in the summer of 2021 i released my 4th ep, titled "MOM".
this album and its release was dedicated to my beautiful momma Terry Lynne, who passed away from cancer in the summer of 2020.

i did a long form & special release which began on her birthday, July 3rd and concluded 5 days later (one day for each track) now that those who were a part of the release have enjoyed it's exclusivity for over half a year, i am finally ready to share with the rest of the world. thank you so much for listening.

Rest in Peace <3 Terry Lynne Grosshans (July 3 1963 - July 5th 2020)

MOM ep

Habit

58 w/ ANRI

Music Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0_yAIcTCwPs

Written and produced by Deep Sky Musics,
la Rondinara, Corse, France
2023

I'm on THE island. 
my paradise
Corsica
NOW and in the PASt - all those wonderful experiences - 
alive forever in my mind, in my heart and soul...

Paradise Calling - Return to the Island

Odi et amo. Quare id faciam, fortasse requiris. Nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.
made with bitwig

Selbsttäuschung

Buy album: https://scapeone.bandcamp.com/album/sunset-your-mindset
Stream: share.amuse.io/BLNelLDj89Tq

Across The Clearing

Once upon a Christmas, a young boy was given a gift that would fill his heart with joy for many years. Under the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree, he tore open the bright wrapping paper to reveal a clown doll with a painted smile and big, friendly eyes. The boy’s face lit up with delight. He named the doll Jingles, and from that day on, they were inseparable. Jingles was his constant companion, always by his side as they played games, whispered secrets, and embarked on imaginary adventures.

Years passed, and as the boy grew older, his interests began to change. The magic of childhood slowly gave way to the realities of growing up. Jingles, once his most treasured possession, was left behind, a silent witness to the boy’s changing world. One day, without a second thought, the boy packed Jingles away in an old, dusty trunk and stowed it in the attic, along with other remnants of his childhood.

Locked away in the darkness, Jingles was forgotten. But the happiness the boy had shared with him remained imprinted on the doll, and his longing for their days together grew stronger with each passing year. The attic was cold and lonely, a far cry from the warmth of the boy’s room where Jingles had once felt so loved. Now, there was only silence. The painted smile began to fade, but Jingles remembered. He remembered every game, every laugh, every moment they had shared. And he waited.

Years went by. The boy became a man and eventually got married. Life moved on, filled with new joys and responsibilities, leaving no room for childhood toys. But one day, while clearing out the attic, the man stumbled upon the old trunk. Curious, he opened it and found Jingles lying inside, covered in dust. A wave of nostalgia washed over him. He picked up the doll, smiling at the memories it brought back, and decided to show it to his wife.

“Look,” he said, bringing Jingles down the creaky stairs. “This was my favorite toy when I was a kid. I used to take him everywhere.”

The wife glanced at the doll with mild interest, then quickly returned to her tasks. She saw nothing more than a tattered old toy, its colors faded and fabric worn. But Jingles saw her. He saw her with eyes that had watched the boy grow, eyes that now burned with a bitter realization. It was her. She was the reason he had been forgotten, the reason he had been left alone in the dark all these years.

As the man left for work the next morning, Jingles sat on a shelf, silently watching the wife. His painted smile, now chipped and eerie, seemed to twist into a sneer. The doll felt a dark resolve take hold of him. He could not bear to be left behind again, to be forgotten. He had to make the man remember the love they once shared, the bond that time could not sever.

That night, as the house lay silent, Jingles moved. Driven by a twisted mix of jealousy and desperation, the doll crept through the shadows, seeking out the wife. In the darkness, Jingles exacted his vengeance. The house echoed with a single, blood-curdling scream, then fell silent once more.

When the man returned home, he found his wife lifeless on the floor, her face frozen in terror. And there, beside her, stood Jingles, his tiny hands stained red, his eyes gleaming with a sinister satisfaction. The man recoiled in horror, but before he could run, Jingles moved again—swift and sure. The last thing the man heard was a soft, whispering voice, almost like a child’s, murmuring in his ear, “Forget me not.”

And then there was silence.

The years passed, the house changed hands, but Jingles remained. He waited, patient and still, his painted smile forever etched onto his face. 

On another cold Christmas morning, a new family moved in. Under the Christmas tree, among the brightly wrapped presents, there lay a single, unmarked box. A little girl, her eyes wide with excitement, tore open the paper. Inside, she found a doll with a painted smile and big, friendly eyes. She hugged it tightly, delighted with her new companion.

Forget Me Not

Silhouettes & Shadows

Amity

Modern Life

lyrics

For Javier
Let the real engage
From Mother Earth
The songs we've made
Galician dreams shared,
Emerald Isle beams for you here.
Inspired
Dotted crotchet hooks
Unknown ignitions
Those little musical hugs
Keep many on a mission 

Bring these clouded sounds
Help the world go around 

Brothers and sisters
Cheers for your ears
Together we curate a creole of each other's happy tears
Mother's and Me's passing on a little more please 
That's our culture counted
Sound it loud at our musical banquet
Feed vultures surmounted 

It seems some stayed
Some chose lament
Across the water our ancestors went
The genes are seen in modern meme
Who knew this brotherhood had been
So now we know how the story goes
Let's sing for a bit and warm up the cold
A sea between but the sounds do roam 
Like one Galician tribe who made trails to home
Sounds like a trail back to you

It seems some stayed
Some chose lament
Across the water our ancestors went
The genes are seen in modern meme
Who knew this brotherhood had been
So now we know how the story goes
Let's sing for a bit and warm up the cold
A sea between but the sounds do roam 
Like one Galician tribe who made trails to home
Sounds like a trail back to you

For Javier

Ati242 - Her Nerdeysen ( ultra slowed )

20251027

Fake Electro-Acoustic musician

other projects (past & present)
@sguall (rap)
@ricinn
@sonsofapache1 (rock)
@oyojo (rap)
@secheprod
@ortta (rock)
@pulsarsessions (jam)

Background photography by Navi

Selbsttäuschung

6klop