Front Line Assembly favs

Dararat Chemnasiri -Alto Sax
King Imagine   -   Metal  Objects ,   Fx

KIng Imagine & Dararat Chemnasiri  - The Cry

More on this 568th weekly Disquiet Junto project – Slumber Mill (The Assignment: Make music inspired by a key chord from sleep research) – at: https://disquiet.com/0568/

Thanks to Glitcher for proposing this project.

More on the Disquiet Junto at: https://disquiet.com/junto/

Subscribe to project announcements here: https://tinyletter.com/disquiet-junto/

Project discussion takes place on llllllll.co: https://llllllll.co/t/disquiet-junto-project-0568-slumber-mill/

The cover image for this project is from DALL·E 2, where “piano chord, sleep, vaporwave, green, pink” was the prompt.

Slumber Mill

The Euclidean Chromaticon - Slumber Mill - disquiet0568

The Zeigarnik Effect or "anxiety for the unfinished" is a human condition experimented when we have something to be finished. Memories and attention are then enhanced, although this effect is controversial from the scientific point of view.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zeigarnik_effect
This disquiet junto project, which has been conceived in 3 phases, might trigger the effect. Uploading a track that is half-baked on purpose is always painful.
See: https://llllllll.co/t/disquiet-junto-project-0591-the-loneliest-number/62108/19

The Zeigarnik Effect (phase 1)[disquiet0591]

TEXTE : Franck HUDDLESTONE
MUSIQUE : Stève CHARMET

On revêt des armures 
Pour ne plus être blessé 
Carapaces qui rassurent 
Impossible à briser 

On veut paraître plus dur 
Plus méchant qu'on ne l'est 
C'est juste une couverture 
Un mauvais rôle à jouer 

On rit de nos blessures 
Pour ne pas en pleurer 
Et on cache nos fêlures 
Nos innombrables plaies 

refrain
Le feu brûle sous la glace 
De nos coeurs congelés 
Rien ne filtre sur nos faces 
Le feu brûle sous la glace 
Tout semble y être figé
Rien ne filtre sur nos faces 

On joue les doubles faces 
Mais dans l'intimité 
On fait tomber les masques 
Bien trop lourd à porter 

On ne manque pas d'audace 
Sous nos enveloppes d'acier 
Faisant front aux menaces 
Qui viennent de tout côtés 

On préfère les grimaces 
Les sourires nous effraie 
Sur nos visages de glace 
Aucun n'y apparaît

LA LARME SECRETE

FAUX SEMBLANT

EarWorm

Personal Note

■Song Title■
Autumn Waltz

■Composer･Arranger■
Composer　：　DOON
Arranger　：　DOON

■Comment■
This is an original song, 'Autumn Waltz.'
I challenged myself to create a piano-based track, which I haven't done much before.
This is the arrangement for piano and ensemble.
Due to the lack of a suitable contrabass preset, I used 'AnalogBass2,' and for orchestral percussion, I substituted with 'Tropical House 3.'
I hope you enjoy listening.

■Preset■
MainMelody    Nexus3         StudioViolinQuartett
Strings       Nexus3         Pizzicato
Piano         Nexus3         Nexus Grandpiano
A.Guitar      Nexus3         Acoustic Steel
Bass          Nexus3         Analog Bass 2
Drum          Nexus3         Demo Drum 1(Tropical House 3)
DrumCymbal    Nexus3         Cymbals & Percussion
E.Piano       HALionSonic3   [GM 005] Electric Piano 1
Strings       HALionSonic3   Vintage Strings
Drum          HALionSonic3   [GM 116] Woodblock

Autumn Waltz Take2(DOON)

3. Turn It Louder

Toll Keeper – Song Description (Trap x Brutalstep)

A brutal confessional forged in distortion and dread, “Toll Keeper” is a trap-brutalstep hybrid that rips open the gates of spiritual warfare. Cory Fletcher delivers venomous verses over glitch-scorched basslines, cinematic brass hits, and orchestral stabs that bleed like scripture.

This track isn’t just music—it’s a reckoning. Raised in violence, hardened in Valley Lake Boys Home, and baptized in chaos, Cory spits from the mouth of his past: a life of numb lust, jailhouse survival, and soul-deep scars. Every hook is a scream. Every drop is a descent.

⚠️ Warning: This isn’t for the faint of heart. “Toll Keeper” dives into the war between faith and flesh, redemption and ruin. It’s the sound of chains breaking, of demons clawing, of truth bleeding through the beat.

For fans of: $uicideboy$, Scarlxrd, Ghostemane, Excision, and anyone who finds salvation in distortion.

Lyrics:
You want passage? Then pay the toll. Blood, soul, or silence. Choose wrong—and burn whole.

I’m the breath at the gate, the debt in the dark, Ledger got claws, every entry leaves a mark. Torch in my grip, I tally the screams, Sin is the currency, lies buy dreams.

Steel jaw locked, no mercy, no grace, Cross my bridge, I erase your face. Ash for the fee, bones for the debt, You beg for light—I charge regret.

Toll Keeper! I don’t blink, I don’t sleep! Soul Reaper! I count sins, I dig deep! Gate Sealer! You want through? Then bleed! Hell’s Dealer! I’m the price you never see!

I don’t deal with angels, I spit in their choir, My throne’s built from vows that expired in fire. You think you’re chosen? I brand chosen ones, Chains of guilt, tongues that weigh a ton.

I’m the echo in judgment, pause in the prayer, Silence that answers when no gods care. I’m the toll, the tax, the final breath, The whisper that walks you into death.

No coin? No plea? Then scream for me. I’ll carve your name in brimstone ink, And drag you down before you blink.

I brand the meek with martyr’s screams, Halos rust in my fever dreams. I lace the hymns with venom and dust, Crown the liars in sacred crust.

My altar’s built from broken oaths, Saints and sinners hang too close. I sip their guilt like communion wine, Then spit it back in a jagged line.

Toll Keeper! I don’t kneel, I don’t pray! Soul Reaper! I make saints decay! Gate Sealer! I choke light with flame! Hell’s Dealer! I baptize in shame!

I stitched the veil with betrayal’s thread, Every loop a promise the prophets fled. I dance on relics, grind holy bones, Laugh in tongues no priest condones.

My scripture’s etched in heretic cries, Gospel of rot where angels die. I twist redemption into a blade, And carve the faithful where they fade.

I’m the hymn that haunts the dying breath, The psalm that poisons grace with death. I wear the robes of fallen kings, Drag their crowns through rusted rings.

I toll the bell for the final rite, A dirge that swallows hope and light. You plead for mercy—I give you lore, Then slam the gate and ask for more.

Toll Keeper! I don’t bend, I don’t break! Soul Reaper! I feed on your ache! Gate Sealer! I drown truth in sin! Hell’s Dealer! I cash souls within!

I’m the last verse in your sacred book, The one they burned but still you took. I’m the echo in your final scream, The toll you pay to leave the dream.

No light, no path, no holy plea— Just me, the gate, and your final fee. So bleed your truth, and drop your name, I’ll brand your soul in ash and flame.

Toll Keeper! I don’t blink, I don’t sleep! Soul Reaper! I count sins, I dig deep! Gate Sealer! You want through? Then bleed! Hell’s Dealer! I’m the price you never see!

Arbeit

Front Line Assembly

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