on this page I publish compositions of mine. You can listen to them here for free.
If you like my music, I would be glad about a financial support. To support my musical work in general please use the button on the right side. Furthermore there is the possibility to buy single titles. Starting from the minimum of 1 Euro you can choose the purchase price yourself. Afterwards you can download the purchased music as audio files of high quality.
Best wishes from Mario Stresow.
Each of my compositions gets a cover of it´s own. I create these with love - please click on these to enlarge. Ahoi, Mario Stresow.
You can have one or keep one. Some pay for it. And there are even more possibilities: It does not necessarily have to be a human being. Ladies sometimes prefer the battery-powered version in the form of a small electrical device. This can be conveniently stored in a handbag and can also be used behind a desk or in the back of a bus when there is not much going on. The suspicious looks of the driver in the rear-view mirror only increase the attraction.
Men on the other hand sometimes prefer an inflatable version. It is then lovingly folded up and then carefully stowed away in its place until the next time it is needed. In a family setting, one can also say: Hidden.
That reminds me of the story my friend Torsten had to experience last year: As usual he drove home from work by car. When he turned into his street, he could already see what was happening on the grounds of his house. It was summer and his two children were playing in the pool and indeed - that's what shocked him immediately: With Nancy.
Nancy in working condition, that is, filled to bursting with air. So they had found her, shit. He had thought the hiding place was very good, but you never know where the brats hang around everywhere. He knew that from his own childhood and youth. Now they were having fun with it. Even some of the neighbors looking over from the adjacent property cheered, the direct neighbors were filming with their smartphones.
He drove past the driveway and stopped around the corner. Nervously he rummaged in the glove compartment, there must still be a pack of cigarettes. Yes, lucky, found, also the lighter.
He had had Nancy in his company for a while. Still the first one, although there were newer models with some interesting technical innovations. He had got used to Nancy and had shot at her, had given her this name, too. He had always treated her with care and kept her clean. Now he wasn't even sure if she would survive unscathed, the way the children were just treating her.
My goodness, he had sometimes talked to Nancy during and even after that. Well, actually, he had only talked. How he felt and how he saw things. Different things. Was that still normal? What does normal mean, after all, even between married couples there are longer word contributions, which in the end are only monologues.
He was about to light his third cigarette when he flinched because there was a knock on the window. His wife. They already had eye contact when she knocked on the window pane again, because he hadn't opened the window yet. Now he finally put it down and she said, "Good morning, sir," waving the escaping smoke away with her hands. In the meantime he had turned bright red and only brought in: "I, uh ..." out. Whereupon she replied quite crabby: "Kiss mine." That seemed to be the end of the conversation, because now she marched straight back to the house.
Don't you think that Torsten must be a pretty close friend of mine if I know all this from him? Or does this Torsten not exist at all and I made it all up as usual? Or is this Torsten my father and I was one of the playing children back then? In the end, is it even an autobiographical story? Critical questions that I will have to face one day. But not now, back to the topic:
Still others only dream of having someone or something like that. Those are also completely satisfied with it, because in reality it would perhaps be too elaborate. Sometimes also too dangerous, risky and consequent: Many of us have been connected for many years, often with the corresponding circumstances in the form of offspring and shared home ownership, see Torsten. There is no need to put anything unnecessarily at risk.
In addition, whether connected or not: Not everything that you dream of is even intended to be realized in real life. After all, you can also just let your thoughts wander while your skilled fingers do their job from sensitive to rapid. Maybe some of you still remember the hit line: "You are not alone, because you have your imagination ...".
I have approached the topic - as I would like to emphasize at this point - exclusively in story and song form. I have worked hard to at least compress the lyrics to the most necessary, but listen for yourself.
Sexy Lover 2:520:00/2:52
You Are What You Are
Not all of you know that I have already lived a few hundred years ago. At the time, "King Bruno, the Questionable" still ruled. I was his court musician and played the old German Wurfzither. A very practical instrument with which could be used to either make music or to kill animals by deliberate throwing. I used the second characteristic in a slightly modified way at my concerts at that time. If I had the impression that someone in the audience was not listening with the right concentration, I would throw the zither in exactly that direction. The resulting pauses were a bit annoying, because I had to fetch back the instrument and the hitted person was dragged out of the hall by my personal assistant, who grabbed him by one leg.
That is why the king called me "King Lui on the marketplace". Because in his opinion, during my concerts and often enough at other times I behaved as if I was the king. Except me nobody at court could do that and it shows how much the king valued me and my compositions.
Every Sunday I had to deliver a new musical work, which was then performed before a select circle of ladies from the population. To recruit this circle, a specially trained staff swarmed out every Saturday. They consisted of men and women and they all belonged to the king's closest circle. In the markets of the region they looked for ladies who had a certain charm, individuality and also seemed to be a bit strange.
Of course, the ladies from the aristocratic class were very worried that they were not invited to these concerts. However, most of these ladies did not have the just mentioned character traits. In addition, some said that the king wanted to create a certain closeness to the common folkd with his procedure and also to bring some culture to the dull people. Others claimed that the king himself came from the lower classes and was not the rightful heir to the throne. So he was not at all the son of his predecessor "King Peter, the very small one" and would therefore be called "King Bruno, the Questionable.
A few of his "hunchbacked buddies", as the king called those men whom he considered his friends, were also allowed to attend the concerts. These men usually had enormous abilities. For example, one of them, a trumpet player, could burp incredibly loudly and fart just as loudly at the same time. Over the years he had developed this ability as a kind of hobby. Due to this enourmus noise level, it was sometimes impossible to tell what was what. While this often caused laughter among the men and the king often had to hold his little belly under laughing cramps, the ladies present usually looked at each other quite piqued. One even threw up spontaneously. Since then the trumpeter was not allowed to perform his hobby any more, to his regret.
One day, the king asked me to talk to him discreetly and asked me what I thought of him as a man and especially as a king. It was about the fact that it was the common people who had given him the title "King Bruno the Questionable". I replied: "Well, ..... It was very clear to me that the formulation pause that was taking place at that moment could not be very long. Recently the king had given the order to install a crocodile tank. Any employees who had becoming unpopular in his eyes would be thrown into it without further ado. King Bruno liked me very much, but with him you never knew exactly where the hammer was swinging and whom it was going to hit. Only recently, a servant of the court staff very hard tried to hold back a yawn while the king held a speech. Noticing this, the king had him led away and a short time later the water in the crocodile basin turned red. The animals got no other food, so a quick death was guaranteed.
King Bruno's look rested on me waiting for my furhter words. He saw my wet forehead and I noticed how drops of sweat ran down my back while I continued: "... my dear Impertinence, I compose a wonderful music and the sound and the title saying everything about your highborn style! It is important to know that King Bruno knew no foreign words and could not speak English. However, he would never admit to either of these and he always pretended to understand everything. So the king pursed his lips, directed his eyes upwards to the right and left as if thinking for a moment and said: "King Lui, you old music digger, always in the realm of sounds, eh? Go and do your work!" Whew, just got out of the situation. Life at court was not without its pitfalls at times.
You Are What You Are 2:280:00/2:28
Since you came along
This is the title music to the motion picture: "All main things went wrong". The only problem is that this movie has not been produced yet. But even without this film there may be reasons to have a drink or two round midnight. Sitting on a staircase at the harbor, drizzle sets in. The perfect situation to listen to "Since you came along".
Since you came along 2:570:00/2:57
Sounds like an Eastern European folk song, but was composed in Hamburg: While teaching my student Nina, I invented the A-part as an exercise to hit the right strings on the guitar. According to a rumour Putin is already dancing to this music. Find the score on the sheet music page. Ciao for now, Mario.