I enjoy singing, and the instruments which truly move me are the horn, the trumpet and the cello.
quote by Roger Bannister
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sing Me A Swing Song
Give me a song that's robust
Feeling the way I am
Any old band'll go bust
If it ain't got that jam
When a body needs a body
On the ballroom floor
Then a body asks a body
"What's a swing band for?"
Oh baby, I don't want you
To croon soft and mellow
Let me warn you in advance,
Sing me a swing song and let me dance
Oh baby, I don't want
Any moon, bright and yellow
You can have your sweet romance
Sing me a swing song and let me dance
Mr. Trombone, play some corn
I ain't carin' what notes
Mr. Trumpet, grab a horn
Brother, give me hot notes
Oh baby, I don't want
Any tune, on a cello
Give the rhythm men a chance
Sing me a swing song and let me dance
instrumental interlude
Let me warn you in advance,
Sing me a swing song and let me dance
You can have your sweet romance, just
Sing me a swing song and let me dance
Mr. Trombone, play some corn
I ain't carin' what notes
Mr. Trumpet, grab a horn
Brother, give me hot notes
Oh baby, I don't want
Any tune, on a cello
Give the rhythm men a chance
Sing me a swing song and let me dance
Ol' Chick Webb is beatin' it out
Makes me feel like I want to shout
All the boys are ready to prance, so
Sing me a swing song and let me dance
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Quick One While Hes Away
I. her mans been gone
Her mans been gone
For nearly a year
He was due home yesterday
But he aint here
Her mans been gone
For nigh on a year
He was due home yesterday
But he aint here
Ii. crying town
Down your street your crying is a well-known sound
Your street is very well known, right here in town
Your town is very famous for the little girl
Whose cries can be heard all around the world
Iii. we have a remedy
Fa la la la la la
Fa la la la la
Fa la la la la la
Fa la la la la
We have a remedy
Youll appreciate
No need to be so sad
Hes only late
Well bring you flowers and things
Help pass your time
Well give him eagles wings
Then he can fly to you
Fa la la la la la
Fa la la la la
Fa la la la la la
Fa la la la la
Fa la la la la la
Fa la la la la la
We have a remedy
Fa la la la la la la
We have a remedy
Fa la la la la la la
We have a remedy
Fa la la la la la la
We have a remedy
Fa la la la la la la
(spoken)
We have a remedy.
We have!
Little girl, why dont you stop your crying?
Im gonna make you feel all right
Iv. ivor the engine driver
My name is ivor
Im an engine driver
I know him well
I know why you feel blue
Just cause hes late
Dont mean hell never get through
He told me he loves you
He aint no liar, I aint either
So lets have a smile for an old engine driver
So lets have a smile for an old engine driver
Please take a sweet
Come take a walk with me
Well sort it out
Back at my place, maybe
Itll come right
You aint no fool, I aint either
So why not be nice to an old engine driver?
Better be nice to an old engine driver
Better be nice to an old engine driver
V. soon be home
Well soon be home
Well soon be home
Well soon
Well soon, soon, soon be home
Well soon be home
Well soon be home
Well soon
Well soon, soon, soon be home
Come on, old horse
Soon be home
Soon be home
Soon
Well soon, soon, soon be home
Well soon
Well soon, soon, soon be home
Well soon be home
Soon be home ...
Vi. you are forgiven
Dang, dang, dang, dang, dang, dang, dang, dang, dang
Cello, cello, cello, cello, cello, cello
Cello, cello, cello, cello, cello, cello
Cello, cello, cello, cello, cello, cello
Cello, cello, cello, cello, cello, cello
I cant believe it
Do my eyes deceive me?
Am I back in your arms?
Away from all harm?
Its like a dream to be with you again
Cant believe that Im with you again
I missed you and I must admit
I kissed a few and once did sit
On ivor the engine drivers lap
And later with him, had a nap
You are forgiven, you are forgiven, you are forgiven ... (ad lib)
You are forgiven
song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Fish Commissioner
Great Joseph D. Redding-illustrious name!
Considered a fish-horn the trumpet of Fame.
That goddess was angry, and what do you think?
Her trumpet she filled with a gallon of ink,
And all through the Press, with a devilish glee,
She sputtered and spattered the name of J.D.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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What I enjoy most about being on stage is that the natural instruments give you a greater freedom with texture. When you use natural instruments they have their own resonance.
Cello
There was music
around her;
notes playing
in the silver air;
she exhales
close to my
upturned face.
Her shape,
a fine
brown cello,
her low voice
singing
each word-note
coming
in a whispering moan.
My bow string
draws out her chords
harmonizing,
flowing into to me.
siren-like.
Arpeggio
hair braids
trail away;
clef note eyes
glow
with the white heat
which rises
in the sparkle dust
of her melodies singing.
She bends toward me
cascading,
double breasted
notes;
her arms
flower petals
unfolding from side to side;
mouth parting slightly
breathing warm air.
She sang
to my soul,
cello style.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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0011 Chet Baker Sings and Plays: a homage
That’s the word we use
for the abrupt suddenness
of the old rubber-squeezed car horn
on the outside, by the driving seat
of the old battered Ford
and unforgettably for the anguished heart,
the bugle on the battlefield
as stretcher-bearers move in gathering dusk,
the final drawn-out, liquid, haunting pa-a-a-rp.... dies away
to pregnant, bloody silence;
death after life; life after death.
and then the sound of the civilian trumpet
in the days of the uneasy, hopeful postwar peace
hitting our eardrums, calling to attention,
stirring our blood
or perversely,
making the silence in between the notes
more silent, more laid back, more significant,
as if to say, how quickly
rest may follow action, action rest,
hot, cool; cool, hot;
So trumpet can be voice; voice, trumpet;
behind them, heart and mind, and mood and mode
sing, even whisper, you’re unforgettable,
that’s what you are; there will never be
another you; that’s how it is;
if you don’t know what love is,
I’ll play it to you; maybe sing..
his husky, boyish voice,
a hint of Oklahoma on Pacific shores,
sang – sings – the standards tenderly
as if they are the given texts for all mankind
of this new day of love; they apply
to him, and you; and everyone; so
he makes no pretence he thought them first; .
yet, in the long pauses in his singing, he's thinking them into now.
then as the line’s still finishing, his trumpet
turns the words to comment, as the cage is opened,
the bird flies out and up, released to joy
in boundless air and space;
as if it were outside the soundproofed recording studio
but recognised the song; and knew itself as free,
soaring high in sad songs or in glad songs,
knowing them the same at heart,
as a trumpet soars its notes
out over the Pacific air as gulls call to the waves,
singing liberty, equality, fraternity -
I’m telling you what love is
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Chick Magnet
Don’t play the cello if you want
to be a magnet for the chicks,
a guy who on guitar strings picks
is thought be far more gallant.
I learnt this fact from Yo-Yo Ma,
who probably believes that poets
have also far more luck with coeds
than cellists. Maybe many are,
but I am not, unfortunate
with poems as he is with cello.
I wish I were a magnet fellow,
and made the chicks importunate,
first for my poems, then my bod,
but since I don’t play the guitar,
my life is black as café noir,
and I am lonelier than God.
Charlie Rose on December 3,2008 interviewed Yo-Yo Ma, who accompanied on his cello the singer and songwriter from North Carolina, James Taylor, who also plays the guitar. Yo Yo explained that he has played the cello since the age of three, and that this has not made him a chick magnet. James Taylor started off by playing the cello but gave it up for the guitar, which Yo-Yo considers a wise decision.
12/4/08
poem by Gershon Hepner
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The Third Quartet I made the instruments in pairs - Two different pairs - Violin and viola, and violin and cello. They played very different things from each other all through the whole piece.
quote by Elliott Carter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Soft Sounds
Mute that trumpet.
Mute that horn.
Mute the cryin'
when babies are born.
Maybe they're cryin'
'cause they're here.
Maybe they're cryin'
'cause they remember fear.
Mute that trumpet.
Mute that horn.
The babies need quiet
like before they were born.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Hernani
Cistercians might crack their sides
With laughter, and exemption get,
At sight of heroes clasping brides,
And hearing--O the horn! the horn!
The horn of their obstructive debt!
But quit the stage, that note applies
For sermons cosmopolitan,
Hernani. Have we filched our prize,
Forgetting . . .? O the horn! the horn!
The horn of the Old Gentleman!
poem by George Meredith
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Interlude narrative verse for M lady Ernestine
The silent cello waits in vain.
Her owner can no longer play,
her twisted joints in so much pain
Arthritis has now won the day.
Those hands which once caressed the strings
are gnarled and twisted dreadfully
Though in her mind the cello sings,
its silent in reality.
The music stored within its soul
longs for release impatiently.
Its destiny to play a role
assisting some child prodigy.
The owner cannot bear to part
with her treasured instrument.
She holds a dream deep in her heart.
Some one will come who’s one intent
to learn to play the cello well.
Prepared to suffer for their art,
beglamoured by the subtle spell
this cherished cello can impart.
Her children show no interest,
no musical ability.
Perhaps, she thinks it’s for the best
The cello waits impatiently.
One day her grandchild comes to call
A pretty child who’s not yet five.
She exhibits no fear at all
her fingers bring the strings alive.
The cello knows this is the one.
The child it has been waiting for.
and grandma knows she has passed on.
The love she felt so long before.
Before she learnt to play a note.
She knew it was her destiny
that music was the antidote
to soothe her sensitivity..
The chills is lost in wonderment
and strokes the cello lovingly.
This could not be an accident.
It was her grandma’s legacy.
She seemed to know instinctively
Just as her grandmother had done
That music was her destiny.
The cello knew that it had won
In course of time the girl surpassed
The skill her grandma had possessed.
It was the spell the cello cast
She always said that made her best.
When grandma died she died content
Her well loved cello sang again.
Now her grand daughter’s instrument
Their patient wait was not in vain..
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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I really enjoy singing and I really enjoy acting, but singing I've been doing since I was really young.
quote by Lindsay Lohan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What It Is They Do
Some folks enjoy doing things.
While other folks 'are' what they enjoy doing!
Some folks enjoy cooking.
And then there are cooks.
Some folks enjoy singing.
And then there are those who sing.
Some folks enjoy writing.
I know I do,
And I've been told I am a writer.
Some folks have no problem,
Producing what they do.
And others will say they don't have the time.
Although they waste it telling folks,
What it is they do...
And yet nothing of that,
Ever gets done!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Melody of a Shattered Soul!
If you give him one of these instruments?
Guitar, Bass, Violin
Mandolin,
Viola, Cello, Banjo
Lute, Bouzouki
Ukulele and more!
His fingers could touch every string
And he sings the deep sorrow
Deeper than an Ocean.
There's no stage for him in this cruel World
And he strums his broken Ukulele
in a dark street corner under a starry night.
You can hear the melody of a shattered soul!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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I've never taken vocal lessons. My early trumpet training and a fortunate talent for singing has always been enough for me. In the case of rock singing, I've always felt it was better to remain a bit untrained to maintain your individuality.
quote by Ronnie James Dio
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I play drums, clarinet, saxophone, trumpet, french horn, piano.
quote by Norman Wisdom
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Philharmonic Orchestra and the Soliloquy
I play the miraculous Cello and the Tambourine too.
And my beloved plays rest of the instruments on & off!
And also she does Soprano.
In our hard times when hunger invades the band
She sings in her high pitch
And my fiddle gives the saddest tune of the Life
In its base rhythm of the Violin family!
Though it's bitter and melancholy
We play ourselves and listen together
As the Audience left the Theater earlier.
*To Peter llych Tchaikovsky for his Waltz from Eugene Onegin!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Deaf Trumpeter
How long are you going to trumpets
Your sad melody for the Trumpet flower in the Trumpet woods?
Brother! You get trampled one day by the trumpet weeds
And we never hear of you again.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The trumpet was not a lyrical singing instrument.
quote by Herb Alpert
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Can't Go On
How can it be easy to forget you when I think about you all the time
I never know how I miss you when I never had you, well nevermind
I move on, but I can't go on without you
Said I try, don't know why, what to do without you
Can't move on, can't move on
It'd be cool if we never met, if we never locked eyes
Then I'd feel so happy, not knowing you're so fine
I move on, but I can't go on without you
Said I try, don't know why, what to do without you
Can't move on, can't move on
I get so nuts when I'm around you there's nothing I can say
I wish you'd get outta my head, I think about you every day
I move on, but I can't go on without you
Said I try, don't know why, what to do without you
Can't move on, can't move on without...
ROCK!
I move on, but I can't go on without you
Said I try, don't know why, what to do without you
Can't move on, can't move on, can't move on, without... you
song performed by by Good Charlotte
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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