Third time through - hypnotic.  I feel gently pulled.Lovenit.

Another great release! Like the stone,... this might be my favourite ✨✨✨

Beautifully crafted journey. I love how you take the time to stay in places others would consider a quick transition to another section.

percussive elements are great... love the synths. creative scape 🎨

Thank you! Glad you like it and shared the track :)

samples cut and mixed together by Michael Haynes

More Life

Feel the eyes hear the cries
Feel the eyes upon you hear the cries inside you
Demon here demon there
This ain't no time to be scared
Your hands have got to grip the hedges
Your feet stay firm on the bridges
It's you who chose to journey alone
Why couldn't you just stay home?

If you aim your desire
You could live by your own fire
Even when your spirits draw away
Hear them shaking in the grass
Can you feel them watching you as you pass?
The tiny voice that soothes is coming from you

Fear the night fear the day
The dead or the living when they pass your way
Demon here demon there
Everywhere

If you aim your desire
You could live by your own fire
Even when the spirits leave you lone
Remember long ago
What you already know
What you already know
Your way home

Demon here demon there
Don't be scared. Stay aware
You gotta stay clear. You gotta stay bold
Hands and feet gotta hold
Demon teams demon dreams
Woven out of the moonbeams
Voicing from below in echo

Carve a sigil cast a bone
Make an altar of a stone
Call to the beast beyond the foam
A gentle hand, a knowing eye, a loving tone

Feel the eyes hear the cries
Feel the eyes upon you hear the cries inside you
Demon in the heat. Demon on repeat
Why didn't you just stay home?
Now you're just all about the sight
Of the towns at the foot of the mountain
With their beckoning lights

Demon teams demon dreams
They called you out again
Now your hands have got to hold
Your legs have got to stand
Feel the eyes hear the cries
The howling of the beast
You're the howling in the peaks
You are the beast you seek

Echo Demon

Language in Paradise VIII

Available to purchase from Bandcamp: https://marcdauncey.bandcamp.com/album/llwyn-cysegredig-sacred-grove

Lle mae'r lleuad yn cwrdd â'r môr ("Where the moon meets the sea")

Dry Ground

Obsidian

Early recordings brewed up in a hybridised mixture. Includes excerpts from my very first recording with my soprano....early days pre-pandemic...another era! 

Thanks to Tuco Amalfi on Pinterest for the Illustration.

Primordial Brew

Here a collaboration with my dearest Soulster Myrh:
https://soundcloud.com/myrhyum

New Moon With Myrh

this is the last Last Track from the AEG files
hope you enjoed this tune.

09 AEG FLOAT

Marco Lucchi : synthesizers

5 marzo 2023

É o pau, é a pedra, é o fim do caminho
É um resto de toco, é um pouco sozinho
É um caco de vidro, é a vida, é o sol
É a noite, é a morte, é um laço, é o anzol
É peroba no campo, é o nó da madeira
Caingá candeia, é o matita-pereira
É madeira de vento, tombo da ribanceira
É o mistério profundo, é o queira ou não queira
É o vento vetando, é o fim da ladeira
É a viga, é o vão, festa da cumeeira
É a chuva chovendo, é conversa ribeira
Das águas de março, é o fim da canseira
É o pé, é o chão, é a marcha estradeira
Passarinho na mão, pedra de atiradeira
É uma ave no céu, é uma ave no chão
É um regato, é uma fonte, é um pedaço de pão
É o fundo do poço, é o fim do caminho
No rosto um desgosto, é um pouco sozinho
É um estepe, é um prego, é uma conta, é um conto
É um pingo pingando, é uma conta, é um ponto
É um peixe, é um gesto, é uma prata brilhando
É a luz da manha, é o tijolo chegando
É a lenha, é o dia, é o fim da picada
É a garrafa de cana, o estilhaço na estrada
É o projeto da casa, é o corpo na cama
É o carro enguiçado, é a lama, é a lama
É um passo, é uma ponte, é um sapo, é uma rã
É um resto de mato na luz da manhã
São as águas de março fechando o verão
É a promessa de vida no teu coração
É uma cobra, é um pau, é João, é José
É um espinho na mão, é um corte no pé
São as águas de março fechando o verão
É a promessa de vida no teu coração
É pau, é pedra, é o fim do caminho
É um resto de toco, é um pouco sozinho
É um passo, é uma ponte, é um sapo, é uma rã
É um belo horizonte, é uma febre terça
São as águas de março fechando o verão
É a promessa de vida no teu coração
Pau, erda
Im, inho
Esto, oco
Oco, inho
Aco, idro
Ida, ol
Oite, orte
Aço, zol
São as águas de março fechando o verão
É a promessa de vida no teu coração

 Antonio Carlos Jobim

A stick, a stone, it's the end of the road
It's the rest of a stump, it's a little alone
It's a sliver of glass, it is life, it's the sun
It is night, it is death, it's a trap, it's a gun
The oak when it blooms, a fox in the brush
A knot in the wood, the song of a thrush
The wood of the wind, a cliff, a fall
A scratch, a lump, it is nothing at all
It's the wind blowing free, it's the end of the slope
It's a beam, it's a void, it's a hunch, it's a hope
And the river bank talks of the waters of March
It's the end of the strain, it's the joy in your heart
The foot, the ground, the flesh and the bone
The beat of the road, a slingshot's stone
A fish, a flash, a silvery glow
A fight, a bet, the flange of a bow
The bed of the well, the end of the line
The dismay in the face, it's a loss, it's a find
A spear, a spike, a point, a nail
A drip, a drop, the end of the tale
A truckload of bricks in the soft morning light
The sound of a gun in the dead of the night
A mile, a must, a thrust, a bump,
It's a girl, it's a rhyme, it's a cold, it's the mumps
The plan of the house, the body in bed
And the car that got stuck, it's the mud, it's the mud
A float, a drift, a flight, a wing
A hank, a quail, the promise of spring
And the river bank talks of the waters of March
It's the promise of life, it's the joy in your heart
A snake, a stick, it is John, it is Joe
It's a thorn on your hand and a cut in your toe
A point, a grain, a bee, a bite
A blink, a buzzard, a sudden stroke of night
A pin, a needle, a sting, a pain
A snail, a riddle, a wasp or a stain
A pass in the mountains, a horse and a mule
In the distance the shelves rode three shadows of blue
And the river bank talks of the waters of March
It's the promise of life in your heart, in your heart
A stick, a stone, the end of the road
The rest of a stump, a lonesome road
A sliver of glass, a life, the sun
A knife, a death, the end of the run
And the river bank talks of the waters of March
It's the end of all strain, it's the joy in your heart

Acqua di Marzo

With the upcoming Keith Rowe celebration in Berlin just around the corner, reflecting upon how Prepared Guitar noise crossed cultural boundaries. Pink Floyd in 66/67 a band of the London arts scene. Legend has it that Keith Rowe influenced Syd Barret to do improper things for the guitar that no other Pink Floyd guitarist cared to explore. I found this idea more plausible than Syd being stoned or aggressive -- although both artists might have found they shared a transgressive feeling for how such noises are the thang to challenge the thinking about the thang. While there's nothing in Syd's guitar sound surpassing anything Hendrix hadn't blown through several times with the vitality of ten thousand cats, it's also more complicated to think it through the Keith Rowe perspective. Hendrix's path, in my reading, was, yes, to found his own sound, gain his freedom, but also to destroy the white western exploitation culture with the rage of the slave uprising through the electrified blues and render, as a result, an American problem and treasure. In the last days, Jimi wanted to bring it back home and play deep electro-acoustic blues and rock the studio like CAN influenced by Stockhausen on shrooms. Keith's sound was already detached from folk traditions, more consciously post-modern (self-historicizing, self-contextualizing -- to lay the emotional guitar down, pushed away from the body), and few people really want to deal with that new kind of wilderness he explored in HARSH, where you see shards of what he maybe transmitted to Syd and which Jimi knew very well but never lived to take out of the rock and roll physicality context. Prepared Guitar music doesn't really exist if the guitar is not really involved, though. This track is all about those cross-over moments between the psychedelic movement and fluxus and free improv and indeterminacy. Syd was still in a rock band rooted in the Black Music of the Colonies and then they got rid of him. Noise has maybe messages beyond human aesthetic.

Syd B Keith R

knowhoyoulove

Coming from playing guitar and bass in various instrumental, psychedelic, stoner and funk rock bands for decades, I started my explorations into electronic music only a few years ago. What a lovely endless rabbit hole into sonic wonderland!

Obsidian

Jo Nauversen

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Jo Nauversen

DaRo_aka_Mr_Menator

Nikolaia

SLDE

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