't hear it at all&lt;br /&gt;There's no magic spell&lt;br /&gt;To help you through this shit&lt;br /&gt;If you can't sing like the king&lt;br /&gt;But you gotta try, You've got to try&lt;br /&gt;Something else instead&lt;br /&gt;I can't sing like Elvis&lt;br /&gt;Like Vladimir Vysotsky&lt;br /&gt;I can't sing like the Russian Elvis&lt;br /&gt;Baby, I'm a shotgun&lt;br /&gt;And the drunken flight is cut short in the lines&lt;br /&gt;The same things will fall to all but some lucky bastards&lt;br /&gt;The wolf hunt is on, In the corner of the street&lt;br /&gt;I've met a few who were sad as hell&lt;br /&gt;Well, one got away and he's still growling aloud&lt;br /&gt;A song for all friends and a song....&lt;br /&gt;"For the earth is not dead,&lt;br /&gt;Great sorrow has just made it black"&lt;br /&gt;"Surun pyyhit silmistäni pois"&lt;br /&gt;I wanna sing like Elvis&lt;br /&gt;Like Vladimir Vysotsky&lt;br /&gt;I wanna sing like the Russian Elvis&lt;br /&gt;Baby, How would you like it&lt;br /&gt;If I could sing like Elvis&lt;br /&gt;Like Vladimir Vysotsky&lt;br /&gt;If I could sing like the Russian Elvis&lt;br /&gt;Baby, How would they like it&lt;br /&gt;They would not like it&lt;br /&gt;Nje poni maju, Nje poni maju&lt;br /&gt;Harasho! Ruki ver!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rsF0UGiJtcE/TSJ3O2fzFLI/AAAAAAAAAvs/excbMseFE6I/s1600/nurmimetalkuva3.php.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 257px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rsF0UGiJtcE/TSJ3O2fzFLI/AAAAAAAAAvs/excbMseFE6I/s320/nurmimetalkuva3.php.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558135987159372978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;WRITE SOMETIMES TEN TIMES&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes imaginations appear to be&lt;br /&gt;more or less like living beings.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes a man gets carried away,&lt;br /&gt;when he should be having his X.X.X.X.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes thoughts come to life&lt;br /&gt;and cause trouble to those who try to think.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes works of art become&lt;br /&gt;like warning signs for the world.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes an unprepared soul has to deal&lt;br /&gt;with things he is incapable of understanding.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes the curses of today's world&lt;br /&gt;make us unable to see anything.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes our cities are full of bad spirits&lt;br /&gt;and meaningless, terrible noises.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes the neighbours know that something&lt;br /&gt;is happening, but they don't know what it is.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes there's bullshit all around you&lt;br /&gt;and you can't say if it's your own or somebody else's.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes there's a wound to be healed,&lt;br /&gt;but what is this in and out of love?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;”24 hours, boys!” said Bon Jovi's manager. I used to watch their &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Breakout&lt;/span&gt; video at least once a week in the summer of 2003. It was one of my sources of inspiration for the new lyrics. And I'm telling the truth when I say that this OG thing was, besides being ”a favour for a friend”, a lucky chance to re-visit "the cold wastelands of youth". To say a few words left unspoken while doing a few things left undone. The final scene was shot up without a trace of blood &amp;amp; shot down without a blaze of glory. And that's the way it was meant to be. No real guns were used and the leather jacket I wore belongs to someone else (I sold mine in the nineties already). It seems I was identified as "the front man", as if it was me who's driving the band wagon. But things were much more interesting. And they remained as such from the beginning of this journey to the very end. I think very few people actually realized all of this. If you ever wondered what the hell, maybe now it's time to stop wondering. And honestly I don't think anyone cares that much. As for me, I had nothing to do with the ”metal scene”, and I didn't listen to that kind of music anymore (which doesn't mean that I disliked the genre or the people, I just wasn't part of it – apart from being the singer of this band). A few interview comments may have been out of the line, but there will be no explanations. Why not? As they could show what was going on. But no, I don't believe it ever caught that much attention, when it simply was my fault or when someone didn't hear what I said:  "what I'm trying to achieve with OG is to transmit a metaphorical form of art". Now say that again. Did I try my best to explain how rebellion has dried up and there's a chance for something new. That a lot of things had gone way too far, and we're just trying to rock the boat TO ANOTHER DIRECTION. The last three words were left out. Since the first interviews I kept on mumbling f.ex. "Kalevala mysticism &amp;amp; medieval German romanticism will always be among the main themes in our work". How well that kind of stuff really fits into this kind of jesting. You can only blame yourself. Small time &amp;amp; small change?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Take a look at these "last notes".&lt;br /&gt;They were definitely written, composed &amp;amp; arranged,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;but never recorded. And I think they work even better this way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;ASS OF GOD&lt;br /&gt;(January  2006)&lt;br /&gt;Music:   Harri Pikka, Words: Antti Filppu&lt;br /&gt;A  quick sketch for a  song,   although some say it's the best I've ever  done for OG. The guys  in the   band wanted to have a song with Pasolini  &amp;amp; sodomy, so I gave  them a   fable. Everybody got what they  wanted, so everybody must be  happy.  But  what exactly happened? Who  was riding on an ass?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;   &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;An ass on an ass  with a  cock&lt;br /&gt;Riding all  the way from holy Rome&lt;br /&gt;To this town called   Asshole&lt;br /&gt;Only Exit  signs where ever they went&lt;br /&gt;Then a dog came to   the ass&lt;br /&gt;Howling  like a wolf, the dog said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Maybe  they're all assholes!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then   the dog put his cock into the ass&lt;br /&gt;And  the cock would crow thrice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Then   the dog saith to the ass: &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Agrippa  and Bruno were holy  men,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Moses  and Jesus Christ were full of  magic"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;The  cock answered:&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;"I  have read Three Books  of Occult  Philosophy, and..."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;The ass  below interrupted:&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Three   books only? I have read them all!"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;The  cock couldn't take  it  anymore:&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;"That's what I call one hell  of an ass!"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;But   the ass above asketh the dog:&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Have  you ever tried to see  it  in Levi's shoes?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the dog came in  the ass&lt;br /&gt;Howling  like a  wolf, the dog came&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;While one  good-looking ass screamed  from the  crowd&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;That had gathered  around them:&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We  want more  details, give us more details!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;It  was already getting  late and  they all wanted to get laid&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: normal;"&gt;The  dog put his cock into the ass&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: normal;"&gt;And the cock would crow thrice&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: normal;"&gt;The dog came for the ass&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: normal;"&gt;Howling like a wolf, the dog came&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;God    had been watching it all&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;But god didn't speak, not a word&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;And    still they try to prove that it has all been revealed today&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;But    that's what they've done over and over again&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;For a thousand    years already&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROTTEN    FLESH TO RIP-OFF&lt;br /&gt;(Taken from Wasted Years, Sentenced to Death&lt;br /&gt;and    Rotten Flesh to Consume.&lt;br /&gt;All were songs written in 1994.)&lt;br /&gt;Music:    Harri Pikka, Words: Antti Filppu&lt;br /&gt;This was the last song I wrote  for   OG,&lt;br /&gt;but it was all....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was in love, sweet young love&lt;br /&gt;And    everything was alright&lt;br /&gt;'Till that bastard came and took his girl    away&lt;br /&gt;Revenge was all he wanted&lt;br /&gt;To kill that bastard,&lt;br /&gt;Get his    girl back&lt;br /&gt;But he was wrong, that gun didn't help him&lt;br /&gt;It was the    wrong way,&lt;br /&gt;It was the wrong way&lt;br /&gt;Twenty years in jail took his  soul   away&lt;br /&gt;Hail hail those wasted years&lt;br /&gt;Oh what a wonderful  wasted  life&lt;br /&gt;Pick  up the phone book, roll the dice for their death&lt;br /&gt;Who   will be the  next, who will be sentenced to death&lt;br /&gt;Now he’s playing   the part of a  ritual killer&lt;br /&gt;Man, he’s playing the part of a ritual   killer&lt;br /&gt;And he  can't help for digging the casket up&lt;br /&gt;His lusts are   too great, he  always wants the best&lt;br /&gt;The best meat, it will be  found  six feet below&lt;br /&gt;Rotten  flesh, oh he loves to eat it,  sialozemia&lt;br /&gt;Dry  and rotten flesh to  consume&lt;br /&gt;Creophagy, Botulism,  unified entrails&lt;br /&gt;“They  smell bad, I  don't need them&lt;br /&gt;I take the  flesh, it agitates me”&lt;br /&gt;Twenty  years in  jail took his soul away&lt;br /&gt;Hail  hail those wasted years&lt;br /&gt;Oh  what a  wonderful wasted life&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rsF0UGiJtcE/TSJ3PSLJCTI/AAAAAAAAAv8/O4GDcVTcvNE/s1600/rockskuva2.php.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe this was part of a greater "omnium-gatherum" that simply happens if and when it is to happen. No practice or preaching will ever help you to get the letters right. And yes, even though I was one of those ”troubled minds”, I had a very good time. We succeeded beyond all expectations. (Krhm, I'd like to remind you there were none). What happened between me and the rest of OG during the years 2000-2006 is like a closed circle. And it was something that needed to be done. These things had a reason to take place. And most importantly: everything was left open for the band and their new singer to go on a new cycle of their own. (It is true that they could have carried out my departure in another way, but nobody's perfect). Yes, damn right there was enough time for me to properly end what had begun. The last demo from January 2006 really says it all, and I'm very glad that we got it done. For my part this was like a cause riding to shoot the rebel. Or was it a law reaching out (for the ”outlaw”)? Maybe it was a lamb dressed in wolfskin, looking for a honeymoon with the real thing. That must have hurt. In any case, it seems that our strange kind of gathering delivered the goods and people enjoyed from ”all of that jiving around”. I didn't ask for this five year side trail they gave me, but I loved it all the more and nonetheless! So I still raise my cup for Markus, Janne, Harri and Jarmo for picking me up from a certain dead end station back in October-November 2000. Thank you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6057947956642933986-20052695504946915?l=wastrelcominghome.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6057947956642933986/posts/default/20052695504946915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6057947956642933986/posts/default/20052695504946915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wastrelcominghome.blogspot.com/2010/03/sing-like-gun-june-2005-music-harri.html' title='How To Sing Like Elvis?'/><author><name>Antti Filppu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06693144030135250287</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-039uFBPYu9o/TuTA1WNJf0I/AAAAAAAABDw/hKCCjDX8HnA/s220/20111015_344.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rsF0UGiJtcE/TSIW1LyHP2I/AAAAAAAAAuU/OJ060XxDEU0/s72-c/semikuvalevitating.php.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6057947956642933986.post-5623677615658896964</id><published>2010-03-17T16:52:00.106+02:00</published><updated>2012-01-20T17:21:21.534+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Woodbine Garden Sessions</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;REHEARSAL DEMO APRIL 2004:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&lt;br /&gt;THE FALL WENT  RIGHT THROUGH ME&lt;br /&gt;II&lt;br /&gt;THEME FROM HELSINKI, HELSINKI&lt;br /&gt;III&lt;br /&gt;MISANTHROPIC  AUGUST FALLS 1996&lt;br /&gt;IV&lt;br /&gt;SILVER MOON &amp;amp; WINTER QUEEN&lt;br /&gt;V&lt;br /&gt;AUGURIES  A-GO-GO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;REHEARSAL DEMO NOVEMBER 2004:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;MONEYTALKS&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;II&lt;br /&gt;SUICIDE MACHINE&lt;br /&gt;III&lt;br /&gt;HANGAR  18&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;REHEARSAL DEMO  JANUARY 2006:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&lt;br /&gt;CITY RED LIGHT (WITH HIGH SPIRITS AND BARCLAY)&lt;br /&gt;II&lt;br /&gt;NEITHER  DEAD NOR ALIVE&lt;br /&gt;III&lt;br /&gt;REMEMBER THE FROZEN&lt;br /&gt;IV&lt;br /&gt;DAS WEGRECHT&lt;br /&gt;V&lt;br /&gt;MY  HANDS WERE TIED&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rsF0UGiJtcE/TSHf_R4QpbI/AAAAAAAAAsc/W1uAz7ypNXw/s1600/band3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rsF0UGiJtcE/TSHf_R4QpbI/AAAAAAAAAsc/W1uAz7ypNXw/s320/band3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557969693376030130" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Recorded at Woodbine Garden Studio, April  2004, November 2004 &amp;amp; January 2006, by Teemu Aalto &amp;amp; OG. These  were meant to be rehearsal sessions and so we left them unfinished.  Maybe there's a bit of human touch in return, at least I hope the soul  comes through. They're close to what it was like when we played live.  Vocals for the April 2004 demo were recorded in less than three hours,  but they needed more than three cups of coffee (though every YIW song  was done, this fistful will be enough). And the November cover  songs were buried for years until Moneytalks suddenly came by, giving us a good laugh. It's ridiculous, I know. Some of the lyrics for the January 2006 demo were  written and arranged a few days before the recordings (but they are as complete as  it can get). The Finnish words on Das Wegrecht were taken from an old  spell, meaning to ward off evil spirits. They feed us li(n)es, but the  truth is all we have to have. The Woodbine Garden Sessions are now  "official"!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;CITY RED LIGHT (WITH HIGH SPIRITS AND BARCLAY)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Light  the city red for that honey&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it will breathe with the soul&lt;br /&gt;Even  when I'm drunken no longer&lt;br /&gt;All the names of god will be there&lt;br /&gt;Come,  bless the world&lt;br /&gt;And I’ll pray for them tonight&lt;br /&gt;Come, bless the  world&lt;br /&gt;They’ll pray for me tonight&lt;br /&gt;The light is gone, help us now&lt;br /&gt;We  gotta face the ghosts and know it all&lt;br /&gt;No church will help without  pity&lt;br /&gt;Yes, all living things they have a soul&lt;br /&gt;But god given coins  we need here&lt;br /&gt;Come, bless the world&lt;br /&gt;They’ll pray for me tonight&lt;br /&gt;Come,  bless the world&lt;br /&gt;And I’ll pray for them tonight&lt;br /&gt;Where has all that  faith gone&lt;br /&gt;If the cities fall and if we fail&lt;br /&gt;We’ll go back to  them, old places&lt;br /&gt;Where the spirits are high&lt;br /&gt;What’s wrong with a  summer night&lt;br /&gt;Alright, just a drunkard telling things&lt;br /&gt;Didn’t have  that much to say&lt;br /&gt;Some have it more, some have it less&lt;br /&gt;Is the  city of being (still) here&lt;br /&gt;Or is it burning to the ground&lt;br /&gt;No, if the cities  fall and if we fail&lt;br /&gt;We’ll go back to them, old places&lt;br /&gt;Where the  spirits are high&lt;br /&gt;Where the spirits are high&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NEITHER DEAD NOR  ALIVE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We’re not cowboys&lt;br /&gt;But we ride on a steel horse&lt;br /&gt;Bad  things are many&lt;br /&gt;From fear of life to that of death&lt;br /&gt;But the good  thing is nobody wants us&lt;br /&gt;Neither dead nor alive&lt;br /&gt;And I swear it’ll  be all straight&lt;br /&gt;But you better stand your ground&lt;br /&gt;When I shoot will  it be near the truth&lt;br /&gt;It will be the truth oh yeah no yeah no&lt;br /&gt;You may  get shot through the heart&lt;br /&gt;with a mouthful of fine words&lt;br /&gt;‘Cause  you never know&lt;br /&gt;Even when you’re standing tall&lt;br /&gt;Who’s coming, who’s  got a gun&lt;br /&gt;(“The water in these boots&lt;br /&gt;On a cold autumn day&lt;br /&gt;It’s a  truth, but a truth I can’t accept”)&lt;br /&gt;Who’s coming, who’s got a gun&lt;br /&gt;Bang  bang shoot shoot&lt;br /&gt;We’re not cowboys&lt;br /&gt;But we ride on a steel horse&lt;br /&gt;Bad  things are many&lt;br /&gt;From fear of life to that of death&lt;br /&gt;But the good  thing is nobody wants us&lt;br /&gt;Neither dead nor alive&lt;br /&gt;And I swear it’ll  be all straight&lt;br /&gt;But you better stand your ground&lt;br /&gt;When I shoot will  it be near the truth&lt;br /&gt;When I shoot it’ll be the truth&lt;br /&gt;When I shoot  will it be the truth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;REMEMBER THE FROZEN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This land is  precious like before&lt;br /&gt;So beautiful is the sight, pure as crystal&lt;br /&gt;Scryed  over the hills and the freezing nights&lt;br /&gt;From the secret stars above&lt;br /&gt;To  the ground so frozen&lt;br /&gt;(It hides) in every act and thought&lt;br /&gt;Timeless  forests remember the heart&lt;br /&gt;Forever I shall enshrine the memory of  thine&lt;br /&gt;The trees have grown, I watch them rise&lt;br /&gt;And speak of times  before this life&lt;br /&gt;On the snow a beast has walked&lt;br /&gt;Near the graves of  their gods&lt;br /&gt;Our long gone dead loved ones&lt;br /&gt;Still guiding us in this  time and space&lt;br /&gt;Forever I shall enshrine the memory of thine&lt;br /&gt;The  trees have grown, I watch them rise&lt;br /&gt;And speak of times before this  life&lt;br /&gt;"And the earth is our soul,&lt;br /&gt;How could a man with his  boots..."&lt;br /&gt;Could he ever kill a soul&lt;br /&gt;I’ve heard their voices,  neverending&lt;br /&gt;Forever I shall enshrine the memory of thine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DAS  WEGRECHT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep the world from lying groundless&lt;br /&gt;And the sleep of  many from one’s own dreams&lt;br /&gt;To save us from being no ones now&lt;br /&gt;Oh  save what is good in this&lt;br /&gt;Fear is loathsome as resting ungrounded&lt;br /&gt;The  world is full of all kinds of others&lt;br /&gt;With different rights,  different fights now&lt;br /&gt;(Us and them of which) some are red and others  black&lt;br /&gt;While some are white and walk the wrong hand path&lt;br /&gt;I'm in the  middle of them all, give me the right of way&lt;br /&gt;Don’t let a heart lose  its name&lt;br /&gt;I’ll greet them like this&lt;br /&gt;Take my own horse and ride it&lt;br /&gt;Up  and down my very own pathways&lt;br /&gt;Just let there be light or a guiding  voice&lt;br /&gt;For human will and the divine heights&lt;br /&gt;And for those who  could not choose between them&lt;br /&gt;Some are red and others white&lt;br /&gt;While  some are black and walk the wrong hand path&lt;br /&gt;I'm in the middle of them  all, give me the right of way&lt;br /&gt;Don’t let a heart lose its name again&lt;br /&gt;Like  the angel whose wings were blackened by oil&lt;br /&gt;Or like an old word,  full of dust and forgotten&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Kumpi tietää vähemmän, se väistyy  tieltä!"&lt;br /&gt;"Jos oot paha, tekemä toisen&lt;br /&gt;niin koittele kotiis, ja  kovasti&lt;br /&gt;Mä'e syrjin syyttömästä,&lt;br /&gt;Vieritse viattomasta!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some  will go away while others are coming back&lt;br /&gt;And some are standing  still, and some don’t even know&lt;br /&gt;What is the why and where is the who&lt;br /&gt;But  life is red and love is white while death is black&lt;br /&gt;(And sometimes) everything  is blues&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;MY HANDS WERE TIED&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let it flow and let them  leave behind what they want&lt;br /&gt;For black is the river that runs in their  veins&lt;br /&gt;And they will be free from ol’ god&lt;br /&gt;All of the heathens who  never fell in love&lt;br /&gt;Or they fell but they fell too long with no one&lt;br /&gt;Yes,  wise old man river goes on and on&lt;br /&gt;Whether you’re chained to it or  not&lt;br /&gt;Like a downhearted singer of the north&lt;br /&gt;“I ran like hell, those  motherfucking dogs&lt;br /&gt;And gunmen trying to get me, but I ran like hell”&lt;br /&gt;And  old laws they were no more&lt;br /&gt;But they’re here now ‘cause I need them&lt;br /&gt;And  old loves they were no more&lt;br /&gt;But they’re here now,&lt;br /&gt;Let them stay (for a while)&lt;br /&gt;For  all that we have been&lt;br /&gt;If we begin to do nothing, oh no god&lt;br /&gt;Our  hands will be tied and we get caught&lt;br /&gt;Everywhere of the day or in the  hours of night&lt;br /&gt;Sleep(ing) mornings away to get through the worst&lt;br /&gt;“For  everything that can be broken, is it broken already&lt;br /&gt;For everything  that can be broken, is it broken already”&lt;br /&gt;And old loves they were no  more&lt;br /&gt;But they’re here now ‘cause I need them&lt;br /&gt;And old laws they  were no more&lt;br /&gt;But they’re here now,&lt;br /&gt;Let them stay (for a while)&lt;br /&gt;For all that we  have been&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rsF0UGiJtcE/TSJ7_n2q58I/AAAAAAAAAwE/i29kcx0UIaM/s1600/band4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rsF0UGiJtcE/TSJ7_n2q58I/AAAAAAAAAwE/i29kcx0UIaM/s320/band4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558141223088875458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"When the  light is red, it means stop. Do not walk."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These bootlegged  sketches for songs have returned to the early OG's atmospheres, and  something positive is in the air, never mind all the bullshit going on.  Angels offer their help and Barclay's City Red is lit for the girl on  the street. Hey, we're not Fi(n)nish[ed] yet. So many different things  are coming together. Tetragrammaton is just around the corner, waiting  to be finally pronounced, but is it right or wrong? Either way, aren't  we all guilty. VR-makasiinit burned down to the ground while I walked  the streets of Helsinki. Through the smoke and the flames I wandered.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;City Red Light (With High Spirits And Barclay)&lt;/span&gt; urges people to move  from urban areas to the countryside, that is, ”if the cities fall and if  we fail”. Erich Fromm wrote of The City of Being. And &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Church of Pity&lt;/span&gt;  was the title of a poem in 2002-2003. (See my collection of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Lyrics&lt;/span&gt; at http://www.mythicpoetry.blogspot.com for more). &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Neither Dead Nor Alive&lt;/span&gt; is like Bon Jovi’s &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Wanted  Dead Or Alive&lt;/span&gt;. Or then again, maybe not. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Remember The Frozen&lt;/span&gt; is an old  song title from 1996. Some of the lines were taken from another song.  Same era. It was about silence and winter nights. Vladimir Vysotsky  sings about boots that can never stamp down a soul. See his &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Song About  The Earth&lt;/span&gt;. And&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Das Wegrecht&lt;/span&gt; is “the right of way”, taken from Paul Celan’s  poem. Celan killed himself. I can’t recall  who was the singer of the old Finnish spell fragments. The first line, however, is from the classic theme  of Kilpalaulanta, The Singing Match. It is all about knowing, knowers,  and the way we wanna go. "Tie" means “road, path, way”, and "tietää" means  “to know”. The Wrong Hand Path refers to something that we all must be  able to decide for ourselves. But it's about trespassing. We should  learn how to pay our respects to each other. Free Spirit and the freedom  of choice / will should be cherished at all cost. And we all have a  right to change our opinions, our ways, our paths. Maybe this is just an  ideal, but it's something I have learned to be worth striving for.  Fellow poet, Janne Nummela, told me in 2003 that the vocals on SAAL  sound like "&lt;span&gt;enkeli jolla on siivet öljyssä&lt;/span&gt;" (an angel whose wings have  been blackened by oil). &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;My Hands Were Tied&lt;/span&gt; is a very dear song  lyric to me, as many lines were taken from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Under Autumnal Rain&lt;/span&gt; (first  version, Spring-Summer 1995). I was faced with a serious problem those  days: my heart bled tears of joy but I was the singer of a band that  needed to have bad boy lyrics. And as I was learning that Other  Thing (yes baby, it would get so much worse), I ended up  writing about black rivers and things like "can heathens fall in love?"  Luckily I didn’t have to answer the question since my soon-to-be  ex-first love left me like a bullet leaves.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6057947956642933986-5623677615658896964?l=wastrelcominghome.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6057947956642933986/posts/default/5623677615658896964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6057947956642933986/posts/default/5623677615658896964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wastrelcominghome.blogspot.com/2010/03/omnium-gatherum-woodbine-garden.html' title='Woodbine Garden Sessions'/><author><name>Antti Filppu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06693144030135250287</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-039uFBPYu9o/TuTA1WNJf0I/AAAAAAAABDw/hKCCjDX8HnA/s220/20111015_344.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rsF0UGiJtcE/TSHf_R4QpbI/AAAAAAAAAsc/W1uAz7ypNXw/s72-c/band3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6057947956642933986.post-316023146346788151</id><published>2010-03-17T16:52:00.105+02:00</published><updated>2012-01-20T17:20:15.680+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Years in Waste</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rsF0UGiJtcE/TSHMhfuhqZI/AAAAAAAAAsE/MXpa50ez1lk/s1600/Years_in_Waste_cover.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 270px; height: 270px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rsF0UGiJtcE/TSHMhfuhqZI/AAAAAAAAAsE/MXpa50ez1lk/s320/Years_in_Waste_cover.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557948290976295314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;THE FALL WENT  RIGHT THROUGH HERE&lt;br /&gt;WASTE OF BEREAVEMENT&lt;br /&gt;MISANTHROPIC  (LET THE CROWN FALL)&lt;br /&gt;BLACK SEAS CRY&lt;br /&gt;IT’S  A LONG NIGHT&lt;br /&gt;NO MOON &amp;amp; NO QUEEN&lt;br /&gt;GRAVESILENCE&lt;br /&gt;THE  NOLAN’S FATI&lt;br /&gt;MORE WITHERING&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;AUGURIES  GONE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;YIW is much more  sophisticated than our previous  releases. Many people have said there's  coldness in it, or even loss of  soul. For a journey into the  wastelands of youth it is only natural to  have that kind of feelings  somewhere along the way. Well, it ends in the  tulip fields, where the  morning sun is shining and everything's fine.  The long night is over.  But whether or not there is real mysticism  behind the veils, or just  fooling around, you will have to decide for  yourself. YIW is not a hit  in the face (though with these songs it would  have been even likely to  become one, just listen to ”Theme From  Helsinki, Helsinki”, the demo  version of ”Waste Of Bereavement”).  Auguries go with odd apologies and  sympathies, but there's no hate for  you, honey. Musically YIW has many  sides to its story, some playing hard  to get in their tekhne, while  others are just simply beautiful.  Lyrically it brings together the  letter of pop cult and the spirit of  high cult. Or was it vice versa?  This was the end of an era: the long  awaited homecoming of our Wastrel.&lt;br /&gt;-  Written for the August 2008 release&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;THE FALL WENT RIGHT THROUGH HERE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whose  fault is it&lt;br /&gt;If one hasn’t been here long enough to be happy&lt;br /&gt;‘Cause  every day they try with branched thoughts&lt;br /&gt;But they fail in  something, They fail to see&lt;br /&gt;Whose fault is it&lt;br /&gt;If one hasn’t been  here long enough to be happy&lt;br /&gt;‘Cause every day they try with branched  thoughts&lt;br /&gt;But they fail in something, They fail to see&lt;br /&gt;That “I’m so  fucking tired, Why can’t I be alright”&lt;br /&gt;And for those who felt  nothing this year&lt;br /&gt;The fall went right through here, And here&lt;br /&gt;And  here with the burdens we’ll have to take now&lt;br /&gt;To be safe from harm, To  get us through&lt;br /&gt;For how long has it been there&lt;br /&gt;My heart’s so full  of this&lt;br /&gt;No leaves will line the streets&lt;br /&gt;And who could ask for  more, Who could ask for more&lt;br /&gt;The world of my soul is all I have&lt;br /&gt;To  thank with all of my patience&lt;br /&gt;And I don’t wanna follow&lt;br /&gt;The same  old goddamn line&lt;br /&gt;‘Cause it would be too much and I would be no more&lt;br /&gt;Then  I wouldn’t be at all, Then I wouldn’t be at all&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WASTE OF  BEREAVEMENT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the devil is old and diseased&lt;br /&gt;In the very  heart of each bone&lt;br /&gt;All the sons have gone to their mothers&lt;br /&gt;To  learn the things that will count&lt;br /&gt;Those who die may come back&lt;br /&gt;“How  you leave today” does not&lt;br /&gt;And if you wanna get down below&lt;br /&gt;Then  you'll get down below&lt;br /&gt;How I'd like to live in a city&lt;br /&gt;That don’t  breed for spiritless dreams&lt;br /&gt;But I'll stay awake and I'll pray&lt;br /&gt;Let  them go away if they want&lt;br /&gt;“My fucking youth in a sewer”&lt;br /&gt;Is not the  loss to be grieved&lt;br /&gt;And I got no hate for you&lt;br /&gt;Honey, No good it  will ever be&lt;br /&gt;If I can't make it here I'm not gonna make it&lt;br /&gt;If not  here, I'm not gonna make it anywhere&lt;br /&gt;“My fucking youth in a sewer”&lt;br /&gt;Is  not the loss to be grieved&lt;br /&gt;And I got no hate for you&lt;br /&gt;Honey, No  good it will ever be&lt;br /&gt;Poor devil's ass for god's fist&lt;br /&gt;If what you  are is being a no one&lt;br /&gt;And if you wanna get down below&lt;br /&gt;Then you'll  get down below&lt;br /&gt;Oh oh oh oh, Is it like that&lt;br /&gt;Will the little town  little boots&lt;br /&gt;Melt away, Melt into this world&lt;br /&gt;If I can't make it  here I'm not gonna make it&lt;br /&gt;If not here, I'm not gonna make it  anywhere&lt;br /&gt;Anywhere, Anywhere&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MISANTHROPIC (LET THE CROWN FALL)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will  the earth sink into the abyss of nothingness&lt;br /&gt;With naught but thick  blackness&lt;br /&gt;And have I followed the will of my own&lt;br /&gt;No, I don’t think  I’m any better than you&lt;br /&gt;If the circle gets all straightened up&lt;br /&gt;Then  comes the age of northern winds&lt;br /&gt;No one is crowned, Let this word be  weighed&lt;br /&gt;I’ve washed my hands to hold you close&lt;br /&gt;Well, I'm dead  serious tonight and I'll have it now&lt;br /&gt;Set out to sing, Baby, To sing  the verses of fall&lt;br /&gt;When there are no more words left&lt;br /&gt;That's the  right thing to do, Right on yeah&lt;br /&gt;Well, I'm dead serious tonight and  I'll have it now&lt;br /&gt;Set out to sing, Baby, To sing the verses of fall&lt;br /&gt;When  there are no more words left&lt;br /&gt;That's the right thing to do&lt;br /&gt;It's  not a question of who's the meanest motherfucker on earth&lt;br /&gt;It's not a  question of who gives or who doesn't give a fuck&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Maahan miehet, Maahan miekat, Maahan  untelot urohot,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Sa'at miehet  siiven alta, Kymmenet kynän nenästä!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BLACK SEAS CRY&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A  wretched man one will grow to be&lt;br /&gt;While someone’s heart is weeping&lt;br /&gt;Is  it a lot of weight, A lot of grief&lt;br /&gt;And what will become of this&lt;br /&gt;There’s  nothing for us, Nothing else&lt;br /&gt;As long as it lasts the world’s all the  same&lt;br /&gt;Broken and lonely hallelujah&lt;br /&gt;And three rivers will be with  you&lt;br /&gt;And the greater the sorrow&lt;br /&gt;The more trees will grow from where  it began&lt;br /&gt;If you have to cry then cry now&lt;br /&gt;And let them hear,  Bringing the seas near&lt;br /&gt;To know what it’s like..........&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, I  know what I don’t know&lt;br /&gt;‘Cause I’m just like you&lt;br /&gt;“Even if the  search was neverending&lt;br /&gt;I swear I’ll return here&lt;br /&gt;With bitter frost  surrounding&lt;br /&gt;With a part of the emptiness&lt;br /&gt;The night is inside, The  night is beloved”&lt;br /&gt;And three rivers will be with me&lt;br /&gt;And the greater  the sorrow&lt;br /&gt;The more trees will grow from where it began&lt;br /&gt;If I cry  now it’s too much&lt;br /&gt;But I’ll let them hear, Bringing the seas near&lt;br /&gt;To  know what it’s like……….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IT’S A LONG NIGHT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Empty frames,  Withered leaves and a broken window&lt;br /&gt;“18 years have had to go, They’re  gone, Who found the path”&lt;br /&gt;The angles to my heart wide open with  angelic speech&lt;br /&gt;But it can’t be said out loud, The thing is that it  can’t be said&lt;br /&gt;Or the morning sun will set into magic sleep&lt;br /&gt;Something  in my heart told me I must have you&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I’ll have it all, Now  lay on the bedded grass&lt;br /&gt;It’s coming and it’s a long night&lt;br /&gt;For the  souls who got nobody&lt;br /&gt;It’s coming and it’s a long night&lt;br /&gt;For the  souls who got nobody to lean on&lt;br /&gt;Empty frames, Withered leaves and a  broken window&lt;br /&gt;Love was not a glance away&lt;br /&gt;A warm embrace more than a  dance away&lt;br /&gt;“I should go outside and take a walk”&lt;br /&gt;With no incense  and no lute&lt;br /&gt;It’s coming and it’s a long night&lt;br /&gt;For the souls who  got nobody&lt;br /&gt;It’s coming and it’s a long night&lt;br /&gt;For the souls who got  nobody to lean on&lt;br /&gt;It’s coming and it’s a long night&lt;br /&gt;For the souls  who got nobody&lt;br /&gt;It’s coming and it’s a long night&lt;br /&gt;For the souls  who got nobody to lean on&lt;br /&gt;And autumn is there to picture the loss&lt;br /&gt;I’m  not going back, No, I’m not going back to that&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NO MOON &amp;amp; NO  QUEEN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Snowing wherever you go&lt;br /&gt;Seen in the red light of sunset&lt;br /&gt;Tell  me of times before this life&lt;br /&gt;And tell me if it’s too late, Already  too late&lt;br /&gt;I’ve tried to be cleansed from their quarrels&lt;br /&gt;The curtain  of flames was easily passed&lt;br /&gt;Though I feared, I feared a lot&lt;br /&gt;For  life can be hard sometimes&lt;br /&gt;When we’re dreamless and cold&lt;br /&gt;The moon  hiding tears of scarlet&lt;br /&gt;Nothing but a glance of mourning&lt;br /&gt;Winter  queen is made of deceit&lt;br /&gt;And the heathens they all die too young&lt;br /&gt;“I  want to hold you in my arms,&lt;br /&gt;I want you more than my soul”&lt;br /&gt;In  chambers and in need&lt;br /&gt;For my eyes to be blessed&lt;br /&gt;And what was the  worth of it all&lt;br /&gt;How did I live through the mist&lt;br /&gt;Given the part of a  wolf&lt;br /&gt;Almost hunted down by the weak&lt;br /&gt;In chambers and in need&lt;br /&gt;For  my eyes to be blessed&lt;br /&gt;For life can be hard sometimes&lt;br /&gt;When we’re  dreamless and cold&lt;br /&gt;The moon hiding tears of scarlet&lt;br /&gt;Nothing but a  glance of mourning&lt;br /&gt;Winter queen is made of deceit&lt;br /&gt;And the heathens  they all die too young&lt;br /&gt;“I want to hold you in my arms,&lt;br /&gt;I want you  more than my soul”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GRAVESILENCE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good life brings loss  that is honest&lt;br /&gt;The rope tightens when I’m soulless like you&lt;br /&gt;Now  I’m here with this fucked up dream&lt;br /&gt;Not a sound, Time has stopped and  we’re blind&lt;br /&gt;Who turned the amplifier to full volume&lt;br /&gt;And sang about  grave silence:&lt;br /&gt;“Rainy days and lonely nights, Only darkness&lt;br /&gt;There’s  no light or X.X.X.X in my life”&lt;br /&gt;This place is a moment of grief, No  bullshit&lt;br /&gt;Who turned the amplifier to full volume&lt;br /&gt;And sang about  grave silence:&lt;br /&gt;“Rainy days and lonely nights, Only darkness&lt;br /&gt;There’s  no light or X.X.X.X in my life”&lt;br /&gt;This place is a moment of grief, No  bullshit&lt;br /&gt;With years changing it all stays the same&lt;br /&gt;Where am I  going and where have we been&lt;br /&gt;True depression is different, Isn’t it&lt;br /&gt;“If  I can’t cut it out and direct the force&lt;br /&gt;To something useful, I’ll  make the right decision”&lt;br /&gt;And it’s not like a real suicide&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;THE  NOLAN’S FATI&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For how long have they done thy will&lt;br /&gt;“The sun of  midnight is ever the son”&lt;br /&gt;How much it takes to see what burns our  skin&lt;br /&gt;Oh what have we achieved by this&lt;br /&gt;Words are spoken and things  are done, What is wrong&lt;br /&gt;God is damned but god’s animal mother is  alright&lt;br /&gt;“I can’t find myself, Don’t need this anymore”&lt;br /&gt;(Well, At  least my mother has faith in magic)&lt;br /&gt;The loss of strength could not  have me&lt;br /&gt;I got new boots, I'm back on my feet&lt;br /&gt;(Asinine and golden I ride to this city)&lt;br /&gt;While by our lady  precious chaos rules&lt;br /&gt;For how long has all been in dirt&lt;br /&gt;Let’s hope  it rains, I think they’re dying or is it just me&lt;br /&gt;Well, At least the  stars gave birth to something new&lt;br /&gt;But if it’s the kind of love and  it’s the kind of love&lt;br /&gt;That we’ve been warned about, They’re in  trouble&lt;br /&gt;And the stakes are high as that of Bruno’s&lt;br /&gt;For all the  humble tyrants nowadays&lt;br /&gt;Is it better to keep on singing&lt;br /&gt;“Your  paths were never even close to mine”&lt;br /&gt;When I was cast aside I thought  it’d be my fate&lt;br /&gt;With hollow eyes Proserpina’s garden is left behind&lt;br /&gt;And  the stakes are high as that of Bruno’s&lt;br /&gt;For all the humble tyrants  nowadays&lt;br /&gt;Is it better to keep on singing&lt;br /&gt;“Your paths were never  even close to mine”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;MORE WITHERING&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caught somewhere close  to this world&lt;br /&gt;Close enough to watch beside&lt;br /&gt;Where else could have  we retired&lt;br /&gt;When there’s no place at all, No, Dear&lt;br /&gt;Is there a haven  for those who can’t wait no more&lt;br /&gt;Would there be a haven for us&lt;br /&gt;Mordant  wrath is like a dead tree&lt;br /&gt;For my ears were, They were killing me&lt;br /&gt;Mordant  wrath is like a dead tree&lt;br /&gt;For my ears were, They were killing me&lt;br /&gt;“You  think you’re withering but you’re not withering”&lt;br /&gt;Mordant wrath is  like a dead tree&lt;br /&gt;For my ears were, They were killing me&lt;br /&gt;You know I  have tried not to forget&lt;br /&gt;How I suffered from everything&lt;br /&gt;That was  within (and all over) me&lt;br /&gt;And what we used to be like&lt;br /&gt;In the haven  where I lived&lt;br /&gt;Without you, Without you&lt;br /&gt;Now would you help me&lt;br /&gt;’Cause  I’ve seen this already&lt;br /&gt;Have I taken it all with me&lt;br /&gt;“And I’m so  easily caught&lt;br /&gt;Forgive me that I’m caught in this&lt;br /&gt;That I can’t help  it like I couldn’t help it before”&lt;br /&gt;You know I have tried not to  forget&lt;br /&gt;How I suffered from everything&lt;br /&gt;That was within (and all  over) me&lt;br /&gt;And what we used to be like&lt;br /&gt;In the haven where I lived&lt;br /&gt;Without  you, Without you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AUGURIES GONE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They say the good man has  gone bad&lt;br /&gt;And nothing’s god comes to those who wait&lt;br /&gt;But they own  our world and I’m not part of it&lt;br /&gt;Are those devils gonna have their  way&lt;br /&gt;We’ve been stranger than the night&lt;br /&gt;But force and furor helped  us through&lt;br /&gt;“Babe, you got real wolfen eyes&lt;br /&gt;Would you come and take  me down”&lt;br /&gt;.....Down .....Down.....Down....&lt;br /&gt;......Down like  this.....&lt;br /&gt;So now I’m sober and quiet like a thief&lt;br /&gt;(Don’t need an  augur to save the day)&lt;br /&gt;Well, I’ve seen all Nietzsche’s blood dry&lt;br /&gt;The  things I hear are they what I want&lt;br /&gt;We have no right to what’s left  inside&lt;br /&gt;Damn right we’ll get it back&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“…like a falling rose the  red wine bleeds&lt;br /&gt;lovelorn tears vanish in bereavement…&lt;br /&gt;.......shattered  echoes of yesterday&lt;br /&gt;I heard them fade away like a….”&lt;br /&gt;(In early  1997)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wading across the tulip fields in an old park, In  remembrance&lt;br /&gt;And in solemn moments such as this I’ve…………..&lt;br /&gt;“En ma  enää aja virvatulta”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They say I got wasted, But my hands are  clean&lt;br /&gt;I got long hair and empty pockets, No money at all&lt;br /&gt;But this  wastrel’s got a free spirit and he’ll walk with you&lt;br /&gt;My eyes may have  suffered but they’re still full of X.X.X.X&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It lives in my heart  and always will&lt;br /&gt;It lives in my heart and always, always will&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rsF0UGiJtcE/TSJ03SBIkhI/AAAAAAAAAvM/yhZcB0Ls7DE/s1600/nosturikuva3.php.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 218px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rsF0UGiJtcE/TSJ03SBIkhI/AAAAAAAAAvM/yhZcB0Ls7DE/s320/nosturikuva3.php.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558133383206834706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;(Getting sentimental at Nosturi, Dead Achilles Tour in 2004).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The Fall Went Right Through Here&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A bastard seed for thee, with an interpretation. It doesn't mean you  can't keep your own. The video could explain something or it could lead  us all astray. There's OG on television, and the singer's ridiculous  "tough guy" looks are too stupid for the man who's watching it, so he  throws the TV out of the window? The video is good if it is thought of being staged like that. But the album covers  were a problem. I was terrified when I saw the SAAL cover  for the first time. Now they wanted to have a big skull with a  graveyard. And the title would have been Fall Grave Silence. No thanks.  But why not? Sorry, I'll have to leave you without an answer. And I was happy about it all, I didn't ask for  more. "They fail in something, they fail to see this." Maybe it had to  look the way it did and maybe it had to get crazy. But I beg you to read the  lyrics if you want to know what's happening. And do let the musicians  play, we foolish poets have to keep on writing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Waste Of  Bereavement&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Bereavement&lt;/span&gt; is a song title from October-December 1996&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I  wrote this song in July 2003 at the summer cabin where, unlike usually, I managed to do some men's work in the woods. Hey, what's going on amidst our feelings and thoughts. Some people want to be  bad to the bone. Some people don't see the forest from the trees and  they go hunting down the devil without looking what's inside themselves.  I think the word confusion says a lot. And there is something for  everyone. It doesn't really matter that much how you take the lesson as  long as you take it. For your own sake, the interpretation is free and  almost anything goes as long as you keep the politics (and porn) out of  it. And whatever you want to get, you'll get it – so all the young guns  blazing, they'll get down below alright. Black leather boots melt away like the  identity of a young man who desperately tries to convince himself that  they were made for walking not melting. The ghost of Nick Drake had to be taken care of. However, the lesson he had learned, we  needed to hear about it. I didn't realize it back then, but this is also  about the migrating souls looking for a new body to settle in.  Reincarnation and the spiritual world may or may not be just  metaphorical. ”Those who die may come back”, but how you deal with your  life today is always unique. The same  lessons keep on coming back until you learn them and are able  to move on? This Great  Southern Finnish Trendkilling Ghost Ride, what about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Misanthropic  (Let The Crown Fall)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An old song title from August 1996&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it  the end of the world or just one age passing by? Ragnarök  inspired me back in 1996, and so a quote from the Twilight of the Gods  was needed for this song, also. And let it be known that ”no, I don't  think I'm any better than you”. I've tried to keep my hands clean, whether the question was about blood money or dirty deeds done dirt cheap. And of course we have  Lemminkäinen's war cry from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Kalevala&lt;/span&gt;. They are coming back from their  Pohjola journey to steal Sampo. And they will get through. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Black Seas Cry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apologies  for one's mother. And sympathy for the lost youth. This title  came to me when I sat in an old bar in Pärnu, Estonia, in July 2003.  And Leonard Cohen's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hallelujah&lt;/span&gt; is on. Many lines were taken from old  songs of mine, dating from early 1996. And the Kalevala Tarot card Three  of Swords is described in the chorus. I also thought of including a  subtitle, but left it out eventually. (There are some remains of a  quote, like echoes, from a book of Crowley in the end of this song).  What was I thinking? Because of Claude Lévi-Strauss and Richard Wagner compassion as a theme is being underlined from the  very beginning to the last minute. ”Oh yeah I know what I don't know,  'Cause I'm just like you”. Follow the river(s) and from your sorrow new  trees will grow. Maybe it's the way back home from the lost one's  journeys. If you manage to leave your prejudices behind, and try to  weigh the words here, you could end up in a certain conclusion. There's a  cry of distress coming from the black seas in Nietzsche's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Also Sprach  Zarathustra &lt;/span&gt;– but I didn't remember the scene in question when I wrote  the lyrics. It was his last, greatest temptation: pity and compassion.  He had to overcome them on his way to becoming a Superhuman. But I am much more at home with the  Wagnerian &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;durch Mitleid Wissend&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;It's A Long Night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It's A Long  Night&lt;/span&gt; came together with &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Black Seas Cry&lt;/span&gt;. Some quotes were taken from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Gravesilence&lt;/span&gt; (the original  one, from January 1997). And there are strangers in the night, but was  love just a glance away and warm embrace just a dance away? The autumnal  streets in Kallio, Helsinki, are they romantic? John Keats wrote an ode  to Psyche. I took a line or two from there. Maybe it's good to think about the difference between angels and angles. The Russian poet Arseni  Tarkovsky told us how the soul may feel without the body (see his son's movie &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Mirror&lt;/span&gt;). We could  also take up St. John of The Cross and his Night of Soul if we really  want to go that far.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;No Moon &amp;amp; No Queen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Moon  shone stranger than ever, while I went back in time, to look for my lost  verses dealing with reincarnation. On the background there was a neutral  description of nature's cycles. When a wolf meets a lamb it's not  exactly the same as when a boy meets a girl. But let all living things  be loved. SAVE THE WILDLIFE! On &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Spirits&lt;/span&gt; there was desperate love and  uninvited hate, but this is another story. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Heathen And The Moon&lt;/span&gt; is a  song dating from 1995 and so was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Winter Evenings Of Loneliness&lt;/span&gt;. There  are lots of quotes from both. And also from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Winter Queen&lt;/span&gt; (Winter-Spring  1996) and from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Through The Mist Of Night Eternal&lt;/span&gt; (early 1996).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Gravesilence&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An  old song title from January 1997&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Radio, play my favourite song.  Gina G's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ti Amo&lt;/span&gt; makes its last appearance. Most of this song was taken  from the original &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Gravesilence&lt;/span&gt;. But its contents have been turned pretty  much inside out. Here's a chance for you to leave the place. Another way out from the Great Depression. But a friend of mine couldn't take it anymore when he heard  that I used &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ti Amo&lt;/span&gt; again. And I couldn't help it, either. She said it so well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The Nolan's Fati&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wyclef Jean and Mary J. Blige sing in their  wonderful duet: ”if this is the kind of love that the old folks used  to warn me about, I'm in trouble, I'm in real big trouble”. But it's  not that clear who are the ones in trouble in this song. Can you  tell me? At least there are all kinds of quotes, from my old song &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Amor  Fati&lt;/span&gt;, one from Crowley's bastard Law and two etymologies by Edmund  Leach: Goddamn comes from god's animal mother, don't ask what it means.  By our lady is Bloody. So what is wrong? And who is right? "The stakes  are high as that of Bruno's". I remember feeling ambiguous when it came  to Bruno, because I thought he was too radical, too rebellious. That's  what I was thinking in 2004! Nowadays I'm certain he's True, not false.  Reaching for the Sun and the God in eternity, he was a believer in the  brotherhood and equality of all men. They may have burned him at the  stake, but his spirit lives on. All good heretics have been Lovers like that,  Bruno just had too much fire in his heart. And certain Catholics have a  lot to pay for, it was not the first nor the last time they acted out a  real black mass. The answer to the question in the end of the song is  still no, no, no, no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;More Withering&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not every day one  gets a chance to hear T.S. Eliot whispering a quote he took from  the Bible. ”Mordant wrath is like a dead tree.” I had this sketch  for a poem called &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Last Nights Of September At Hand&lt;/span&gt; since March 2003.  First version was four pages long, but I ended up using its lines for  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;YIW&lt;/span&gt;. If some of the words here and there (especially in this song and in  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Fall Went....&lt;/span&gt;) feel like ”real poetry”, I hope this helps you to  understand why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Auguries Gone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"They say the good man has  gone bad, and nothing's god comes to those who wait." Even if it takes  forever I'll wait. For a thousand endless nights I'll wait. Let them  speak for themselves, today the answers have to be found from within.  Greetings from the Manicheans and the Gnostics, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;boni homines&lt;/span&gt;, the Good Men. Leonard  Cohen's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Memories&lt;/span&gt; come with a solemn light and vain chances. Eino Leino's  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nocturne&lt;/span&gt; is there in all of its sadness. But the last verse is given to  Anki Lindquist who sings about tulip fields and long-haired  emptypockets. There are words taken from her songs and words influenced  heavily by them. I read Nietzsche when I was bitter sixteen, and unfortunately understood much of what I read. But he ain't going  nowhere, it is only after knowing Nietzsche's Why and Where that we are  able to think what we wanna do with our lives. The debts have been paid and  something went down the drain. "But it's all right mama, we're only  bleeding". To get wasted could mean so many things and  it depends. I mean, look who's talking. This wastrel's coming  home. Without his journey the ground wouldn't feel the same, and there wouldn't be these words to speak. Please, read your &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Philosophie der Freiheit&lt;/span&gt; before you leave the harbour, that  might be the lesson for this story. And I mean the whole world, not just  "the laughing prodigal sons".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rsF0UGiJtcE/TSJ03OUE3qI/AAAAAAAAAvE/H6FQnKrsfkY/s1600/band1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rsF0UGiJtcE/TSJ03OUE3qI/AAAAAAAAAvE/H6FQnKrsfkY/s320/band1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558133382212542114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;(The harbour, the hatred &amp;amp; "the seamen"?)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6057947956642933986-316023146346788151?l=wastrelcominghome.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6057947956642933986/posts/default/316023146346788151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6057947956642933986/posts/default/316023146346788151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wastrelcominghome.blogspot.com/2010/03/years-in-waste-yiw-is-much-more.html' title='Years in Waste'/><author><name>Antti Filppu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06693144030135250287</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-039uFBPYu9o/TuTA1WNJf0I/AAAAAAAABDw/hKCCjDX8HnA/s220/20111015_344.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rsF0UGiJtcE/TSHMhfuhqZI/AAAAAAAAAsE/MXpa50ez1lk/s72-c/Years_in_Waste_cover.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6057947956642933986.post-5642465173467840001</id><published>2010-03-17T16:50:00.064+02:00</published><updated>2011-12-10T15:52:44.294+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Steal the Light / Spirits And August Light</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rsF0UGiJtcE/TSHLXuZpwjI/AAAAAAAAAr8/8yu3QOWskr0/s1600/STLSAAL.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rsF0UGiJtcE/TSHLXuZpwjI/AAAAAAAAAr8/8yu3QOWskr0/s320/STLSAAL.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557947023604957746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;WRITHEN&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;DEATHWHITE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;THE  PERFUMED GARDEN&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;AMOR TONIGHT&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;CURE  A WOUND&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;THE EMPTINESS OF SPIRIT&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;WASTREL&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;SON'S  THOUGHTS&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;IT SHINES&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;These  two records  have the same intensity, even though they sound quite  different. STL  (our fourth demo ”Wastrel” re-recorded) has an  atmosphere of weakness  and hope. There is a sense of something warm in  the songs. Maybe it's  because of the candles lit for Giordano Bruno.  Part of it is literally  crazy, but we all know that in search of  clarity the way is lost in  itself. Being one of OG's most important  releases, it certainly deserves  to share the lot with our first  full-length album. Those were the days.  Good, bad and ugly spirits came  our way during the year 2002. And there  was some honest bullshit on  the road, too. Despite our initial efforts  and wishes SAAL ended up  sounding helplessly unique and very  bitter-not-sweet (instead of a  beautifully nostalgic ride around teen  spirited golden ages). Amor had  lost Fati and love had gone like smoke  in the city aflame from within.  There was less hope. But then again,  even a fool's hope could be  enough. So we let the bells ring and tried  to forget all perverse  offerings. When we recorded SAAL many things were  not what they were  supposed to be, but the band managed to keep it all  together. The  outcome was one small dirty piece of X.X.X.X, almost like a  matter of  life and death in the wrong place. The boots may be old and  broken, but  their story is new and bright.&lt;br /&gt;- Written for the  August 2008 release&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WRITHEN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"To  get out of smell of mould,&lt;br /&gt;To get back on your feet again&lt;br /&gt;Let every  god have his day"&lt;br /&gt;And again the leather is black&lt;br /&gt;As I lie on  fragments of glass&lt;br /&gt;More broke than ever, No more ti amo&lt;br /&gt;Trying not  to hate the guts we all have&lt;br /&gt;'Cause I got the guts and I feel the  guilt&lt;br /&gt;Now we still hate it when we play the part of the Greek&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Vanhaa  suolaa siihen haavaan joka vuotaa edelleen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And who swore not to let  it out in here&lt;br /&gt;Just to see the boots rot away in one's feet&lt;br /&gt;So  better ring the bell of whoredom if it wants to ring,&lt;br /&gt;Or just forget  all perverse offerings&lt;br /&gt;The writhing stays the same&lt;br /&gt;Even if you got  the guts and you feel the guilt&lt;br /&gt;Now we still hate it when we play  the part of the Greek&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Vanhaa suolaa siihen haavaan joka vuotaa  edelleen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Minne sattuu ihmiseen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Vanhaa suolaa siihen haavaan&lt;br /&gt;Joka  vuotaa edelleen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DEATHWHITE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Free enough to see what's going  on in there&lt;br /&gt;A man has naught if not himself, Not an island&lt;br /&gt;Just  the son of a gun&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure you knew I ate it up to spit it out&lt;br /&gt;In  blinded mute ground, Gasping for words&lt;br /&gt;Buried&lt;br /&gt;Yes, you saw the  lust for vengeance&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've had my fill, The share of losing&lt;br /&gt;I've  had my fill, The share of losing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The years in these worlds,&lt;br /&gt;More  than I could feel&lt;br /&gt;Anywhere&lt;br /&gt;To get it crystallized at last&lt;br /&gt;And  when they all speak at the same time&lt;br /&gt;They make me wonder what on  earth in hell it was&lt;br /&gt;And was it wise to seek release&lt;br /&gt;in and  through ex stasis&lt;br /&gt;Did I face it all, Standing&lt;br /&gt;With the 'love,  laugh, cry'&lt;br /&gt;To say the things I truly feel&lt;br /&gt;I've had my fill, The  share of losing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE PERFUMED GARDEN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Original lyrics by  Olli Lappalainen, but they're not available. This poem was written to  fit in with the old words....)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sick of all these scars&lt;br /&gt;And  thinking of you, Why you left me&lt;br /&gt;'Cause I'd seen that love was  true&lt;br /&gt;The worst of me would tear it all away&lt;br /&gt;But the worst of me  could feel its whole grace&lt;br /&gt;"....In the garden the fallen jesting&lt;br /&gt;With  souls burned black...."&lt;br /&gt;(My mind is clear)&lt;br /&gt;The spring of that  year came back&lt;br /&gt;Without a fear, And they fell for you&lt;br /&gt;Everyone  for lost delight&lt;br /&gt;"....In the garden the fallen jesting&lt;br /&gt;With souls  burned black...."&lt;br /&gt;(My mind is clear)&lt;br /&gt;The spring of that year came  back&lt;br /&gt;And they fell for you&lt;br /&gt;Everyone for lost delight&lt;br /&gt;The spring  of that year came back&lt;br /&gt;And we have met again&lt;br /&gt;And your scent is  still the same&lt;br /&gt;I'm sick of all these scars&lt;br /&gt;and thinking of you, Why  you left me&lt;br /&gt;'Cause I'd seen that love was true&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AMOR  TONIGHT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I put my boots back on,&lt;br /&gt;Brought them down from the attic&lt;br /&gt;And  they're so nice and broken,&lt;br /&gt;With words unspoken&lt;br /&gt;To this city inside  aflame&lt;br /&gt;Here I am, Like a crooked little lamb&lt;br /&gt;So breathless&lt;br /&gt;The  world is trying to stop (me)&lt;br /&gt;And the night is still&lt;br /&gt;And it's still  "if you only knew…"&lt;br /&gt;Like an hour of doom,&lt;br /&gt;With broken bottles on the  streets&lt;br /&gt;And Amor gone crazy&lt;br /&gt;So crazy, As we feel afire&lt;br /&gt;(It’s  the summer of love and I feel...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just forgive me the bad  weather&lt;br /&gt;There's no love without faith and thine is dead,&lt;br /&gt;No love  except with Fati and thine is dead&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So would you let me be,&lt;br /&gt;Let  me be the bastard Waleis&lt;br /&gt;That I was meant to be&lt;br /&gt;Tonight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CURE A  WOUND&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Throw your wishes at a stone,&lt;br /&gt;Whenever feeling it&lt;br /&gt;What  has an endless sight&lt;br /&gt;It never cared for us, Will the midnight sun&lt;br /&gt;Ever be that black again&lt;br /&gt;Take off more masquerades,&lt;br /&gt;Longing to be  touched&lt;br /&gt;To be released in a way or another&lt;br /&gt;Try harder and  everything will be blending,&lt;br /&gt;Then tear it down&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wine's out of  your cup&lt;br /&gt;Don't cure a wound, No baby,&lt;br /&gt;That doesn't help at all&lt;br /&gt;Throw  your wishes at a stone,&lt;br /&gt;Whenever feeling it&lt;br /&gt;What has an endless  sight&lt;br /&gt;It never cared for us&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wine's out of your cup&lt;br /&gt;Don't  cure a wound, No baby,&lt;br /&gt;That doesn't help at all&lt;br /&gt;"There's too many  party people,&lt;br /&gt;The tough guys are even worse"&lt;br /&gt;Oh if it's grey one  should get lost&lt;br /&gt;And you should know you spell it wrong&lt;br /&gt;Let's bleed  for the years that passed away&lt;br /&gt;with seasonal affective disorder&lt;br /&gt;Even  in Midsummer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE EMPTINESS OF SPIRIT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How many paths must a  man&lt;br /&gt;Walk down until you call him a man&lt;br /&gt;And if it isn't good I  understand,&lt;br /&gt;With different rights&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The days to settle down,&lt;br /&gt;To  hear what's going low&lt;br /&gt;There's a bitter old ghost&lt;br /&gt;And a side trail  every morning&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How many paths must a man&lt;br /&gt;Walk down until you call  him a man&lt;br /&gt;And when it comes to this,&lt;br /&gt;Easily for those with beer,&lt;br /&gt;Honey, Waiting&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The days to settle down,&lt;br /&gt;To hear what's going  low&lt;br /&gt;And it's in the wind&lt;br /&gt;The spirit blowing the answer&lt;br /&gt;To an  asshole's face&lt;br /&gt;Not to swear for nothing,&lt;br /&gt;In synchronicity that's  even still perfect&lt;br /&gt;There's a bitter old ghost&lt;br /&gt;And a side trail every  morning&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IT SHINES&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The world's broken when I'm not here,&lt;br /&gt;And  if we take it to its limits…&lt;br /&gt;Maybe no beauty left&lt;br /&gt;Seeing things  that aren't ours&lt;br /&gt;For truth and delusion,&lt;br /&gt;Any kind of a difference&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But  on that night it felt like home&lt;br /&gt;With a small amount of love and that  cliche&lt;br /&gt;Classy pale white face&lt;br /&gt;What her sad eyes brought me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And  I want to be, I want&lt;br /&gt;To be where the sun is shining&lt;br /&gt;I want to  have you there beside me&lt;br /&gt;And take me back to where the magic is&lt;br /&gt;‘Cause  this fucking head it's hurting"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Searching for bliss from between  the lines,&lt;br /&gt;And if I'm given the chance…&lt;br /&gt;Moving in this world with  good luck in the veins&lt;br /&gt;‘Cause so far, Yeah, So far I've suffered too&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But  no more dog-like martyrs to be&lt;br /&gt;With these heads to shine hurt and  curse&lt;br /&gt;And no, I could not sleep at night&lt;br /&gt;When its throes held me  high&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And I want to be, I want&lt;br /&gt;To be where the sun is shining&lt;br /&gt;I  want to have you there beside me&lt;br /&gt;And take me back to where the magic  is&lt;br /&gt;'Cause this fucking head it's hurting"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rsF0UGiJtcE/TSJwRe8r39I/AAAAAAAAAus/JXCs9zhCR7o/s1600/band2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 254px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rsF0UGiJtcE/TSJwRe8r39I/AAAAAAAAAus/JXCs9zhCR7o/s320/band2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558128335796297682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;(The Triangle is perfect, after all. But the headache was terrible.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Writhen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An old song title from August 1997&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leonard  Cohen thinks &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Anthem&lt;/span&gt; is his best song. ”Ring the bells that still can  ring, forget your perfect offering. There's a crack in everything,  that's how the light gets in.” So let all the  bells ring. It was about time to dress in black leather again, for  there was a part to be played. Divided against itself, what would be the  result? If you want to see it add some nostalgy. "Vanhaa suolaa siihen  haavaan joka vuotaa edelleen" brings old sayings together. "Vanha suola  janottaa" is the same as "old love makes you thirsty". Literally  translated it would mean "old salt makes thirsty". And "suolaa siihen  haavaan joka vuotaa edelleen" means "pour salt to the wound that still  bleeds". About the nature of Minne,  medieval German courtly love, there are many differing views. Jacques  Lacan said it's a poetic technique resembling foreplay, while for  Rudolf Steiner it was something literally spiritual. "Minne sattuu  ihmiseen" means "where does it hurt in man". Or, "love hurts". The amount  of bad air has grown in many places. I think we need good air  conditioners more than ever, instead of uninvited and unseen guests that  move in and stay until they are cast out. This song tries to score at  least one point. Though, there is no reason for me to be proud. I myself  didn't succeed very well. Not before I let it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Deathwhite&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An  old song title from June 1996&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There once was a man who wanted to  race along the highway listening to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;My Way&lt;/span&gt;. But he always woke up  feeling bad, with a mouth full of dirty words, so to speak. The man knew  it would be best to clean it with a soap, but he already had a few  spirit world speeding tickets waiting to be paid. Luckily Frank Sinatra  helped a little with this debt. Yes, baby, it was the wrong way. Should  have turned right. When that kind of shit happens, you'll just have to  eat it up and then spit it all out. And try again. Even if every man was  like an island unto himself, without the sea he would still be nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The  Perfumed Garden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An old song title from November-December 1996&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This  song has a demo version called &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Garden of Fallen Jesters&lt;/span&gt;. I have to apologize Olli Lappalainen for changing the title of the first  OG hit. However, there were no lyrics availabe when I was given the job. I had to invent words that seemingly follow the existing vocal  lines (I didn't do this all the way). Now published for the first time,  the complete love poem dating from February 2002, inspired by Sheikh  Nefzaoui's book, my old songs and the first scent of love. I was reading  Dante when I wrote it. As the new OG crew approached me last spring  (2007), asking for the lyrics, I realized that the only remaining copy  of the poem had survived as a bookmark for &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Divina Commedia&lt;/span&gt;. So time did  tell after all. Love had the final word on this. But it had to be  purified first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Amor Tonight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lines concerning Amor's  mental health and his new style of using the bow and arrow were based on  text messages sent to me during the Summer of 2002. Here the poor boy  compares himself to a crooked little lamb, and repeats after Luther:  here I am. No, sorry, it was Nick Cave. But let it be. Things are  going smoothly over the edge. I have to say the song is among OG's  best ones when performed live, but on this record it's pretty strange. The moods in the studio were tuned on and out, and I was sick. God, I was so sick of it. It was not  anyone's fault in particular, but to speak the truth it was everyone's  fault. ”Just forgive me the bad weather” is a quote from my old lyrics  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Amor Fati &lt;/span&gt;(April 1997), and the following lines are what Amor said to  Psyche when they broke up. Helen Hoffner  sings it's the summer of love. And my spirit was burning, too. But the song is a good one. It's not her fault if you're an idiot. Wolfram's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Parzival&lt;/span&gt; was the Waleis. Nowadays everyone trying to walk the path of "spiritual  progress" could be called Parzival (this may not be  the right channel to talk about it, hence the joking - maybe the guy has a sense of humour, after all?). Yes, well, I'm  not a bastard. My father and mother are decent people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Cure  A Wound&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An old song title from July 1997&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I celebrated my 18th  birthday in Nummirock, when the Midnight Sun was shining bright. I  was bored and dull, and so it was scientifically proved that seasonal  affective disorder can ruin your days even in Midsummer. There were some nice  people and beautiful moments waiting for me, but I let them all "down". One thing I always admired about the OG crew was that they did not  take things too seriously, they just enjoyed their time. In  those dark ages of the nineties I was playing the part of a  misanthropic asshole, and although I did it partly consciously (laughing  at my own stupidity), I was too..... And, no, I can't deny it: whether  it was the pain and suffering, the difficulties I still had, or whether  it was just the Stylus I had to imitate in order to achieve some sort of  "credibility", I went on - going with the flow again, for a little  while, back in 2002-2003. But there are things and other Things; E.B Tylor's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Primitive Culture&lt;/span&gt; had these wonderful examples of old midsummer  rituals (throwing wine at a stone etc), and there's the Hölderlinian  distance between men and gods. So, does "God hate us all"? And is it  true,"what has an endless sight, it never cared for us"? You should  know when you spell it all wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The Emptiness Of Spirit&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good  old Bob Dylan sings &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Blowing in the wind&lt;/span&gt;, and it was February  2000. This is an important song, read my lips. I repeat: this is an  important song. Good lyrics, good melodies, good singing and a spirit's  warning! The wordplays are necessary, for there must be different things  for different men, some of us want to drink booze, others want to find  out what's going on here. We all have our fights and our rights. There's  a bitter old ghost and a side trail every morning. Until we're back on  the track. And this is also our official song about backstabbers who sit  in a corner bar waiting for better times, just like you and me, just  like you and me.  Oh, but do we know where  our bad vibes came from. It's alright. We have &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Turbolover&lt;/span&gt;, also. And  even Divine Light is still somewhere there, circle around long enough  till you get something out of it. Luckily I was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Freewheelin'&lt;/span&gt; with Bob  Dylan all the way. You gotta face your ghosts and know with no  illusions.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Wastrel / Son's Thoughts&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....that you're  all going home again. Whatever the X.X.X.X, whatever the reasons behind  it, no matter how bad the situation was, here the words themselves hold. Nothing can bring them down. Who  knows if they actually had some effect to those bad and ugly spirits who came our way and wanted to sing along. Certainly it was not this moment when our producer Nino Laurenne gave me the nickname "Hevin M.A. Numminen". But it was a good name, and I'm still flattered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;It Shines&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Shine  on you crazy diamond&lt;/span&gt;. Syd Barrett walks his path and Gina G tells us  where she wants to be (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ti Amo&lt;/span&gt;). Reading Heidegger and watching Music  Television. I guess I had improved since 1996 when I was listening to  Katatonia with MTV on mute. Really, Pink Floyd opens it all up to you.  And there is a small amount of love left, with a silent last wish. But  who was it? And what was it about? One thing is sure. In the end of this  song something old has died and something new will be born. If not  today, maybe tomorrow or the day after that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rsF0UGiJtcE/TSJwRrfSlYI/AAAAAAAAAu0/MIgUisaXuQg/s1600/nosturikuva5.php.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 164px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rsF0UGiJtcE/TSJwRrfSlYI/AAAAAAAAAu0/MIgUisaXuQg/s320/nosturikuva5.php.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558128339162666370" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;(The audience didn't know what they were getting. Otherwise they would not have shown that sign.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rsF0UGiJtcE/TSJwRrfSlYI/AAAAAAAAAu0/MIgUisaXuQg/s1600/nosturikuva5.php.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6057947956642933986-5642465173467840001?l=wastrelcominghome.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6057947956642933986/posts/default/5642465173467840001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6057947956642933986/posts/default/5642465173467840001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wastrelcominghome.blogspot.com/2010/03/steal-light-spirits-and-august-light.html' title='Steal the Light / Spirits And August Light'/><author><name>Antti Filppu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06693144030135250287</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-039uFBPYu9o/TuTA1WNJf0I/AAAAAAAABDw/hKCCjDX8HnA/s220/20111015_344.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rsF0UGiJtcE/TSHLXuZpwjI/AAAAAAAAAr8/8yu3QOWskr0/s72-c/STLSAAL.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6057947956642933986.post-8483800837937964941</id><published>2010-03-17T16:50:00.062+02:00</published><updated>2011-12-04T22:53:38.374+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Wastrel (Steal the Light)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rsF0UGiJtcE/TSHJfFmvXZI/AAAAAAAAAr0/U_KTPabfS8o/s1600/light_2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 270px; height: 270px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rsF0UGiJtcE/TSHJfFmvXZI/AAAAAAAAAr0/U_KTPabfS8o/s320/light_2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557944951069695378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;WASTREL&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;SON’S THOUGHTS&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;CANDLES FOR GIORDANO BRUNO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;AMMO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;LOST AND FOUND&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WASTREL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I can't deny the worn-out and truthful&lt;br /&gt;If it's picturesque&lt;br /&gt;Though it’s just a saying…&lt;br /&gt;Not useful&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Resolve that great chain of aging and fierce hours&lt;br /&gt;So soon it becomes annoying to us&lt;br /&gt;Yes between her thighs it was nothing&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if she even lives but you...&lt;br /&gt;And I never was in need of touch&lt;br /&gt;Unless it would come through my heart's shape&lt;br /&gt;Not like they who say it in today's fashion&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now you know what's going on with me&lt;br /&gt;Trying to steal the light&lt;br /&gt;And in the evenings a slight chill in the air&lt;br /&gt;I'm still here breathing&lt;br /&gt;Feeling so much better than I was last year&lt;br /&gt;With a curtain of smoke&lt;br /&gt;And in the evenings a slight chill in the air&lt;br /&gt;The welkin not on my mind, Nor anything it covers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SON'S THOUGHTS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the one my window hides in its view&lt;br /&gt;To enlighten me if my love's real&lt;br /&gt;Or that faith&lt;br /&gt;What's more bitter than the late spring&lt;br /&gt;I forgot to live, Seated in one of their fucking trains&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I forgot to live seated in one of those&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when the world is left&lt;br /&gt;I don't need an inscription to remind for these things&lt;br /&gt;If it's washing away, Well, You know what&lt;br /&gt;Praying on one's knees&lt;br /&gt;Before&lt;br /&gt;Bring salvation for every soul&lt;br /&gt;I forgot to live, Seated in one of their fucking trains&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I forgot to live seated in one of those&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When in search of clarity&lt;br /&gt;The way is lost in itself&lt;br /&gt;Gone into its own walker&lt;br /&gt;And every shadow has its bearer of shadow&lt;br /&gt;Every shadow has its bearer of shadow&lt;br /&gt;A son with the thought of not standing his demise&lt;br /&gt;Still afraid of getting a lethal dis-ease&lt;br /&gt;And the clauses they were, They were all without reins&lt;br /&gt;Though…&lt;br /&gt;Didn't want to lose, Didn't want to lose my heart&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere in the mists of my blurred daily consciousness&lt;br /&gt;The thought of not standing a dis-ease&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CANDLES FOR GIORDANO BRUNO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Welcome to a dramatic play&lt;br /&gt;Bleed in these arms until the chains are broken"&lt;br /&gt;After all there was something real&lt;br /&gt;When you said you still believe&lt;br /&gt;In what's feeling right&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damn that misanthropy&lt;br /&gt;Full insanity for the earth&lt;br /&gt;Laughing&lt;br /&gt;I know you're frustrated&lt;br /&gt;A moment ago the flames reminded me of something&lt;br /&gt;I won't say it, The candles are now ablaze&lt;br /&gt;But wait for a while&lt;br /&gt;I won't say it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't be afraid of the mirror&lt;br /&gt;"For molten candles and for Bruno's throes"&lt;br /&gt;Not present&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, don't draw down&lt;br /&gt;The silver chariot from the sky&lt;br /&gt;No gloomy landscape of wintry frost&lt;br /&gt;Can ever lead me astray again&lt;br /&gt;The candles are now ablaze,&lt;br /&gt;But wait for a while&lt;br /&gt;I won't say it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AMMO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And here's enough of them,&lt;br /&gt;For many a nightly breath&lt;br /&gt;And a fine shelter from the jealous too&lt;br /&gt;The rise of an extinguished art&lt;br /&gt;Higher dreams have come to us&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And here's enough of them,&lt;br /&gt;The depressive season&lt;br /&gt;There with sceneries filled with idols&lt;br /&gt;Hell, The space is no more&lt;br /&gt;Who named the crown that fell&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you think&lt;br /&gt;Who were supposed to make it this time&lt;br /&gt;Yes, Blacken little hearts&lt;br /&gt;(I can't believe my eyes)&lt;br /&gt;You romanticized the depths of this one&lt;br /&gt;The wisdom of men and women says&lt;br /&gt;Those things we can't speak directly of&lt;br /&gt;We must refer to them&lt;br /&gt;What do you think&lt;br /&gt;Who were supposed to make it this time&lt;br /&gt;Yes, Blacken little hearts&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LOST AND FOUND&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So maybe I lost all youth and tender loving, After wards&lt;br /&gt;When I gave in wholly for that thing other and went my way&lt;br /&gt;And the bride's mouth tasted like the word it's called by&lt;br /&gt;But I've always been an oppressive kind of guy&lt;br /&gt;That's right&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And they think I'm some kind of a...&lt;br /&gt;Forget it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An early September night in that crooked bar&lt;br /&gt;Tired and angry I was leaving the place&lt;br /&gt;In that crooked bar&lt;br /&gt;There leaning against the wall&lt;br /&gt;Little but just enough&lt;br /&gt;For solace&lt;br /&gt;And how the trees aghast&lt;br /&gt;Over four o'clock&lt;br /&gt;Think about&lt;br /&gt;All the love stories gone awry&lt;br /&gt;To rest for a while&lt;br /&gt;It really saved my evening then&lt;br /&gt;Though nothing much more&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I thought&lt;br /&gt;"It seems like I've found you"&lt;br /&gt;And I thought&lt;br /&gt;"It seems like I've found you"&lt;br /&gt;And I thought&lt;br /&gt;"It seems like I've found you"&lt;br /&gt;And I thought&lt;br /&gt;"It seems like I've found you”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rsF0UGiJtcE/TSJu-iiLPtI/AAAAAAAAAuk/fW4GOmxMeRg/s1600/semikuva.php.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 176px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rsF0UGiJtcE/TSJu-iiLPtI/AAAAAAAAAuk/fW4GOmxMeRg/s320/semikuva.php.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558126910829706962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;(Semifinal in 2002. What does headbanging really stand for?&lt;br /&gt;It was ridiculous, but there was no other choice, was there.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Wastrel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nick Drake is our man here. A few of the lines were stolen from his biography. Other lines I stole from my own &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Book of Leaves&lt;/span&gt; (”Lehdet”). I bought it blank from old Riga in August 2000. I wrote these first five songs for OG during a few days in November 2000, two weeks after saying yes to Markus. But many lines were taken from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Pathvvays&lt;/span&gt; and "the story that was not sung", thus kind of opening up the themes from the wasted youth (all &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;STL&lt;/span&gt; songs have the same). Are there some old Manichean concepts or am I just dreaming? At least we have a Father-Mother-Son-Daughter going on, a real / an unreal Tetragrammatonic journey, but we're no more in a hurry to catch the name of God. It was about time to take a deep breath instead. ”And a spark from the Kingdom of Light was sent to the Kingdom of Darkness, where it worked creating a whirlwind, and lighting them with its own essence of pure love, making them want to change.” This is one way to understand what consequences there could be for stealing the light.   Another way is the old Finnish joke about the fools who forgot to build windows to their house  and so they try to carry the light in (and the darkness out) with their sacks. And what could they do? I think &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Wastrel&lt;/span&gt; has an atmosphere that can almost be touched. I was weak, but I had hope. Just like the songs here: they're weak, but there's hope. You don't find it in too many places these days. I was reaching towards something I did not even believe was real. But I felt its presence, and THAT was something real. This OG debut MCD is much better than it appears to be at first sight. It really is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Son's Thoughts&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Latvian poet Guntars Godins wrote about the way going into its own walker, when we're in search of clarity, and about the shadows that always have their bearers (but it's a long way back from the shadow to what you really are). The verse appealed to me so heavily in 2000 that it ended up here. And the K-train in Helsinki will be, always and forever more, the very last train to Transcendental. But if you didn't make it, well, you didn't miss anything special. Maybe even saved a few unnecessary tears. I get nostalgic when I think about these things. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Son's Thoughts&lt;/span&gt; used to be the most wanted OG song, and it was very difficult to realize for us members of the band why. But I understood later on. "To enlighten me if my love is real, or that faith". Despite all the shame and uncertainty I felt when we recorded &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;STL&lt;/span&gt;, it was meant to last.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Candles For Giordano Bruno&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Candles&lt;/span&gt; is a song title from October-November 1997&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here we have words from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Deathwhite&lt;/span&gt; (November 1996) and from some other poems (written in 1997). This song used to be called &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Candlelight&lt;/span&gt; before I came along, and so I just added Giordano Bruno to my own, almost similar title of old, to make it sound right. Bruno was a mathemagician who was burned at the stake in 1600. I'd been reading some of his books earlier that year. It made a perfect match, to lit the flames. Even though this song has nothing to do with Bruno.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Ammo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An old song title from September-October 1997&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the Rise of an Extinguished Art, striving hard to find some light after a long dark age of depression and frustration. Higher dreams have come to replace the sceneries filled with idols. "What do you think, who were supposed to make it this time?" The wisdom of men &amp;amp; women says, we must refer to those things we can't speak directly of. Mythic realities were the name of the game in November 2000, while I tried to recall the days of the first &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ammo&lt;/span&gt;. To write about those times of rocking and rambling. But raising positive vibes with a Nietzschean spirit in 1997 had fallen flat. And our &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ammo&lt;/span&gt; of 2000 has come to learn all of this, and the truth that there's more to it than....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Lost &amp;amp; Found&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;or Lost And Found&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was the only song title I didn't change when I joined the band. For a few years Lost &amp;amp; Found was my favourite bar in Helsinki. Then I stopped going out (nothing wrong with the place). Is it a gay or a sad thing to realize what you have lost, being "an oppressive kind of guy". The early September night happened in 2000, and everything went as it is written down here. The trees were aghast over four o'clock, listening to our stories gone awry. And as we walked the autumn streets to her apartment in Töölö, I fell in love with the scenery on the way. After a few months I found myself living in the same neighbourhood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rsF0UGiJtcE/TSJu-Ygm-NI/AAAAAAAAAuc/ZrxSinGtKZ4/s1600/nurmimetalkuva.php.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 201px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rsF0UGiJtcE/TSJu-Ygm-NI/AAAAAAAAAuc/ZrxSinGtKZ4/s320/nurmimetalkuva.php.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558126908138780882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(When you hear me moaning and groaning babe, you know it hurts deep down inside. Here Janne "Big Bass" Markkanen is growling louder than the vocalist!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6057947956642933986-8483800837937964941?l=wastrelcominghome.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6057947956642933986/posts/default/8483800837937964941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6057947956642933986/posts/default/8483800837937964941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wastrelcominghome.blogspot.com/2010/03/wastrel-sons-thoughts-candles-for.html' title='Wastrel (Steal the Light)'/><author><name>Antti Filppu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06693144030135250287</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-039uFBPYu9o/TuTA1WNJf0I/AAAAAAAABDw/hKCCjDX8HnA/s220/20111015_344.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rsF0UGiJtcE/TSHJfFmvXZI/AAAAAAAAAr0/U_KTPabfS8o/s72-c/light_2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry></feed>
