Что-то warm и знакомое, что-то far, что-то болезненно дискомфортное. Мне бы хотелось что бы эти vibes ощущались как разливающиеся tears. Посвящаю всем людям потерявшим в этой жизни что-то важноe

LS (gorki vkus)

Coffee

ATTENTION Disclaimer:  The music you hear is a jam session with Death Metal Drummer Michael Arcane at his place in 2001. He’s a super talented drummer and great guy. All drumming was by him and I was playing guitar and not really on his level to be playing with him. So this is a combination of 3 small pieces that I put together from that jam. The recording was in room using my Tascam PortaStudio 424 Mark III eight track tape recorder.

Track Title: 2001 Jam session with Death Metal Drummer Michael Arcane
Track Picture: Is the guitar used
Guitar Used: Jackson Soloist “Pyle of Skulls” Custom USA HSS configuration.
Color: Black with Custom Paint job
Strings I use: Ernie Ball Hybrid Slinky 9-46
Amp: Crate GFX 212 DSP, If not it was a Legend Rock n Roll 50watt Tube Amp with a DOD Metal X pedal

Encounter_00X

A Jam with Death Metal Drummer Michael Arcane

all instruments: stonerjazz https://soundcloud.com/user-911083679
remix and narration: sonic structures and silent stretches
image: the same collab
info: there are more versions of this canto to emerge from other collab partners. LOOKING FORWARD!

narration: the thirteen canto poem finds its way into sound, a slice at a time

poem / copyright jo richter

How long he stayed, he could not tell.
He worked ferociously, sounding all
existence that had touched upon him into
being: the smell of meadows, the curl of
ripples, the calm that centers in a storm;
the timbre of voices, the straight lines of buildings,
the aloofness of announcers on the radio.
His desk was cluttered, his mind strove clear.


When he did not write, he‘d read up on
the origins of his ancient art: Vergil and Dante,
Marlow and Shakespeare, Homer and Joyce,
Ovidus, Cervantes, Rabelais and Wieland.
He felt the linguistic seeds, blown from foreign
stems, grow filaments deep in his native soil, he
saw them ripen, flower profusely, yielding
their beauty to ever-changing mentalities.


And as his insight widened and he gained
perspective, the rows of encyclopedias
and dictionaries that lined his shelves
slimmed down, as he gave up consulting
English for French and German, these for
Latin and Greek, those for Persian and Sanskrit,
until he only referred to Indo-European roots.
His desk turned clear, his mind became uncluttered.


Eventually, he also slept and dreamt
whenever the veil sank upon him.
Guarded by the spire‘s safe walls, he would
awaken slowly, remembering outlandish
lore, scribbling notes and poems of bizarre
truthfulness and penning recollections of his
archetypal ties. Some of his realistic verse de-
rived from fragments of prolonged poetic trance.


 His muse meanwhile taught him to cook, the
art of mixing individual ingredients to bring about
a taste all of its own that nourishes both mind and
physicality. The painters tend to fixate on surface
and colour, she said, the musicians on timing
the process, whereas the poets never get anything
done, enchanted by words like ‚ginger‘ or ‚yeast‘.
All of their dishes taste awful.

Departure Canto IV with Stonerjazz

🕯The closer the connect...The sweeter the light radiates. 🤍❣🤍

The Pupil Of Love

The Light In Your Eyes

I sat and played the
Piano so free
The keys felt sticky
The pedal was tricky
I'm stuck to the chair
I stood up quickly
Could this be the end?
I gasped and
Started again.

Musing #6

Composed, arranged, performed, and produced by:
Carlos Vivanco

Future Memories

Microdots

..  loosely WORLD in category .. a modern infusion of ancient ideas and mysteries 
  no answers in truth put a cool existential evocative ride
    .. CHEERS! SID #beelzebubabble

BEELZEBUBABBLE

Music bed by Matthew Coleman https://soundcloud.com/matthew-coleman-6
vocals, lyrics and 2nd guitar, Mix and production by conover

Never Mama     (The Conover Coleman Conclusion)

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BEELZEBUBABBLE

💀 SUB 1 💀 - AVANT GUARD DOGS