INDIE

Aug 11

0

Verano

By admin | ACOUSTIC, ALL CONTENT, ALL SONGS, AMBIENT, CINEMATIC, COLLABORATIONS, CULTURE, ELECTRONIC, FOOD FOR THOUGHT, INDIE, INSTRUMENTAL, LATIN, MUSIC, MYCST PRODUCTIONS, NEW SONGS, RAD, WORLD

<a href="http://memoriesyoucanswimto.bandcamp.com/track/verano">Verano by Memories You Can Swim To</a>

acoustic, tribal, electronic, latin, drums, hand drums, world, tycho, percussive, percussion, brazilian, brazil, peru, thievery corporation, night vibes, club song, dj, party, festival, globe, evolution, new wave, sophisticated, melodic, instrumental, upbeat, dance, happy, feel good, groovy, spanish, hispanic, summer, verano

music, producer, audio, mycst, memories you can swim to, license, licenses

Aug 03

0

I See You All the Time

By admin | ACOUSTIC, ALL CONTENT, ALL SONGS, BEST OF, DRIVING, EXPERIMENTAL LANDSCAPES, FEATURED, FOLK, INDIE, MUSIC, OUTDOOR, TRAVEL, VISUAL ART, VOCAL

SONG: I SEE YOU ALL THE TIME

In our everyday lives, we hardly take into account the specific details of our surroundings; when we wake up, where we drink our coffee, our routine drive to work. When we lose someone, those details suddenly reveal themselves as if they had been waving at us the whole time.

In our everyday lives, we hardly take into account the specific details of our surroundings…

0067,electronic, experimental landscapes, acoustic, folk, single, best, important, featured, greatest hits, samples, sampled, sound design, guitar, ukulele, songwriter, vocal, singer, love song, storytelling, broken heart, breakup, divorce, break up

music, producer, audio, mycst, memories you can swim to, license, licenses

All We Need is a Little Wind

By admin | ACOUSTIC, ALL CONTENT, ALL SONGS, AMBIENT, CINEMATIC, ELECTRIC GUITAR, ELECTRONIC, EXPERIMENTAL LANDSCAPES, IMPROVISATION, INDIE, INSTRUMENTAL, MEDITATION, MUSIC, OUTDOOR, RAD, RAW, SOUND HEALING, YOGA

<a href="http://memoriesyoucanswimto.bandcamp.com/track/all-we-need-is-a-little-wind">All We Need is a Little Wind by Memories You Can Swim To</a>

SOS: ALL WE NEED IS A LITTLE WIND

A piece inspired by desperation.

133, chill, ambient, chillout, beach, ukulele,
ambience, tranquil, zen, electric guitar, slide guitar, relax, relaxing, beach house, surfing, high, marijuana, meditative, meditate

music, producer, audio, mycst, memories you can swim to, license, licenses

Aug 01

0

Healing In Pink

By admin | ACOUSTIC, ALL CONTENT, ALL SONGS, ELECTRONIC, EXPERIMENTAL LANDSCAPES, FOLK, INDIE, MUSIC, NOSTALGIC, RECORDING, VOCAL

SONG: HEALING IN PINK

Do you remember a specific moment in your life when knew you broke a personal barrier? Some people call them revelations.

I just remember being mind blown from the recent trip out west. The perspectives I had on life changed drastically as I slowly tried growing out of my little box. I had a mic and laptop, guitar and a 200 year-old house. The room was bright pink. Whoever modeled it had a strong affinity for the color, but it reached me strangely and awkwardly where I needed it most. So I set up my equipment, recorded stomps on the old wooden floor planks, wrapped a rubber band around my guitar strings, let the dog inside, and started. Was it the color? The company? The age?

Do you remember a specific moment in your life when knew you broke a personal barrier? Some people call them revelations…

0029,electronic, experimental landscapes, acoustic, folk, single, best, important, featured, greatest hits, songwriter, healing, room, recording, production, antique, old, nostalgic, elders, vintage, retro, guitar, violin

music, producer, audio, mycst, memories you can swim to, license, licenses

To Help You Stop Smoking

By admin | ACOUSTIC, ALL CONTENT, ALL SONGS, ALL VIDEOS, COLLABORATIONS, ELECTRONIC, EXPERIMENTAL LANDSCAPES, INDIE, MISC, MUSIC, VISUAL ART, VOCAL, WEIRD

A post shared by Memories You Can Swim To (@memoriesyoucanswimto) on Aug 16, 2015 at 11:54pm PDT

SONG: TO HELP YOU STOP SMOKING

A rad collaboration with our friend, Josh Tabbia at Already Dead Tapes.

0045,electronic, acoustic, experimental landscapes, experiment, weird, raw, spacey, driving, intimate, hybrid, interesting, unique, guitar, vocal, electric, cool, bass, distorted, fx, sound design

music, producer, audio, mycst, memories you can swim to, license

Aug 01

0

Swing Low

By admin | ALL CONTENT, ALL SONGS, AMBIENT, CINEMATIC, ELECTRIC GUITAR, EP'S, LP'S, SPLITS, FOLK, INDIE, INSTRUMENTAL, INTERPRETATIONS, MUSIC, NOSTALGIC

NOSTALGIC: SWING LOW [EP]

Uncle Wallace Willis was a Choctaw freedman

living in the Indian Territory, in what is now Choctaw County, near the city of Hugo,

Oklahoma. His dates are unclear: perhaps 1820 to 1880.

He is credited with composing several Negro spirituals.

0132, nostalgic, vintage, retro, electric guitar, soft, soothing, spirituals, gospel, slave songs, hymns, wallace willis, explosions in the sky, stratocaster, interpretation, cinematic, old, cover, remix

music, producer, audio, mycst, memories you can swim to, license, licenses

Aug 01

0

Introducing Doldrums

By admin | ACOUSTIC, ALL CONTENT, ALL VIDEOS, BEST OF, DOLDRUMS, FOLK, IMPROVISATION, INDIE, MISC, MUSIC, RAD, RAW, SURFING, VISUAL ART

SELF-HELP, SUCKS TO ADMIT: DOLDRUMS

doldrums, acoustic, groove, peaceful, tranquil, happy, surfing, water, ocean, video, water footage, easy listening, mellow, loops, loop pedal, live, performance, inspiration, art, interesting

mycst, memories you can swim to, license, licenses, artist, production company, california, media

Aug 01

0

On Raglan Road

By admin | ALL CONTENT, ALL SONGS, AMBIENT, ELECTRONIC, FOLK, INDIE, INTERPRETATIONS, MUSIC, NOSTALGIC, POETRY, RAD, VOCAL

INTERPRETATION: ON RAGLAN ROAD

Dug deep into my family past.

On Raglan Road on an autumn day I met her first and knew
That her dark hair would weave a snare that I might one day rue;
I saw the danger, yet I walked along the enchanted way,
And I said, let grief be a fallen leaf at the dawning of the day.

On Grafton Street in November we tripped lightly along the ledge
Of the deep ravine where can be seen the worth of passion’s pledge,
The Queen of Hearts still making tarts and I not making hay –
O I loved too much and by such and such is happiness thrown away.

I gave her gifts of the mind I gave her the secret sign that’s known
To the artists who have known the true gods of sound and stone
And word and tint. I did not stint for I gave her poems to say.
With her own name there and her own dark hair like clouds over fields of May

On a quiet street where old ghosts meet I see her walking now
Away from me so hurriedly my reason must allow
That I had wooed not as I should a creature made of clay –
When the angel woos the clay he’d lose his wings at the dawn of day.

Dug deep into my family past.

On Raglan Road on an autumn day I met her first and knew
That her dark hair would weave a snare…

0051,electronic, experimental landscapes, single, best, important, featured, greatest hits, nostalgic, vocal, poetry, patrick kavanagh, dubliners, folklore, irish, synthesizers, synth, electric guitar, interpretation, cover, coldplay, texture, pattern

music, producer, audio, mycst, memories you can swim to, license, licenses

Geometry

By admin | ALL CONTENT, ALL SONGS, ALL VIDEOS, AMBIENT, BEST OF, CINEMATIC, DRAWINGS, DRIVING, ELECTRONIC, EXPERIMENTAL LANDSCAPES, ILLUSTRATION, INDIE, INSTRUMENTAL, MUSIC, ORCHESTRAL, OUTDOOR, PHOTOGRAPHY, RAD, TRAVEL

SONG: GEOMETRY

0070,electronic, experimental landscapes, orchestral, weird, raw, synth, synthesizer, drawing, illustration, art, clouds, caffeine, instrumental, noise, spacey, oregon coast, dichotomy, russ rubin, collaboration, driving, video, nature

music, producer, audio, mycst, memories you can swim to, license, licenses

Aug 01

0

Goodbye Home

By admin | ACOUSTIC, ALL CONTENT, ALL SONGS, ALL VIDEOS, AMBIENT, BEST OF, ELECTRONIC, EXPERIMENTAL LANDSCAPES, INDIE, MUSIC, NOSTALGIC, POETRY, RAD, RAW, VISUAL ART, VOCAL

SONG: GOODBYE HOME

Cracks and holes in Victorian walls
Pink noises coming from above and all around
The scent of stale chips and old spinach
Don’t know what I’m doing, but I’m keeping my head down

Cracks and holes in Victorian walls…

0041, electronic, experimental landscapes, acoustic, instrumental, raw, room, alone, family, lost, money, distorted, guitar, synth, feedback, mic, noises, glitch, organ, ethereal, reverb, spacey, dark, slow tempo, adolescence

music, producer, audio, mycst, memories you can swim to, license, licenses

To the cultures celebrating the tribal mentality through music: Thank you.

Like a blistering moon on a warm night.

In our everyday lives, we hardly take into account the specific details of our surroundings; when we wake up, where we drink our coffee, our routine drive to work. When we lose someone, those details suddenly reveal themselves as if they had been waving at us the whole time.

In our everyday lives, we hardly take into account the specific details of our surroundings…

In our everyday lives, we hardly take into account the specific details of our surroundings; when we wake up, where we drink our coffee, our routine drive to work. When we lose someone, those details suddenly reveal themselves as if they had been waving at us the whole time.

A piece inspired by desperation.

Do you remember a specific moment in your life when knew you broke a personal barrier? Some people call them revelations.

Do you remember a specific moment in your life when knew you broke a personal barrier? Some people call them revelations…

A rad collaboration with our friend, Josh Tabbia at Already Dead Tapes.

Uncle Wallace Willis was a Choctaw freedman

living in the Indian Territory, in what is now Choctaw County, near the city of Hugo,

Oklahoma. His dates are unclear: perhaps 1820 to 1880.

He is credited with composing several Negro spirituals.

Dug deep into my family past.

On Raglan Road on an autumn day I met her first and knew That her dark hair would weave a snare that I might one day rue; I saw the danger, yet I walked along the enchanted way, And I said, let grief be a fallen leaf at the dawning of the day.

On Grafton Street in November we tripped lightly along the ledge Of the deep ravine where can be seen the worth of passion’s pledge, The Queen of Hearts still making tarts and I not making hay – O I loved too much and by such and such is happiness thrown away.

I gave her gifts of the mind I gave her the secret sign that’s known To the artists who have known the true gods of sound and stone And word and tint. I did not stint for I gave her poems to say. With her own name there and her own dark hair like clouds over fields of May

On a quiet street where old ghosts meet I see her walking now Away from me so hurriedly my reason must allow That I had wooed not as I should a creature made of clay – When the angel woos the clay he’d lose his wings at the dawn of day.

Dug deep into my family past.

On Raglan Road on an autumn day I met her first and knew That her dark hair would weave a snare…

…that I might one day rue; I saw the danger, yet I walked along the enchanted way, And I said, let grief be a fallen leaf at the dawning of the day.

On Grafton Street in November we tripped lightly along the ledge Of the deep ravine where can be seen the worth of passion’s pledge, The Queen of Hearts still making tarts and I not making hay – O I loved too much and by such and such is happiness thrown away.

I gave her gifts of the mind I gave her the secret sign that’s known To the artists who have known the true gods of sound and stone And word and tint. I did not stint for I gave her poems to say. With her own name there and her own dark hair like clouds over fields of May

On a quiet street where old ghosts meet I see her walking now Away from me so hurriedly my reason must allow That I had wooed not as I should a creature made of clay – When the angel woos the clay he’d lose his wings at the dawn of day.

Cracks and holes in Victorian walls Pink noises coming from above and all around The scent of stale chips and old spinach Don’t know what I’m doing, but I’m keeping my head down

Cracks and holes in Victorian walls…

Cracks and holes in Victorian walls. Pink noises coming from above and all around. The scent of stale chips and old spinach. Don’t know what I’m doing, but I’m keeping my head down.

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On Raglan Road on an autumn day I met her first and knew
That her dark hair would weave a snare that I might one day rue;
I saw the danger, yet I walked along the enchanted way,
And I said, let grief be a fallen leaf at the dawning of the day.

On Grafton Street in November we tripped lightly along the ledge
Of the deep ravine where can be seen the worth of passion’s pledge,
The Queen of Hearts still making tarts and I not making hay –
O I loved too much and by such and such is happiness thrown away.

I gave her gifts of the mind I gave her the secret sign that’s known
To the artists who have known the true gods of sound and stone
And word and tint. I did not stint for I gave her poems to say.
With her own name there and her own dark hair like clouds over fields of May

On a quiet street where old ghosts meet I see her walking now
Away from me so hurriedly my reason must allow
That I had wooed not as I should a creature made of clay –
When the angel woos the clay he’d lose his wings at the dawn of day.

On Raglan Road on an autumn day I met her first and knew
That her dark hair would weave a snare…

…that I might one day rue;
I saw the danger, yet I walked along the enchanted way,
And I said, let grief be a fallen leaf at the dawning of the day.

On Grafton Street in November we tripped lightly along the ledge
Of the deep ravine where can be seen the worth of passion’s pledge,
The Queen of Hearts still making tarts and I not making hay –
O I loved too much and by such and such is happiness thrown away.

I gave her gifts of the mind I gave her the secret sign that’s known
To the artists who have known the true gods of sound and stone
And word and tint. I did not stint for I gave her poems to say.
With her own name there and her own dark hair like clouds over fields of May

On a quiet street where old ghosts meet I see her walking now
Away from me so hurriedly my reason must allow
That I had wooed not as I should a creature made of clay –
When the angel woos the clay he’d lose his wings at the dawn of day.

Cracks and holes in Victorian walls
Pink noises coming from above and all around
The scent of stale chips and old spinach
Don’t know what I’m doing, but I’m keeping my head down