This is so so good.... inspirational 🖤

This militaristic rhythm is awesome, as well as that superb synth wave soundtrack swell here, urban sci-fi dystopia-tastic work mate, love it!

I’m in there straight off ..epic depth orchestral ..vibing wicked crisp sounds..🤗🔥👏

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Avez-vous besoin d'un billet ?

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Art Expressed in Music – El Greco's Passion
February 2024
Duration: 3:00
Listen to the Playlist: soundcloud.com/bruce-klepper-1/sets/art-expressed-in-music-i
Painting: View of Toledo 
Domḗnikos Theotokópoulos (October 1, 1541 –  April 7, 1614) most widely known as El Greco ("The Greek”), was a Greek painter, sculptor and architect of the Spanish Renaissance.  El Greco was born in the Kingdom of Candia (modern Crete).  In 1570, he moved to Rome, where he opened a workshop and executed a series of works. During his stay in Italy, El Greco enriched his style with elements of of the Venetian Renaissanbce.  In 1577, he moved to Toledo Spain, where he lived and worked until his death. In Toledo, El Greco received several major commissions and produced his best-known paintings, such as “View of Toledo”.  At the time, Toledo was the religious capital of Spain and a populous city.  In Toledo, he was the tenant of a complex consisting of three apartments and twenty-four rooms.  It was in these apartments, which also served as his workshop, that he spent the rest of his life, painting and studying. He lived in considerable style, sometimes employing musicians to play whilst he dined.  During the course of the execution of a commission, El Greco fell seriously ill, and died on  April 7th, 1614 at the age of 73.  El Greco's dramatic and expressionistic style was met with puzzlement by his contemporaries, but finally found appreciation in the 20th century.  El Greco is regarded as a precursor of both Expressionism and Cubism; his works were a source of inspiration for painters like Picasso.  He is best known for tortuously elongated figures and often fantastic or phantasmagorical paintings.  El Greco discarded classicist criteria such as measure and proportion. He believed that grace is the supreme quest of art.  El Greco regarded color as the most important and the most ungovernable element of painting, and declared that color had primacy over form.
For strings, piano, trumpet, skiddaw stones, virtual instruments, sound effects and percussion.

Art Expressed In Music - El Greco's Passion

still talking

JIM ANDERS _Zwanni

Here's another little ditty for the weekend!!
Thank you all very much for all of your very generous plays, likes, reposts and playlists!! This is a great community!!!

(c) Vocalatti 2024 ASCAP

Solitude

Greetings and good afternoon to my SC friends. This is the 10th and final song intended for my upcoming album ‘What Color Is Your Paradox’. It is also my 7th mind-blowing collaboration with our dear friend Carlos Vivanco (https://soundcloud.com/carlosvivanco-1, https://carlosvivanco1.bandcamp.com). 

This piece was highly entertaining and challenging to work on. We started with clearly defined regions (mine being the more techno sounding stuff… Carlos building the traditional instrument sections). I then mangled the whole thing, and tried to blur the lines more as the song progresses, until both worlds felt fully merged by the end. At least, that was the goal. I’ll let you decide if the structure succeeds in that regard. :)

The title is also quite significant to me at this point in my life; based on the idea of ‘masking’, and our growing inability to do so. 

If you aren’t familiar with the term ‘masking’, one Mental Health Care website I found defines it this way: “Masking often involves suppressing or hiding true emotions, which can lead to a buildup of unresolved feelings and contribute to increased stress, anxiety, and emotional turmoil in the long-term. In the context of mental health and neurodivergence, masking refers to the actions or coping strategies that individuals use to conceal their genuine thoughts, emotions, or challenges.”

It didn’t really occur to me at first that I was masking when I was younger. I guess that idea doesn’t resonate when you’re deeply lost in the illusion; at least, until something makes it obvious. But in hindsight, I’ve worn many masks over the course of my life (Art Director, Technician, Pre-Press Specialist and Graphic Artist would be some of my professional masks. And I would even go so far as to include Husband, Father and Son, since I was on auto-pilot during the earliest stages of those as well). 

As my life progressed, I felt more and more insincere in those roles. I felt something was wrong. I just couldn’t put my finger on it. Then COVID (something that actually required us to wear real masks. What irony!) came along, and miraculously changed that for all of us. We gained the necessary space we needed, to finally see the illusion more clearly. Now, that illusion grows more fragile and transparent by the day. So while I’m still in the early stages of trying to figure out the new paradigm… I suspect the really critical takeaway at this point is just recognizing when we’re being our genuine selves, and when we’re lost in a role; especially if that role is debilitating to our personal growth and well being.

Another thing I’m thinking a lot on these days…. Society is dependent on me playing those roles. And society doesn’t really care whether I’m happy or not (as long as I keep paying my bills, and buying their products, and believing their lies). So maybe, just maybe, society doesn’t have my best interests at heart (as I had originally hoped). Maybe… just maybe… we’re going to need to redefine who we are personally, as we stop playing along with this globally unconscious and ultimately destructive agenda.

Thick and chunky topic, I know. But that’s the way the world feels to me these days… like we needed a brisk slap across the face to wake us all up. COVID was that slap (and probably just the first of many still to come). It’s time to prioritize our own self interests; because if we don’t, they certainly won’t. So rip off those masks, and let your freak flag fly. It’s our life, and we’ll be the ones sitting on our deathbed, asking ourselves if we lived life true to ourselves…. or if we just fulfilled the role demanded by this illusion.

We hope you enjoy “Cracks In The Surface”; and it inspires you to think about what aspects of your reality are cracking. Keep in mind… if you still have a pulse, there is always time to change things up. :)

Paradox?

Cracks In The Surface | Carlos Vivanco & GrevusAnjl

The hole that was loved!!
Gone but not forgotten....for many Sheffielders this 'near-brutalist' structure (see picture) remains a fondly-missed refuge and meeting place. Hole int' Road (to use the proper vernacular) was built in 1967 but filled in in 1994 to make way for the new tram system. Officially called Castle Square Roundabout it occupied the site of markets going back to 1296. The site is now a tram stop, with just distant memories of the subterranean meeting place with its benches, shops and even the famous fish tank. Shame indeed!

Hole in the Road Blues

Work for philharmonic orchestra in three movements.

"The moon's my constant mistress,
And the lonely owl my marrow;
The flaming drake and the night crow make
Me music to my sorrow."

 - from an anonymous folk song called "Tom O'Bedlam"

Orchestral Suite 2024 No. 1

Orchestral Suite 2024 No. 1 mvt-2

Made in Logic Pro X with my Minilogue XD and Arturia Microfreak.

FRKFNK

Caminhos a subir - 13 - 6-2024

reversal

l'uomo che veniva dal mare

Scheiss Universum 
Ich wach auf wie ein Knacks im Kopf. Nicht laut, nicht wild. Einfach nur: Wach. Es regnet. Wieder. Natürlich. Der Wald klingt nach nassem Filz, und ich sitz auf diesen Stahlstufen vorm Bauwagen, die aussehen wie das Fußpedal eines Raumschiffs – total kaputtromantisch.
Mein Magen weiß noch, dass da vorhin ein kleiner Imbiss war. Mein Kopf nicht. Mein Körper kämpft offenbar, ohne dass ich ihn gebeten hab. Ich sitz daneben und warte – darauf, dass irgendwas einfach weitergeht, wie eine schlecht erzogene Serie, die nie endet.
Was ist Schlaf eigentlich? Früher war das mal Erholung. Jetzt ist das bloß Angriffspunkt. Wenn ich liege, bin ich offen. Wie ein Zelt ohne Reißverschluss. Wenn ich sitze, am Feuer, nachts, halb verfroren, halb wach – da kicken sie mich nicht weg. Ob Illusion oder nicht – das hier draußen ist der einzige Ort, wo mein Zustand nicht analysiert wird, sondern einfach existiert.
Zelle B. Das bin ich. Und auch nicht. Weil Bilder sich auflösen, wenn Alltag reinsickert. Weil selbst Namen keine Wand bauen gegen das, was man fühlt.
Die Diagnose? „Schwach maligne und langsam.“ Klingt wie ein Genre für mein Leben. Ich nenne es: Langsames Leuchten bei geschlossener Tür.
Und dann ist da Mursch. Mein Kater. Mein Zellengenosse. Mein leiser Revoluzzer. Die wollen mir erzählen, dass ich ihn frei lassen soll. Als wär Liebe ein Käfig. Aber sie kennen ihn nicht – diesen Blick, wenn ich ein Kabel neu biege oder wieder zu viel nachdenk. Er sitzt dann da wie ein Außerirdischer mit Herz. Und ich? Ich bin das Raumschiff.
Links, rechts, Mitte – mir egal. Ideologie hilft nicht gegen Nächte am Ofen, wenn du frierst und trotzdem noch lachen kannst.
Ich nenn das hier nicht „Sterben“. Ich nenn das: Stufen aus Stahl, Herz aus Chaos, und ein Kater, der mich besser kennt als jeder Arzt.
...Schlaf. Das war mal was Heiliges. Früher. Als die Welt noch nicht unter der Haut lag. Aber heute? Heute ist Schlaf ein verdächtiger Zustand. Keine Erholung. Sondern eine Einladung zum Angriff.
Wenn ich liege, bin ich ausgeleuchtet. Alles, was krank ist, kriecht aus den Ritzen. Ich werd durchlässig. Wie ein Netz, das nicht mehr fischt, sondern verliert. Mein Körper kämpft. Die ganze Zeit. Ich sitze daneben wie ein Betrachter – manchmal fast wie ein Zuschauer beim eigenen Ende. Und dann leg ich mich hin. Und statt Ruhe kommt dieser Energieabfall. Wie ein Stromausfall mitten im Konzert.
Ich spür das ganz deutlich: Schlaf macht mich schwach. Nicht still – sondern haltlos. Und trotzdem will man mir erzählen, ich soll ausruhen. Dabei ist das Feuer in der Nacht oft mein einziger Schutz. Solange ich wach bin, brennt was in mir. Nicht viel – vielleicht nur eine Zigarette Hoffnung. Aber wenigstens warm.
Hier draußen, auf den Stahlstufen, mitten im Wald, ist Schlaf keine Pause. Er ist eine Schwelle. Zwischen Sein und Verschwinden. Und manchmal frag ich mich, ob ich mir das überhaupt leisten kann – mich hinzugeben, wenn mein Körper ständig auf Alarm steht. Vielleicht ist das echte Ausruhen längst was für die Gesunden. Für die Erfolgsverwalteten. Für die, die nicht jede Nacht spüren, wie fragil ein Mensch sein kann.
Ich schlaf trotzdem. Aber nie ganz. Nie echt. Nur so weit, wie Mursch’s Atem mir sagt: Ich bin noch da. Dann reicht mir das.

Die Fortsetzunf folgt am nächsten Sonntag um 10:00h.

kolkhorst 2025

scheiss_universum

☆●On A Mission●☆

⚡ Synthwave energy unleashed! ⚡ Shock the Algorithm returns with a brand NEW album — Ultraviolet Cosmos.
https://shockthealgorithm.bandcamp.com/album/ultraviolet-cosmos

🌌 Available NOW on Bandcamp — grab your digital copy today and step into the neon! 🌌

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