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Posts Tagged ‘From Sour To Cinnamon’

From Sour To CinnamonMy 21st album, From Sour to Cinnamon, is now available on iTunes, Amazon, Spotify, CD Baby, and other places where music is (still) sold. As I’ve written previously, it’s an album of pop songs with some dark undertones.

The album art was provided by my 8-year-old son Xander.

While the last Salon de la Guerre album displayed my recent obsession with country music, this album is all pop, and most of it was generated with keyboards in Garage Band (though I play guitar on the  the song “A Kid’s Inside,” an ode to youth and play and silliness and joy).

Again, all songs written, performed and produced by yours truly.

Enjoy one of the latest tracks here:

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Tangled in the sun, the bird he flew
Came back, didn’t say what he knew
Came back with a song he knew only as a scream
Came back in a life he knew only as a dream

Wax in my ears, the siren quakes the sea
I don’t know what the sirens sing to me
Basaltic rock you wake dead or as a king
When you hear the sirens sing
Stuffed my ears with the wax from the bees
I don’t know what the Sirens sing

I ate a bird, something that flew
I wondered if it he knew he was through
I fly when I dream and that means I fly
People think they can’t, I don’t know why
Tangled in the sun the bird he flew
Came back didn’t say what he knew

Wax in my ears the siren quakes the sea
I don’t know what the sirens sang to me
Basaltic rock you wake dead or as a king
When you hear the sirens sing
Stuffed out ears with the wax from the bees
I don’t know what the Sirens sang to me

(Lyrics to the song “The Sirens,” now available on the Salon de la Guerre album From Sour To Cinnamon, copyright 2019.)

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We bounce on the Siberian ground
The snow absorbs the laughing sound
Your breath has shards and your voice is weak
And when the soil breaks, its gas will speak

Of the sometimes lips of Siberian birds
On their grocery rounds, speak in minor thirds
They too act with a unitasking brain
The gas on which they float is sane

Find its idiom in childish lungs
Stentorian notes and Götterdämmerung
Mingles and cocktails with poisons in the air
And the masses of people who once lived there

Gas gives its spirit, its spirit released
Its valediction, the ocean its priest
And when its moment of flower has ceased
The human hole seeks to close in peace

Find its idiom in childish lungs
Stentorian notes and Götterdämmerung
Mingles and cocktails with poisons in the air
And masses of people who once lived there

And it got too hot for us to live there
But our letters remain, its past we share
The flowers open, the flowers stare.

(Lyrics to “Methane Moth,” from the new Salon de la Guerre album From Sour to Cinnamon.)

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The latest Salon de la Guerre album drops this week. It’s called From Sour To Cinnamon, and it’s a slate of big candy-like pop songs with a dark center. Check out this track from the album, set to release Monday.

All the wrongs on this album were made by yours truly, including music, lyrics and production.

“Amphibious Grandkids”
By Eric Randolph Rasmussen
Copyright 2019

Take them to the aquarium
Take them to the Grand Canyon
Set your grandkids loose to swim
While you sit at look at ’em.

The froggy skin and the set of gills
You never knew we’d have them
But these fish were spawned from your loins
You’d never know to look at them

Your grandchild no longer walks the earth
Or plays his video game

A patronymic and a set of fins
And the memory of land
Your legacy in sedimentary rock
Your fossil of vestigial hands
Cause you bequeathed your sons a water world
While you drove your car around

Your grandchild no longer walks the earth
Or plays his video game
Now he plays with a set of flippers
But still has your name

A patronymic and a set of fins
And the memory of land
Your legacy in sedimentary rock
Your fossil of vestigial hands

Cause you bequeathed your sons a water world
While you drove your car around
Once you thought you’d take Manhattan
Now it’s all Long Island Sound

I don’t believe that he glitch-killed me
It was crazy enough to kill you
Amphibious grandkids swim away
Too hungry to be mad at you

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Pointing to the surprise eggs hatching toys and puzzles

Helicopter to the rescue; found out about my Hot Wheels

Daddy, how will it ever rise the plane outside my window?

Cause the airfoil will lift it up, son, and that thought makes him humble

 

Daddy’s dancing, parts the dance floor like the Red Sea

Because I could not stop for death, he kindly did the cabbage patch for me

 

Plastic saucer spinning down

Snow cakes up the mountain

A toddler picks his daddy up

Someone had to be in charge then

Remember to keep pedaling, faster when you’re falling

 

Zipper ride, airboat, ice skates, checkers, Cyclone, teacup ride

Race with trains, jump from airplanes to keep the kid inside

 

I get slow and you get fast, but I work so hard to keep up

A threatening hill and a crashing bike, it’s OK just a little blood

And he hates sleep there’s a brittle moon and he cries cause he won’t see it

That’s OK—you’re sad right now but a new day will come and you can rise and greet it

 

It’s OK, we don’t have to play you can stare outside the window

There’s a whole world inside your head, much more than you’ll ever know

But I teach you and then you teach me things that I forgot from pride

I help you and you help me; don’t forget to keep a kid inside

 

Don’t forget Dad that you have to keep the kid inside

 

–Eric Rasmussen

(These are lyrics from my 2019 song “A Kid’s Inside,” from Salon de la Guerre’s upcoming pop-rock album, From Sour to Cinnamon.)

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From Sour To CinnamonThis might be a little surprising, since I just released an alt-country album two months ago, but my “band” Salon de la Guerre is now refreshed and relaxed after its (um, OK, my) vacation to Florida and is ready to rock again.

Perhaps it was five days of splashy pastels and silly amusement park rides, but I started writing pop songs on the plane ride home and soon had 11 of them to package into a new album. I pulled out the guitar a couple of weeks ago for the song I’ve attached here, a paean to youth and optimism and joy and nostalgia. Not the usual Salon de la Guerre stomping grounds, I’m sure you longtime (sometime, anytime?) fans will agree. It kind of sounds like something out of the ’90s, right?

“A Kid’s Inside” is slated to appear on my next album, From Sour To Cinnamon, a work of dark pop songs that I’m finishing up now. This is not only my 21st album, but the one that helped me mark a new milestone: my 300th songwriting credit.

Please enjoy this taste of my next phase. Because let’s face it, by the time you’ve digested it, I’ll probably be in another phase.

(FYI: My gifted 8-year-old son Xander helped me with the artwork on the new batch of songs.)

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