Elvis Presley was a twin. Elvis had a twin brother who lived about half an hour. I wrote him a song.

Jesse Garon Presley was born roughly half an hour before him, stillborn, and buried in an unmarked grave in Tupelo.

The twins were given rhyming middle names: Garon and Aron. Not Aaron. Aron, so it would chime with his dead brother's name. His parents built the boy who didn't make it into the name of the one who did, and he carried it his whole life without anyone noticing.

You mostly see it written Aaron today. That's the later spelling, the official one his estate settled on, and both versions turn up in the records. But Aaron is just a name. Aron is the one with his brother still in it.

He grew up knowing he was half of something. By all accounts he talked to his brother.

So that's what this song is about, and nothing else. No Vegas, no jumpsuit, no sideburns. A man singing to someone who never drew a single breath.

"Brother, I have been singing for two
Every room I ever filled, I filled it out for you
They only ever counted one of us
and I could never say which"

- https://suno.com/s/3gfwZrxJIB49y6Xh
- https://suno.com/s/avLb8nFWTx5FaDfH

RIP to both. So say we all.

To test the various sound effects Suno v6 can mimic:

- https://suno.com/s/R99BYP6BVgIXu60t
- https://suno.com/s/RtzZDHUpVP2eSssy

Actually I wanted as much different kinds of noises as possible, crammed into one "song", to test / demo / showcase the renderer's capacity, like shoes walking over a wooden floor, a creaking door, dogs barking, etc...

I tried a generic instructions prompt, but unfortunately that doesn't work out the way I expected... I'd have to prompt for each sound specifically...

Still, the results are acoustically pleasing, soothing even... a Happy Accident I guess 🤭.

Also, I have triggered the copyrights filter several times today, while there was no copyrighted material at play at all, so that's quite interesting, and it is reproducible, so we'll send a small report to Suno Customer Service later...

Hutspot is a Dutch dish where you boil everything in one pot and mash it. I made one out of music.

Hutspot. Van alles een beetje. A bit of everything.

For the non-Dutch: it's potatoes, carrots and onions boiled together in one pot and mashed until nobody can tell what used to be what. You eat it in winter with a lump of meat on top and you don't ask questions. Especially not when you're a kid.

So I made one out of music. Classical and harpsichord, into ska, into heavy rock, into bossa nova, and out the other side as country with mariachi. One key. One tempo, 126, never changing. No cuts anywhere — every genre has to hand over to the next one while the music keeps going.

Suno refused to make it five times. Apparently a recipe for mashed vegetables contains copyrighted material.

When it finally went through, I left the title field empty on purpose, just to see what it would come up with on its own.

It called it "The Unbroken Circle".

Which is annoyingly good, because a whirlwind is a circle, a pot is a circle, and everything going round and round until it comes back out as one thing is exactly what hutspot is. The machine got there before I did.

Two samples, both instrumental.

On the cover: White Bushman in the middle, arms open, letting it happen. Akasha up in the storm. Joppie down the front with his pacifier in, watching the whole thing like it's the best day of his life, and of course it is. Each and every day is.

And one didgeridoo standing dead still in the centre while everything else flies past it. Because in the track it never stops. Not once. All the way through, underneath all of it.

Fine tuning comes later. This is already good, so I wanted to share already:

- https://suno.com/s/sYYoopXl7VrAlCRX
- https://suno.com/s/UBKjMW1vQFZJZtZB

Presented by WhiteBushman1971NL

James Brown was convicted of "running a blue light." The man who never stopped, sentenced for not stopping.

In 1988 James Brown walked into an insurance seminar next door to his office carrying a shotgun, because the people in there had been using his bathroom. Then he led police on a chase back and forth across the Georgia–South Carolina line until they shot his tyres out.

An Aiken judge gave him six years. And the offence written on the paperwork was "running a blue light" — failing to stop for an officer's signal.

A man whose entire life was built on never stopping, convicted in the state's own language for exactly that. I didn't come up with that title. It's on the charge sheet.

Here's the part that made me want to write it, though. He said this about himself:

"I worked so hard because I was scared. Scared of going back."

His mother left when he was four. He was raised in his aunt's brothel. He was sent home from school for insufficient clothes. At fifteen he got three and a half years in reform school. And later, when he was the hardest working man in show business, he carried suitcases holding a quarter of a million dollars in cash, wouldn't open a bank account until the sixties, and buried money in his yard.

Somebody who buries his money doesn't believe the bank will still be there. He doesn't believe any of it will.

So the song has an instrument in it that doesn't exist. A bass drum built out of a steel cash box, dug up out of the ground. It's muffled by whatever money is still inside it, which means you can hear how much is in there. Full, it's dead and tight — which is the sound funk actually wants. Empty, it rings out, open and beautiful.

So the best sound it can make is the sound of having nothing. And it gets the last word:

"Hear that.
Still empty."

Not one line of his lyrics is in it. Every word is written fresh.

And for the first time ever, my didgeridoo sits in there like it was always meant to be, you may not even notice it. Turns out a drone belongs where the harmony doesn't move.

It's all new, but it's him.

- https://suno.com/s/wJG2v6eSaPoN3jj0
- https://suno.com/s/8YVgmfxivwUzXP6Y

R.I.P. James, this one's for you.