Jupiter

Jupiter (Stellar Mix - Instrumental)

Fat fun good vibes bit durty funky breaks and wob with daft samples

Free DL

Crazy Dream We're All Having - (watch vid on YT)

Believe (Original Mix)

Hyther

Track has been updated to be more punchy...plus a few more elements!
Official release date July 4, 2024

Lose Control (Afterburner edit) is a high-energy DnB track that's both exciting and motivating while giving you all the feels!

I wrote this track with high-speed chases and fast jets in mind...think of a "Blue Angels" air show with this track blasting in the background! I have the need...for speed!

There is a slight change-up (which I like to do with every song) in the middle of the track that's absolute killer! (according to my dog lol)

Lose Control

Ref: V3 Remix 135 A Major MASTERED universal

We Ain't Here For Long

We Ain't Here For Long - Nathan Dawe (Summer Remix by Suspended Solitude)

in making this beat i was inspired by favelas funk and koduro music, mixed with martial european kick drum and some corrupted bass sound i obtained downsampling my Microkorg to 8 bits to make it sound like an hoarse robotic dog. 
Hope you enjoy it!

Kelland, NXSTY & Jay Isaiah - What's The Point (Electric Shaker Cult Remix)

The Epistemic Status of Brett Kavanaugh’s 1982 Calendar (dnb beer boof supreme court swing version)

Past Utopia

live jam tr8s minilogue xd and rc505 
19.05.2024

nomina sunt odiosa (live dawless hard techno)

"Moments of being passable beyond novelty"

"Actually slaps"

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.

The Epistemic Status of Brett Kavanaugh’s 1982 Calendar (dnb beer boof supreme court swing version)

blorgpulkfplorksickle

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