Music for Adventure

by tkalec

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  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    A very nice vinyl print of tkalec' new album 'Music for Adventure' including a 4-page booklet with all the lyrics. Artwork by the absolute legend Simon Goritschnig. Limited to 200 pieces and looking incredibly sweet.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Music for Adventure via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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    edition of 200 

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  • Full Digital Discography

    Get all 17 Alternate Audio releases available on Bandcamp and save 20%.

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Theatre Works, Music for Adventure, Schwarzer Kaffee Remix EP, Dreamcaster, VioLiebe, Grey City Life, Recollections, Dawnlight Reflections, and 9 more. , and , .

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1.
Down 02:59
Down Do we pull the same rope, Row the same boat, March to the same old beat? Join in communion of blood and tar? Was it not Pandora’s jar? Banners high and blazing… But will all the star-gazing not pull us down? Into the ground… Polar ice, fraternal ice, Both are keen in melting. What’s with the firm chill, Why are we not up ablaze? Would you not rather be in space? Banners mildly afloat in the vacuum… But will all the star-grazing not pull us down? Into the ground… And all the gravity that once bound myself, Just a planet afloat, now I’m floating as well And there’s another dawn dawning, purplish and brown – Oh can’t you see? I even blink the other way around! And every undeterred photon – And photons abound – Tells me We’re going down…
2.
Detective Perspective A rubber duck family afloat at the sea In a vast reef of rubble and an insolent plea, They’re swimming in circles and searching for sense And wait for another aeon to commence. A cracked submarine, four warheads amiss, Deep down you can hear the chanting of fish: ‘Rust and remembrance, interdependence, Blubber and flubber and amiss...’ Redwood and cedar entwined in a waltz: Each year a step and every other a halt. A ballet in amber, just a riddle at dawn, A million in timber unravelled the saw. Detective Perspective, Looks like you’ve got yourself a case. Detective Perspective, I don’t think you can turn that one away. Detective Perspective, Please would you shed some light: We talk about ebb, we talk about flow, Do we talk about the tide? Colon and liver are playing a game of chess, And the scrotum’s quite good, but the brain is the best. But in different matters, alternate affairs, The head is quite useless, but the heart is right there. And ‘Yes,’ nods the nodder, ‘I’ll do as I will!’ ‘Yes,’ plots the plotter, ‘I’ll do as I feel!’ And plotting his course, clutching the wheel, He drives to buy shit in two tons of steel. A buzz in the grass, a humble bee, in the morrow she flies. A cough, pretty rough, a ladybug lays down to die. All creatures afloat, all creatures so high in a myriad of fields All tainted with poison for maximum yields. Detective Perspective, Looks like you got yourself a case. Detective Perspective, I don’t think you can turn that one away. Detective Perspective, Please would you shed some light: We talk about ebb, we talk about flow, Do we talk about the tide?
3.
Embers 04:20
Embers Once upon a time the pearly sun fell on my face And childhood sounded free with chimes and bells. Little did I know that I was meant to be a slave And subjected just like everybody else. Until that dismal day that dreary stranger came to me And meant it was required to grow up, He said ‘Boy, you see, we run this very odd machinery, In which I need you to become a cog.’ Turning, turning, Spin the world higher and higher. Burning, burning, Burn like embers drawn from the fire. Hush! And you can hear the woodworks creaking Under the heavy load of lousy plush decor. Hush! And you can hear the puppets squeaking In neon harmonies and songs of evermore. But work! And you shall hear the coins a-dripping, A soothing tinkle, sonic balm on your wounds. Work! And you shall plent’ly be a-sipping From brimless crystal, flowering with boons. Turning, turning, Spin the world higher and higher. Burning, burning, Burn like embers drawn from the fire. Is it not cruel to send the unsuspect adolescent On a ravaging crusade against himself? Is it not misery? A constant state of bigotry? Gradually becoming someone – someone else? Turning, turning, Spin the world higher and higher and higher and higher. Burning, burning, Burn like embers drawn from the fire.
4.
Troll 03:34
Troll On a misty mountain morning, mirthlessly and mad, Don Juan the mountain troll fell right out of bed. His nose a dripping icicle, his hair a wiry mess, When with a whump! he waxed the floor with excess body fat. When with a whump! he waxed the floor with excess body fat. Confessing: I love my mountain life, but sometimes I don’t. Usually I abide my nightmares, but sometimes I just won’t. Boy, I love my cave a-dwelling, but now I’m not so sure, What it is I do and what the hell I’m a doing it for. Don Juan what you’ve been dreaming? Pick your head up from the floor! Things are not as they are a-seeming, What’s behind that cellar door? All the things you’ve been amassing Drag you to the mountains core, All the things you’ve been caressing Make you so afraid for more. Esmeralda mountain princess woke to her husband’s spleen Sounding from beneath the bed, both absurd and serene. Don Juan, my mountain love, she said, I know your trouble’s deep, But tell the sprites that haunt your soul at nighttime I must sleep. Tell the sprites that haunt your soul at nighttime I must sleep. Confessing: I love your mountain life, but sometimes I don’t. Usually I abide your nightmares, but sometimes I just won’t. Boy, I love your cave a-dwelling, but now I’m not so sure, What it is I do and what the hell I’m doing it for.
5.
Jade? 03:55
Jade? Every time a blackbird sings Crimson tales of fallen kings, Tempted deeds of amber hue, I hear midnight hymns of me and you. Siren’s songs like sonic statuettes, Years gone wrong, no coming back, Sulky paths trodden in the air, Long I saw, how did I not care? Mystic’s flight or mystic plight? Come, fathom me my fortune! When on wings of jade and fire I burnt myself alive. I recall running through the fields, See-saws and back-bends and listening and talking of yields, Future’s song was calling me to dance, So distant now, a faint remembrance. And when I focus I still hear your voice through the door that kept separate our lairs, And sometimes we’d meet and we’d hear and rejoice and our music would ring through the air. Then we’d sit on the floor, playing games, smoking weed, then go back try to work through the draught, And I wonder what we’d have achieved had I not died of thirst and declared it all naught. Mystic’s flight or mystic plight? Come, fathom me my fortune! When on wings of jade and fire I burnt myself alive. And I wonder why life goes the way that it goes, Why one day you have all and the next you’re alone, No matter how hard that you try and keep afloat, Your best is sometimes enough, And sometimes not.
6.
Obsolescence (feat. Aimee Jacob Oliver) If rational modernity is measurable eternity; And progression, technology, science, teleology; If quantity is quality, and quality formality; And optimum efficiency is digital proficiency; Could you then, I beg you, please, Calculate just what it is Why I feel so ill at ease? I feel like unplanned obsolescence In a place that’s turning grey. When life has taught its lessons, Was I here? Was I away? Did I miss out on the quintessence? Has my way led me astray? I hear you talking, But I don’t get what you say... If civilized modernity is capital in eternity, And liberal democracy mere corporate plutocracy; If all is buying, selling, hoarding, masturbating, waterboarding; And my responsibility stockpiling futility; Could you then, I beg you please, Advertise just what it is That I need to buy to buy me peace? I feel like unplanned obsolescence In a place that’s turning grey. Oh when life has taught its lessons, Was I here? Was I away? Did I miss out on the quintessence? Has my way led me astray? I hear you talking, But I don’t get what you say...
7.
The Fields of Rye Mountains ‘fore dawn, blackbirds whistling Shallow creeks streaming to the shore The fading stars, oh he’d missed ‘em And missed the silence even more Octopus minds, itchy trigger fingers A sylvan canvas all painted black A king with no land and no wisdom ‘One day’, he promised, ‘I’ll get back’ Going down, down with the river Down, down the slipstream of time Down, down with the river Down in the fields of rye A bed of thistles, thyme and shrubbery The weary moonlight sickening with shade Lotus blossom, dead opossum, Marble clouds and clay Red blood dripping from a scarlet blade Etched in the gold embrace of dawnlight An earth that gives and takes again And one is all and all is starlight All save the barren fields of man Below vermillion skies eternal A drowning sibilance in black Only the wind a vagrant warden Wafts with a promise long dead Going down, down with the river Down, down the slipstream of time Down, down with the river Down in the fields of rye
8.
The Rain That Never Falls Sometimes I feel like the rain that never falls Marooned in effigies, hidden and appalled A sullen fog on cloudy carvings in the sand Before the ocean tide takes me in again Home, carry me home, you loving grace Born, I want to be reborn in your embrace Like lovers meet in tender melodies And be at one again I’d walk as far as heaven and farther then Sometimes I feel like the scarred and tarry moon Half of me is in darkness and my light is not my own Obscured by funnely clouds drowned in pastel skies I stand a puzzled piece and watch my evening draw nigh Whole, swallow me whole, you loving whale Born, I want to be reborn in your entrails Like lovers meet in tender melodies And be at one again I’d walk as far as heaven and farther then Until the dawn reddens my face Until the sun forgets my name And until all fades away All but my love
9.
Mason 03:33
Mason Steadfast and cold, As the hammer blows, Such is fate, a fate in stone, Carving for night under the sun. And the star burns, The clouds they float And the wind flies. And the mountain abides it all. I wish I were the sun. Dressed in fiery gown I’d look forever down, And sometimes you’d hate me, But just for what I am. What’s the measure of a mason? And what’s his aspiration? Just rudiments that condescend, Or how he hides the stitches that it took to mend? Or neither of all the things that I know about, That I care about, that transcend this simple thought? But the clouds swarm and cast shade Oh, I’d rather be a cloud, it’s not too late! But being a cloud, so shapeless and free - My wind, where’re you pushing me? That you roam the skies unbound And with your slender wings Carry the flock southwards In the wintertime? I wish I were. Steadfast and cold, To the mountain blows The wind, and finds a fate in stone. Yet mountains tremble at the mason’s approach…
10.
Tales from the Underworld When the seed of all that you say that I don’t understand Is plunged deep in the soil of my head Through procedure, so alienly humane, And it it’s watered by the brine of my despair, to what other end, Than for it to root, flower, blossom and shade The petty remnants of the sun that was my mind? And it grows like weed in the garden of my soul, And I don’t know what venomous fruit I have brought, And it blossoms to filth and ripens to poison And I’m just amazed at so different a taste Is this love – or waste? When the fear of all you could be comes dragging you down Arresting both your life and mine, Through conceptions, entirely misaligned; And you stand firm in chaos and debris, telling me: all is sound, When all is flight wherever you turn In the great phantom chase of your madness. And it grows like weed in the garden of your soul But still you hold on to the spectre of control, And it blossoms to filth and ripens to poison And you’re too exhausted from running away, Where’s your love gone astray? Will you ever see the end of the road? I don’t know. Will I be there waiting for you? I don’t know. Will our lives ever entwine? Will our love ever shine? Will my heart mend in time? I don’t know. But then I saw it, and saw it again, Or else I would not have believed. I still hear you talk of love, dreams and plans, But then you were free? I guess I need to see a thousand times Before I finally know inside. Guess I need to feel a million times Before I accept you’d let me die. And will you ever see the end of the road? I don’t know. Will I be there waiting for you? Sad but true, I don’t know. Will our fates ever entwine? Will our love ever shine? Will my heart mend in time? I don’t know.

about

The new album of your most unpronounceable lute player tkalec, replete with 3 guest apperances of absolute legends and also available on vinyl to really appreciate the beautiful cover.* 'What an instant classic!' you may think, and indeed we may confirm, no one has ever done this album before. So go ahead and grab ye one of the limited edition of 200 LPs before obsessive collectors all over the globe realize the opportunity and they all end up in some vault.

*Also raises your charisma stat while having it on display.


REVIEWS:
- Music Austria: www.musicaustria.at/tkalec-music-for-adventure/
- Zitronenhund: zitronenhund.blogspot.com/2020/06/tkalec-music-for-adventure-review.html
- Rockblog Bluesspot: rockblogbluesspot.com/2020/02/28/georg-tkalec-music-for-adventure/
- Die Brücke: issuu.com/kaernten-kunst-und-kultur/docs/bruecke_nr17-v5_aprilmai20 (page 60)

credits

released April 20, 2020

Written & composed, performed & produced by Georg Tkalec. Mastered by Lukas Turza at Snap Mastering.

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Independent label for quality wayward underground music. Based in Austria.

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