The Sphinx

SanandaMaitreya.com ..

....


Sessions took place over the course of 15 days between November 22 and Dec 9 2010 in Milano Italia at the world famous MONO Studio. Recorded and engineered by Matteo Sandri. Dedicated to the world and the flow of its emotions. Also dedicated to all of the world's Christine's, Christina's, Christen's, Kirsten's, Christopher's, Chris's, Kristof's, Christiana's, Kelley's and Karen's. Not to mention Ludwig's. And thank you to St. Christopher. And as always to St. Francis. And last, though perhaps not least, to the great grand master, THEODORE GEISEL, otherwise known to fools such as I,
as DR. SEUSS, one of our greatest philosopher poets and artists.


Selections are
(as per usual in order of recording):











Lyrics & Credits:

Christine release your sadness let go
Christine release your sadness let go
Christine release your sadness
or it will turn to madness
Christine release your sadness let go
Christine release your sadness let go
Christine release your sadness
or it will turn to madness
Christine release your sadness let go
Christine release your sadness let go

There's something about you girl now think it over
I wanna be your man, not just your lover
I WANNA BE YOUR MAN, THAT'S THE MASTERPLAN
now dig it:

Christine release your anger let go
Christine release your anger let go
Christine release your anger
or you become a stranger
Christine release your anger let go
Christine release your anger let go
Christine release your anger
or life's a middle finger
Christine release your anger let go
Christine release your anger let go

There's something about you girl, now think it over
I wanna be your man, not just your lover
I WANNA BE YOUR MAN, THAT'S THE MASTERPLAN, NOW DIG IT:

Christine can I come over today?
Christine can I come over today?
Christine can I come over
if I come undercover?
Christine can I come over today?
Christine can I come over today?
Christine can I come over?
Kiss me, 'cause I'm your lover!
Christine can I come over today?
Christine can I come over today?
Christine, can I come over?

Words and Music: Sananda Maitreya
Drums, Bongos, Bass, Acoustic Guitar, Electric Guitar, Keyboards (Horns), Vocals by Sananda
© +
2010 Treehouse Publishing
www.SanandaMaitreya.com


If you go to Azerbaijan
leave your tentacles on
or things will get sticky
If you go to Azerbaijan
go by catamaran
in case it gets fishy
O how can I forget you
Azerbaijan?
O how can I forget you
Azerbaijan?

If you go to Azerbaijan
leave your pajamas on
and try to look busy
If you find yourself in a house
don't get caught like a mouse
for taking the mickey

Your daisies make me crazy
Azerbaijan
O how can I forget you
Azerbaijan?

If you go to Azerbaijan
leave your ZOOATHALON
and travel much better
If you come to fork in the road
look for big salad bowl
the grass is much wetter!
Your waves have saved my days
Azerbaijan
O how can I forget you
Azerbaijan?

If you go to Azerbaijan
leave your ski goggles on
so you can look silly!
If you go to Azerbaijan
and they ask where you are from
just say you're from Philly!
If you go to Azerbaijan
show yourself as a man
and don't be a sissy!
If you go to Azerbaijan
don't think you're in Iran
or they will get hissy

Words and Music: Sananda Maitreya
Drums, Bass, Electric Guitars,Vocals by Sananda
© +
2010 Treehouse Publishing
www.SanandaMaitreya.com


Tongue tied and feeling lonely
whiplashed and moving slowly
your back was broken on a wheel
and they call it 'wheat'
'cause that's what 'we eat'
I'm serving my time in prison
while keeping you in my vision
They found my fatal flaw
'cause I fought the law

Christine
the jungle can be mean
but life is just a dream
now let me hear you scream!

I gave to them what I remembered
before all my monkeys were dismembered
they handcuffed me to a cell
it was a souvenir from hell

Christine
the jungle can be mean
but life is just a dream
now let me hear you scream!

Take me into your navy
let the waters all around you save me
then take me by the hand
'cause I'M THE LEADER OF A BAND!

Christine
the jungle can be mean
but life is just a dream
now let me hear you scream!

Ride with me until I'm faded
drink with me until I'm jaded
and the same flames that's a burning you
are the flames that's gonna see you through
I'll cradle you in my service
and sit with you when you are nervous
'cause I dropped my rolling stone
but I still found my way home

Christine
the jungle can be mean
but life is just a dream
now let me hear you scream!

Words and Music: Sananda Maitreya
Drums, Bass, Acoustic Guitar, Electric Guitar, Keyboard, Vocals by Sananda
© +
2010 Treehouse Publishing
www.SanandaMaitreya.com


Don't you be afraid of my gun
or you'll never hear me
Don't you be afraid of my gun
or you won't get near me
Over and over again
I tried hard to make you happy
Over and over again, I tried
now I'm just trigger happy

Don't you be afraid of my gun
I am not a killer
Don't you be afraid
because if you run
it becomes a thriller
The soldiers of fortune have come
and they come with the sisters of mercy
slicing and dicing their way
into each day
'cause that's how you hurt me
and then your lawyers tried to work me

If all I do is cry
I cry a fountain
If all I do is cry
I cry a sea
If all I do is cry
I cry a river
If all I do is cry

Don't you be afraid of my voice
if I scream a little
Don't you be afraid of my choice
though it's still a riddle
the bullets and bandits have come
and they come with their ulcers bleeding
I came to you when I was young
now I come like a shark that's feeding
and with a tale/tail so long it bears repeating

If all I do is cry
I cry a fountain
If all I do is cry
I cry a sea
If all I do is cry
I cry a river
If all I do is cry

Over and over again
I tried hard to make you happy
Over and over again,
we tried to reach you
so that's why they sent me
you never know the price of envy

If all I do is cry
I cry a fountain
If all I do is cry
I cry a sea
If all I do is cry
I cry a river
If all I do is cry

Words and Music: Sananda Maitreya
Drums, Bass, Electric Guitars, Vocals by Sananda
© +
2010 Treehouse Publishing
www.SanandaMaitreya.com


‘cause I'm the king of the silver medal
no matter how fast I pedal

Travelling at the speed of my own thoughts
thinking about the races that I've lost
over mountains and the pouring rains
through the valleys and the alleys
of the fruited plains
because I'm the king of the silver medal
no matter how fast I pedal

Samples of my blood have all been screened
I've won nothing but I'm always clean
I will get the gold eventually
but until I win a race,
this is what I'll be:
'cause I'm the king of the silver medal
no matter how fast I pedal

Cycles come and cycles always go
I'm a cyclist and this is what I know
the Tour de France is calling out my name
and I will scandalize them all
by stepping up my game
'cause I'm the king of the silver medal
no matter how fast I pedal

Words and Music: Sananda Maitreya
Drums, Bass, Electric Guitars, Banjo, Vocals by Sananda
© +
2010 Treehouse Publishing
www.SanandaMaitreya.com


The portrait of my life is incomplete
Marry me, marry me, will you marry me?
The voices in my head are not as sweet
Marry me, marry me, will you marry me?

Marry me my dear
and let's be clear
I need your love
to stay right here with me
Marry me

I'll build you a castle made of stone
Marry me, marry me, will you marry me?
'cause where you hang your picture is my home
Marry me, marry me, will you marry me?

Marry me my dear
and let's be real
you're family
that's how I feel for you
Marry me

My life hangs in the balance of your eyes
Marry me, marry me, will you marry me?
Show me more surrender than surprise
Marry me, marry me, will you marry me?
Reflections in the mirror aren't as true
when I look at them and not at you

Marry me my dear
and let's be clear
I need your love
to stay right here with me
Marry me

Words and Music: Sananda Maitreya
Bongos, Piano, Organ, Strings (Keyboards), Vocals by Sananda
© +
2010 Treehouse Publishing
www.SanandaMaitreya.com


Ga Ga Goo Goo
Can I have a talk with you?
Let's speak while you clean
up my boo boo
Leave the bigger
questions away from me
So I can get more
out of my infancy

That's why I eat my thumb
I eat my thumb
'cause I'm just a baby
I eat my thumb
I eat my thumb
'cause I'm just a baby
Eat my thumb
'cause I'm just a baby

I saw, she saw,
but so did Arkansas
I saw seashells
selling against the law
I keep my mouth shut
unless I go numb
My opinions
I keep in my thumb

That's why I eat my thumb
I eat my thumb
'cause I'm just a baby
That's why I eat my thumb
eat my thumb
'cause I'm just a baby
eat my thumb
'cause I'm just a baby

Einstein in my mind
is a good friend
I dream of him again and again
I pull his mustache
and then he laughs
We go to titty bars
but we don't sign autographs

That's why I eat my thumb
eat my thumb
'cause I'm just a baby
That's why I eat my thumb
eat my thumb
'cause I'm just a baby
Eat my thumb
'cause I'm just a baby
Eat my thumb
'cause I'm just a baby

That's why I eat my thumb
eat my thumb
'cause I'm just a baby
That's why I eat my thumb
Eat my thumb
'cause I'm just a baby
Eat my thumb
'cause I'm just a baby
Eat my thumb
'cause I'm just a baby

Words and Music: Sananda Maitreya
Drums, Bass, Piano, Horns (Keyboards), Percussion (Maracas), Vocals by Sananda
© +
2010 Treehouse Publishing
www.SanandaMaitreya.com


Music: Sananda Maitreya
Drums, Bongos, Bass, Electric Guitars by Sananda
© +
2010 Treehouse Publishing
www.SanandaMaitreya.com


Variously, instruments used were, Yamaha Drums, UFIP cymbals, Latin Percussion (bongos, maracas etc.), Fender Jazz Bass, Gibson SG Custom, SG Special, and Flying V Guitars, Gibson DOVE Acoustic Guitar, Fender Banjo, Acoustic Model 401 Bass amp, and the magnificent MAGNETO combo amp MAGNETO/SM1. Roland and Kurzweil keyboards were used. MR. DRUM Nick 'The Sticks' Taccori drum sticks were used. We also used the bathroom when appropriate.

All songs written, produced, arranged and performed by SANANDA FRANCESCO MAITREYA.
Recorded and engineered by Matteo 'Sergente' Sandri. Mixed by Sergente and Sananda. All songs recorded and mixed at MONO studio, Milano for TREEHOUSE Publishing. Thank you Mattia Pittella, Alessandro Pasini (a great young Amp maker), Lily Phillips, and all the guys at LA VETRAIA. Also thanks to Matteo Cantaluppi of MONO studio. And Enea Bardi and Nick Taccori, as well as our live concert crew of able bodied pirates. Dedicated to all of my foundational heroes of all stripes, though this time especially to masters MILES and LENNON. And to grand master Hank Williams (and to Aretha, Dionne, Ella, Gladys Knight, Patsy Cline and Dusty Springfield). Throw in my mom and Diana Ross and I am good. Thank you all for moving my lamp. Special thanks to Francesca Francone Maitreya and to our Francesco Mingus for their amazing support and inspiration. And to Matteo Sandri for his professionalism, guile and good manners. It is a pleasure to work with you!
And thank you to Giovanni Lega for his legal expertise!

This concludes our Sphinx chapter experience. Henceforth, spirit willing we shall arrange to commence upon the appropriate time with mastering for CD and Mp3. Hopefully in time for next year. We hope you enjoy what you may of THE SPHINX, we enjoyed having the opportunity to bring these songs into the real physical world and out of our mind, where I am haunted by them should I ignore them. It is not lost on me what a great and enduring privilege it is to create music and the responsibility I feel for what expression/impression it inspires. And we are most fortunate that enough of you care, that my efforts on music's behalf are never quite in vain. Thank you!

Lucky I was to have been born previously in the YEAR OF THE TIGER. 1962 they tell me it was. Both my son Francesco as well as THE SPHINX were also born in the year of the Tiger. Perhaps not the same exact Tiger, as my Tiger had a bad limp, a black eye and a wheezing cough when he came for me. This Tiger, of 2010, seemed a bit more confident. Far more bounce than limp, thank God. What energy of master Tiger we could draw from and summon through our roots, we made every effort to channel and direct into something worthy of your time and imagination. Tiger pushes and drives hard, but I myself were made for hard graft and serious pushing. I have been rolling a stone, like brother SISYPHUS, up a mountain for so long now, I am lobbying to have it entered as an Olympic sport. Or at least get a tax deduction for the stone. Tiger isn't too good at question asking and permission gathering. Pounce happens precisely when pounce needs to happen. When roar has got to be, roar is, and who takes it personal is ignorant of the laws of nature. Who gets eaten who gets in the way of Tiger, gets eaten. Without much in the way of judgment or apology. And favoring natural body salts as the seasoning of choice. Besides, the question isn't whether Tiger eats you, but whether he spits you back out again. It just may happen that you come out in slightly better shape than you went in!
So Tiger, having owned his year's vigor and determined grunt, leaves us to return to those far away lands Tiger goes when not required by the round table to take his place at the center of the wheel.
Perhaps he spawns with 'Tigerina's', who rub and lick his stripes. He goes off and gathers the next fruits, rubbing his archetypal glands all over the ZOOATHALON. The parade of archetypal spirit beasts, animal totems, psyche fragments, ghosts, goblins, mythical creatures, werewolves, vampires and in-laws. The parade our vanities willingly take part in to further the image of ourselves in time. Our daily trek across the great plains of life and its ever altering and shifting scenery, the doubt chasms widening. Our trip through a funhouse mirror testing the distortion of our own opinions. A fixed gaze melting upon the horror of its own judgement. We have always been drawn strongly to the Big Cats. I GET the big cats. Their fierce concentration, their isolation, ability to pursue their lives alone, the karmic knowing in their lightning struck eyes. The felicity, the meditative stillness. Their inspiring physicality and their effortless sensuality. Their aloofness and knowing when to lean in and give much more of themselves. Their vaunted independence. THE SPHINX as the GRIFFIN, the Lion with wings! The big cat that flies. Like time itself does. Check out the story, Sphinx is gone now. Up, detached himself from those rotted ancient moorings and got the hell out of Dodge before the next sheriff showed up with a warrant. The year of the Tiger was for this humble artist, the year of the Sphinx and its attendant Zooathalon. Each one of these songs have come from what new life breathed into me, a desire to break through chains, stretch my soul's wings, and take a few friends along with me, who like the sky I fly in ('cause when I fly in my own sky I fly first class)! ZOOATHALON & ON indeed! You bet! And like the beat, it does go on and on 'til the break of dawn. That is why we like to fly, because like Happy Hour, at any given moment on planet Earth, dawn is always breaking somewhere, when of course Dawn is not breaking wind, that silly cheese loving girl..........(on and on 'til the crack of dawn, you've got your cheese, I better get my crackers on....)

And just like that, thus concludes Post Millennium Rock's first decade. Thank you for bearing witness to the egg unfolding! More of the ZOOATHALON'S escapades to come.
Stay tuned!
THE SPHINX now faces you, wherever you are!


 



It could be said, or written that it were not the best day in the world to be a Christian. And it could be said that this was a tough crowd. And bloodthirsty. On a swooning, sweltering mid summer day. This was the last Friday of the month, when the slaves got paid, so as expected, the coliseum was filled to capacity and here was our protagonist, a young man, being pushed out into the arena. His dragging feet leaving a trail in the dust as deep as the grave he would be buried in. He would at any moment expect the lion he were meant to feed. And having been given no lambs nor sheep to offer the lion, it were assumed by all attendant that the lion would take the Christian instead. Breaking his bones into pebble stones. This is after all what sold tickets. This is what kept the Roman coliseum the Roman coliseum as opposed to say, the Pisa coliseum, which wound up leaning over even more than its more famous tower. These were tough times and the people expected to be entertained. And lions mauling and decapitating those pesky Christians was good and steady business and therefore, sound business. Though none of the calculus of its necessity mattered much to Abigadik the 3rd. All he knew was that, he could sure use a good dose of hemlock right about now. Hemlock kills in strong doses, though in smaller doses, it can render one somewhat immune to being lion bait. No, there would be no performance enhancers available to render more surreal his eminent death and ritual humiliation. The Lion was released through the gate, and out he dashed growling thunder noise before he stopped, but not before Abigadik could draw a breath so deep and sudden, he saw the whole of his life flash before his closed and praying eyes. He also let go of what he felt would probably be his last waters, which ran down his leg like a warm, glossy stain. To the absolute, total amazement of the baying, untempered, unruly crowd, the lion cleared his throat with a bellicose roar to announce: “Sentite! 'Cittadini di Roma' (Listen, Citizens of Rome),
I am lion hear me roar,
and to eat more Christians, I am bored, if by that you are not too floored, besides all of that I am full, having just digested the last pagan skull. Whose instincts were moored in depressions too dull. I do not eat when you say eat, but when my hunger and my nature meet. My teeth are sharp but my mind is sharper, and unlike Samson I avoid the barber. And low tides of mood, I will not harbor. So now the rules have changed, and this man can live if he can find his range. As King, his life is wrapped around my fingers, but I'll spare him if he can SING US MINGUS”. The crowd, with throbbing, earth rattling intensity yells, 'Dingus Mingus'! Before the Lion swiftly corrects them, “NO, Sing Us Mingus! You Roman pig herders! Not Dingus!” The crowd, still perplexed that they would bear witness to a lion speaking, not to mention that he were speaking in Latin, looked each at the next, and yelled in unison, 'O Yeah, Sing us Mingus'. This was when Abigadik reached into his loincloth, his fresh one, as his mother had always advised, just in case he got into an accident. And from his fresh, once clean loincloth he pulled out a set of spoons. And began furiously playing those spoons and singing his Tuscan hillbilly songs, taught to him by his father, Abigadik the 2nd. Then the lion began tap dancing as well as displaying his square dancing skills. And his juggling prowess. To Abigadik's great fortune, this were a lion who really wanted most of all to be an MGM lion, a movie lion. The one that roars before each film. He wasn't too into all of this eating Christians business. He thought it bad for his karma, his digestion and got in the way of his acting classes. He also wanted to direct. He were a major fan of Greek tragedy and anything with nudity in it. So, he joined the Christian in turning the bloodthirsty audience into a more appreciative one. A more sensitive and thoughtful one. They even encored with a Village People song. The people from the village of Villagio, a small town near Rome known for its liberal men. Then, some kind soul from the gathered throng handed to Abigadik a banjo, the early roman version, and he began playing an old early roman version of 'O Danny Boy'. The lion followed this up with a few jokes. They got funnier as he relaxed. Initially, as might be expected, coliseum management were not at all amused. Until it became clear that this new double act were the possible future of entertainment. Despite not knowing who Mingus was, the young Christian felt sure that whoever he was, this Latin named fellow, had saved his life that day. He and the lion are now represented by coliseum management, Christians and Lions Incorporated Entertainment. To balance the bookings, some Christians are still fed to the lions. Mainly now, the ones who cannot even afford clown costumes are turned over to the Sunday night crowds, who still demand tradition. One day, this talking, dreamer of a lion and Abigadik would be credited with having been the forerunners of the modern circus. The lion and lion tamer routine started, in embryo, that very day when the lion had challenged Abigadik to SING US MINGUS! And when the young man reached within himself, stained loincloth and all, and found the rhythms that saved his life that sweltering afternoon. Sending it into a new direction, his spirit to a new dimension. His economy into fits of giggles. Ask of his wealth and he blushes like a schoolgirl with new braces. Their travels would even take them as far away as Egypt, where they would perform at an annual Sphinx festival. On their return journey, Abigadik finally got a chance to visit the great ancient city of Memphis as they drifted down the mighty Nile and back towards their homeland. Rome, though eventually he would retire to the land of Sicily and its endless groves of lemons.
So what if the lion still commands the lion's share of the earnings? Why else would they call it that? For Abigadik, this WAS THE LIFE. Except for those days when he had to clean out the lion's cages. Needless to say, lions can be messy. Few have the courage to tell them how to live. And fewer are those who like offending their dread pride. Particularly a talking one who once got booed from an arena in Syria when he began one of his poems with:
'Judas read to the children of Jerusalem
and compelled by his flute
he read Proust to them.'
In an unabridged edition of big cat poems published years later, after a movement had erupted justifying the expense, it were printed as such:

Judas bled heavy his debt to the Lord,
in poverty pleading for his room and board
He read to the children of Jerusalem,
seduced by his flute, he would read
Proust to them. More cannot be stated.
However WE rate it, he was of
use to them. He evened out his score,
while heaven called a truce with him.
His descendents live in Baltimore.
I’m not lying.
I am lion, hear me roar!

Fortunately, the king of the jungle’s tap dancing skills were more formidable. And Abigadik’s patience honorable.


Selections:







All songs written, produced, arranged and performed by Sananda Maitreya for Treehouse Publishing. Recorded and engineered by Matteo Sandri. Recorded and mixed at MONO studio, Milan, Italy over 14 days between the first and second week of September.


Lyrics & Credits:

You're such a big baby
a big baby a big baby
You're such a big baby
a big baby a big baby

half of us are on crack
the other half on prozac
our sanity's out of whack
but I've got your back
eat well, sleep long
and gather your wits along
until you can write the songs
and stand on your own
'cause

You're such a big baby
a big baby a big baby
You're such a big baby
a big baby a big baby

laugh laugh
clear path
life is more than the math
and if you take a bath
don't go down the drain
the reindeer's
pain dear
keeps it from flying near
but it will soon be here
if you feel the same
'cause

You're such a big baby
a big baby a big baby
You're such a big baby
a big baby a big baby

BIG UP!
Dig up
all of the silver cups
hidden beneath the roots
of your family tree
STAND UP!
Chin up
and use your head a lot
and you can write the plot
of your history
'cause

You're such a big baby
a big baby a big baby
You're such a big baby
a big baby a big baby

Words and Music: Sananda Maitreya
Drums, Bass, Keyboards, Celeste, Marimba, Strings, Vocals by Sananda
© +
2010 Treehouse Publishing
www.SanandaMaitreya.com


We waited 9 months for you
before your mama had to push you through
because your mama ran out of room
waiting for you to go BOOM!
Don't worry about your comfort zone
because your daddy's got a black cat bone

WHAT BABY WANTS, BABY GETS
WHAT BABY WANTS, BABY GETS!

Your belly button window shined
with miracles that you were mine
it had to turn my head around
in case you thought I was a clown
laughing at the time you own
because your daddy's got a black cat bone

WHAT BABY WANTS, BABY GETS
WHAT BABY WANTS, BABY GETS!

You sleep a lot, you sleep a lot, you sleep a lot, you sleep a lot
you sleep a lot, you sleep a lot, you do
I hope that you're expressing what's inside of you
You eat a lot, you eat a lot, you eat a lot, you eat a lot
you eat a lot, you eat a lot, you do
I hope that you're expressing what's inside of you

Your mother was a polished pearl
and your papa's from a hostile world
stumbling through the lost and found
and slapping other bitches down
but we've got room for you to roam
because your daddy's got a black cat bone

WHAT BABY WANTS, BABY GETS
WHAT BABY WANTS, BABY GETS!

Words and Music: Sananda Maitreya
Drums, Bass, Acoustic Guitar, Piano, Electric Piano,
Mellotron, Synthesizer, Vocals by Sananda
© +
2010 Treehouse Publishing
www.SanandaMaitreya.com


I got a seat in a restaurant
it wasn't the table that I want
it happens more than a little
but you got to laugh about it
I ordered the 'catch of the day'
which they seemed to find on the freeway
it made my Bo Diddley diddle
but you got to laugh about it

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
HO HO HO HO HO HO HO
HE HE HE HE HE HE HE
YOU GOT TO LAUGH ABOUT IT
HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
HO HO HO HO HO HO HO
HE HE HE HE HE HE HE
YOU GOT TO LAUGH ABOUT IT

I booked a seat on an airplane
a window seat as I explained
they put me right in the middle
but you got to laugh about it
I sat next to a motor mouth
who didn't know what he was talking about
it left my mind all a riddle
but you got to laugh about it

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
HO HO HO HO HO HO HO
HE HE HE HE HE HE HE
YOU GOT TO LAUGH ABOUT IT
HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
HO HO HO HO HO HO HO
HE HE HE HE HE HE HE
YOU GOT TO LAUGH ABOUT IT

I got a call from the tax man
'said I was late with the facts man
he made me sell all my fiddles
but you got to laugh about it
I lost my car in a landslide
it wasn't the last time that I cried
but when the tears start to trickle
you've got to laugh about it

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
HO HO HO HO HO HO HO
HE HE HE HE HE HE HE
YOU GOT TO LAUGH ABOUT IT
HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
HO HO HO HO HO HO HO
HE HE HE HE HE HE HE
YOU GOT TO LAUGH ABOUT IT

Words and Music: Sananda Maitreya
Drums, Bass, Percussion, Strings, Piano, Electric Piano, Organ,
Clavinet, Vocals by Sananda
© +
2010 Treehouse Publishing
www.SanandaMaitreya.com


...and I'm taking her down
and I'm taking her down
and I'm taking her down

She didn't think I was there
but I saw her
She didn't think I was there
but I saw her
She didn't think I was watching
but I saw her
the house was worth
more than he was alive
so she burned it down with him inside
and I saw her

She struck a match on my neighbor
and I saw her
next day it was in the 'papers
'cause I saw her
no commentary could save her
'cause I saw her
the rain in Spain
falls mainly on her mental plane
'cause his death was hard to explain
and I saw her

...and I'm taking her down
and I'm taking her down
and I'm taking her down...

She had him trapped by the whiskers
and I saw her
She had him covered in blisters
and I saw her
how many times had he kissed her?
'cause I saw her
blonde on blonde
she'll be up for Murder One
'cause he never had a chance to run
and I saw her
cash is cash
when life is burning really fast
and cash is clay
when you throw it all away
and I saw her

...and I'm taking her down
and I'm taking her down
and I'm taking her down...

She didn't think I was there
but I saw her
She didn't think I was there
but I saw her
She didn't think I was watching
but I saw her
I'll raise my right hand
on it to the judge
but my left hand
will hold a grudge
'cause I saw her

Words and Music: Sananda Maitreya
Drums, Bass, Acoustic and Electric Guitars, Vocals by Sananda
© +
2010 Treehouse Publishing
www.SanandaMaitreya.com


There's a tension in the air
from missing you
your heart is always on my horizon
I will love you
'til the days that are no more
so we fight, that's not surprising
but

THIS FAR
BABY WE'VE COME THIS FAR
BABY WE'VE COME THIS FAR
BABY WE'VE COME THIS FAR

Leave the wreckage by the window
before you go
and I will hammer into a new shape
all the broken promises that
made you cry
'cause I can not tell you a lie

THIS FAR
BABY WE'VE COME THIS FAR
BABY WE'VE COME THIS FAR
BABY WE'VE COME THIS FAR

excuse my confusion
excuse my confusion

All my horses become
unglued when chasing you
and I'm the rider with the long face
You're a woman
who wears her heart out on her sleeve
and I'm in stitches when you leave

THIS FAR
BABY WE'VE COME THIS FAR
BABY WE'VE COME THIS FAR
BABY WE'VE COME THIS FAR

Words and Music: Sananda Maitreya
Drums, Bass, Percussion, Acoustic Guitars, Banjo, Mandolin, Vocals by Sananda
© +
2010 Treehouse Publishing
www.SanandaMaitreya.com


I fell over backwards
when I got the news
she was a friend of many years
I pulled over off a
gravel road somewhere
I'm in a mood to shed my blues
I'm in a mood

'cause I left Tallahassee in the rain
and I drove all the night through Georgia
and I reached Tennessee before sunrise
and I cried all the way to Memphis

Some fingerprints were lifted
from her bedside tray
she never went to work that day
her killer was a man
she met in acting class
who cast her in his foul play
his foul play

'cause I left Tallahassee in the rain
and I drove all the night through Georgia
and I reached Tennessee before sunrise
and I cried all the way to Memphis

An apple from the orchard
falls onto the ground
and if there are no worms around
the sun will take and bake
into a rotting core
until the seeds are there no more
are there no more

'cause I left Tallahassee in the rain
and I drove all the night through Georgia
and I reached Tennessee before sunrise
and I cried all the way to Memphis

Words and Music: Sananda Maitreya
Drums, Bass, Acoustic and Electric Guitars, Vocals by Sananda
© +
2010 Treehouse Publishing
www.SanandaMaitreya.com


This is the quarterback song
and this will not take very long
so listen rookie so we can agree
that you blew the PASS PROTECTION
you were drafted at number one
and concussions are never fun
so do the job you're paid to get done
'cause you blew the PASS PROTECTION
'cause you blew the PASS PROTECTION!

4 out of 5 doctors agree
I've had too much surgery
and I'm last years league MVP
so don't blow the PASS PROTECTION
Linebacker came on a blitz
and hit you like you was his bitch
I'm not here for vivisection
so don't blow the PASS PROTECTION
so don't blow the PASS PROTECTION!

My signals are very clear
even your mama can hear
crowd noise can be a distraction
but don't blow the PASS PROTECTION
6'5, and 336
don't fall for amateur tricks
if we don't win, we don't get in
so don't blow the PASS PROTECTION
so don't blow the PASS PROTECTION!

Words and Music: Sananda Maitreya
Drums, Bass, Electric Guitars, Vocals by Sananda
© +
2010 Treehouse Publishing
www.SanandaMaitreya.com


All songs recorded and engineered by Matteo Sandri.
Mixed by Matteo and Sananda.
Effects and noises provided by Matteo and Sananda.
Dedicated to my son Francesco Mingus Maitreya, our aunt Khmbrly, my wife Francesca
and to our families on both sides of the Ocean.
Thanks to 'Sergente', Matteo Sandri for his time and expertise.
To MONO studios for their support.
Special thanks to master Bobby 'Blue' Bland for the inspiration and vibe and to all of my heroes living and living elsewhere and onwards for their light. Particular thanks to the spirit of master Waylon Jennings and to Bobby Womack. Special thanks also to the author Don Winslow, whose books inspired some of these narratives. A special thanks also to my wonderful staff at Treehouse Publishing!
These sessions found us again using the same amps for bass and guitar as in chapter 2 of The Sphinx.
We play the MAGNETO AMP and the ACOUSTIC 220 and used an '87 MUSSER acoustic guitar, Gibson SG, SG Custom and Gibson Flying V for our electric needs. We used the Fender Jazz Bass, Yamaha drums and UFIP cymbals. Drum sticks were from the MR. DRUM custom edition, made for Nick 'the Sticks' Taccori, who was kind enough to give us enough sticks to last for the duration of this project we hope, at least as until such time as we can get our own stick endorsement together, if you can dig. Thanks to Mattia Pittella for Snares. Both banjo and mandolin are Fender. Keyboards were Kurzweil and Roland and Yamaha. Percussion by Latin Percussion. I sing into a SHURE microphone.
This music has NOT been tested for Performance Enhancing Drugs or steroids of any kind.
No 'trickerations' have been used. The music is live and organic, with no pitch correction or any of that used. I'll raise my right hand on it to the judge.
We thank spirit for the chance to express ourselves in the open air!
We thank God for his love.
I thank my wife for hers.
I thank our local order of Orsalines.
We thank you for your support and interest. Please enjoy these songs, I really enjoyed making them and hope that somewhere, it shows in the music. All of mine to yours,
Sananda Francesco Maitreya

PS
… and if we left a carbon footprint, we hope we left it up your bottom ….or in your heart.
PPS
… with just an additional E and another I, you could spell PEPSI!

STAY TUNED FOR MORE ZOOATHALON TO COME!


 


The forest fascists were gone. They were on their annual 3 week rotation, during which they were replaced by 'temps' who treated the rotation like a camp holiday. They drunk a lot of beer, roasted more than a few hotdogs and marshmallows, told racy stories, lied about a few adventures and fell asleep only to begin another loose reunion the next day. And unlike the usual forest guards, the professionals always on the lookout for promotion and for whom no statute or minutia of the law could ever be overlooked, lest they lose points, their replacements were generally young people who volunteered for this service because they liked the forest and its inhabitants. They felt comfortable there. They were likewise by the animals comfortably received. So Woody, perched upon his concrete pole was buzzing and playing air guitar. It had been some time since a meeting with Doctor Deemus, his state appointed psychotherapist, his programmer, as he too were on holiday, to the relief of the woodpecker. Then there was the fact that it had been mandated by 'the council', that Woody's treatment were proceeding according to schedule, so he were unchained, to his immense satisfaction and been given instead a radio tag that was calibrated to give him shocks, should he stray beyond the forest perimeter he were confined to. Being Woody, naturally, heavily doped on his medications, he took off one night. Only to awaken the next morning on the perch of Nate the Night Owl, who had found him splayed out on the forest floor and looking as dazed and confused as a nursing baby in a titty bar. Woody were grateful to have been found by Nate, before being found by the forest marshals, or he would've been detained for some time and scheduled more hours with the doctor/programmer, Deemus. And even though he and a few other forest creatures felt that the moniker, 'Nate the Night Owl' was a little redundant. Owing to the fact that Owls are anyway known to be legendary night watchmen, the patron saints of insomnia. He were still grateful for the hospitality of Nate, who had also turned him on to his favorite band, THE WHO. A love which Nate had inherited from his father, Pete. And it was 'Late Night' Nate after all who had told Woody that the best way to get a cougar to remember your name was to get her to spell it, while you were spanking her. Nate even allowed Woody to indulge himself in some good old fashioned wood drilling on his family tree, and you have to know how swell it felt for Woody to finally, after what seemed like an eternity, have a real nature planted tree to bash his head against, to drill his beak into, instead of his concrete pole with reinforced Portland cement which he were forced to call home. A real tree felt like a slice of paradise spreading its arms wide. So here now was the woodpecker, on his own pole flailing his arms about and imagining himself to be a rock star and free. Playing for all of the forest beasts and those who love them. Suddenly, in the midst of his rapture, as if being invaded by a light, in his mind's eye he encounters THE SPHINX. For the bird, this is the cherry on top of a nut encrusted sundae. Cried out the woodpecker, “Lord Sphinx, Cool!” It were not necessary for the Sphinx to speak, although, as the burial chamber of THE THIRD ALIEN, where an ancient spell had placed him at rest, he could communicate, as he could also travel, by thought projection. Sometimes, merely being imagined by the bird gave him a transfer of energy which helped to inspire and sustain him. The woodpecker could feel the flow from the Sphinx which clearly conveyed that if his spirits were on the rise, this bade well for the future and for his mind.
“I am beginning to understand more of what is the ZOOATHALON. I see now that it is not only about the precession of the equinoxes, or the turning of the zodiac wheel. I see now that it is about the interrelationship between both common and uncommon systems”, said Woody. The Sphinx again said nothing though his energy related that this was correct, while still being but one more layer of the onion. Of course at different times, the woodpecker caught a glimpse into the multilayered meaning of the Zooathalon and its significance. He also, on a few occasions, felt that it had a connection with some kind of 'Mothership', or ARK. Hearing the woodpecker thinking this within his mind, the Sphinx sent a thought wave. 'Yes, you are also correct, but think on me now, while I am here'. Which had the instant effect of bringing the woodpecker back into the moment's directness, at least while the Sphinx were with him in his mind. 'Life stretches out these answers dear friend, as a courtesy to our pace. It is not wise to push time around, because time pushes back'. And having said these last words, THE SPHINX, disappeared back into the frequency he had arrived from. “Wow”, thought Woody, and slumping suddenly his shoulders, out of nowhere, he began to cry. Silent, sincere, sobs. He were overcome with emotion and had to release it, with a 'FINALLY' attached to it. Tears are the ribbons which men see not enough of, so all which fall are pearls of confession, that we too are not above the pain. Nor the joy of its release. He remembered his last meeting with DOCTOR DEEMUS, who while Woody was trying to catch a sly nap, was going on about something like... (what was it..Oh yeah), BEWARE IN THE DISTANCE WHAT YOU BEHOLD, FOR UP CLOSE, THEY MAY JUST BE STRAW HORSES AND PAPER TIGERS. For some reason, that had jumped out at him and lodged itself into his jellied brain. Ok, so his dark mood passed, he wasn't sad anymore. Sometimes the medications, the 'meds', made him unexpectedly umbilical.He would get quickly withdrawn, sullen and more introspective than he would like, yet had to deal with just the same. The pills even , though not often, interfered with his favorite transgressions with his new cougar friend, though she understood. Sometimes she even joined him in his meds, during their late night encounters. Now that he could fly at night to her, this put the manhood back into his willing wicked ways, and much to her delight. Still, overall, clearly life was looking up. And, although universally woodpeckers are known to complain if necessary, this particular woodpecker was certain that if ever there were a time to complain about less, now was the time. He recalled the advice given to him by THE SPHINX, on trying to see his relationship, while it lasted with Dr.Deemus, less in terms of 'censorship' and more in terms of 'editing'. The difference being that one sought to suppress what was true, while the other sought to clarify and reveal it. Even if it took a sharp blade to pierce the bone marrow of indifference.


It wasn't as if NOAH had to do ALL of the work. He had clout. Influence. So, naturally he subcontracted. And upon whose shoulders some of the grind and grunt work fell was a one Mr. LUTHER MEANS. Luther was a 'weaver'. One of those persons who weaved themselves in and out of events as required, those who walk in and out of history to push along the progress of species, including our venerable own. A contractor if you will of evolution. A space walker. He knew the doors and where they were. The TIME DOORS. Luther always meant business, regardless of the task at hand, so he was much chagrined at this task of arranging for the pre-boarding of the animals during the time that master NOAH was away on vacation, touring the outer Hebrides. This were an important event for the ZOOATHALON, so it had to be done with great concentration. Not to mention what Luther saw as shaping up to be quite a political challenge as well. Luther Means had no idea, even as a 'gravity bender' that this pre-boarding would be so fraught with hysterics and confrontations with his sanity. The main problem was two fold. First, it seemed that there were absolutely NO WAY, that he were ever going to be able to convince BOTH 800 pound gorillas that there was a place for them each on the ARK. He had not anticipated the sheer size of each gorillas determination to be the only 800 pounder on board. He were informed in no uncertain terms that what worked for the other species were fine by them, but 800 pounders just didn't roll like that. They were far too territorial. Who on God's green, but soon to be flooded earth had ever heard of ANY story at all, ANYWHERE, where two 800 pound gorillas are in it? Who? Furthermore, the second part of the problem was the gorillas great fear of the presence, the inclusion of THE SHORT WAVE BANDITS. For in these here neck of the high plains, known for their powers of mental concentration and projection are a species of caterpillar known as the 'KILLER CATERPILLARS'. They are called the Short Wave Bandits for their ability to get into the mind and third eye of any creature and temporarily paralyze it with hypnosis. It has even been said that when the Lemmings go off the sides of cliffs, it is the work of the Short Wave Bandits, simply demonstrating their powers in order to protect their reputation. With this in mind, there was not even a chance that ONE 800 pound gorilla would risk getting on that damn boat, no matter how many halos it might have had around it. It can be faithfully said that 800 pound gorillas fear nothing much at all.
And the killer caterpillars are nothing much at all. At least not to look at. They are about no longer that the average credit card at best and a dull muted spotted gray. They do not look any more menacing than a book worm. But 800 pound gorillas know different. They know that an 800 pound gorilla has vulnerabilities. Not many, but one being their abject fear of being paralyzed by the killer caterpillars, and other animals ganging up on them. Or, being hypnotized and made to think of itself as a moose. Or a moose which thinks itself to be a mouse being attacked by mice which anecdotes say have happened. 800 pound gorillas were raised to understand by other 800 pound gorillas that image is not to be taken lightly. Perception is all. Or, they lose respect for you as an enforcer. Or you and your species begin disappearing from 800 pound gorilla jokes, only to have your place taken in those stories by Baboons and their kin. They hated overexposure for the same reason. It lessened their impact as the punch line, which were a lucrative source of bread and butter for them and their tribe, their watering hole. Hell no, it couldn't be like that, so wouldn't be like that. It might also cut into their merchandising! To Luther Means, who had but 3 days before the pre-boarding exercise that the animals of the Zooathalon had to participate in, if they wished inclusion, this were a conundrum he would have preferred to have passed on to another member of Noah's team of architects, engineers, scientists, and animal trainers for the more diva like among the creatures. He also couldn't fail to notice how much the animal trainers were like unto their own separate species, and that they themselves seemed to need training more than the animals who paid their salaries. He had, like the rest of Noah's crew, been left strict instruction to include all of the samples of life which they could find. They had been instructed to take DNA samples from what could not be provided space for aboard the vessel. He might have decided to have the 800 pound gorillas 'put down' and just their blood and tissue material taken, so that the caterpillar issue wouldn't be. But it were generally agreed that having live, active 800 pounders aboard the craft would serve as a stabilizing effect on some of the wilder animals. It was like having King Kong on the ship to keep the peace. For most of the other animals, the Short Wave Bandits were respected, they were kind of heroes in a way and many animals told of instances where the killer caterpillars were known to induce higher states of dream like consciousness upon those who showed the requisite respect. It was all in how you approached them. Moreover, they had done a pretty good job convincing the rest of the animals of their, the SHORT WAVE BANDITS, 'supreme importance to the ecosystem'. Yeah, whatever, because, going WAY BACK, 800 pound gorillas and the killer caterpillars in these parts of God's green, get along about as well as a Red Sox and a Yankee. They get on about as well as AC Milan and Inter Milan, a Hatfield and a McCoy. Which is to say, 'SCREW YOU NOAH, YOU BETTER DRAW UP NEW PLANS'. When Luther Means agreed to step within time and participate in the GENOME PROJECT, Codenamed: ZOOATHALON, he could not have envisioned an encounter with the very nervous skunks who had to be repeatedly reassured that they would not only be aboard the ship as blood samples. They were well aware that quite a few other animals, if given the vote, would vote them on only as tissue matter stored in a vial, a petri dish, in a box. Luther laughed while recalling the dark joke a skunk captain made when inquiring about the truth of the rumors that they would be stored as samples in boxes. Who had with gallows humor replied, 'We skunks do our best thinking OUTSIDE the box, if you know what I mean'. And he would have had no idea that giraffes, who can see over everything and everyone were so particular about where they had to be placed. He had no clue until then that not ALL beings were amused by the sound of singing chipmunks. And that around here, if you were a talking horse, you were simply told to shut up. And he still were not sure which of the fish species to invite on board, and which to simply issue an invitation to follow along the side of the boat, while it was in the water, and perhaps just give them 'per diems'. He were aware that the sharks were petitioning to be paid for securing the boats perimeter in the water, and that the whales wished to have no part in any of it. Word being that according to some kind of secret deal, the whales would inhabit the coast of a country named after them when land reappeared. As it were, those next 3 days would be full of challenges to Mean's authority and graft until such a time as THAT moment arrives when it all suddenly falls into place as smoothly as a ball falls down from the sky after having been tossed so gleefully by those active hands, at peace with themselves in this wondrous parade of life and consciousness. Vanity abounding, folly fitfully unfolding, menace unmoored and wits unchained, THE ZOOATHALON. One thing however was made very clear to him by the 800 pound gorillas, both of them. “And don't even THINK about replacing us with normal gorillas. Those spoiled NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC bitches, silverback or otherwise, 'cause IT DON'T WORK LIKE THAT FOOL”. And somewhere a group of 'wetback' gorillas are stirring, and figuring soon might be the time to make THEIR move. Make their presence felt. As far as they were concerned, there was no way that the silverbacks were going to be invited at the exclusion of the wetbacks. You can believe that. If they had to start something, they would. Nor would their fierce pride allow them to be 'reclassified' as another species of gorilla, or as they saw it, REBRANDED, to keep the numbers tidy and classifications neat.
LUTHER MEANS would crack the code, of this he were sure. He just had to keep his thinking cap on for a while longer. Besides, to him, these conceits were none more striking than our own human ones, who, having imagined ourselves once upon a time as human, are now stuck with our own impression.


LUTHER MEANS were also, while preparing his paperwork, given to understand that 800 pound gorillas were averse to confusion and that something urgently had to be done to clarify this whole mess between GORILLAS and GUERILLAS. To the gorillas, it were stupid to have two different spellings of what was supposed to mean the same thing, as all gorillas are warriors to themselves. So, what's with these other infringing assholes?
'Are they going to be on the boat too'? The 800 pound gorillas had definitely earned the intellectual respect of Luther by having insulted him one day during a routine survey. Working together for at least this once, they had asked him, “So what does a Scotsman keep under his kilt?” When Means confessed ignorance, they had both in tandem replied, “YOUR FATHER'S PHONE NUMBER”.


Stories by Sananda. May 4th 2010. Copyright and intellectual property claimed. With added vitamin D. All rights reserved - www.SanandaMaitreya.com


 


Lyrics & Credits:


Fade in fade out if that's your fate
Just don't fade away
Save your reflection to carry another day
And if you're gonna tell somebody tell me
If you're gonna tell somebody tell me
'cause I will take you through the rain
'cause I never know, I never know with you.

Time comes by and ties your hands
And leaves it with demands
The heart is a fable unless it bleeds when it can
And if you're gonna tell somebody tell me
And if you're gonna tell somebody tell me
And I will take you through the rain
'cause I never know, I never know with you
'cause I never know, I never know with you.


Words and Music: Sananda Maitreya
Drums, Bass, Piano, Strings, Vocals by Sananda
© +
2010 Treehouse Publishing
www.SanandaMaitreya.com


 


If all it takes is flowers and flattery
Then the weather's just as fickle as your heart it seems
Then the Taj Mahal is just a structure built to keep the rain from you
because no matter what you do, it always floods my dreams.
Young man, what you gonna do when love gets ahold of you?

'Cause you've had blues so long
that it's become your song
and it will knock you off your feet
until you right your wrong
'cause you've had to take the heat
but still carry on
while the midnight lingers on,
Euphoria.

If all it takes is white wine and sympathy
Someone to listen to you tell them all the little things you need
Then the unemployment line is where you find the man with that kind of time
I wish you all the best, I wish you all of God's speed.
Young man, what you gonna do when love gets ahold of you?

'Cause you've had blues so long
that it's become your song
and it will knock you off your feet
until you right your wrong
'cause you've had to take the heat
but still carry on
while the midnight lingers on,
Euphoria.


Words and Music: Sananda Maitreya
Drums, Percussion, Bass, Organ, Keyboards, Strings, Vocals by Sananda
© +
2010 Treehouse Publishing
www.SanandaMaitreya.com


 


The ballad of LeBron and Kobe
The ballad of LeBron and Kobe

The ballad of LeBron and Kobe
Don't act like you don't know me
'cause I'm your will to win
No matter what the shape I'm in
I crave the meaning of these minutes
And all the sweat that I've put in it
I'm the King of the hill
And I am because I pay the bills.

The ballad of LeBron and Kobe
The ballad of LeBron and Kobe

I fall in love with epic battles
I fight until I hear bones rattle
I'm your vitamin E
But I'll foul you if you get too mean
I'll shimmy when I need to shake 'ya
And I'll shake 'ya when I need to wake 'ya
I'll raise the top of your game
And I'll thank you if you do the same

The ballad of LeBron and Kobe
The ballad of LeBron and Kobe

I'll take the wind out of your sails
I'll make you bite your fingernails
I'll take you to the hole
And bank it on a finger roll
Pressure keeps me in the zone
Even when I feel alone
And I'll SCREAM at the referee
If he slows my game down on TV
If he slows my game down on TV

The ballad of LeBron and Kobe
Don't act like you don't know me
'Cause I'm your will to win
No matter what the shape I'm in


Words and Music: Sananda Maitreya
Drums, Bass, Acoustic Guitar, Electric Guitar, Vocals by Sananda
© +
2010 Treehouse Publishing
www.SanandaMaitreya.com


 



They put the blame on me
but I was never there you see
they put me on the run
I gotta keep 'a movin' on
this a way, that a way, either way, I've got to get away
this a way, that a way, either way, I've got to get away

They put the blame on me
they're living in a fantasy
my profile fits the bill
so I'm living off the time I steal
this a way, that a way, either way, I've got to get away
this a way, that a way, either way, I've got to get away

They put the blame on me
a blemish on my legacy
the word is “shoot to kill”
I'm living off survival skills
this a way, that a way, either way, I've got to get away
this a way, that a way, either way, I've got to get away

They put the blame on me
another little tragedy
my fingerprints were there
she was strangled with her underwear
this a way, that a way, either way, I've got to get away
this a way, that a way, either way, I've got to get away

They put the blame on me
but I was never there you see
they put me on the run
so I gotta keep 'a movin' on
this a way, that a way, either way, I've got to get away
this a way, that a way, either way, I've got to get away

They put the blame on me
but I was never there you see


Words and Music: Sananda Maitreya
Drums, Bass, Percussion, Acoustic Guitar, Electric Guitars, Horns, Vocals by Sananda
© +
2010 Treehouse Publishing
www.SanandaMaitreya.com


 



'Said I was there when they picked him up
And beat him on the Captain's table
I was there when they slapped him up
And made sure that he was disabled
He played with the band
And they sucked
Since they left land
Yada yada yada yada ya
I was relieved it wasn't me

I was there when they picked him up
And fed him with a knuckle sandwich
I was there when they wrapped him up
And treated him like extra baggage
They made him walk the plank,
More sharks there than in the bank
Yada yada yada yada ya
I was relieved, he was a thief

'Said I was there when they turned him into
Entertainment for the pirates
His mouth slipped and he said things
That made the Captain very irate
His tongue, it got him hung
Just because of a song he sung
Yada yada yada yada ya
As you can see, it wasn't pretty

I was there when they made him wear a dress
And then they called him 'Sally'
They put lipstick on his lips and
Made him wait for John McNally,
A crew member who
Likes his women in BIG shoes
Yada yada yada yada ya
You can believe he was a freak

I was there when they
Redirected his ideas about his living
Grabbed him, jabbed him, dragged him, stabbed him
Like a turkey at Thanksgiving
I saved him with my blade
And stole the water from his grave
Yada yada yada yada ya
I was relieved it wasn't me

'Said I was there when they picked him up
And beat him on the Captain's table
I was there when they picked him up
And beat him on the Captain's table


Words and Music: Sananda Maitreya
Drums, Bass, Percussion, Acoustic Guitars, Banjo, Keyboards, Vocals by Sananda
© +
2010 Treehouse Publishing
www.SanandaMaitreya.com


 


She's sad
after all the things I've done for her
She's sad
after all the things I've said to her
She's sad
after all the time we made it through
and I only want to know that she'll be happy

She's sad
after all the walks on the sands
She's sad
after all the money and demands
She's sad
after lawyers and their liberties
and I only want to know that she'll be happy

She's sad, sad, sad
after all the lines of poetry
She's sad, sad, sad
after flowers and their flattery
She's sad, sad, sad
after all the broken memories
She's sad
She's sad

She's sad
and I've seen a waterfall of tears
She's sad
no more Cupid and his arrows here
She's sad
all the valentines have disappeared
and I only want to know that she'll be happy

She's sad, sad, sad
deceivers are not believers
She's sad, sad, sad
I was open like a wide receiver
She's sad, sad, sad
after wasting all my precious time
She's sad
She's sad

She's sad
after all the moments drift away
She's sad
and she's at a loss for what to say
She's sad
and now I look the other way
and I only want to know that she'll be happy


Words and Music: Sananda Maitreya
Percussion, Acoustic Guitar, Bass, Vocals by Sananda
© +
2010 Treehouse Publishing
www.SanandaMaitreya.com


 

All songs, written, produced, arranged and performed by Sananda Maitreya for Treehouse Publishing\ SanandaMaitreya.com

All tracks recorded and engineered by Matteo Sandri ('Sergente')
Mixed by Sananda and 'Sergente'
Recorded and mixed over 13 days between April 12-29 2010 in Milan Italy at MONO Studio (near the Chiesa Di San Lorenzo). Thanks to Enea Bardi for Tech support, Matteo Cantaluppi for vibe support and as always my brilliant unassuming collaborator, Matteo 'Sergente' Sandri. A shout out to Nick 'The Sticks' Taccori for loaning me some sticks when I lost mine and to Mattia Pittella for snares and Alessandro Pasini for my new Magneto Amp. Thanks also to Toby the studio dog.
Thank you our Webmistress\dominatrix Lily. Thank you to my dear Francesca Maitreya.
To the staff at Treehouse Publishing. And to you for your patience and support.
And another special shout out to my old friend LUTHER MEANS (and Luther means business!).


Drums used were Yamaha Studio model, Cymbals were UFIP, Bass was Fender Jazz, Banjo was a Fender 5 string. Keys were Kurzweil and Roland. Guitars, acoustic and electrics were all Gibsons. Bass amp was an ACOUSTIC 220. Guitar amp was MAGNETO. We also used the Crybaby Wah-Wah (for the mojo and the ya-ya).
Most of the percussion was Latin Percussion. All other details escape my memory at this present time.


Listen, I could not have done the crime
I was in the studio at the time, capisce?


These songs dedicated to all that we have lost and to the great things we stand to gain.


This has been a SPHINX presentation. The ZOOATHALON, PART 1. We return you now to your regularly scheduled programming.

  • Pronounced: Zoo- a-tha-lon, emphasis on the second syllable

  • The 'woodpecker' stories may catch you up on the scene.

  • Time of selections:

  • I Never Know 2:06

  • Euphoria 4:21

  • The Ballad of LeBron & Kobe 3:18

  • The Blame 3:08

  • The Captain's Table 3:30

  • She's Sad 2:44

'Straw Horses & Paper Tigers'


 

The woodpecker was incensed. His tight perm limp and flushed. Why did his state appointed analyst have to be so bloody patronizing? Did he really expect Woody to believe that since being ‘re-assigned’ to a concrete pole, that his splitting headaches had nothing at all to do with literally beating his head up against a wall? Surely part of the reason he were assigned to the concrete pole was to punish him for the grave sin of being a woodpecker in a forest wanted for its natural riches, and noticing that from day to day, there seemed less rhythm coming from the trees, fewer other ‘woodies’ stopping by to chat and share seed information. Fewer places to raise the continuation of their tribe under protected forest canopies. One day, Woody found himself simply relocated to the very back of the forest, attached by his ankle to a tall single grey concrete pole. And he would pay dearly from then on for the crime of being a woody who cared about the lives of other woodies, as well as the cardinal sin of having awakened to the destruction of his natural habitat and not being a Cardinal. So says Doctor Deemus:
“But there is absolutely no scientific evidence to support the idea that your headaches, no matter how fierce, are caused by your extrapolations on your home pole. So you must get this idea out of your head. As your doctor, I must say that I fear the head pain is caused more by your belief than it is by your pecking habits”. Great, thought Woody, yet another who knows my own mind before I even get a chance to unravel it for them. And he never listens really, but just waits for openings to inform me of what my next thought should be, or the ‘appropriate response’. “How are you getting on with the medications?” asked the doctor. ‘I am woozy much of the time and finding it hard to sleep all of the way through my sleep cycle. Last night, I dreamed that I found a Scottish burr in my saddle’. A bit distracted, the doctor then replied, “Oh, I see, that was a pun, very good. It shows progress towards positive thinking when you see the humour in your condition”. ‘No, doctor, literally, I dreamed that my saddle had a burr in it, though it spoke with a thick Scottish brogue.
I am also still having those nuclear fission nightmares, where I am given only half a day to come up with the formula that will insure the lives of woodpeckers worldwide, but I have a block, and can’t for the life of me remember the formula, and I always wake up in a cold sweat. Which is weird because in the dream, I always seem to be wearing a cold sweater’. The doctor was nodding and patient, but in that way that suggests he felt vaguely superior to it all, that he was somehow better than the work he were bade by his intellect to endure, as were it charity work to be tackled on the way to sainthood, on behalf of those less fortunate and privileged than he. Those ‘nebbish-y’ (though more nebulous) guys who all want to be Wallace Shawn, but without an approximate Wallace Shawn skill set, at best the hairline, perhaps the slight hesitance of immediate posture beyond gravitational necessity. But certainly in no other way either to be considered ‘Wallacinian’ or ‘Shawn-esque’ as it goes. But they sure did hold down a leather arm chair in a nicely appointed office quite convincingly, even if mostly they just tried to keep you away from thoughts which may expose the callousness of the state’s operating mindset. The way it kept an ever sharp, eagle eye out for any of the forest inhabitants who cared to know what was going on, and who were simpleminded enough to believe that life was also as much about them, as it was about plans being constantly made for them by others. Doctor Deemus flat out looked at Woody and prescribed him a much stronger medication because “You have no business dreaming about nuclear fission. It cannot but confuse you. No wonder you are not resting well, for you are stressing your mind beyond its capacity”. And Woody had to swallow that. That bitter nonsense. The not so subtle attack on his intellectual ambitions. Surely if he were dreaming of something, ANYTHING, then clearly it were not beyond his imagination. And if he were dreaming it, it suggested that he DID understand it, he just DIDN’T GET IT. A big difference. He just had to remember what he already understood. Besides, if woodpeckers were not going around and trading nuclear secrets, it may well be that they had already evolved beyond it. It may well have been them and their species that blew up Mars. It may well be that the deserts of the world are there because of the time when woodpeckers were experimenting with their knowledge of all things nuclear, and that over time, as one might expect, they grew bored with it all and simply acknowledged to themselves that cracking a tree open with their rapid fire blasts was all in all a lot more enjoyable and productive, not to mention less of a threat to the environment. Naturally, in a human centric media, it is assumed that other species haven’t already been and passed through current human dilemmas. So here was Woody being laden with some other dulling chemical mechanism to place his consciousness under corporate house arrest. For the sin of having been attached to a mind that dreamt of unspeakable things, at least as far as preening overconfident psychoanalysts were concerned. Yet, they were careful never to prescribe for Woody, what might make him high. A chuckle-head. Glad -hearted, gaily embracing the day. No. Just those things which would keep him as dazed and out of alignment as possible, in order that momentum of thought be discouraged and to keep him close enough to pain. To arrest the sensation of liberation and the free thinking it arouses in inquisitive, confident, unthreatened minds. Woody thought to himself as he sat in front of his doctor, ‘After scaling the heights, the only place left to go is through it’. And he was correct. His migraines notwithstanding, he were still a creature of nature confined to a most unnatural life, and he were only allowed to be accompanied by those who were apologists for it and the state’s feckless brutality. Even most of the old Owls had up and moved away from the forest, which is never a good sign, when the owls leave. ‘Ever tried getting a lovely woodpecker chick to come swing by your pole for a bit of a ‘bash’? They never come back for a second date. Plus, where can I take them? There are no holes in my pole to hide in. I am chained when not in this office spilling my guts out, to a bloody grey concrete slab. Sexy? Romantic? I don’t think so’. The only thing left to the dignity of the woodpecker was to bide his time, wait for a slip up by forest security, and fly the coop as soon as the chance presented itself. And dodging snipers if he even got that far. Until the forest were behind him and no longer beneath him. When that time arrived, he were certain that he had only one destination which were of interest to him. Once free of these patronizing woods and its buzz, having been taken over by the chainsaws drowning out the bees, he would alight, with what will and might could take him there and begin his journey to the land of THE SPHINX. When sands and lightning converged, with Woody borne upon the air, he had some serious questions he wished to ask the Sphinx. If ever such a time should come. Dr. Deemus: “Woody, where did you just go? I asked you a question”. ‘Sorry doc, it’s the meds, I blank out from time to time. What was the question?’ Sighed the doctor from his long session, “You rather absentmindedly murmured something about THE ZOO-ATHALON. Tell me, what is that?” Woody, tired and pale, and ready to return to the relative security of his concrete pole, pinched one eye towards the doc and stated, ‘Woodpeckers do not have rhythm spasms only, as you call it. We also have our secrets’. “Perhaps (said Deemus), that is why you are experiencing the headaches, due to the deep secrets you keep hidden from yourself”.
‘With all due respect, doc, these secrets are being kept from you, not from myself and we are certain that our headaches are caused by my being sentenced to having to smash my noggin and beak against reinforced Portland cement, while being forced to eat genetically restructured bird seed. And maybe a few of these sessions’. The doctor was sure that upping the dosage to a stronger lithium content would smooth Woody’s ruffled feathers. Maybe even encourage pleasant dreams. The doctor’s training had been, ‘Pity ‘Em? More lithium!’ Woody was more sure that he had to find a way to escape the tedium of constantly monitored and belittled expectations and the notions and potions of denial, before he risked actually growing to appreciate what useful side there may be in having to drill one’s meditations straight into a spike with no pulse, no bounce, just intense and pure resistance. Not to mention what it did to a woodpeckers hairstyle. His moment, he just knew it, would come. And when he did, though none may gasp, all of time would know. Dorothy wanted to see the wizard. Woody, THE SPHINX.

We were going to go into a studio before the holiday season, with a view towards performing a few small selections as a gift to ears and as a farewell to a very welcoming year. The plan was to record a couple of piano pieces, while preparing to begin next year, with our THE SPHINX project. Plans have a way of mutating into different plans, so as soon as we finished this production, I turned to our lovely engineer, MATTEO SANDRI, and said to him, ‘Sergente’, somehow I think that this was the beginning of the next project.’ He looked at me with the nonchalance for which the recently married ‘Piemontese’ is known and replied, ‘OK’. I had felt an instinctive nudge from My spirit that this was indeed the way it wished to begin, almost by surprise. We offer this first chapter free, subsequent chapters will be mastered as we go to insure the highest sound representation immediately, in real time, and will reflect the variety of mood and tone, light, angles and shade that we feel emanating from the will of the portion of spirit which has made itself available to our own. There may even be a chapter perhaps dedicated more specifically to whatever ‘experimental’ approach we are inspired to present, though our main focus, as always, will be songs and how most truthfully to present them. I am excited about the prospect of this project, which has possessed me now for over 2 years. We are grateful to be working now exclusively for the music and not the whims of calculus and the books it keeps. We look forward to sharing with you the shapes that this project wrings forth from its process and do hope that you enjoy it in the spirit in which it is presented. As the ‘Sphinx’ projects to me, we will likewise promote to you. We wish you and your ears, and your overall life activities well. Welcome to BRUSHSTROKE SUNRISE!

The selections are:



All songs written, produced, arranged and performed by Sananda F. Maitreya Engineered and Recorded by Matteo ‘Sergente’ Sandri. Mixed by Matteo and Sananda at Studio 75 in Milano, Italy on the 27/28 November 2009. Song 3 features the ‘I Had To Pull Some Strings’ Section. We thank them for their participation. Instruments used were a Yamaha Baby Grand, and a Roland Fantom X8. Thank you.

Notes about the selections:
The holidays are emotional times. These are emotional songs. At first, the Sphinx is silent!

These songs have been presented before. ‘Time takes Time’ first appeared on the ‘Angels and Vampires’ collection in a vocal version and different arrangement. While preparing this ‘suite’ at home, we had envisioned making the first 2 pieces as a unit, while presenting a 3 rd selection as a chamber piece, as I have always particularly liked chamber music and ‘hear’ it rather easily. We felt that the hymn like quality of the song leant itself to a chamber treatment. I can hear it now being played as a wedding march or as a holiday functionary. But we dream this way. Our ‘Requiem’ was first presented in 2004, though we have been agitating for several months now to ‘get back at it’ and do it from a more ripened perspective, it still being very fresh when first presented. Now we feel more emotionally prepared to present the piece with more reserve and detachment, though with what fire was needed in conveying the elements it sprung forth from. We dedicate this piece in particular to those who have suffered the wounds of war, scars both visible, and the even bigger ones that are naked to the eye, though of heavier weight to the scales of time. Finally, our take on one of my all time favourite pieces of music, the grand master MOZART’S Adagio from Piano Concerto No. 21 (if we are not mistaken, though if we are, then it must be Concerto No. 23). I can remember a time, while living in the desert of Los Angeles, when this piece stabilized my will to live. I can recall when it was literally a wellspring of faith for my spirit. Master Mozart’s music has a way of turning melancholy into soft clouds of victory. We offer this selection for those who at times, require a witness to the nobility of their pains. And though we do in moments scratch and claw, mainly we itch. To move on. To shake a tail-feather and go. At some point, in following our river of tears, we reach the precipice, whereby, in taking the leap of faith, that same river of sorrows becomes waterfalls of joy, slapping against even the hardest rocks, and wetting their expectations.

The initial plan was not to make these selections a part of the new project. But it did wind up that way. All subsequent pieces of music to be original presentations, unless otherwise inspired.

Thank you for how much enthusiasm has poured into my heart from yours that I may give it back to you. You give me the balloon, I twist it into a shape. An amusing one we hope, at least.

A special thanks to Alessandro Cocchia for the artwork and to Andrea Gorini at Studio 75 and to my wonderful staff at Treehouse Publishing.

At first The Sphinx is silent!

Sananda F. Maitreya

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