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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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BleedSalon de la Guerre has just released its 19th album, Bleed. It’s a collection of punky, poppy and occasionally soulful songs that sometimes drifts into country-ish singing and which features at least one of my out-of-control guitar solos.

The album is now available on Amazon, iTunes, CD Baby and Spotify, among many other music streaming services in the U.S. and abroad.

I can’t speak for comparisons, but my friends say the album reminds them of Mark Lemhouse, the Pixies and/or Black Francis, Sugar and/or Bob Mould and Matthew Sweet. If you’d asked me, I would have said that I’d had the Rolling Stones, Roxy Music, X and (yes) the Pixies in mind, but only because I always have these groups in mind when I’m doing anything. I have two songs where the harmony vocals are probably the major attraction and I think I sound a little like Seals & Crofts. Not something I would have planned. At some point, your inspiration and direction must compromise with the reality of your voice and what it does well. I often wish I had a Sonic Youth voice, but I don’t really.

I wrote, performed and produced the album and I’m responsible for all the sounds and solos, some of which are on actual guitar, some of which make use of Apple’s wonderful Garage Band software for the iPhone.

Here is a sample of one of the new songs, with lyrics:

“Praise Javelin” by Salon de la Guerre
Music and Lyrics By Eric Rasmussen
Copyright 2019

Now the time has come to praise javelin
Civil war is now your brand
Biblical violence and the handshake of a salesman
A peaceful finger turn to warful hand

Sky worshipper protecting the land
Easy to use; easy to understand;
You see crosses and cross the land

You turned to homicidal ideation
When the masses came and turned on your man
You speak cant and speak the tongues of babble land
Fashion words into a fisted hand

Sky worshipper protecting the land
Easy to use; easy to understand
Biblical violence is now your brand

Where pretty baby did you get that complex?
Was it the woody finish of a vintage wrath?
Praise the father and his heart full of GORE-TEX
Praise the mother made of wire and cans

Sky worshipper protecting the land
Easy to use; easy to understand;
You see crosses and cross the land

There’s a scrap of the prophecy in my hand
No longer tied to the ideals of my homeland
There’s a scrap of the prophecy in my hand
And in my dreams, I inherit nothing but sand

 

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