English plz

La Notte

Copy of Buzzing Pop

Lungu Boy

Good News

we freestyled this song on ARIatHome's livestream on the streets of nyc 8 days ago, recorded it this week, and here it is <3 

Hold Me

WHEN WE GET TO IT

[Verse]
Neon butterflies in the midnight glow
Wings of light
They dance so slow
Electric whispers in the air
I reach out
But they're never there

[Prechorus]
Flicker
Shimmer
Fade
Repeat
Heartbeats lost in the city's beat

[Chorus]
Neon butterflies
They fly
They fly
Through the cracks in the purple sky
Chasing shadows
Chasing dreams
Nothing's ever quite what it seems

[Verse 2]
The sidewalk hums
A quiet song
Streetlights blink where I don't belong
I hear their call
A distant hum
But by the time I run
They're gone

[Bridge]
Glowing wings that never land
Slip through my fingers like desert sand
A moment close
Then far away
Forever night
Forever gray

[Chorus]
Neon butterflies
They fly
They fly
Through the cracks in the purple sky
Chasing shadows
Chasing dreams
Nothing's ever quite what it seems

Shadows

Lava Meeseeks (Orange mix)

Just Enough Love

But If You Go, I Won't Cry

Lose your body

Light in the Static is the closing chapter of the trilogy that began with A Tear-Stained Journal and Shadows on My Skin. Where the first two tracks lingered in confession and darkness, this one steps forward into clarity, resilience, and hope — transforming scars and shadows into strength.
Original Version
A cinematic dark-pop journey blending whispered verses with swelling, atmospheric choruses. It captures the intimate honesty of writing in a journal, while the production builds into a powerful statement of survival and self-awareness. Both vulnerable and uplifting, it’s the sound of learning to rise from the wreckage.
Raw Version
Stripped back and exposed, this version leans into the fragility of the lyrics. Sparse instrumentation keeps the focus on the vocal delivery, as if the pages of the song were being read aloud in the quiet. Every breath and every crack in the voice is left untouched, creating an unfiltered connection to the heart of the song.
At its core, Light in the Static is a song about turning pain into purpose, recognising that every scar points the way forward, and choosing to breathe, feel, and rise again.


Light in the Static (Raw)

No One Can Ever Tell

Stairway to Heaven

I Swear It

A Universe of Beaches

Too Unkind

Outside

Inspired by the song My Love popularized by Petula Clark in 1965. Composed by Tony Hatch. Remixed 20251208.

Video: https://youtu.be/bgAhVF3mmjY

My Love

My Love (Petula Clark)

all of heaven

Dedicated to a one woman on this earth, she knows who she is.

Universe

Ash - Worlds Apart

Julia's travelling plans

https://band.link/LaNotte
YouTube: www.youtube.com/user/hoosamprod16
Fb: www.facebook.com/hsmshow
Instagram: Houssem_amari_music

Houssem Amari - Il Tempo Scorre

La Notte EP
1.Houssem Amari - La Notte
2.Houssem Amari - Il Tempo Scorre

Houssem Amari :
https://soundcloud.com/houssem_amari
https://www.facebook.com/hsmshow
https://www.instagram.com/houssem_ar

La Notte EP

Stream/Download

Houssem Amari - La Notte

Camille's Night

Berk Kaynas - Camille's Night

I don't claim any ownership over any of this. Anyone can use any of it for any reason forever. Also I accept liability. Please don't sue me (and/or let's collaborate).

"Holy fucking shit, this shit is crazy wtf"

"Moments of being passable beyond novelty"

"Very ok"

"Actually slaps"

"Straight art"

"Noise"

"You are the most famous musician who has ever lived." (Google, 2025)

```Madlibs with a metronome```

At its core, the blorgpulkf is a pulsating, iridescent orb that thrums with an energy that can only be described as "the sound of a thousand bees having a rave inside a kaleidoscope." It's hypnotic, it's unsettling, and it's strangely addictive - like watching a lava lamp filled with Mountain Dew and gummy bears.

But that's just the beginning. Surrounding this pulsing heart are layers upon layers of... well, your guess is as good as mine. One moment it's a tangled web of neon tubes that hum with an eerie frequency, the next it's a churning mass of what appears to be sentient silly putty. And is that a tiny disco ball I see nestled in there? You bet your sweet bippy it is.

As for its features, the blorgpulkf is like a Swiss Army knife designed by a mad scientist with a penchant for pranks. It's got a button that releases a burst of confetti and the sound of a rubber chicken being stepped on, a lever that causes the whole thing to fold in on itself like a origami crane having an existential crisis, and a tiny compartment that dispenses a single, perfectly spherical grape every 37 hours.

But perhaps the most baffling feature of the blorgpulkf is its ability to communicate. Not with words, of course - that would be far too pedestrian. No, the blorgpulkf speaks in a language all its own, a cryptic code of flashing lights, whirring gears, and the occasional burst of atonal jazz played on what sounds suspiciously like a didgeridoo.




The plorksickle. It's like someone took a fever dream, a Mad Lib, and a Dada art installation, threw 'em in a blender, and hit "puree."

Picture this: a contraption that looks like it crawled out of a Salvador Dali painting and mated with a Rube Goldberg machine. It's got a crank that sounds like a yodeling ostrich, a button that releases a puff of glitter and the scent of existential dread, and a tiny screen that just flashes the word "moist" in Wingdings.

But here's the kicker - every time you think you've figured out what it does, it changes the game. One minute it's reciting beat poetry in binary code, the next it's turning itself inside out and becoming a Klein bottle. And don't even get me started on the time it started oozing a viscous liquid that tasted like the color purple.

Is it a tool? A toy? A sentient being from another dimension that's just really, really bad at communication? Your guess is as good as mine. All I know is, it's the most beautifully useless thing I've ever laid eyes on.

But maybe that's the point. In a world where everything has to have a purpose, a function, a reason for being, the plorksickle is a big, fat middle finger to the very concept of sense. It's absurdity for absurdity's sake, a Zen koan in physical form.

So if you ever see me on the street, cradling this bizarre little gizmo like a newborn lovechild, don't ask me what it does. Just nod, smile, and know that you're in the presence of something truly inexplicable. Something that laughs in the face of logic and spits in the eye of reason.

Lava Meeseeks (Orange mix)

blorgpulkfplorksickle