Ruhiger Beginn mit Piano und einem finalem Ende der Strings.

Piano and Strings

"Erinnerungen" beschreibt meine Gefühle an einem Freund, den ich auf tragischer Weise verloren habe!"Memories" describes my feelings for a friend I tragically lost!

Reminiscences

A symphonic metal composition that channels the fierce intensity of Capricorns, this intricate piece weaves together an eclectic fusion of classical orchestration, blistering thrash metal riffs, and rhythmic hip-hop elements. The dynamic interplay of soaring strings and thunderous percussion creates a dramatic soundscape, while aggressive guitar solos and intricate time signatures evoke a sense of unrelenting fury and ambition. This multifaceted opus not only showcases technical prowess but also embodies a visceral narrative of perseverance and emotional depth.

The Capricorn Rage

Кадры из фильма «Монгол» на музыку Стаса Фортиса

битва Чингисхана против Джамухи

End Of The World

Starlight Sky

Poetry and Concept:  (Peter: 1234567890) @soundcloud.com/user-264930040/tracks
Arrangement & Production: @david-dunhamuser589535203
Piano Accompaniment: Debra Buesking
______________________________
The first time I heard these words from Peter I was getting ready for the day....looking in the mirror.  I could have written this.  I might have chosen different words but the sentiment was definitely the same. And so I decided that since my hair has gone decidedly gray maybe today would be a good day to update my profile photo.   I celebrate rather than lament the passing of time.

Thank you, Peter, for the honor of letting me embellish your words with my piano. And thank you, David, for your wonderful insight and creativity in production.  
___________________________


.... Inspired By Mr. Pärt's Spiegels (1234567890/Peter aka @user-264930040)

Dear God, just look at the state of you - what the hell happened?
Did time do that all by itself?
Chiselled and scraped with gentle, temporal strength?
Yesterdays now patterned well with telling tales of wear and tear.
Always took such good care that you ticked every health kick box
But all the ticks collect their tocks, bundling up the time we thought was dangling spare.

And wrinkly skin comes out to play, crafting plots with crumpled neurons badly frayed, and
Liver spots about the edges worn of happy recollections,
Waltzed away, invisible to the swinging of that penduled clock.
Take your eyes off it for just a minute and you’ve lost a day,
And then a decade’s worth of wry reflections,
Lovingly to fold them up and let them lie in memory’s pocket.

Those lines that contour of your brow, a biography of creases now
And all cut down so very deep.
Each epidermal void crevasse life’s stylus tracks a scratching past
Evinces of a record no mortal hard re-format could delete.
And of your eyes, sallow yellowed at the margins, framed by corvid feet
Rigid-set to well outlast whatever bargained span of life your good Lord deems replete.

As if your face lampoons of age itself, wrecked and bent
Of scars that trace minutiae, carved in master sculptors’ stone
And none too soon, for just that task and that alone, recording compressed of the past..
We both know well which ones are smiles and which the pain that heaven sent,
The former few, soft of the flesh, the many others sunk unto the very bone,
The harshest welt of any sole upon the universal cobbler’s last.

But does it help to so reflect, or but to hurry time’s neglect?
Of such consideration circles wrapped in worry tearing down
All edifice of self respect, the towering pit of pity comes once more to town,
Parades a circus fine of talents, self deprecating jestered clowns
And galloping horses all the while stampede about the rounded ropes
Vespered peace forever sought, just out of reach, concedes of futile, now confounded hopes.

So what of forward self projection, folding the creases back behind
And out of sight to speculation on future solaced peace of mind?
Perhaps again the crashing wall of fast reality, solid bricked
Determines upward focus but to fall, as if to gravity’s grounded truth
Tricked of consequential solitude, rimed of age, aching of the aged sick
No respite there nor rectitude as once you found in torrid youth.

But perhaps I’m speaking out of turn and out of place,
For though your memories sear and burn as if to carbonise some worthwhile trace of validity
On that unholy visage lit by lives lived long before….
It matters not and changes nought, not a jot nor yet a thought
For you and I know better than to seek a settled score from comment fair
After all, you are I, staring back at me from the mirror mounted there.

.... Inspired By Mr. Pärt's Spiegels . 1234567890 with help from Dunham & Buesking

Dust

gone to heaven

Celestial Voyage

Lost in the Glow

Hi Thanks for stopping by.
please check out my spotify page too!^)


https://open.spotify.com/album/5LmPuO7mYSieApdBXv5SHK?si=Cy2w6IFrQAuUeDgxKv9b1w

https://youtube.com/playlist?list=OLAK5uy_kA9aTvTOEAesBf8EJFYpbNE8fnT-9Jrjk&si=SJU2evJ3FhR7eigi

Starlight Sky

Erik Hammer