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Taisbean EP

by Drew McNaughton

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1.
Taisbean 03:28
Taisbean Chì mi coille 'nam aigne Le rùsg ùr air gach craobh 'S an àile eadar na geugan làn reultan. 'S tha aon chraobh nam measg - Mo chraobh-sa Chaidh a chur nuair bha an saoghal òg, 'S i nis aost' is àrd Le freumhan làidir domhainn san Talamh 'S geugan a' suathadh nan Nèamh. Craobh a' chairdeas: Philodendron.
2.
Why can't we learn to open our eyes And see what's around us? That person dancing next to you, That perfect human being is A wonder Heart pumping, lungs breathing What extraordinary workings In the things we cannot perceive. And we are alive to the pulse The echoing rhythmic flow Of beats deep within us, A fire inextinguishable, leaping Dancing flame incandescent, Sparking blazing vision. I reach out my fingertips to the Sun in dazzling skies, I Want to feel that power and I radiate that power. Those around me feel my power And I feel theirs because my Power is the same as theirs. The inner source which connecting us Is shared by all in common, From huge whales to the smallest bacteria. From an interior perspective We are all the same, it is only Exterior appearances that delude us. It is the illusion that deludes us. The real reality cannot delude us And it is that which we feel in our hearts. We feel it in our bodies, hands, arms Legs and belly, strong shoulders and Sturdy calves which electrical Impulses continually keep toned. Look around and see the body, How it moves, and when you see It move you will see the inner Spark that guides its motion. You will see the inner spark That guides its motion Guides its motion Motion
3.
Music and culture have their roots In the land and in the shifting sand. Places once hallowed for their artistic role Now stand merely a shattered husk of a whole. Neglect, sore neglect of even young Detroit Whose fame sprang once from the Motown Sound, Holland, Dozier and Holland, Diana Ross, Smokey, the Four Tops now at a loss To see how the city has crumbled from within, And the likes of Ritchie Hawtin, Juan Atkins, All those pioneers who infused the electronic With soul, brought to tears. And if the forgetfulness of those so Great of late can happen with such haste Then a tragedy of much greater magnitude is The fate of that well-spring of world renown: Damascus. It seems no wonder that the world Has barely heard the cries and Pitiable screams of terror from the Once magnificent crucible of the West’s arts, letters and music. Another place tearing itself apart from within While society stands by with blinkered eye Conveniently forgetting the immense debt of Gratitude we owe to them.
4.

credits

released April 17, 2017

Written, performed and produced by Drew McNaughton
Translation by Angus Peter Campbell
Album artwork by Anna Oberfeld
Mastered by Keith Morrison at Wee Studio, Stornoway

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Drew McNaughton Scotland, UK

Drew McNaughton is a musician and poet who was born in Concord, Massachusetts and has greatly admired the writing of Emerson and Thoreau for many years. At an early age he also found that he was particularly drawn to the poetry of W. B. Yeats which has continued to be a major influence. Now living in Scotland he has recently been listening to Gaelic musicians and singers such as Julie Fowlis. ... more

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