✧ Project: Orpheus - Imagine Create Share ✧

LiveeviL2000 said:
Alright. The concept album you never thought you wanted, were waiting for or even saw coming!

The Pitch ...
A mythic metal fantasy tale of an oppressed child who's teacher is hardship and pain. The child grows and defies the established order. Fights back and becomes a legend.
I know what you are thinking ... "Conan?" ... no, much more epic!!!

The concept album.

"FORGED in CHAINS: The Rise of BarbarianBob

1) Ash in the Cradle
2) Bruised by Every Name
3) The Village that Bowed
4) Blood and Sand
5) Breaking Chains
6) Steel and Flesh
7) Barbarian Born
8) War and Ruin
9) Screams of Kings (The Fall of Empires)
10) The Legend Carved in Bone
Click to expand...
Well , I guess I am slacking in a big way !
 
TVvoodoo said:
Don"t get too far ahead sir... this is a side challenge for later.. but can I say "AWESOME?" ... totally is!
Click to expand...
Sorry. But I need the imagery
Also was starting to outline some ideas. And as the randomness of the cosmos filters through my metalhead brain.
The title to Track 7 was altered to Barbarian Born Of Battle (B.O.B.)
 
LiveeviL2000 said:
Sorry. But I need the imagery
Also was starting to outline some ideas. And as the randomness of the cosmos filters through my metalhead brain.
The title to Track 7 was altered to Barbarian Born Of Battle (B.O.B.)
Click to expand...
Apparently, despite the initial demurral:
'Just to confirm, Barbarian Bob is NOT in my story, (but maybe I can work him in, as product placement).'
(and in true barbarian fashion), Bob has invaded and taken over.
He's not IN the story; he IS the story.
He is not to be denied!
 
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One thing that is so cool by having something in front of you to challenge you forward in music,

Not participating but watching you guys close & to see all the creative thoughts is nice. Especially with a forward movement you actually can see & your vision come to life.

This challenge actually got me doing 10 songs & for the first time, care about the outcome vs just creating. But so much more has bloomed out of it. Just needed provoked to go to the next level.

It is so similar to what this thread is doing but just with dif approach.

What is crazy is it brought out new songs for BFT to be for the band, new songs for Phos & even some P&W type.

The process put me in a mindset of riff & chorus progressions & a goal somewhere..>>>>> over there....one day.. reached, maybe.. has a constant creating force moving forward within, highly motivated !

Very interested to see if you guys get the results you are going for and if AI brought it out or you still have to coax it out from your creativity to make AI give the result you had in mind
 
I posted in P#52
Quote

“Initially my interest is to write a space exploration fictionally worded.
I would use terms and nostalgics with recognizable terms but it turns out that pesky devil on my shoulder has some discouraging words.”

Songs , titles! What’s in a name?
Poooooooooooooooooo……..
Seat of the pants is how I fly !
Step 1. Prelude
1.5 The Capture of Sheena ( The Molecule Eraser)
2. 6 String Montage de' Sativa
3. Channel of Tesla
4. Maze of Chaos
5. No Common ( Sensor)
6. Space Traffic
7. Rash by Galaxy Slide
8. Ancient Relic
9. Cyberspace Operation
10. Molecule Eraser
( Reprise / Rainbow Chaser)
 
frostyjr2 said:
Apparently, despite the initial demurral:
'Just to confirm, Barbarian Bob is NOT in my story, (but maybe I can work him in, as product placement).'
(and in true barbarian fashion), Bob has invaded and taken over.
He's not IN the story; he IS the story.
He is not to be denied!
Click to expand...
For somebody who missed the initial emergence of BarbarianBob. You seem to have a deep and thorough understanding of the savage.
 
Writing lyrics is hard but I enjoy the process. To get in the mood and stoke the creative juices I put in the ear buds and listened to some Spotify country songs from the 70s and 80s. They really knew how to tell a story. I got some ideas floating around now. Time will tell if something comes of this. I've also started filling out my basic outline for the album.
 
Kerry Brown said:
Writing lyrics is hard but I enjoy the process. To get in the mood and stoke the creative juices I put in the ear buds and listened to some Spotify country songs from the 70s and 80s. They really knew how to tell a story. I got some ideas floating around now. Time will tell if something comes of this. I've also started filling out my basic outline for the album.
Click to expand...
When queried about his own songwriting, Bob Dylan once stated that he never listened to any songs performed by any of his peers to avoid influence on any of his own compositions.
@Kerry Brown
Go with your heart and tell your own story.
 
Sargeant Preston said:
When queried about his own songwriting, Bob Dylan once stated that he never listened to any songs performed by any of his peers to avoid influence on any of his own compositions.
@Kerry Brown
Go with your heart and tell your own story.
Click to expand...
I was listening more for song structure, how rhyming is structured, etc. Some of the Nashville songwriters were very good at this, telling a story in a melodic, rhymical way.
 
The Keeper of Darkness

prologue - ‘Love You To Death' (ERICA) 1965, NYC

soundtrack:

I was sitting in a dark smoke filled bar letting the sound of the music wash over me as it took me far away from all the cares and worries of my everyday life.
The haze created by the smoke as it rose up towards the spotlights formed a sort of halo around the man i’d come to see.
Now, there he was right in front of me, sitting onstage with a big smile on his face, playing a ballad.
His rendition of the melody had almost moved me to tears; it seemed to express all of the bittersweet nature of love in just those first 32 bars, and as he began running the chord changes seemingly without effort the other three members of the band provided the perfect accompaniment as if by mental telepathy.
The music was truly magical.
In the throes of inspiration, they had run way over the usual 40 minutes most clubs allotted to musicians before clearing the house for the second set.

At this rate, i wasn’t sure there would be a second set.
It seemed as if Wes would just keep playing until he ran out of ideas, and it didn’t look like that was going to happen any time soon. It felt as if he was channeling the music from another plane, letting it flow through him and into us, and we were all enraptured by it, fully transported out of that space and time into infinity.

The two drinks i had consumed in order to satisfy the club’s table minimum were already starting to make my head feel a bit light and my body feel flushed; i really wasn't much of a drinker back then.
Although by now i was feeling the call of nature, i hadn’t wanted to try to make my way through the cramped club to the restroom in order to relieve myself.
I wasn’t willing to miss a single second of this experience, but though my focus on the music was keeping my mind occupied, my body was starting to make a bid for my attention.

My ‘date’ suddenly broke into my transfixed reverie, touching my hand and leaning over to say, “This is so great, isn’t it?”
I murmured back, “Yeah, it’s really cool!”

At first, i was annoyed that he had interrupted my trance, but within an instant or two, i was over it; the music was that powerful.
Cool … yes, indeed, i thought; it was very cool.
It was cool to be here in this downtown club. It was cool to be listening to this great guitar man and this amazing band.

Cool … i used the word a lot, so much so that my few friends at college had actually nicknamed me ‘Cool’. It was kind of a joke to them, because i was anything but cool, really.
Although i had grown up in the suburbs of New York City, most of the city was as unfamiliar to me as if i had come from a small town somewhere in the Midwest.
I had gone to an all-girls parochial school and then had decided to matriculate at the Manhattan School of Music, where i was studying classical guitar and taking education classes on the side at Barnard College.
That part was decidedly not cool, but my mother insisted that i should get a degree that would lead to a teaching job; that way at least i would be able to make a living.
After hearing Wes, what i really wanted was to be a pro jazz musician but considering how that scene worked and my background, i had to agree with her logic that becoming a schoolteacher seemed to be the best path open to me at the time, especially since i wasn’t all that keen on the idea of finding some boy to marry.

I wasn’t interested in boys at all, in fact.
This was yet another reason why my date’s interruption had been so annoying to me.

We had met just a few days before in a neighborhood record store.
Both of us had been browsing the jazz section for new releases, and as we were standing next to each other flipping through the LP racks he struck up a casual conversation with me. He seemed to know his stuff; when i discreetly quizzed him by asking a few questions about recordings, bands, and musicians, he gave all the right answers.

He was a student at Columbia University; their campus was only a short distance from MSM. When he asked me if i wanted to go with him to hear the great Wes Montgomery at The Half Note on Saturday night i agreed without thinking twice even though this boy was a complete stranger.
A chance to hear the man i considered to be the greatest guitar player in the whole world wasn’t something I’d ever pass up no matter the circumstance.
I was a Wes fan through and through, ever since I’d first heard his tune ‘Four On Six’ coming out of the speakers in front of that same small record shop as i passed by on my way to class.
It stopped me in my tracks. I went in to the store to ask what they were playing, and when they told me, i bought the record immediately.

It was beautiful, and it was perfect. I had needed this so badly in my life, and never known it until then.

After that first exposure, I sought out every Wes Montgomery recording i could find. His sound moved me like nothing else i had ever experienced up until then.
Jazz became my new religion and Wes was the preacher.

Strange, I know, for a young middle class white girl from the suburbs to be a fan of a black jazz guitarist back then and if you’d asked me why I couldn’t have told you at the time. All i knew was that this music was speaking to me as directly as if someone was whispering in my ear.
Most girls my age were into singers. They wanted to hear a good looking young man singing a romantic pop song.
That wasn’t my bag though.
Jazz music was the one thing that made me feel alive; made me feel happy, or sad; made me feel anything at all, really.

I had grown up in a reserved household where only classical music or the hymns we sang at church on Sundays were allowed, but that was fine as far as i was concerned because most of the popular music of the day held little to no appeal for me.

In fact, until i heard Wes for the first time I didn’t know there was anything else out there for me besides classical music, but afterwards, well … it was as if he had set me free.

Little did i know it then but he had also set me on the path to what i am now because that was the night that i met Hannah.

Hearing my idol had me entranced; for the whole time the band was playing it seemed as if time stood still but finally the last notes faded into the smoke-filled air and I had to come back to reality as if waking up from a beautiful dream.

As we were getting ready to go, my date was helping me put my coat on when i felt his hand brush against my chest lightly.
I was somewhat embarrassed, but i didn’t make any fuss because I thought it was probably an accident.
We had walked out of the club and around the corner when he steered me into a small alleyway and leaned in to try to kiss me.

I tried to pull away. I guess he had gotten a different idea about what things were going to be like between us. He was certainly handsome and I‘m sure that he was used to girls fawning over him, but i had only been there for the music.

“Please don’t do this,” i said as his arms wrapped around my waist, pinning me to him.
“Please, no … don’t!”, I said, a bit more forcefully this time but i really didn’t want to make a scene in public.
It was my own fault that i'd fallen into this trap, and i needed to find my own way out.

I finally managed to push him away and then i slapped him as hard as i could.

He was angry and it showed on his face, reddened now by both his ire and by my hand.
“You’re just a little tease, aren’t you?”
He spat contemptuously, “Well, I can’t be bothered with that!”

He turned on his heel and strode off without another word, leaving me alone in the alley with my head foggy, my emotions in turmoil, and my clothes in disarray.
I hadn’t done anything to lead him on, to give him the wrong idea, had i?
I thought we’d just go to the club and enjoy the music; why did he have to go and make it into something else?

As i tried to rearrange my clothing, i suddenly became aware of an odd feeling, as if i was being watched.
I looked towards the street thinking that I would see someone standing there but i was all alone, at least as far as i could tell.
So, balancing precariously on unfamiliar high heels and hobbled somewhat by the tight black wool skirt i was wearing, i headed towards the nearest subway station since i didn’t have enough money in my purse to afford a cab back uptown on my own.

Although i hadn’t seen anyone near me i still couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, and between the drinks, my upset state, and that weird sensation I must have been very distracted because i stepped off of the sidewalk into the street against the light.

A loud honk broke me out of my daze but it was too late. I felt the brutal impact as the car hit me, tossing me up into the air like a rag doll before it sped away.

I hit my head hard as i fell to the pavement and then i was lying in the gutter, my life slowly ebbing away.

Even though i was aware that i was dying, i felt embarrassed by my stupidity: first to put myself in a situation where i’d be assaulted and then to get hit by a car. Stupid, silly, senseless girl ...
As if any of that really mattered now.

The glow from the streetlight was fading faster, but i glimpsed a shadowy figure as it appeared over me and i felt myself being lifted up from the street.
There was a sudden, searing pain at my throat, and then i blacked out.

(to be continued)
https://soundcloud.com/frostyjr2%2Fthe-keeper-of-darkness

no AI was or will be used here.
 
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frostyjr2 said:
The Keeper of Darkness

prologue - ‘Love You To Death' (ERICA) 1965, NYC

soundtrack:

I was sitting in a dark smoke filled bar letting the sound of the music wash over me as it took me far away from all the cares and worries of my everyday life.
The haze created by the smoke as it rose up towards the spotlights formed a sort of halo around the man i’d come to see.
Now, there he was right in front of me, sitting onstage with a big smile on his face, playing a ballad.
His rendition of the melody had almost moved me to tears; it seemed to express all of the bittersweet nature of love in just those first 32 bars, and as he began running the chord changes seemingly without effort the other three members of the band provided the perfect accompaniment as if by mental telepathy.
The music was truly magical.
In the throes of inspiration, they had run way over the usual 40 minutes most clubs allotted to musicians before clearing the house for the second set.

At this rate, i wasn’t sure there would be a second set.
It seemed as if Wes would just keep playing until he ran out of ideas, and it didn’t look like that was going to happen any time soon. It felt as if he was channeling the music from another plane, letting it flow through him and into us, and we were all enraptured by it, fully transported out of that space and time into infinity.

The two drinks i had consumed in order to satisfy the club’s table minimum were already starting to make my head feel a bit light and my body feel flushed; i really wasn't much of a drinker back then.
Although by now i was feeling the call of nature, i hadn’t wanted to try to make my way through the cramped club to the restroom in order to relieve myself.
I wasn’t willing to miss a single second of this experience, but though my focus on the music was keeping my mind occupied, my body was starting to make a bid for my attention.

My ‘date’ suddenly broke into my transfixed reverie, touching my hand and leaning over to say, “This is so great, isn’t it?”
I murmured back, “Yeah, it’s really cool!”

At first, i was annoyed that he had interrupted my trance, but within an instant or two, i was over it; the music was that powerful.
Cool … yes, indeed, i thought; it was very cool.
It was cool to be here in this downtown club. It was cool to be listening to this great guitar man and this amazing band.

Cool … i used the word a lot, so much so that my few friends at college had actually nicknamed me ‘Cool’. It was kind of a joke to them, because i was anything but cool, really.
Although i had grown up in the suburbs of New York City, most of the city was as unfamiliar to me as if i had come from a small town somewhere in the Midwest.
I had gone to an all-girls parochial school and then had decided to matriculate at the Manhattan School of Music, where i was studying classical guitar and taking education classes on the side at Barnard College.
That part was decidedly not cool, but my mother insisted that i should get a degree that would lead to a teaching job; that way at least i would be able to make a living.
i really wanted to be a pro jazz musician, but considering how that scene worked and my background, i had to agree with her logic that becoming a schoolteacher seemed to be the best path open to me at the time, especially since i wasn’t all that keen on the idea of finding some boy to marry.

I wasn’t interested in boys at all, in fact.
This was yet another reason why my date’s interruption had been so annoying to me.

We had met just a few days before in a neighborhood record store.
Both of us had been browsing the jazz section for new releases, and as we were standing next to each other flipping through the LP racks he struck up a casual conversation with me. He seemed to know his stuff; when i discreetly quizzed him by asking a few questions about recordings, bands, and musicians, he gave all the right answers.

He was a student at Columbia University; their campus was only a short distance from MSM. When he asked me if i wanted to go with him to hear the great Wes Montgomery at The Half Note on Saturday night i agreed without thinking twice even though this boy was a complete stranger.
A chance to hear the man i considered to be the greatest guitar player in the whole world wasn’t something I’d ever pass up no matter the circumstance.
I was a Wes fan through and through, ever since I’d first heard his tune ‘Four On Six’ coming out of the speakers in front of that same small record shop as i passed by on my way to class.
It stopped me in my tracks. I went in to the store to ask what they were playing, and when they told me, i bought the record immediately.

It was beautiful, and it was perfect. I had needed this so badly in my life, and never known it until then.

After that first exposure, I sought out every Wes Montgomery recording i could find. His sound moved me like nothing else i had ever experienced up until then.
Jazz became my new religion and Wes was the preacher.

Strange, I know, for a young middle class white girl from the suburbs to be a fan of a black jazz guitarist back then and if you’d asked me why I couldn’t have told you at the time. All i knew was that this music was speaking to me as directly as if someone was whispering in my ear.
Most girls my age were into singers. They wanted to hear a good looking young man singing a romantic pop song.
That wasn’t my bag though.
Jazz music was the one thing that made me feel alive; made me feel happy, or sad; made me feel anything at all, really.

I had grown up in a reserved household where only classical music or the hymns we sang at church on Sundays were allowed, but that was fine as far as i was concerned because most of the popular music of the day held little to no appeal for me.

In fact, until i heard Wes for the first time I didn’t know there was anything else out there for me besides classical music, but afterwards, well … it was as if he had set me free.

Little did i know it then but he had also set me on the path to what i am now because that was the night that i met Hannah.

Hearing my idol had me entranced; for the whole time the band was playing it seemed as if time stood still but finally the last notes faded into the smoke-filled air and I had to come back to reality as if waking up from a beautiful dream.

As we were getting ready to go, my date was helping me put my coat on when I felt his hand brush against my chest lightly.
I was somewhat embarrassed, but i didn’t make any fuss because I thought it was probably an accident.
We had walked out of the club and around the corner when he steered me into a small alleyway and leaned in to try to kiss me.

I tried to pull away. I guess he had gotten a different idea about what things were going to be like between us. He was certainly handsome and I‘m sure that he was used to girls fawning over him, but i had only been there for the music.

“Please don’t do this,” i said as his arms wrapped around my waist, pinning me to him.
“Please, no … don’t!”, I said, a bit more forcefully this time but i really didn’t want to make a scene in public.
It was my own fault that I’d fallen into this trap, and i needed to find my own way out.

I finally managed to push him away and then i slapped him as hard as i could.

He was angry and it showed on his face, reddened now by both his ire and by my hand.
“You’re just a little tease, aren’t you?”
He spat contemptuously, “Well, I can’t be bothered with that!”

He turned on his heel and strode off without another word, leaving me alone in the alley with my head foggy, my emotions in turmoil, and my clothes in disarray.
I hadn’t done anything to lead him on, to give him the wrong idea, had i?
I thought we’d just go to the club and enjoy the music; why did he have to go and make it into something else?

As i tried to rearrange my clothing, I suddenly became aware of an odd feeling, as if i was being watched.
I looked towards the street thinking that I would see someone standing there but I was all alone, at least as far as i could tell.
So, balancing precariously on unfamiliar high heels and hobbled somewhat by the tight black wool skirt i was wearing, i headed towards the nearest subway station since i didn’t have enough money in my purse to afford a cab back uptown on my own.

Although i hadn’t seen anyone near me, i still couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, and between the drinks, my upset state, and that weird sensation I must have been very distracted because i stepped off of the sidewalk into the street against the light.

A loud honk broke me out of my daze but it was too late. I felt the brutal impact as the car hit me, tossing me up into the air like a rag doll before it sped away.

I hit my head hard as i fell to the pavement and then i was lying in the gutter, my life slowly ebbing away.

Even though i was aware that i was dying, i felt embarrassed by my stupidity: first to put myself in a situation where i’d be assaulted and then to get hit by a car.
As if any of that really mattered now.

The glow from the streetlight was fading faster now, but then i glimpsed a shadowy figure as it appeared over me.

I felt myself being lifted up from the street, and then i lost consciousness.

(to be continued)

no AI was or will be used here.
Click to expand...
Wow! That is an amazing story.
@frostyjr2
You normally post strictly instrumental music. Is it your intention now to add vocals to your music within this project?
 
Sargeant Preston said:
Wow! That is an amazing story.
@frostyjr2
You normally post strictly instrumental music. Is it your intention now to add vocals to your music within this project?
Click to expand...
Thanks so much!
That was just the prologue; there's a lot more to come and it's going to get pretty weird pretty fast, but hopefully the ride will be worth it.

The music i'm making for this project will be all instrumental stuff, but there will be written prose chapters to stand in for lyrics/vocals.
Role reversal: normally the music accompanies the story but here it will be more like the opposite i think.

Keeper of Darkness Chapter 1 will drop here on Jan. 3 if all goes according to plan.
 
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