raintribe

Please listen to the raintribe README podcast. Then subscribe to our podcast or just download music.

We’ll be posting more songs over time. The categories on the right includes our first album, Ancient Spacemen, our (new) second album, chantmoansingwhisperscream and unreleased and perhaps even unfinished songs in the Unreleased category.

If you like our music please let us know! I’ve added a donate button in hopes that you’ll give us a buck per song you like. But first just check out some tunes!

Where Blackbirds Fly

Words and Music by Michael Koppelman

Michael Koppelman: Acoustic and electric guitars, lead vocals
Kurt Koppelman: Bass, mandolin, background vocals
Andrew Deckard: Drums, percussion
Recorded at Synergy Studios, Minneapolis MN

Where Blackbirds Fly

Way up where the blackbirds fly
The Pharaohs live and they rule when they die
And no one stops to question why
Just get in line and pray and so do I

Way up high the blackbirds sing
All life is lost and the dead are king
And they drink their wine of black sunshine
And never hear all the pain of the place behind

Way down in this land of sin
The Earth feels real and I want to get in
To let my body lie and spirit fly
To that place in the sky where the blackbirds fly

© 2005 Tribe of Angels

Free Man

Words and Music by Michael Koppelman

Free Man

I’m a free man
Well that’s what they say
I got no job, I got no pay
A free man but I’m hungry
My master in a new kind of slavery

I’m a free man
But I got no soul
If you ask the rich men in control
A free man but I got no right
To live with my family with heat and light

If money is the measure of society
A poor man’s got no right to even be
If money is the measure of society
A poor man’s got no right to even be

A free man is a warrior

I’m just one man
But my neighbor is too
And the neighbor of my neighbor
Is a fine man too
And three men when they organize
Become three thousand then free men rise
‘Cause battle is the language of history
A free man fights to keep all people free
Battle is the language of history
A free man fights to keep all people free

A free man is a warrior

© 2005 Tribe of Angels

Money

Words and Music by Michael Koppelman
© 2005 Tribe of Angels

This one is unfinished, just like I promised. It’s an old song for me that I’ve never gotten properly recorded. I wrote it when I was working at Paisley Park, probably around 1991 or so. This recording is far from perfect but let me know what you think.

Up To You

Words and music by Michael Koppelman

Michael Koppelman: Guitar, vocals, strange noises
Kurt Koppelman: Bass, strange noises
Andrew Deckard: Drums, percussion, strange noises

Recorded by Dave Kent at Synergy Studios, Minneapolis MN

Up To You

How do you go from high to low?
Why can you see what I mean?
How can it be such a mystery
These desperate things you have seen?

But if it was up to me, you’d be young and I’d be free . . .

That’s all you’ve known, “Leave me alone”
Is all you know how to do
But I can see through the misery
That something else tries to get through

But if it was up to you, would you change the things you do . . . ?

Do you think you’ll do the deed someday?
Make up your mind and blow yourself away?
It’s not the thing I’d like to be
But it’s not up to me

How do you go from high to low?
Why can you see what I mean?
How can you be such a mystery
And never go in between?

But if it was up to you, you’d be young and I’d be free . . .

It’s not the thing I’d like to be
Make up your mind but it’s not up to me
If death’s a thing you want to do
I guess it’s up to you

© 2005 Tribe of Angels (ASCAP)

Treasure Map

Words and music by Michael Koppelman, Kurt Koppelman, and Stephe Mayone

Treasure Map

Open the book to page thirteen
Treasure map, follow it, try to find me
Open the book and you’ll see what I mean
Figure it out and you’ve figured out me

Feel the paper that leaves no trace
See the lines on the page are the lines on my face
Do you want me to crawl, do you want me to rise?
The end of the story is yours to write

Follow the cat to the triple-eye
Mumble a prayer to the open sky
Take a drink from the bottle of the gypsy queen
Wash it all off in the Buddha’s dream

Feel the paper that leaves no trace
See the lines on the page are the lines on my face
Do you want me to crawl, do you want me to rise?
The end of the story is yours to write

But you give it all up on a wild ride
You give it all up for a good time
Yeah, you give it away on a wild ride
You give it all up for a good high
You give it away on a wild ride
You give it all up for good time

Feel the paper that leaves no trace
See the lines on the page are the lines on my face
Do you want me to crawl, do you want me to rise?
The end of the story is yours to write

© 2005 Tribe of Angels

Same As Yesterday

Words and Music by Michael Koppelman.

Same As Yesterday

Knowing
A morning grey and fey and lightly snowing
I do believe I really should be going
The time is high and so am I
Up where the seagulls fly away
It’s the same as yesterday

Caring
I must admit it doesn’t feel like sharing
Bleeding out your life and seldom daring
Now the time is through and so are you
Don’t know what you should do or say
It’s the same as yesterday

© 2005 Tribe of Angles

Muddy Water

Words and music by Michael Koppelman, Steve Mayone & Sara Brami.

Muddy Water

Muddy water the Devil’s daughter
Inviting you to view the slaughter
Sacrifice of men by mice
And chicken’s blood at twice the price

Witches rule the day today
Voodoo, magic, bones and clay
Pins and needles
Herbs and power
The Devil’s daughter muddy water

Kalideascope on southern schemes
Mississippi cajun dreams
With a lover’s thirst he sought her
The Devil’s daughter muddy water

Muddy water the Devil’s daughter
Inviting you to view the slaughter
Sacrifice of men by mice
The Devil’s daughter muddy water

© 2005 Tribe of Angles

Black Irish

Words and Music by Michael Koppelman

Black Irish

My name is blood, salt and sea
I am the wood of the gnarled Oak tree
I am the light that you never see
Written in the story of history

My name is dirt, wind and fire
I am stone and bone and wire
I am the light the you never see
Hidden in the forest of mystery

I am the wood of the gnarled Oak tree

And you are ash and earthen too
You are smoke and meat and glue
You are the light that is never lit
In the greed of the City of Sweat and Spit

I am the wood of the gnarled Oak tree

My name is blood, salt and sea
I am the wood of the gnarled Oak tree
I am the light that you never see
Written in the story of history

© 2005 Tribe of Angels