Songs Of Experience David Axelrod

Music:

Member Since: 9/15/2007
Band Website: www.davidaxelrodmusic.com
Band Members: David Axelrod, The composer wishes to thanks the following people for their musicianship ans assictance : John Arnold, Benjamin Barrett, Samuel Boghossian, Bobby Bruce, Al Casey, Gary Coleman, Douglas Davis, Allen De Rienzo, Al Dinkin, David Duke, James Getzoff, John Groomer, Terry Hatton, Fredereck Hill, William Hymanson, Robert Jung, Armard Kaproff, Carol Kaye, Richard Leith, Lew McCreary, Arthur Maebe, Louis Morell, Gareth Nuttycombe, Earl Palmer, Don Randi, Myron Sandler, Sidney Sharp, Jack Shulman, Freddie Slatkin, Jeffrey Solow, Marshall Sosson, Robert Sushel, Anthony Terran, Kenneth Watson...David Axelrod's other compositions and arrangements include Mass in F minor on Songs of Innocence, and variety of material for Lou Rawls.Conducted By Don Randi/Recording Engineer: Rex Updegraft.Dedicated to Sandy
Influences: Jazz Fusion
Sounds Like: Side One: A Poison Tree, (I was angry with my friend: I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow.And I watered it in fears Night and morning with my tears, And I sunned it with smiles And with soft deceitful wiles.And it grew both day and night, Till it bore an apple bright, And my foe beheld it shine, And he knew that it was mine -And into my garden stole When the night had veiled the pole; In the morning, glad, I see My foe outstretched beneath the tree. )A Little Girl Lost, ( Children of the future age, Reading this indignant page, Know that in a former time Love, sweet love, was thought a crime.In the age of gold, Free from winter's cold, Youth and maiden bright, To the holy light,Then, in rising day, On the grass they play; Parents were afar, Strangers came not near, And the maiden soon forgot her fear.Tired with kisses sweet, They agree to meet When the silent sleep Waves o'er heaven's deep, And the weary tired wanderers weep.To her father white Came the maiden bright; But his loving look, Like the holy book All her tender limbs with terror shook."Ona, pale and weak, To thy father speak! Oh the trembling fear! Oh the dismal care That shakes the blossoms of my hoary hair!" )London, (I wander thro' each charter'd street, Near where the charter'd Thames does flow, And mark in every face I meet Marks of weakness, marks of woe.In every cry of every Man, In every Infant's cry of fear, In every voice, in every ban, The mind-forg'd manacles I hear.How the Chimney-sweeper's cry Every blackning Church appalls, And the hapless Soldier's sigh Runs in blood down Palace walls.But most thro' midnight streets I hear How the youthful Harlot's curse Blasts the new-born Infant's tear, And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse.)The Sick Rose, (O Rose, thou art sick! The invisible worm, That flies in the night, In the howling storm,Has found out thy bed Of crimson joy; And his dark secret love Does thy life destroy. )Side Two: The School Boy, (I love to rise in a summer morn When the birds sing on every tree; The distant huntsman winds his horn, And the skylark sings with me. Oh, what sweet company!But to go to school in a summer morn, Oh! it drives all joy away; Under a cruel eye outworn The little ones spend the day In sighing and dismay.Ah! then at times I drooping sit, And spend many an anxious hour; Nor in my book can I take delight, Nor sit in learning's bower, Worn through with the dreary shower.How can the bird that is born for joy Sit in a cage and sing? How can a child, when fears annoy, But droop his tender wing, And forget his youthful spring?O, father and mother, if buds are nipped And blossoms blown away, And if the tender plants are stripped Of their joy in the springing day, By sorrow and care's dismay,How shall the summer arise in joy, Or the summer fruits appear? Or how shall we gather what griefs destroy, Or bless the mellowing year, When the blasts of winter appear? )The Human Abstract, (Pity would be no more, If we did not make somebody Poor; And Mercy no more could be, If all were as happy as we;And mutual fear brings peace, Till the selfish loves increase; Then Cruelty knits a snare, And spreads his baits with care.He sits down with holy fears, And waters the ground with tears; Then Humility takes its root Underneath his foot.Soon spreads the dismal shade Of Mystery over his head; And the Caterpillar and Fly Feed on the Mystery.And it bears the fruit of Deceit, Ruddy and sweet to eat; And the Raven his nest has made In its thickest shade.The Gods of the earth and sea, Sought through Nature to find this Tree, But their search was all in vain; There grows one in the Human Brain.)The Fly, (Little Fly, Thy summer's play My thoughtless hand Has brushed away.Am not I A fly like thee? Or art not thou A man like me?For I dance And drink and sing, Till some blind hand Shall brush my wing.If thought is life And strength and breath, And the want Of thought is death,Then am I A happy fly, If I live Or if I die. )A Divine Image,(Cruelty has a human heart, And Jealousy a human face; Terror the human form divine, And secrecy the human dress.The human dress is forged iron, The human form a fiery forge, The human face a furnace seal'd, The human heart its hungry gorge. )The Poems of William Blake
Record Label: Unsigned