This is the first recorded version of the instrumental Trent Boswell piece called “Scorpio.”
It was done with an acoustic guitar, no mic, straight into a cheap, handheld tape deck. It was the kind nobody owns anymore, but was in classrooms, lawyers offices, and company boardroom meetings. Super high-tech stuff, lemme tell ya.
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The fancier, official recording is on the album Area 25 by Trent Boswell, and it features bass, drums, and electric lead guitar.
album artwork by Dorian Strange
If you’re like me, you are not nearly cool enough to use Spotify (the link above). Uncool, Gen X guys like me use services like Apple Music.
Late last year, I moved to Portland, Oregon. It’s a wonderfully weird place. The locals actually say, “Keep Portland weird.” There’s a large mural of that saying, somewhere in the city. Everything about this place is quirky, eccentric, and hence, I should fit in here, just fine.
I also started a new job. I’m working in the mental health field. No, I’m not a doctor, therapist, and definitely not a psychiatrist. I just work for a company that trains us to assist people who have one or more mental health diagnoses, addiction problems, or who have lived on the streets, but are now in reliable housing, provided by the state. It’s a good gig. I get paid well, to help the people who really need help the most.
On Friday night, it started snowing, the temperatures were bottoming out as low as 18°F. That’s well below freezing, and it doesn’t even account for the windchill factor.
The other, less positive side of Portland, is that the homelessness crisis here is really bad. It’s almost impossible to go anywhere without seeing at least one car, RV, tent, or lean-to type shelter that someone is using to live in.
I first discovered this song from the band Junip. When I realized that it’s a cover of Bruce Springsteen, I found the original, and loved it, too.
This morning, it’s so cold outside, that neither my dog nor myself want to go outside any longer than is absolutely necessary. But, there are people out there, living in tents and sleeping bags.
I woke up to this song playing, I had left my phone on shuffle all night to help me sleep. I listened to it, looked at the weather, then became obsessed.
I’d never played this song before, but I learned it, then I recorded all the guitar and bass parts, and sang the vocal, and recorded it, and mixed it. Basically my whole Sunday went into this.
I plan to make a video for it, but I wanted to get this out, because I worked on it nonstop all day.
The Ghost of Tom Joad
Men walkin’ ‘long the railroad tracks Goin’ someplace there’s no goin’ back Highway patrol choppers Comin’ up over the ridge Hot soup on a campfire under the bridge
Shelter line stretchin’ ’round the corner Welcome to the new world order Families sleepin’ in their cars in the Southwest, No home no job no peace no rest
The highway is alive tonight But nobody’s kiddin’ nobody About where it goes I’m sittin’ down here in the campfire light Searchin’ for the ghost of Tom Joad
He pulls a prayer book out of his sleeping bag Preacher lights up a butt and takes a drag Waitin’ for when the last shall be first, and The first shall be last In a cardboard box ‘neath the underpass
Got a oneway ticket to the promised land You got a hole in your belly and gun in your hand Sleeping on a pillow of solid rock Bathin’ in the city aqueduct
The highway is alive tonight Where it’s headed everybody knows I’m sittin’ down here in the campfire light Waitin’ on the ghost of Tom Joad
Now Tom said, “Mom, wherever there’s a cop beatin’ a guy “The Ghost Of Tom Joad” lyrics Wherever a hungry newborn baby cries Where there’s a fight ‘gainst the blood and Hatred in the air Look for me Mom I’ll be there
“Wherever there’s somebody fightin’ For a place to stand Or decent job or a helpin’ hand Wherever somebody’s strugglin’ to be free Look in their eyes Mom you’ll see me.”
Well the highway is alive tonight But nobody’s kiddin’ nobody About where it goes I’m sittin’ down here in the campfire light With the ghost of old Tom Joad
Below, you’ll find links to get your copy, music videos from Area 25, plus the super-interesting, totally true, absolutely not made up backstory behind the album.
The excellent cover art was generously provided by Dorian Strange.
It really helps me out a lot when you give the videos a thumbs up 👍 leave a comment 💭 and share your favorites on your social media pages ♥️
Videos from Area 25
Unchanged
Into the Fold
Three Day Beard
Hopium Blues
Scorpio
Tact
War on Venus
I Wasn’t Using It
All Around
Upbeat Dance Number
We’re All Gonna Fade Away
At the Bottom
Mandala of Sand, Pt. 1
Trent Boswell Bio
Kevin Trent Boswell is a thing that once blinked briefly in and out of existence. It made noises and gestures while it lasted. The exact nature of its demise is unclear. Some sources say it collapsed beneath the weight of entropy and time. Other tertiary facts suggest the possibility that it was destroyed by a predator, an accident, or perhaps even by itself. The truth of the matter is unknown. Luckily, no one cares.
The Story Behind Area 25
Area 25 is a traveler’s atlas for navigating endless, winding caves, wormholes, cracks in reality, tears in the space-time continuum, black holes, abysmal hellscapes, and all of the most common types of bottomless pits that comprise the modern world.
The somber, dystopian audio guidebook is delivered over an eclectic musical soundtrack of rock, psychedelia, pop, funk, and dire expressions of poetic mental illness.
Area 25 is an exorcist’s manual for the perils of life on Earth for Homo sapiens. It catalogues the sundry catastrophes that plague the upright ape, namely those of poverty, depression, rejection of the tribe, and failed attempts at relationships, friendships, and spiritual endeavors.
Not for the faint of heart (nor the “feint” of heart), Area 25 is a dark, gritty, and gloomy telling of the myriad ways in which hominids undo themselves, rend each other asunder, and even casually rip apart their sole means of survival, the ecosystem in which they habitat. Odd beings, at best; horrible monsters, at worst.
Genesis
An ancient evil spirit was once trapped for centuries inside a dybbuk. Through the foolish mistake of some human, the demon escaped.
The ghoul found amusement in tormenting one particular human critter, who’s name was Trent Boswell. The tortures took shape by possessing the human with an inescapable obsession to create something called “Area 25.”
The demon wanted the brainless exploits of humans captured on record, so it would have something to laugh about, later; much like you might watch an episode of Seinfeld, even though you’ve already seen it several times.
The dark cruelty of this promethean ordeal rested in the fact that the human was entirely lacking the necessary resources for the production of a proper, commercially viable product. It was working only with a ten-year-old Macintosh computer, an old version of GarageBand, an inexpensive condenser mic, a FocusRite preamp, a cheap bass guitar, a pair of 3 1/2” monitors, and a nice Fender Stratocaster.
What the demon didn’t expect, is that the human would actually persist through said tribulations of substandard working conditions, and complete the project. Much to the demon’s surprise, the human finished the project, despite the lack of access to a professional recording studio, or the backing of a major record label.
The end result, a tabulation of human follies and foibles, will now provide the escaped beastie with comedic entertainment for the coming aeons, long after humans have disappeared from the planet; which should be anytime within the next couple of decades.
This was a refreshingly positive experience. With every post I make on Instagram, I get hit up multiple times for paid promotions. It’s always a sleazy approach like “I love your stuff! Let’s work together!” even though you know they sent that message so fast, they couldn’t possibly have listened to the song.
This guy Bobby asked me on TikTok if he could review me on his show tonight. I said yes, but I was thinking, “Wait for it… he’s going to hit me with a dollar amount, a pay-to-play thing.” I don’t do those. But he didn’t ask for anything. He’s got a pretty intelligent approach to it, he offers pay-to-play, but also gives free plays and reviews, no questions asked.
A spin and review on The Crockpot Cartel Show
He played a few minutes of my song (the format is that each song gets roughly two minutes, so he can fit more into the show). He gave some kind feedback on it and all he asks is that viewers stay active in the chats, giving ratings for each song (he uses a 1-1,000 rating scale). Even though most of what got played was either hip hop or rap, he stayed open to other genres. My music is really different from everything else I heard tonight, but he gave it equal time and thoughtful consideration.
In the chats, it looks like people rated my tune anywhere from 600 to 1,000 with an average of maybe 800 or 900. One person said 2,000 but that’s not inside the range you’re supposed to use 🤷♂️🙃
I was pleased, especially since most of the people there were making hip hop music. He asked everyone to add constructive criticism to any songs that they rated low, and said no hating on anyone. The overall thing was a nice surprise for sure.
You can catch his show and submit your music for consideration at: Bobby Everything
New Album on June 8th
June 8th release date
This album has the song on it that was reviewed in the show. The song is called “White Elephant.” You can watch the full video here:
I posted this song before, but I have entirely remixed it. The new mix sounds far superior to the original. I also shortened the title from “Tales of War On Venus” to “War on Venus.”
Lyrics:
We sit, swapping war stories We’ve barred all the windows and doors Each of us covered in blood Half of it mine, half of it yours
Two chairs, sitting face to face The room is bare, otherwise Suspiciously watching each other for Sudden movements, any shift in the eyes
There’s a word for why we’re here The trap, it fits us like a glove Explains all the mess and the misery And that four-letter word is love
Pause long enough to take a shot From the big bottle of poison We’re not much but we’re all that we’ve got We sweat bullets and swear “You’re the one. You’re the only one for me.”
Weapons at the ready, there in our laps Fingers never far from the trigger No one smiles, no one eats or sleeps Shots of whiskey and resentment get bigger
It’s no mystery how or where We both know who’s to blame, we insist Each of us swearing that the other struck first It was a case of love at first fist
There’s a word for why we’re here This trap, it fits us like a glove Explains all the mess and misery And that four-letter word is love
God Willin’ – an original, psychedelic, art rock tune by Magus (Kevin Trent Boswell)
God Willin’
Devil jump on ya When you least expect it With blood lust in his eyes
But you’ll pull through Like you always do… God willin’ and the creek don’t rise
Tax man poundin’ hard on your door Taking everything your money implies
Without turning to crime, You’ll survive on a dime… God willin’ and the creek don’t rise
Shacked up for love, but it didn’t work out Ain’t it painful when the love all dies?
But you’ll get off the street And find someone sweet… God willin’ and the creek don’t rise
Until the Lord himself Knocks you off your feet You keep on swingin’ And you can’t be beat God willin’
Screaming Boss Man Jack, ‘bout to break your back All your time out the window flies
You just smile and pick up his slack Because one day you’ll get him back… God willin’ and the creek don’t rise
The rivers can flood And the levies break But you know you gonna do Whatever it takes God willin’
To pay your bills, you need a little scratch So you borrow from Frankie But there’s just one catch: Frankie is one of them connected type guys
The juice is steep but you better not renege Less’n you want ol’ Frank to break your leg But you just know you’ll pay it off… God willin’ and the creek don’t rise
Drowning sorrows, feelin’ bereft You done lost a friend And didn’t have but one left And now that joker’s runnin’ around town, Spreading rumors and lies
Such a double crossin’ can’t happen twice Because after all, most folks is nice; At least that is… God willin’ and the creek don’t rise
Show ‘em a whole army Can’t ring your bell The devils, cheats and liars They can all go to hell God willin’
Intergalactic Funk #72 from the album Something in the Air by Trent Boswell
It’s a 70s funk theme, set in outer space. So put on your best pair of corduroy bell bottoms and platform shoes, dip your head in a bucket of glitter and step out onto the launch pad. We’re about to take the funk to a whole new level.
Space, the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Funkalyze.
I don’t do drugs anymore… than, say, the average touring funk band.
—Bill Hicks
Whenever I think about funk music, it has a look… and that’s how it sounds.
—Erykah Badu
I come equipped with stereophonic funk producin‘ disco inducin´ twin magnetic rock receptors.
—Bootsy Collins
Support the creation of new music, poetry and general madness, at:
Special thanks to the following people for providing the video footage and photos. If you enjoyed the visual aspects of the video, the credit is all theirs:
There are several tiers of support, each one with more benefits than the last, starting as low as $3 per month.
Many thanks to the following, for the images in the video. You may or may not like the music but if you like the video, the credit for that is all theirs.
I met tragedy yesterday On the south end, today He smiled at me Said “Walk this way” He took my hand, said to me “Welcome friend. You’ll be with me.”
Said “I’m pleased to know you.” Said “I’m pleased to do you.” Said “You may leave…” “You will return.” He said “You still smile, child…” “But you will learn.”
I am no hope***
I said “I want my freedom.” I said “I gotta be free.” So, I told that man… “Get the hell away from me.” I want my life I want my life I want my life Don’t need no tragedy
*** This is an unspoken lyric. It’s part of the original poem, included here for context.
Many are they Who have whispered lies Many are they Who have made me despise Many are the lies And many who have heard She knows that I could love her If not for fear of that word
You know that I’ll try Put a little sunlight in your eye You know that I’ll try Put a little shine in your smile And you know that You can come with me, anytime But you know that I have fear Of the fear and the lies
You may think you’ve seen this one but you ain’t. The new, improved and at least333% strangerversion of “Perception” from the album Flagship by Trent Boswell.
Lyrics:
Perception
What’s a man supposed to do? It’s hard today just not to lose So, when I’m down and beaten blue I look around and think of you
Sink into my contemplation Answers come with concentration
And strong opinions, well I have mine And you may find me blind But I don’t mind because it’s true; I’ve never needed to see you
Walking ‘cross the field, I realize that nothing’s real No pain or joy
Out on the lawn the past is gone I simply can’t be wrong anymore
Was paid a visit, a strange man He said that Jesus could lend a hand Now many a man can’t see the road Or make a stand on his own
If God is Love, then Love is God And you agree without a nod
This piece is from an upcoming collection of poems, called conjunct neptune. The details of the book are in the link, which is the first poem that I wrote in the series. If you haven’t been through that one, it might be more helpful to read it, first. There, I explain what the theme of the book is.
This piece is about Luna, our Moon, when She reaches the point in the roughly twenty-nine day, lunar cycle that She sits in the same space with Pluto… you know, that thing that wasn’t a Planet and then it was for a while… and then it wasn’t, again.
Pluto is similar in several ways to Saturn. The similarity resides in that both Saturn and Pluto/Hades represent a miserly, curmudgeonly, old and cranky energy. They’re both decidedly masculine in presentation but definitely not in a loving father kind of way. Saturn is said to have eaten his own younguns.
Saturn/Kronos Eating A Delicious Snack
Pluto is the Roman God of Wealth. While not identical in nature to Hades, He is similar enough, in many respects.
He holds dominion over wealth, particularly anything that is obtained from the Earth. Since our whole economy is (or was or ought to be; you decide) based on the trading of gold, silver and thousands of other minerals, that’s arguably a rather huge amount of influence on money.
All that goes into the making of the things we buy and sell and trade, it all comes out of the Earth. Even services use material resources (offices, paper recording keeping and endless cups of coffee). This means that they, too, are part of Pluto’s territory.
The Greek equivalent of Pluto is Hades, who is famous for presiding over the Underworld, as it was laid out in Greek mythology. While Hades is not synonymous with Christian concepts of Satan or the Devil, He was still considered to have a brooding, intense personality. It’s said that He was the least-liked of all the gods and usually called upon only for curses.
One thing is sure enough, when astrologers look to Pluto, when other planets are aspecting that body, the effect is one of intensification. Whatever it is, the force of Pluto is one that assists in creating wealth; many uber-rich folks have a Jupiter/Pluto conjunction in their natal chart. But that same energy acts as a multiplier of other ideas and behaviors, as well. Not all of them are good, by anyone’s yardstick.
Pluto generally gives a dark, rather gruff and grumbly, moody tone, one which is keenly interested in power, information, serious research, the accumulation of large amounts of money and so on. The characters of Scrooge and Dr. Frankenstein both come to mind.
Pluto’s influence is the stuff that spy novels, governmental coups and hostile corporate takeovers are made of. So when the lovely, sweet and nurturing energy of the Moon meets with the Lord of Hell, the mood tends to turn a little dark.
This is compounded by the fact that (among Her sweeter qualities) Luna is also a harbinger of mystery, confusion and sometimes, even madness. These are usually (although by no means, always) in reference to initiations and rites of passage. But sometimes, it’s the plain ol’ garden variety crazies.
When Luna conjoins Pluto, attitudes in general lean toward the more greedy, distrustful and even the downright paranoid.
This is not to say that a person who has Luna conjunct Pluto in their chart would have these terrible (or the more positive) traits. A person has many Planets and aspects between them, each thing acting as a counterweight against the others.
Here’s a neat list of famous peeps who have this aspect. They’re a wide mix of personality types, though it’s safe to say that most of them lean toward the intense side of things, even when it’s a positive flavor of intensity. So this piece isn’t about bashing anyone who has that aspect (nor is any other piece in the collection).
No, this is about the energy of these two stellar bodies, by themselves, if we were somehow able to isolate them from everything else. We cannot, obviously. In this hypothetical case, the nurturing of the Moon is almost always degraded and polluted by the the obsession that Pluto represents. The wealth multiplication of Pluto is deranged by the comfort-seeking of Luna and results in “I need all of it, so I can feel good.”
If you enjoy the poem, consider supporting more such creative madness and lunar/plutonian madness, by yours truly, over at Patreon/Magus72.
Now, bearing all of these arcane ideas in mind, I give you (or rather, I row you across the river Styx, to the dark, forlorn shores of)…
conjunct pluto
what fresh hell is this?
of what use, is your clever array of pointless words?
when all, soon enough, becomes kindling for the black flames of unforgiving abyss?
sour not, my tired ear, you tiny, petulant slug
muddle not, what little respite is left, of sweet, peaceful silence with all your futile mumblings of hope and dreams and other, such soap opera nonsenses
leave me alone
and keep all your words… all those pathetic, condemned souls, standing foolish on the gallows, as if last words were ever anything more than last
ask me no favors
i expect you to lie
for i see into the murky heart of all your dark, shady schemes all your plotting and planning to stab me in the back once i am not looking
and because of this, i am always looking
i am always watching
i never sleep
i have cameras and listening devices, bugs planted everywhere and a legion of spies
because one must take great care, and use only a measure of the mean, an average of what intelligence they offer using only the most plausible bits of what the bulk of them say
never place all your bets on the words of any one, particular spy because you cannot trust spies nor words, nor people, nor intelligence
nor anything else, for that matter; not that anything matters
the only thing that you can trust is that trust in anything is, in itself… untrustworthy
trust only that things will always break and that they must be repaired trust only that things will die and that the burial of these things is expensive
the undertaker is himself, always on the take and hence, i abstain from the taking on of anything that has a pulse because such things are merely mouths to feed they are things which get sick and doctors, too, are expensive and they are things which disappoint you, break your heart
but i’m more sensible than all that; i paid the doctor to remove my heart
most sensible purchase i ever made, that surgery
hearts and souls and conscience, these are luxuries that are far too expensive too many sick days, lost wages and worries which are not worth the wear and tear
but the point is…
i’m watching you because i know your ways
you and your patiently, waiting for me to die or to slip up or fumble, so that you may usurp my power
i know of all your clandestine, assassin’s designs your machinations for the taking of all that i have all that i have worked for and all that i have stolen all that i have swindled away from the trusting all that i have, only because i possessed the backbone, the fortitude, to slay the meek to take what was theirs and make it my own
in short… i know you
because i see the bitter truth of things, how all are self-concerned, consumed with self and nothing, nor anyone else
therefore, i keep to myself and i keep everything for myself i retain all that is, as my own
since when did anyone ever do anything for me?
you must take by force and by fakery by clever graft and by hard work and by brute force and by the bloody blade and you must never give anything away, not ever, not to anyone and never sell anything that you may need, later and never keep anything that you can sell and never sell anything too cheaply but never hold onto anything that is cheap and will depreciate in value, over time but never spend too much on anything
you understand?
you must be wily and wise and clever and most of all, ruthless and cunning
for all that there is, in this barren world, is the having of things and the having, not of things
there is the taking and the being took and nothing else
and they’ll all try to take everything that you took from someone else
they’ll try to take it for themselves in a heartbeat, leaving you with nothing but an empty basket of space, where things used to be
except that there will be no basket, because they’ll have taken that, too
and so, mark my words, you dying insect…
not that words were ever anything worth marking down, unless they were the words on the deeds to land and bank accounts…
you mark my words…
you’d better take and take quickly or else be took from
and you’ll be left not a solitary crumb, not a single morsel, to put into the greedy, little mouths of all your expensive, insect offspring
now, off and away with you
i’ve no time for you
i’m terribly busy, watching everything that was or is or ever will be
watching it all burn and crumble into ash and blow away, into oblivion
Video for the song “Pure” from the album, Flagship.
Pure
Stole me away into the black of my mind Brought me near the shore of insanity But then she came and swept me away Now we’re smiling; nothing left to say
God is good; God is great I’m in love and I won’t hesitate To tidy my mind and get my soul straight ‘Cause there’s nothing I want That Love can’t create
And of knowing you, I hope this is only the dawn
There’s only one thing left to be done That is to take our place in the sun Beneath the bright sky We’ll commandeer the breeze And drift through the universe Like autumn leaves
Of the world that’s brought me down You’ve been my cure Because you love me and challenge me To be pure
From the album Crossing the Rubicon, electronic music by Kevin Trent Boswell. It’s the soundtrack to a movie that exists only in your mind.
Every good, imaginary film needs solid action scenes, including at least one, heated chase with cars or helicopters or speedboats or on foot… whatever.
As long as there’s imaginary bad guys chasing imaginary good guys (or vice versa), it’s all good. And now you have one:
Another track from the electronic music album, Crossing the Rubicon, by Kevin Trent Boswell.
This is the “Straw That Broke the Monkey’s Back”
The .mp3 audio file for free but you’ll need to go to the Patreon page, where it’s attached. Click on the file name (bottom of the page) and select “download” to save it.
You help out a lot when you give the songs a thumbs up 👍 on YouTube.
Winding through the wild witchery, tripping headlong into tribal trance… follow the wise serpent into the netherworld.
Another bizarre, bombastic track from the electronic music album, Crossing the Rubicon.
The video is live on YouTube for all to enjoy but only patrons can download the audio track for this auditory initiation into the æther.
Tribal drums, layering slowly, steadily, methodically atop one another, just as the a snake winds itself into coils.
Haunting, aboriginal howls from the deep belly of the shamanic didgeridoo. Slip on into the prehistoric pool, the temperature of the primordial soup is just fine.
Patrons can access the .mp3 audio file of this track on Patreon.
Kevin Trent Boswell 