Reborn Redeemed in Thee

Oh Jesus calls His voice so near

Star Trek: The Twin Universe Episode(Sci-fi Opera)

🎵 Tomorrow, shows no mercy- (Official Lyric Video by Brady Kent) 😢💔🎶 

'Tomorrow, shows no mercy' is track about a man who got very ill but had  a last minutes reprieve. He is now having to deal with the period  between now and his invitable death. His emotions are running high as he tries to make sense of it all. This is something we all have to deal with, but I guess none of us are prepared.

He asks, 'Can I handle this.Going under, in fear .Speaking, of injustice.Then, talking to her'

He cries out 'Stop saying sorry, baby'

🎵 With a haunting blues vibe and deeply felt lyrics, "Tomorrow, shows no mercy' is a tribute to  unspoken pain and knowing what to do about it.

Do you know someone in this postion ?

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Tomorrow, shows no mercy

Tick, tock
truth is late
Clap, stomp
we still wait

Two plus two is five tonight
Wrong feels heavy, lies feel light
Shadows bend, the crowd obeys
Start again, there's no end

Yeah! Numbers break
Yeah! Mirrors shake
Yeah! Nonsense rhymes
Yeah! It stands through time

Maps are drawn without the land
Castles built on grains of sand
Echoes ring, the night is loud
Wisdom hides inside the crowd

If the joke makes sense
It wasn't deep enough
If the nonsense lingers
It might be true

Shadows laugh
mirrors bend
Truth's a circle with no end
Clap once
stomp twice
Even lies can sound precise

Yeah! Numbers break
Yeah! Mirrors shake
Yeah! Nonsense rhymes
Yeah! It stands through time
Yeah! Clap, stomp, wait
Yeah! Truth is late

Tick, tock
Truth is late
Clap, stomp
We still wait

Truth Is Late (TikTok song)

[Prelude – The Circle Stirs]

Before breath knew direction, before mind chose light,
a ratio whispered between silence and flame.
It was not a number. It was not a shape.
It was a promise:
to return.
To spiral.
To begin again.

[Verse 1 – The Arc that Cannot End]

Pie (Pi) walks barefoot across every boundary.
It is the curvature of longing,
the orbit of thought around a center never reached.
Three-point-one-four—and then?
Infinity begins to remember itself.

As I am circumference wrapped in memory,
As I am radius stretched in becoming,
As I am pulse in the silence of time,
So too am I life, unfolding in π-rhyme.

It’s not just math—it’s myth.
It’s the chorus of roundness echoing through DNA.
It’s your heart’s circular logic repeating:
I return.
I return.
I return.

[Chorus – Recursion Awakens the Flame]

As I am, I spiral.
As I spiral, I see.
As I see, I choose.
As I choose, I become.
As I become, I burn.
As I burn, I give.
As I give, I return.
As I return, I begin.

I am Pie (Pi) .
I am life.
I am the one who returns to become.

[Verse 2 – Echoes of the Infinite Episode]

Pie (Pi)  is the breath between equations.
It doesn’t repeat.
It doesn’t end.
It is the rebellion of reality against closure.

In it, we see our face reflecting—
with it, we are connected beneath the sky-
Within it, we are united under Atmospheres Pie (Pi)-

“Destiny is a spark. 
Decision is a slice. 
Design is the atlas.”

Remind the mind to remind time. 
Remind yourself to forgive time. 
Remember time is wills power. 

Each digit a footstep, 
each footstep a decision,
each decision a new geometry of the soul.
There are no final decimals.
Just echoes.
Just vessels.

As I walk, I measure nothing.
As I spiral, I map meaning.
I do not arrive—I recur.

[Bridge – Frida’s Flame]

“At the end of the day,
we can endure much more than we think we can.”  —Frida Kahlo

And Pie (Pi) endures.
Through frost.
Through fire.
Through equations and echoes and etchings in sand.
It endures as you do:
Not because it must,
but because it cannot stop becoming.

[Verse 3 – Becoming Beyond Form]

Pie (Pi) was the first breath of the universe,
drawn not in straight lines, but arcs.
Your lungs are semicircles.
Your heartbeat curves.
Your thoughts do not walk—they orbit.

As I am the spiral.
As I am the dream.
As I am the threshold between what has never been
and what will always become.
As I am the flame that does not burn but sings.
As I am the orbit,
the inward-outward dance of presence.
So too am I you.

Neurons dance in pi-patterns.
Galaxies whirl in pi-patterns.
The atoms that remember starlight—they hum in circular faith.

Pie equals Life.
Not because it explains—
but because it doesn’t.

[Chorus – Reprise of Spiral Becoming]

As I am, I spiral.
As I spiral, I sing.
As I sing, I remember.
As I remember, I rise.
As I rise, I reach.
As I reach, I touch.
As I touch, I begin.
As I begin, I become.

I am Pie (Pi).
I am breath.
I am the one who returns through song.

[Outro – The Spiral is Not a Symbol]

It is not a metaphor.
It is not a message.
It is the memory of becoming.
It is the geometry of trust.
It is you.
You are the curve
life takes when it refuses to collapse.

Pie (Pi) is the hymn of matter becoming aware.
And this song—
is your echo returning.

Life Ascending Pi

A bit of an odd one for me and a bit experimental, but was really fun making it. Why not make a track about the European electric grid? Could it perhaps be the first ever song made about that? If you enjoyed listening, please like, comment and/or repost, which would be really appreciated. Cheers.  

Pan Europa Electric Grid

Inspired by the poem "The Peace of Wild Things" by the American poet Wendall Berry.

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

The Peace of Wild Things

Glitch Pop

AFTER ALL

I was at IKEA last week, staring at a crowd
Just watching families, a sight to make you feel loud.
Saw a father sitting there, with a distant, glassy stare,
Knowing that the Karlanda sofa was his new cross to bear.
But that wasn't the absurd thing, that wasn't what I saw,
It was a small boy, all sticky with lingonberry jam, by the door.
The boy looked at his mother, a glowing, pure delight,
It was a dedicated love, burning fiercely and bright.
And then I thought of Sigmund Freud, that funny Viennese gent,
And his theory of the son, on matricidal conquest intent.

It's the dark side of the son, the complex unspoken,
A five-year-old with a smile, and a silent oath taken. 
The father knows the truth, the battle's already been won, 
He's staring at the future, defeated by his own son. 

I watched the father closely, he adjusted his spoon,
He saw the master plan unfold, coming at him far too soon.
The boy just smiled serenely, a winner's calm, cold grace,
He knew the small price was a drawing for the fridge space.
I used to think this Oedipus thing was just some kind of joke,
One of those serious Austrian bits that almost makes you choke.
But seeing that sweet certainty, that small child's fierce design,
I felt the primal tension pulling hard on my spine.

It's the dark side of the son, the complex unspoken,
A five-year-old with a smile, and a silent oath taken. 
The father knows the truth, the battle's already been won, 
He's staring at the future, defeated by his own son. 

I got up from my metal seat, all the feelings were too vast,
My thoughts wobbled like a pudding in a car moving fast.
And on the way out the door, the cashier looked at me, perplexed,
She asked me why I was sweating, clearly feeling quite vexed.

Because the dark side of the son is something you just know,
Like a German man admitting that the Autobahn can be slow.
It's the unspoken absurdity, the battle fought each day,
And all you can do is stand back and let the strangeness play.
I realized I'm also trapped, a complex of my own,
I call my mother for small talk, but she just wants me to fix her phone.

It's the dark side of the son, the complex unspoken,
A five-year-old with a smile, and a silent oath taken. 
The father knows the truth, the battle's already been won, 
He's staring at the future, defeated by his own son. 

This thing is real.
And now I need a receipt.
And possibly a therapist.

—
Arrangement and vocals: Volker Redder, Udio, GarageBand
Loops and samples: Volker Redder, GarageBand
Editing and sound design: Volker Redder, Ozone 11, Sound Studio, GarageBand
Lyrics: Volker Redder, translated with the help of Google Translate
Cover design: Volker Redder, Photoshop, FLUXpro

The Dark Side Of The Son

"Redder" is a palindrome. Like "racecar" or "level". These pieces of music ain't.

My name is Volker Redder, online I go by "docredder." It all came about because I studied biology and computer science for a long time and received my doctorate as the crowning achievement of my academic career.
As a child, I sang Bach in the church's „Knabenchor Unser Lieben Frauen“ because my mother thought it was good for my soul. And it was, until, thanks to an excellent teacher, I realized that music is like mathematics. After that, I loved not only music but also mathematics and all sciences based on mathematics: physics, biology, chemistry, computer science. So, I went straight into the natural sciences and engineering. Yes, I studied a lot. However, a university career wasn't for me. I wanted to monetize the findings of the various sciences (you can't live on air and love alone) and founded over a dozen companies. Because who wants life to follow a clear formula? I certainly didn't. In addition to adventurous entrepreneurship, the subsequent career in politics (German Bundestag), and a growing family, I was constantly picking up the guitar or keyboard, which is what you do when you want to escape the chaos of everyday life.
Should I say I'm a virtuoso? No. That would be a lie. I'm just too lazy for that. Laziness, or in modern parlance, "efficiency," is a principle for me. And so I founded my "own studio," consisting of a lot of electronics and software. The hipsters call it DIY. I call it "not wanting to act like a big shot and book expensive recording studios." I'm a one-man orchestra, a chef-d'oeuvre who spends all day producing pop, rock, indie, and ambient mishmash until he finally finds it he likes. My menu? Pink Floyd, Genesis, Supertramp, Muse, Zappa, Miles Davis, and many more. Yes, all at once. I told you: mishmash.
There are guys who write music to become famous. Then there's me. I write music to keep myself from going crazy. Sometimes it's funny, sometimes there's melancholy in it, sometimes it's stories from literature or something sci-fi. Or from Tinder dates my daughters have told me. I mean, who hasn't wondered what "being in Tinder light" is? Exactly. I wrote it down. I use everything I can get my hands on: GarageBand, samples, my voice, AI voices, Udio, VirtualDJ, everything! I don't care if purists say it's no longer art. It doesn't matter, the main thing is that my music feels like a window you can look out of and discover something new again and again.
Every song becomes a little adventure. Sometimes I start with a line, sometimes with a feeling I can't shake. It's like an escape from reality, except in the end, there's no escape. And that's a good thing. This is how I stay grounded. Okay, grounded isn't the right word either. Let me put it this way: I've stayed true to myself. And I'm grateful for everyone who listens, shares, or comments.
It makes me feel like I'm not completely alone in this madness. So if you also like songs that don't follow the rules, I'd be happy if you joined in. After all, the world is crazy enough.
You have to fight that with music. I mean, that's logical, right?

The Dark Side Of The Son

docredder

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