OK, I’LL TRY IT - Music for Stoners, Loners, and Lovers (Vol. 2) - Mr. Moody [4K] скачать в хорошем качестве

OK, I’LL TRY IT - Music for Stoners, Loners, and Lovers (Vol. 2) - Mr. Moody [4K]

Last we left off, I was running through my thoughts like a kid in a field. I’d taken some time off from the wild nights with Stacie and gone back into my head. The leaves are piling up around town as the trees do burlesque. Winter’s coming, and I haven’t even processed summer yet. So I drove out to a spot we used to haunt in high school — an old dead-end road leading to a forgotten cemetery by the lake. They built the dam years back and flooded the old town, so now it’s just where kids go to make out, get lifted, get lost. Sometimes I go up there when no one’s around. You can sit, crack a beer, listen to the past on your stereo — or shove in an eight-track and hear the present. That’s where I was Thursday night, watching ghosts of my own youth. Seeing myself from ten years ago, when we went skinny-dipping under the moon, thinking there’d be a million more nights like that. That’s the thing about peaks — you never know you’re on one until it’s behind you. And there I was, twenty-eight, wondering if anything ahead could ever match what was behind. Everything’s changing — especially me. I was thinking about the world. Nixon. The war. The noise. I used to look up to him — thought he was strong, straight, a man to aspire to. But everything changed on May 4, 1970 — Kent State. Up to that moment I believed the story — that the country might be a mess, but the men running it were trying to do right. Order meant safety, and the flag meant something clean. Then I saw those photos — kids my sister’s age lying dead in the grass. The girl screaming over the body. Suddenly it didn’t add up anymore. That was the day the machinery stopped making sense. I told myself, “They must’ve done something.” But deep down I knew — the system had turned its guns on its own kids. After that, every broadcast had a little static underneath. Now the troops are coming home in waves, and there’s no escaping their stories. Where things used to be black and white, it’s all endless grey. I was free of any thoughts about the Mr. Moody case. People said they’d seen a van like the one I was looking for, but I wasn’t sure it was even real anymore. Half these kids are out of their minds. I was ready to give up the hunt. It’d been a month since my last dream, and I still didn’t know what it meant. Then it happened. I saw a purple boogie van, airbrushed in fantasy paint. Not the one from my dream — but close. I watched from the shadows as it parked. Windows down. Smoke drifting. I took my shot — walked up, clicked on my Mag-Lite, knocked on the glass. A guy and a girl inside. He jumped, went ghost-pale. “Good God!” I almost laughed but stayed in character. Never said I was a cop — never said I wasn’t. Works in my favor most times. More smoke rolled out. “Nice van. You ever see a brown one like this? Barbarian airbrushed on the side?” Yeah, he had. Said it belonged to a guy named Butch — everyone calls him Kushman. Didn’t know him well, didn’t like him. “He’s a dick,” the kid said. Maybe he’d be at the car show across town. Car show. Should’ve thought of that. So simple. I told you I’m a detective, but I never said I was a good one. The kid had told me enough, and I didn’t want to ruin his night. One day he’ll be the old guy in the dark somewhere, remembering the night a stranger knocked on his window asking about a van. Tonight he’s just a kid trying to get lifted and lucky. I thanked him, asked for a drag off his roach. Took him by surprise again. I took a hit, handed it back. “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m not a cop — just a guy looking for a van. Enjoy the night … they don’t last forever.” When I left, I noticed the paint on the back: “Everything Must Go” — two gravestones underneath. I smiled. Liked this kid. That one simple line solved all my stress. He’s right — no matter how messed up it all gets, none of it’s gonna matter down the road. One day it’ll all be dust — you, me, Nixon, the planet, every one of our worries. Everything must gooooooo. Ok I'll Try It Volume 2- "Everything Must Go" This is explorative psychonaut jazz funk for the noir mind —An experimental journey through memory, reverb, and smoke. Think psychedelic noir, David Lynch dream energy, vinyl hiss on lost tapes from 1972, created with some off-world help. 00:00 OK, I’ll Try It (Intro) 02:20 That’s Life (Demo) 05:27 Shattered III 08:57 Haunted Streets 13:56 Alley in the Valley 18:31 Ha Ha Ha He He (Good God I) 20:18 The Machine 22:53 Just in Time 26:11 I’m Not That Kind of Girl (Interlude) 28:38 Flex Cruisin’ 32:35 Wish I Was Here 36:44 Everything Must Go (Good God II) 41:37 Thanks for Showing Up 45:07 Devil’s Child 50:25 Magic Reigns Supreme (King Cobra JFS) 54:56 You Gotta Laugh 58:31 Ghost Rider (Johnny Blaze) 1:01:01 Hyperfixation 1:09:41 Thanks for Showing Up (Outro) #MrMoody #HalloweenMix #PsychedelicNoir #1970s #AnalogDreams #aimusic #CinematicMusic #HauntedMix #BoogieVan #EverythingMustGo All music produced & copyright © TOOM Records — 2025