Obliodrivers by Aedos Cluster of the Waterfall

An Excited Tree

Sophie and I stripped it all down – raw chords, bare emotions. “Inner Turmoil (Unplugged)” is now on YouTube.
🎧 Watch here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6CZiIbRNTj8

🔗 New tracks monthly. Follow & listen on Spotify
https://open.spotify.com/intl-it/artist/3gyawiyn1h42aeP11nH2KC

Long Road Motel is a sonic journey down dusty highways, past forgotten motels and haunted memories. A dark rock/grunge track soaked in nostalgia and unease. Gritty guitars, ghostly melodies, and a voice that drifts like a summer wind—restless and heavy.
Perfect for those who aren't chasing beaches this summer, but chasing meaning—or just trying to outrun something inside.
🎸 Turn up the radio. Leave everything behind. Welcome to the Long Road Motel.

Produced by EileenNoise
Singer and guitar Sophie Ellison
Artwork photo by Sophie Ellison

You can hear other works with her here;)
soundcloud.com/zipboy83/sets/grunge-vocals-by-sophie

Lyrics
[Verse]
Dusty road it stretches wide
Empty dreams hitching a ride
Neon flickers in the haze
Old motel where ghosts still stay

[Chorus]
Long road motel
Where the lost hearts dwell

[Verse 2]
Creaky floorboards sing their tune
Peeling walls hide past’s perfume
Faded faces in the frames
Time forgot their worn-out names

[Chorus]
Long road motel
Where the lost hearts dwell

[Bridge]
Broken signs they point to nowhere
Echoes hum in the heavy air
Every room a silent story
Worn-out beds and fleeting glory

[Verse 3]
Highway hums its lonely hymn
Night creeps in the lights grow dim
Shadows dance in amber glow
Secrets whispered no one knows

Long road motel

Visualizer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dg9Cadi35i8

ETERNA

In Your Dreams By Aimée Britannia & Blue Scarr

Love the style & attitude to this track!

don't settle in life for any less than your dreams!

In Your Dreams (Prod. Blue Scarr)

art - https://x.com/kurehalxxx/status/1901724292301435074

visionz

Fur Coat Trauma

Lyrics by Roger L. Smith
Music & Vocals by Suno (AI)
Mixing & Mastering by Roger L. Smith

Snowman

Tom Petty and the Copyright Infringement Heartbreakers (8-11-25 hugging sand demo) (~feat Gesso)

Mqx x Ricine - Rise (Sped Up Edit)

punk love (prod. erlax)

the little star in me

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).

"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.

Tom Petty and the Copyright Infringement Heartbreakers (8-11-25 hugging sand demo) (~feat Gesso)

blorgpulkfplorksickle