One Weekly Gun

Good Evening!

Did you watch the grand opening of the Olympic Games in Beijing a few days ago?
Wheeeeew! What a masterpiece conglomerate of fascinating culture and cheesy artwork.
And the chinese government even controlled the weather - on top of everything else in China.
- But I must admit, I love the exstremely tight coordinated events of the opening. The happenings with hundreds of people doing the same. Wow.

This week’s song is about just that. It’s about being an individual in a massive crowd. Like in China I guess.
The value of the individual is not of greatest importance in China - so we hear. But that’s the beauty of a millitary parade isn’t it? Admit it - you like it!

The Last Spark

As the head is going back, prepare for a heart attack
Follow the dots as you wait for it to end
Good luck and break a leg - we’re about to undertake
Something that someone will never forget

So here I go, I’m alive and the stars are butterflies
Look at me as I fly from the world
I will say goodbye, but my light will never end
As I am the last spark to leave the stadium

So go to sleep and dream of me. I’ll be home finally.
Going to a place where the lights are strong
I will steal my way out of here and into the atmosphere
Out to the stars, where I belong

So here I go, I’m alive and the stars are butterflies
Look at me as I fly from the world
I will say goodbye, but my light will never end
As I am the last spark to leave the stadium

See also: THIS POST

Good Evening!

The starlet of starlets, jet-setter of jet-setters, empty-well of empty-wells has set foot in my hometown Copenhagen! For once Denmark is on the global gossip map (well the map for people who cares about Paris Hilton’s whereabouts that is.)

This extraordinary event could not go by without being celebrated in song by One Weekly Gun! Let’s all get together and join hands for the one and only Paris Hilton. The ultimate victim of evil jokes. Letterman’s favourite boxing ball. Perhaps the smartest girl of all.

While we laugh at her, she laughs even harder at us. The massive interest in her well hidden personality generates itself AND a swollen bank account for Paris Hilton. Well this is old news.

Instead let’s join hands and choose our own Paris Hiltons from our own ugly crowd. We are grim freaks compared to Paris - living a prmitive and prehistoric lifestyle. Let’s choose our own Paris Hiltons - let them be our idols. Perhaps the then old Paris Hilton will adore them too.

Oh, Paris!

From New York City comes a simple life phenomenon
About to show the world the changes that she has undergone
Compare the value of a visit with the the royal salaries
Farewell market share, hi hollow company

To compete you better learn how to design a purse
And don’t concede until it’s crude enough to reimburse
The feelings you invested in your social standpoint in the the pack
When the rich get poor the past is coming back

Oh Paris

Come boys and girls let’s learn to live a life like Paris does
Except you don’t have to be famous to be one of us
Nor does it help your membership to be a millionaire
Or part of any crowd ’bout which we do not care

Let’s welcome every happy freak that noone monitors
And get them all an individual press officer
You kids will sing along with dedication to the song
About the species group to which you belong

Oh Paris

Dearest readers of One Weekly Gun.

Yours truly have struggled himself through a wedding(my own), a vacation and my own two wedding parties for the last month! It has been an enjoyable and quite substantial mess, i should say. But who am I to complain? I’m married!

So much for pathos.

This week’s episode features the weel known and hard-to-find war criminal Radovan Karadzic. Karadzic is a Bosnian serb, shrink and poet/author. He’s mostly known for having given the order for the systematic genocide of Bosnian muslims and Croats during the 90’s. For the last 13 years he has kept a very low profile, living i Belgrade under a new (stolen) identity.

This song is about Radovan, and portrays him as a crooked untouchable coward in his hiding place. When he doesn’t need other people he kills them - when he needs their identity, he just takes it.

What a jerk.

My Own Sweet Nothing

Hate is the name
of the love for the people
Fake are the same
citizens of the real world

We’ve got the blues
and we wont change the picture
Me, I’m the bruise
from an astmatic seizure

Stay in the game
Play as another
Take what is left of my own sweet nothing

Man eating friend
You don’t see what is coming
Slowly shit’s hitting the fan
I myself am drowning.

Cutting the kite from the rope
Always breaking the circle
Me I’m stealing the day
I’m a man eating girdle

Lay in the grave
Lay as another
Take what is left of my own sweet nothing

Hiya fellow One Weekly Freaks.

As time is passing, OWG is feeling larger than life out here on his own private paradise island. Vacation is much needed after 23 episodes non stop.

While you and I myself are waiting for OWG to get back from his much needed and long-feeling vacation, here’s a convenient interlude. A remix of the song 12 Million from episode 13 .

The artist behind is DJ Vonbas - bassplayer in the Danish phenomenon Marie Key Band. Real name: Søsser.
This fantastic person made an even more fantastic rendition of the song. And much needed. I felt that 12 Million was one of my favourites, but it suffered severely from lack of production time. Therefore it only had guitar and vocals.

Weeks later it’s in top three of most visited songs on OWG which should earn it a little more attention from the busy songwriter. Luckily Vonbas went ahead and created this neat little gem from it.

Download

Hi.
This is one weekly gun.
As you know I’m on vacation in Asia right now, and therefore unable to write, produce and publish a new song in under three hours this week.

Until now it’s been a very joyful experience to create this mad momentum driven soundscape. Most of all it’s fantastic to receive your reactions, thoughts and feedback. It keeps me going when the going gets tough. And it does sometimes.

Yeah it does sometimes.

So your participation makes me fitter, happier and more productive.

What would I have written about this week? Your guess is as good as mine. I can only hope it would have been something clever - and joyful to sing along to. In life that’s all we can hope for most of the time. Sometimes we create our own momentum. Sometimes we drift along with the consequences of recent and past situations. It’s a mess sometimes - or combination some would say . The thing is, that you by creating your own momentum on top of the ones that seem to control your life, you kind of feel that you participate. That’s what I feel anyway. And sometimes people tell me, that what I do made them feel something about things that they had never felt something about before. That makes me very happy. Because in that way, I AM participating.

You should also participate. Go write a song and publish it yourself. Or send it to me, at I will publish it right here. In this way I create the momentum for your momentum - which again is based on a different one. Can anything be more meta momentum like? I don’t think so.
Maybe you do?

HIYA!

I have great news! OWG is on vacation!
That means the flow of songs will stop for a short while.
ONE WEEKLY GUN will be back in July.

Until then a little sweet surprise is coming up for you.

Yours
OWG

HI!

This week is a salute to the birthday boy of them all John Linnell.

John Linnell is one of my heroes. Together with John Flasnburg he forms the duo They Might Be Giants.
Their music is genuine nerdy pop-rock that keeps surprising me in terms of intelligence and humour.

I suggest you go buy the whole back catalogue straight away or start with records like Flood, The Else or the compilation Dial a Song.

One Weekly Gun owes these guys big time. This week is a tribute to John Linnell - the guys without the glasses in the picture.

Dear John

He came through the wall
Wearing nothing at all
Only hillbilly songs with messages straight up your face

Digest on Ana Ngs strange love affair. James K. Polk’s story makes you care
about the world around. And such inspiring sounds makes you feel the nostalgia of you as a kid.

Dear John.
Did you become what you wanted?
Dear John.
You became what I need.

In terms of vocabulary he is the best, way better than all the rest.

It’s hard when you try.
Just sit down and cry.
The thing is that you don’t have a Flansburgh to pull you up again.

Dear John.
Did you become what you wanted?
Dear John.
You became what I need.

Dear John.
Did you become what you wanted?
Dear John.
You became what I need.

Hello!

We reached the 22nd episode of One Weekly Gun.

Clinton’s out! And she’s happy! Aren’t we all?
Happy happy happy!

This song is about how wonderful everything is. It’s about life and death - and how you should enjoy the first before the latter comes. Let’s all just be nice to each other now. Why can’t US have two presidents?

Why can’t we all just get along?

Life is Great

Do your job
and get paid
Keep your body fit
Life is good
Life is great
Learn to live with it

Hi All One Weekly Gun Freaks!

This time it gets really punk.
Today you’ll have a main course consisting of a biting portrait of the entertainment industry blocking the outsight of uneducated people far from the coast.

It’s not fair at all, but nor is life.

You could see it as analogoue to every part of the media hysteria food chain, that is experienced everywhere these days. Most of all in politics.

The song is called Corporate Entertainment Throttle, and it represents I think the potentially best hit song so far. But who needs a hit song, when they can point fingers at the entertainment industry? True rhymes with puberty.

Corporate Entertainment throttle

Standard ugly credits disappear.
With your wallet and your sense of sheer mediocre.

With your dreams locked tighly in a safe behind the screen.

We, we understand this movie
There’s not a minute, we can loose.
Someone please hold on to my popcorn.
While I bite my ankles.

Popular dream works competition.
We reach Nirvana through submission.
Filling the gap between the brain halves.
We understand it all.

It’s obscene, that noone seems to care.
Feel complete, you’l ready paid the fare for the dark.

It’s a villain circus moron factory

We, we understand this movie
There’s not a minute, we can loose.
Someone please hold on to my popcorn.
While I bite my ankles.

Popular dream works competition.
We reach Nirvana through submission.
Filling the gap between the brain halves.
We understand it all.

Go see a movie on a weekday.
Then repent everything on sunday.
During the lent we abstain to podcast.
Blogging for right not wrong.

Hi!

Another week went past.
I chose this week’s subject from a requst. I wrote about everyone else in the american primaries (except Huckabee) and until now McCain has only been mentioned in the song about Mitt Romney.

Some days ago McCaine released his medical journals so that eeryone would have PROOF that this man is OK! He is not suffering from something old people suffer from. He is almost 72 but he is NOT old! These pages prove that he is not old at all. I guess…

This is a very weird discussion. No matter how you look at it, he is 71 - which is kinda old in a lot of other businesses. It’s past retirement age none the less.

Who cares about his age as long as he does a good job. But did he get weird after spending some nights at the Hanoi Hilton? Is he in fact OK?

Ode to Old

Aahh..
Mr. VP, understand, your chance won’t come at all.
Aahh..
Pad my back and grab me when I fall.

Hey All

The blog has had a fantastisc visit boom! The number of visitors quadrubled in the last couple of weeks.
I started to recieve quite a few mails about One Weekly Gun. Do not be afraid to write or comment here on the page. It’s really nice to have someone listening out there.

Some of the questions I get are regarding the weekly day of release. Well, to tell you the truth, there is no specific day, the song should come out. It just depends on the mood I’m in and more importaintly what’s going on in the world right now. But the again most of the songs come during the weekend.

This week has been packed with news about the surivors of the cyclone in Burma and the earthquake in China. The horrors of the Burmese people trapped in the delta among dead bodies doesn’t fail to make a lasting impression on us. And though I feel that this topic should be covered here, I could not find out how to do it. What could this blog possibly do, that could affect this situation? …nothing I guess. And how would I be able to write a song on a subject, where pictures has allready said all there is to say? It’s a dead end. My comments are useless here.

I therefore broke the rule, and did what was forbidden me. I wrote a song about myself.

One Weekly Gun is a vehicle for spontanious creativity. The songs come out mostly during the weekend. The song is about me, this project and the feeling of freedom in the process.
It’s called Weekend Man, and it qualifies for the weirdest song yet.

Weekend Man

You thought that everyone had continuity
Babe I’m gonna set you up, and I’m gonna let you down
When all you really wanted was a place to be
I’m gonna get it one more time

Weekend man, you dont feel bad

This is week 18 of One Weekly Gun

I’m beginning to get at lot of reactions from all over the world. It feel nice, that someone is actually listening to this madness.

In honour of my american fans, I here present yeat another song about Hillary Clinton.
Go to Week 2 og 15 for other songs about this splendid presidential candidate.

This week Hillary Clinton lost her last chance of becoming the democratic candidate. The only problem is, she chose not to accept her loss. The song deals with her dillemma. Right now the media all over the wold begs her to step out of the race and leave the scene for Obama. I tend to agree. Please, Mrs. Clinton.

It’s over.

Addicted to Holes

You’ll fuck up and I will win
I still got tricks up my sleeve.
You can’t hurt me behind my glass
in the cockpit of my suicide machine.

Finally I will launch to hit the ground.
Step in from the cold.

Noone will forget where the TV stands.
It’s vital in growing old.
Leave my here behind the screen.
I’m addicted to holes.

Please excuse me, Mr. Obama.

Beam me out, and leave me in my rubber cell.
How could this happen to me?
I can’t be hurt behind my glass
in the cockpit of my suicide machine.

We’ll be allright when the market’s burning down.
As long as we don’t do what we’re told.

Please forget what the TV says.
‘Cause I’m addicted to holes.

Until now, this song was the hardest one to do.

Of course there could be only one headline for last week’s song. The sick and gruesome events that has occured in the cellar of Joseph Fritzl for the last 24 years.

It left me speechless and unable to finish this song until now. That’s the reason for last week’s delay.

When the Lights are Coming Back

Through the tunnel
With my accordion
Out of tune
Will the light be coming back?

Love is a cancer
When nobody answers
and you don’t love yourself
Or anyone of us.

Nest in our resting space
Block all the exits
We’ll return, when the lights are coming back.

Hi.

This is episode 16 of One Weekly Gun.

It’s really beginning to take form this project. 16 smashing songs are already on the page. If this is your first time here, go check out all the other posts and songs here. Don’t forget to comment if you are happy, angry og something else.

These last few weeks there has been a lot of discussion about China and the Olympics 2008. Therefore I thought it was time to cover the mess in music. Also check out the song about Dalai Lama a few weeks back.

It became a very angry and hostile song - towards China. It’s important for me to say, that I haven’t got anything against the chinese people og culture. Only the governments bizzarre and childish behaviour.

The song deals also with the apathic and cooperative nature of the western region.

We Will Happily Sedate You

We will happily sedate you.
Just sit back, enjoy the scene.
We’ll show you, that there’s nothing we can’t do.
We are a proud machine.

Here there are noone to complain to.
We don’t think much of human lifes.
We know we are the best – compared to the west.
You don’t seem to mind.

We just want everyone to start to think about us
as the new potential, as someone special.
We hold the ancient traditions and history in our soul.
That’s right soul – we’ve got one.

Excuse me Sir - my weak bladder.
I think, I will have to pee your pants.
Your smile won’t leave, when I sneeze in your sleave.
That’s what I like about you.

One on one we are not powerful.
But our weapons are in the bank.
Think of your export, before you draw your sword.
Don’t forget who to thank.

Why the hell should I set free, the ones who criticized me.
I know what’s best for us in the new west.
So swallow your tactics and tell me what you see.
Just don’t look back. The future is at our feet.

Hey Friends One Weekly Gun is back.

For the first time - I was delayed.
2 days.
But I have a good reason.
I got married saturday, so I had things to do.

This weekend has been all about love, which also affected the weekly musical outcome.
Obama and Clinton are meeting tonight - in battle. Probably the last big debate between the two. Next week, much will be clearer. The campaigns have been increasingly childish and harsh these last couple of weeks. And I began wondering about their private relationship - the correspondances, that doesn’t reach the media.

It’s a love duet - I sing it myself.
But maybe my wife will do the Clinton part someday.

Feel free to demand her on to the stage.

Drive Your Wagon

I just wanna relax and play Hits in the Car.
And I nearly forgot how to hold my guitar.
Honey, spare your voice, you don’t know what you’re saying.
Keep coming back, and It’ll all go away.

Drive, drive your wagon, drive it slowly.
It will all go away.
Shut your brain and eat no bad food.
It will all go away.

Meet me on the other side.

In the midst of things, I am thinking of you.
All I know, is we are meant to be two.
For a moment there, I think, I was sleeping.
In the dream, I was falling for you.

Go away, young man, let a woman pass through.
I am nowhere near, let me hang on to
your will and charms. That’s all I am seeing.
Kill this now, I want only the come.

Drive, drive your wagon, drive it slowly.
It will all go away.
Shut your brain and eat no bad food.
It will all go away.

Meet me on the other side.