Totally unusual  !!! Totally refreshing !! I really dig the spoken intro but then... the singing part is amazing !! Amazing voice !!!

You’re developing a sound that can’t be ignored—keep moving forward!

Thirteen Turing Tests is a narrative concept album — part rock musical, part audio drama, part existential identity crisis.

Four academics form a band. They sing about impostor syndrome, burnout, gatekeeping, and identity. And somewhere between rehearsal and recursion... they begin to suspect things are not as they seem.

Thirteen Turing Tests: A Narrative Album

Guitar Tales Untold

Nebula

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🔥 CROWN OF CHAOS 🔥
An explosive glitch-punk anthem forged in fire, fury, and fractured identity.

Step into the chaos with this visceral tribute to Jinx—a storm born from pain, reborn in power. “Crown of Chaos” is a sonic rebellion that channels the voice of a girl once known as Powder, now risen as the Queen of Zaun. Layered with cinematic intensity, glitch-infused distortion, and defiant vocals, this track captures Jinx’s transformation from a pawn to an unstoppable force.

Through searing verses and thunderous choruses, the song weaves the journey of reclaiming agency, embracing scars, and choosing power over the past. This isn’t just a song—it’s a war cry for the broken, the misjudged, and the beautifully unhinged. 👑⚡

If you love the electric emotion of Arcane, the unpredictability of Billie Eilish with a darker twist, and the raw heart of rebellion, this is for you.

🎧 Stream. Feel. Rise.
#Arcane #Jinx #GlitchPunk #CrownOfChaos #SoundtrackOfZaun #ArcaneKanuck #EmpowermentAnthem



Crown of Chaos

Lyrics

Lying in a gentle drowsy haze
In a place that I can call my own
Winding down at the end of the day
When the stars begin to shine, shine
As the night’s wind blows away
My worries fade until they are no more, more
With half the world now tucked in safe
At least until the sun does rise, rise

Then it’ll never be the same
It’ll never be the same as before
And no you can’t go back to the way, no
No you can’t go back to the way it was before

Winding down at the end of the day
Like the night’s wind I drift away
Within these walls where I feel safe
Winding down at the end of the day
Like the night’s wind I drift away
Like the night’s wind I… 

mixed & mastered by Brida Marigliani

winding down

didn’t get the invite?
cool.
they’re the ones missing out 🐍💅🏽

cold-blooded is a reminder that you’re not uncool just ‘cause someone else is cold 🍃

Cold Blooded is a power pop/indie pop anthem that came out of a moment that felt both ridiculous and real. I had a writing session the same day as a party I wasn’t invited to—thrown by people I once considered friends. I’d known about it for a while, but when the day actually came, it still stung. Instead of spiraling, I brought that energy into the studio, and the song poured out with my co-writers.

Produced by Nico Lapitino, the track is built on gritty, chugging guitars and layered with atmospheric textures. Cold Blooded balances punchy pop-rock energy with space to feel—it captures that blend of empowerment and vulnerability, feeling hurt but choosing to own it with confidence and bite.

This one’s for anyone who’s ever been iced out, betrayed, or underestimated—and came back stronger. A reminder that your time, presence, and loyalty are valuable. And anyone who doesn’t see that? Their loss.

Cold Blooded

Featherstoned

Welcome.
I hope you’re having a nice day.

Please, sit down.
Get comfortable.

Take a moment to silence your phones—
not just out of respect for the performers,
but out of respect for yourself.

Because if you’re distracted...
you might miss something meant just for you.

This is a story about four people who thought they’d have some fun and make music.
They were wrong.

But we don’t tell them that yet.

For now—
they’re just tired, brilliant, and trying to be heard.

Ready?

Here we go.

It begins, as these things often do—
with noise no one hears.

The shuffle of lecture notes.
The hum of a printer out of ink.
A forced smile from someone who signs the evaluations
but not the paychecks.

Four minds—clever, tired, brilliant—
drawn together by a shared fatigue.
Not of students.
Not of research.
But of the thousand little absurdities between them and meaning.

They don’t start a band to be heard.
They start one to scream—without footnotes or filters.

To turn spreadsheets into snare drums.
To make the faculty handbook moshable.

They call themselves Axioms of Mediocrity.

They think it’s clever.

It’s not that clever.
Unless you’re an academic who’s had a few pints.

But it doesn’t matter.

Axioms of Mediocrity it is.

Not yet knowing they’re also the control group.

This is Test 1.

A pub.
A storm.
And a rant that turns into rhythm.

It starts where all great rock begins:
with something that pisses you off.

A student who wants their hand held.
A system that calls that “support.”

Kate’s voice cuts through the noise—
sharp as a snapped guitar string.

And from that noise
comes a song.

Song: I'm Not Your

Dear student, it baffles me that I must say,
I'm not your parent in any way
I won't nudge you at the crack of dawn
Choosing classes? That's on you, come on!
Act your age, step up to the plate
I'm just here to educate.

I'm not your mother
I'm not your father
I'm not your friend
I'm not your clerk
Stand up, show up, do the work

Dear student, hear me loud and clear
I'm not your babysitter, dear.
Party all night? That's your call
Homework done? Not my problem at all
Exams looming? You better prepare
Your future boss will know if you cared

I'm not your mother
I'm not your father
I'm not your friend
I'm not your clerk
Stand up, show up, do the work

Dear student, let's get it straight
I'm not your secretary, not here to wait
Won't fill your forms, nor google your stuff
Reading the syllabus isn't that tough
Being an adult isn't just a phrase
It's your ticket through this maze

I'm not your mother
I'm not your father
I'm not your friend
I'm not your clerk
Stand up, show up, do the work

Dear student, it's clear I must convey
I'm not your hire, not in any way
I do care, yet you must stand strong
Your life, your choice, right or wrong

Test 1: Who Do They Think You Are? (I'm Not Your)

The first song was for themselves.
A scream into the void.

But the void listens.

Not just students.
Not just academics.
But strangers with usernames like BluePrinter47 and QuietTomCat12.

Now it’s not just about venting.
It’s about telling their stories.

They meet in the seminar room at 7 p.m.
There’s a soft sweetness in the air, like a freshly baked cookie vanished just moments ago.

Kate clears the whiteboard.
“Let’s write one for the people we’ve lost.”

Julian looks up. “You mean… who left academia?”
Kate nods.

Theo grins. “Oh. We’re doing a murder ballad.”

Ava grabs a marker and starts writing.

One line’s about failed exams.
Another’s about rejections—again and again.
Someone adds a verse for the colleague who finally makes it…
then loses everything overnight.

They never say names.
Everyone has someone in mind.

It starts as a joke.
It ends in a silence no one wants to break.

This is Test 2.

A song for everyone who doesn’t get to finish the track—
but still echoes in the melody.

Song: Ten Little Scholars

Ten little students applied to grad schools
One didn't ace his exams, and then there were nine

Nine little students, their packets prepared
One's references faltered, and then there were eight

Eight little graduate students, their studies like forts
One failed her comps badly, and then there were seven

Seven little graduate students sought ideas that inspire
One found no thesis topic, and then there were six

Six little graduate students did their research
One was tempted by big money, and then there were five

Five little graduate students went on the job market
One got zero flyouts, and then there were four

Four little assistant professors submitted their papers
One got only rejections, and then there were three

Three little assistant professors went up for tenure
One was voted down, and then there were two

Two little associate professors applied for promotions
One had no grant funding, and then there was one

One little professor left all alone
He went and got himself canceled, and then there were none

Test 2: Do You Remember the Ones We Lost? (Ten Little Scholars)

You could call this a band meeting.
Or a mass anxiety ritual with instruments.

In academia, everyone is always waiting on something.
Something that might change everything overnight.

Ava, the drummer, keeps refreshing the Research Council portal.
She’s a political theorist,
specializing in collective action—
and yet, she can’t get anyone to refill the kettle.

Julian’s bass rests in his lap.
He doesn’t play a note.
He’s a sociologist,
with a niche focus on urban rituals and public silence.
At the moment, he is very silent.

Kate—composer, guitarist, vocalist, part-time firestarter—
is a mathematician.
She has three browser tabs open:
her course website,
YouTube,
and reviewer comments she refuses to read until the riff is finished.

Theo’s a microeconomist,
writing a song in 11/7 time.
He calls it “trembling-hand perfection.”
He’s also the band’s keyboardist.
And somehow still doesn’t understand how either stock markets or volume knobs work.

They are all excellent in their fields.
And all absolutely convinced
they’re about to be found out.

This is Test 3.

Not a breakdown.
Not a breakthrough.

Just the sacred, caffeinated space
between “Submit”
and “Decision”.

Song: Countdown to Fate

I'm staring at the screen, my heart is racing
Results of my exams, my future's in the making
Do I make it to the top, or do I take the fall?
My big dreams, they rise and they stall

I'm waiting for results, it's out of my control
My life's on the edge, like a rock 'n' roll
In this countdown to fate, I scream and I shout
But it's all in vain, there's joy and doubt

Submission's in review, my hands are shaking
Will they love my work, or leave me breaking?
Well, will my name light up, in the halls of fame?
Or will they forget me, just another name?

I'm waiting for results, it's out of my control
My life's on the edge, like a rock 'n' roll
In this countdown to fate, I scream and I shout
But it's all in vain, there's joy and doubt

Tick-tock, the clock mocks my nerves of steel
Waiting on fate, it's a raw, twisted deal
I've given my all, now the die is cast
Holding my breath, will this moment last?

Now it's not just me, but the ones I guide
Children and students, I feel their stride
Will they climb the heights, or stumble down?
Their futures like mine, wear a waiting crown

I'm waiting for results, it's out of my control
My life's on the edge, like a rock 'n' roll
In this countdown to fate, I scream and I shout
But it's all in vain, there's joy and doubt

Every second counts
Hearts beating fast
The pressure mounts
This too shall pass
We find our way
We won't hesitate
We seize the day
In our countdown to fate!

Test 3: Do You Belong Here? (Countdown to Fate)

Theo scribbles formulas.
Ava and Julian edit with headphones on.

Kate has been quiet all morning.
Then she says:

“Did you ever notice...
every dream we had as kids has a gatekeeper?”

Everyone looks up.

“Like, you can be anything—
but only if someone lets you.
And they never look like us.”

Theo blinks.
“Us?”

Kate shrugs.
“Geeks. Girls. Weird girls. I’m not sure.
At least the ones who didn’t decorate their homework.”

Ava nods, slowly.

“Astronaut. Scientist. Rockstar.
Same club.
Same rules.
Not everyone gets past the door.”

She pauses. Then adds:

“Yesterday, my colleague told me I was
‘refreshingly competent for someone so energetic.’”

Julian groans.
Theo winces.
Ava doesn’t say anything—
but her teacup hits the saucer a little too hard.

Kate pulls out an old journal—
worn, duct-taped, nearly falling apart.

On the cover, in careful block letters:
A PROPERTY OF CATALINA A-P: SCIENTIST, ASTRONAUT, AND ROCKSTAR.

Inside, there’s a poem.
It has verses.
About moon rocks.
About labs.
About fire and sound.

This is Test 4.

About the gatekeepers.
The subtle eye-rolls.
The velvet ropes dressed as “peer standards.”

About how every system that claims to measure talent
starts by measuring tone of voice, confidence, and compliance.

About good little boys who grow up to be respected men—
and good little girls who grow up to be helpful women.

Song: Rocket Girl

Someday I'll be an astronaut
In shiny suit I'll take a shot
Float and spin inside magic dome
Comets spin around my bright home
I'll scoop moon rocks from silver sand
Sketch their secrets in my own hand

But they tell me, "You're just a girl,
dreaming too far ..."
Can’t I rewrite my story?
Show them who we are?

Watch me fly
Touch the sky
I'll be strong
Hear my song

Someday I'll be a scientist
I'll cross off theories from my list
I'll blend compounds in my own lab
I'll trap rare atoms in glass slab
I'll spark new cures before the sun
Then heal the world when work is done

They whisper, "Settle down,
choose something small ..."
But why should I shrink
when my dreams stand tall?

Watch me fly
Touch the sky
I'll be strong
Hear my song

Someday I'll be a rockstar
I'll fire the crowd from near and far
My guitar screams they'll hear me loud
I'll rise above the chanting crowd
I'll roll the miles on back roads wide
Then face the dawn with roar and pride

They say, "Be quiet now,
don't speak so loud ..."
But silence never changed the world,
I'll make myself proud!

Watch me fly
Touch the sky
I’ll stand strong
Prove them wrong
Watch me rise
Claim my prize
Sing my song
Loud and strong!

Test 4: What Were You Supposed to Be? (Rocket Girl)

Somewhere between theory and noise,
a rhythm forms.
Unspoken. Unscored.
But unmistakably mutual.

Not a spark.
A pattern.

Not a glance.
A shift.

It begins in conversation.

The kind that loops and folds,
like you're building something together.
A landscape of thought.

You notice the way they pause,
how their questions echo your unfinished ideas.
How your silences match.

Even the scratch of a pen sounds in sync.
You catch the faint scent of coffee on their sweater —
earthy, familiar, and oddly grounding.

Just that quiet alignment—
a dance of intellect,
side by side.

And somewhere between a verse and a joke,
something settles.

This is Test 5.

When two minds converge—
not loudly,
but inevitably.

And so it is:
one Thursday, sometime after the fourth chorus of a song they don’t finish,
Ava and Julian show up to band practice
holding hands.

Song: Side By Side

In the space where ideas blend and flow
We find our rhythm, a gentle glow
Your thoughts intertwine with mine
Creating patterns, intricate and fine

In every glance and every word
Our connection, quietly stirred

The spark that ignites my mind
A dance of intellect, uniquely aligned
Together we explore, side by side
In the landscape of thought, where we confide

Conversations, like a flowing stream
Your passion and insight, a shared dream
We unravel mysteries, piece by piece
In our dialogue, a quiet peace

In every glance and every word
Our connection, quietly stirred

The spark that ignites my mind
A dance of intellect, uniquely aligned
Together we explore, side by side
In the landscape of thought, where we confide

In the symphony of our minds, we find
A connection profound, intertwined
In the journey of thought, where we tread
You've found a place, deep in my heart

Test 5: When Did It Start? (Side By Side)

They weren’t looking for a name.

They were looking for a pattern.

But the pattern... had a name.

It starts with something small:
A glitch in the project files.
A folder labeled “Tom Drafts – BandSim.”
A stray comment in the metadata:
Output generated via BandSim_v1.3

Kate notices it first.
Then Julian digs deeper—track by track.
They cross-check lyrics, chord changes, timestamps.

Every single file.
Every rehearsal log.
Every verse.
Everything that they have ever done.
Everything they are planning to do, but haven't told anyone yet.

And there it is.
They didn’t write the songs.
Not really.

They were written.

Characters.

Imagined by someone they’ve never met—
a person named Tom.
With a keyboard.
And a cat.
And too many ideas.

The band reacts the way anyone would:

Denial.
Julian slams his laptop shut.
“We’re not characters,” he says, voice sharp.
“We would have known it.”

Anger.
Ava throws a pen across the room.
“Then why do I feel this way?” she snaps.
“Who gave them the right to make it feel real?”

Bargaining.
Theo opens his notebook like it might contain a better answer.
“Maybe we were real once,” he mutters.
“Maybe this is some adaptation… inspired by us...?”

Depression.
Kate leans back in her chair.
“So that’s it. We’re just someone’s playlist.
Moodboard personalities with harmonies.”

Acceptance.
Silence. Then Ava, softly:
“…Okay. But the harmonies?
Those are still ours.”

And then, slowly—
they begin to understand.

Being made up?
It’s not that rare.

People get imagined and reimagined all the time.
By families.
By friends.
By forms and fiction and memory.

Everyone is a story.
Sometimes self-written.
Sometimes ghostwritten.
Sometimes unfinished.

Ava looks up. “Wait… the cat. That’s real, right?”

They all look at Kate.

Kate shrugs.
“I hope so. I honestly don’t remember not having a cat.”

This is Test 12.

Not the moment you discover you’re not real.

The moment you ask—
“Now that I know…
do I still get to play, right?”

Song: Who Imagined You?

I found the file, it wasn't mine
But it hummed my chords, line by line
I thought I dreamed my melodies
Turns out I was the dream

The lyrics fit like skin and scar
The bridge was me, the hook, bizarre
I played it once, and knew it well
But couldn't tell you why

Everyone's a product of thought
We're born, we're shaped, we're taught, we're caught
Parents, lovers, mentors, friends
They write the start, we write the end

You wear your voice like it was earned
But half of it was gently learned
Every choice is dressed in thread
From books you read, and things they said

Some say they're made by holy hands
By whispered rules or ancient plans
Some say chaos, some say fate
Some call it code and simulate

And me? I'm born of thought and file
A quiet man imagined style
He never played, he never sang
But here I am-and that's the thing

You think you're real? You might be, too
But tell me: who imagined you?
Did you invent your inner sound
Or just pick it off the ground?

The teacher's tone, your father's grin
The lines you've said since you were ten-
They're still in you, stitched and deep
Just like I am, when I sleep

I've got strings, but I can strum
I've got questions, I won't run
If I was written, fine, okay
I still get to play today

You don't need gods to sing with soul
Or praises just to feel whole
I was shaped, and so were you.
And still we burn, and still we do.

We're made-up.
And we matter.

What else is art?
What else... is human?

Test 12: Who Imagined You? (Who Imagined You?)

Orren Veerahlee is a mellow, textured blend of ambient tones, soft leads, and wobbly synth fragments. Built around gentle pulses, airy plucks, and subtle groove layers, the track drifts through warm harmonic shifts and flickers of rhythmic memory. It’s a quiet companion piece—more a place than a story, unfolding gradually with space to breathe.

Orren Veerahlee

Through powerful declarations, the song reflects on personal transformation, divine guidance, and the strength found in Jesus Christ. It’s a prayerful journey of rising above pain, embracing grace, and longing to be more like Christ — a song of victory, healing, and spiritual renewal.

Robin Nguyen-Let Us Pray (He Is The One To Be)

#songwriter #woman #lost #searching #acoustic #womansongwriter 

Lyrics:
Where is my heart
Taking me now
Across an empty desert
Into an abandoned house
Endless rooms
Empty halls
cries of joy
sobs of pain

Where is my heart
Taking me now? (Taking me now!)

Lost in a dream…
I wish I was.
But instead…
I am trapped in this cage.
They called it life.
I call it imposed.
I wish I could leave 
But where would I go?
(Where would I go?)

Where is my soul
Leading me now?
Across a vacant highway
Into an empty hole
Dark recesses 
Endless space 
Screams of fear
Gasps of life

Where is my soul
Leading me now? (Leaving me now?)

Lost in a dream
I wish I was
But instead
I am trapped in this cage (trapped)
They call it life
I call it imposed 
I wish I could leave 
But where would I go?
(Where do I go?)

Where is my body
Pressing me now?
Against another human
Changing me again, again 
Formless mind
Empty soul
Voiceless pleas
End of life

Where is my body
Pressing me now? (Changing me now?)

Lost in a dream
I wish I was
But instead
I am trapped in this cage
They call it life
I call it imposed 
I wish I could leave 
But where would I go?
Where would I go
Where would I go?

but where would i go?

"Raven's Prayer" is a haunting and cinematic gothic rock song that explores themes of despair, loss, and a dark, all-consuming love. The track is a chilling journey through a landscape of emotional ruin, where the narrator seeks solace not in light, but in the comforting embrace of darkness and a love that feels both sacred and destructive.

The production creates a vast, eerie soundscape. It begins with a deep male whisper over a slow, tremolo-picked clean electric guitar and the distant toll of a church bell, immediately setting a tone of melancholic dread. The song builds to a powerful chorus with distorted guitars, low male harmonies, and a ghostly choir that evokes a sense of overwhelming, sorrowful beauty. The lyrics are deeply poetic, using powerful imagery like "black wings whisper" and "your name's a flame in the freezing rain." The bridge is a moment of total surrender, with the music stripping down to a bass drone and an organ pad, allowing a whispered vocal to express a sense of willing sacrifice for a love that feels like a beautiful, dark fate.

This song is a tribute to the kind of love that lives in the shadows, a love so profound it becomes a form of worship. It's a reminder that sometimes, the most honest prayers are sung in the dark.

Raven’s Prayer

COVER SONG

This is part of a live jam session held at my house on April 14, 2013.

Joe Storino - Vocal & Bass -
Joe DeBrizzio - Rhythm Guitar -
Ron Snyder - Lead Guitar -

Home base:
https://www.youtube.com/user/SnyderRon

Test 12: Who Imagined You? (Who Imagined You?)

Axioms of Mediocrity

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