Floating on an island amongst all this noise, they are all beating their own drums and blaming each other for the syncopation. Here we begin to riegn in some of their melodic moments and blend them together in a transcendent dance harmony.

Secular Sam - Final Arrange - Wk4

Sitting enjoying al-fresco late lunch with new friends somewhere in no man's land between Catalonia and Le Midi. A flamenco guitarist is warming down after a performance and giving an impromptu lesson to a keen audience member. A Palmas jam breaks out on a table nearby, while the restauranter pulls out a Violin and the whole table shakes from the bouncing decking, clattering and clinking wine glasses and cutlery.

Palmas Impulses - Final Arrangement.

Palmas Impulses - Mastered

Secular Sam - Mastered

Lying on the beach, sea sick from bobbing up and down in the waves all day or was it that extra glass of local moonshine at 4 am this morning. Finally everything is looking up, still off balence but heading in the rite direction.

Tik Tek Time

As the ghosts of sailors rise from the deep, they invoke a terrible racket. A noise unbearable to whales, a tearing of the seam that hems together past and present. Their voyages destined for an eternity in limbo, between sail and set.

The Goa - St's Of Hungry Sailors Mxdwn4

Assessment Track for uni 2 of 3. My Take on a Trap Track.

Traped in Broken Days

Assessment track for Uni. 3 of 3, A straight up Reggae track.

Reggae Days

A take on the roots of Trap, that place where you go when you want to get on. The fear, guilt and excitement that follows you to the corner. The broken feeling that hangs around and greets you when come back again tomorrow.

Broken Days

Cysicirl? is an Experimental space for Benhammuse productions.
Immersive sound, intricate macro sound, like the sound of the laser wars within a taught wire fence when flicked with a finger, scraped with an object or triggered by a series of raindrops with random intensity.
Everyday soundscapes found all around us, like the sounds of a semi-suburban train station on a balmy summer Sunday afternoon, vacant but expecting, punctual and sparse. A squeal of a distant approaching train with a protesting carriage, uncomfortable on its track offset by the resonant present perfect melody of a magpie in song.
Deep in the multi-dimensional chamber of electronic sound where intention meets artificial consciousness, where layers duplicate and off-set, delay and reverberate, bouncing back on themselves and existentially growing then finding a plateau, a shelf to happily pulse out another feel, another rhythm, a chameleon in character, endless possibilities.