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Sako Isoyan - Venera Express

Dusty Kid - LSD

Sacred Chants of Shiva (Original Mix)

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привет, люди!
новый юбилейный плейлист от Станции метро Горьковская – номер 10!

получилось питательно и вызывающе!
включайте этот аудио-файл сразу, не надо ждать подходящего момента. так всю жизнь прождете! обязательно подписывайтесь и пишите в комментариях свой любимый момент! но кажется у всех он будет одинаковый – кто был, тот знает)

отдельное спасибо братцам из Селедки & Кофе за то, что это произошло. вы реальные самородки!

Горьковская Плейлист #10 w/ Селедка И Кофе

DIRTY GLASSEZ, N95 - CLOUDTEK
https://fuselab.bandcamp.com/album/cloudtek

The debut co-op release by DIRTY GLASSEZ and N95 brings together the best of both worlds, combining a melancholic atmosphere with ghetto tech/footwork aesthetics.

CLOUDTEK reworks the aesthetics of the digital positivity and glossy futurism of the 2000s into a more mature, minor key form. Simple ringtone vaporwave melodies take on a thoughtful sound, shimmering in an ambient haze. Drums borrowed from ghetto genres add a special energy to the music.

At the intersection of two extremes — lively ghetto and airy futurism — cloudtek emerged, manifesting itself in a scattering of contradictory genres

Links:
DIRTY GLASSEZ
https://instagram.com/dirty_glassez
https://soundcloud.com/dirtyglassez
https://vk.com/dirtyglassez
https://t.me/dirtyglassez
N95
https://instagram.com/n95n95n95n95
https://on.soundcloud.com/C1iCDCDXFwvJDw3QA
https://vk.com/n95n95n95
https://t.me/n95n95n95

CLOUDTEK

bandcamp

DIRTY GLASSEZ, N95 - 0001

Hollow Clip

INTHEPLACE

Glaucoma - Zerkalo (Intro Voice Mix)

Here is a masterpiece from Bulb and his interpretation of a poem "Night" by Boris Pasternak (1890-1960), a Soviet Russian poet, novelist, and literary translator.
Here translated text from russian of his poem:

The night proceeds and dwindling
Prepare's the day's rebirth.
An airman is ascending
Above the sleeping earth.

And almost disappearing
In cloud, a tiny spark,
He now is like a cross-stitch,
A midget laundry-mark.

Beneath him are strange cities,
And heavy traffic-lanes,
And night-clubs, barracks, stokers,
And railways, stations, trains.

The shadow of his wing-span
Falls heavy on the cloud.
Celestial bodies wander
Around him in a crowd.

And there, with frightful listing
Through emptiness, away
Through unknown solar systems
Revolves the Milky Way.

In limitless expanses
Are headlands burning bright.
In basements and in cellars
The stokers work all night.

And underneath a rooftop
In Paris, maybe Mars
Or Venus sees a notice
About a recent farce.

And maybe in an attic
And under ancient slates
A man sits wakeful, working,
He thinks and broods and waits;

He looks upon the planet,
As if the heavenly spheres
Were part of his entrusted
Nocturnal private cares.

Fight off your sleep: be wakeful,
Work on, keep up your pace,
Keep vigil like the pilot,
Like all the stars in space.

Work on, work on, creator-
To sleep would be a crime-
Eternity's own hostage,
And prisoner of Time.

taken from myfavoritemonsters.blogspot.com/2009/05/b…ight.html

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