This song is a reflection of what I feel and experience. It began with my original concept, was created with the assistance of AI, and then meticulously refined by me to capture the essence of my emotions.

Not Stupid Just Creative

A slow-burning, intimate confession from the perspective of a man who loves through possession and pain. Acoustic-driven and darkly poetic, The Sadist explores the sacred violence of surrender, devotion, and emotional dominance. Calm, spiritual, and quietly terrifying. Inspired by the writings of Avsolen.

The Sadist

Somebody else's song

Stayed is an album about the kinds of love that don’t shout, but linger. Built on quiet moments, half-closed doors, and the echoes of words never said, each track traces the soft ache of connection—how it forms, how it frays, and how it somehow endures. These aren’t grand declarations. They’re confessions left on voice memos. Glances held too long. Goodbyes that felt like maybe.

With textures ranging from ambient folk to cinematic indie, Stayed drifts through longing, memory, and stillness. Some songs ask to be heard in headphones at midnight. Others belong to empty roads or rooms that still hold someone’s scent.

This is not an album about falling in love.
It’s an album about the people who never left you—
even when they did.

Like I Belonged

The Bones You Left

Forgive to live 
As the form is born 
It’s up to me 
The mind that esteems 
To see 
Past all my superficial 
Specious fallacy. 
Impermanent 
Or 
To be 
That’s really 
The question 
Of the voice 
In me. 
I am not a body 
I am free. 
Salvation of the world 
Rests on me. 
Copious and free 
A harmonious calling 
Of an ancient 
Melody. 

Humble and free 
Willing to go 
Beyond words 
Which might affront 
Their stance 
To experience 
The dance. 
The romance 
Of grace 
The truth in place 

Arrogance 
And illusion 
Which quails  
Into the trigger 
Of what’s simply 
Not real. 
Humility of 
This trinity 
Connecting past 
Infinity 

Humble and free 
Willing to go 
Beyond words 
Which might affront 
Their stance 
To experience 
The dance. 
The romance 
Of grace 
The truth in place 

To the ecstatic bliss 
Of love and loving. 
The direction  
Of me 
Is the humility 
To be.

Ancient Melody

Free Spirit

Tired Of Trouble

New York City

Buy at Bandcamp

"Bêêêê" Only french/Original version

The return to one. 
One life 
One love 
One world. 
The life  
Of a tree 
Standing 
And free 
Come and see 
The light in me. 
Do or do you 
Not believe? 
The proof is  
In the air 
Your breath 
You don’t have 
To stare. 

One Life

The Barguest Coach. Pete Dymond

eSTRANGEd couSINs: Augmented Ghost Songs and the Blood That Binds
For most of his life, Daniel didn’t know half his family. His father left too early to remember, cutting him off from cousins, uncles, and an entire branch of his own bloodline.
The gap might have stayed empty forever—except for music.

At nine years old, Daniel found an acoustic guitar in his grandfather’s garage. By sixteen, fate finally crossed his path with cousins Timmy and Kenny. Timmy sang, Kenny played keys, Daniel was on guitar, with Joey on drums and John on bass. They recorded on hissy four-tracks and eight-tracks, capturing songs that felt alive in a way nothing else did.
But like so many young bands, they split apart. Life pulled them in different directions.

Years later, after serving in the Army, Daniel got a call from his mom: “Danny, I think your dad died.” Obituaries confirmed it. Reaching out to Timmy on Facebook, Daniel sent his condolences—only to find Timmy didn’t know yet. Timmy’s reply hit even harder: “Sit down. I’ve got something to tell you.”

A few years earlier, Timmy and Kenny had been in a motorcycle accident. Kenny didn’t survive. Timmy was left badly injured, carrying a grief that never stopped echoing.
And then Timmy said the words that would start everything again: “We should get together.”

When they did, it was natural—musicians falling back into a language only they spoke. Timmy brought a notebook full of lyrics. Daniel brought his acoustic guitar. They walked five minutes through the woods to the boardwalk near Daniel’s house, sometimes at night, sometimes at dawn, sometimes in that strange orange light before evening. They played raw, unplanned, straight-from-the-heart jams, recording everything on a Samsung phone.

Years passed. Staying in touch was hard—they were, after all, estranged cousins. But Daniel never let go of those recordings. He experimented—mic’ing percussion, adding backing vocals, trying to polish the hiss and wind noise. They were priceless but imperfect.

Then came the shift.
AI music was starting to emerge. Out of curiosity, Daniel fed Timmy’s lyrics into a generator just to hear them sung. The results were good, but they weren’t theirs—the guitar wasn’t his, the feel wasn’t right. So he shelved it.

Fast forward a couple years: Daniel checks back in on Suno, and something’s changed. It could now process his music—uploading up to eight minutes, following his guitar work instead of replacing it. He had an epiphany.

He uploaded those old boardwalk sessions—the hiss, the strums, the cracked phone mic—and watched them come alive. Timmy’s lyrics were there, Daniel’s melodies were there, but now the recordings breathed. The wind and static were gone, replaced with clarity. The phrasing followed his playing exactly. For the first time, the ghosts in those songs stepped into the light.

Daniel doesn’t call it AI music.
He calls it augmented music—born from real moments, real grief, real family, rescued from bad recordings and given a second life.

That’s what eSTRANGEd couSINs is: a band that plays with the living and the dead at once. The catalog—Every Song is a Coffin, Birds of Prey, Ashes for Eyes, Apple of Sodom, Baxter in a Jar, and Unwanted Orphans and Dead Concepts—is part memoir, part séance, and part survival.

Every song is a ghost they refused to bury.

Daniel hopes that one day, he and Timmy will stand together again with a phone and a guitar, recording something new under the open sky—knowing it can be reborn into something even greater. Until then, he asks you to keep listening, drop a like, share the music, and maybe—just maybe—he’ll post the original phone recordings so you can hear exactly where it all began.

This isn’t about filling a SoundCloud page.
It’s about honoring Timmy’s poetry.
It’s about honoring Kenny’s life.
It’s about keeping family alive through song.

R.I.P. Kennith Lucier
God bless. Godspeed. We hope you enjoy.

The Bones You Left

eSTRANGEd couSINs

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