as a fan of Yanni, I really love it, excellent

Daily Drops

Elysium

azusio

After 18yrs of releasing a new song, Hostal Handshake are BACK!
Maybe just a single, maybe just an EP or maybe...an album? But we are Back! :D
#ripOzzy

Youtube link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lYcakJJnz1E
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lyrics:
This is not a drill!

Give me something to break it in two
give me glory to rule the fools
take me in your house on a big flat screen
Ready to sink you on a dark black dream

Are you ready to become a slave of me?
Corrupted government ain't gonna set u free
All these righteous pre-election pigs
are now pointing the finger for you to pay the fee

Now it's the time, this is not a drill
ain't got no privilege , got nothing to feel
Your heart is gray from the news today
only your soul left in the end to pay


(p) & (c) 2025, Hostal Handshake.

This is not a drill! (new song 2025)

the image is AI generated based on my description

cheap city digs

In deinen Händen

Dedicated to all those who have ridden the trauma train 🖤
Watch the video: https://youtu.be/fYiQFKTn5OU

Trust
noun
Firm belief in the integrity, ability, or character of a person or thing; confidence or reliance.
"trying to gain our clients' trust; taking it on trust that our friend is telling the truth."
The condition and resulting obligation of having confidence placed in one.
"violated a public trust."
One in which confidence is placed.
- The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, 5th Edition

Once broken, trust is often irreparable...
We place our trust in a corrupt society / government / people / technology
(Thus becoming the guinea pigs of behavioural engineering / manipulation)
We are gaslit
Being lied to is normal
We are programmed to believe that we are weak / not enough
We are taught to seek outside ourselves
We are whittled away / divided / disengaged / enslaved
We choose to give our power away due to fear

We allow this

Ignorance is not an excuse

Rise up
Claim your power
Find / know yourself
Reject the narrative
Pain is power
Don't run from it
You are the creator of your experiences
You need nothing but faith in yourself
In you are all things
All possibilities
Be real
At any cost
The cost of illusion is lament
Be a true and trustworthy human being
The rewards are beyond description
🖤
Do you trust yourself
To live an authentic life? 

Blind Trust

Chapter 243 of 266

Frequencies are everything.
Enter the enigmatic world of "TAFFETA," a musical tapestry woven from the threads of dreams and tragedy. Born from a single night of profound dreaming, this ambitious project embarks on an exploration of the human psyche through the language of instrumental music.

This is a five-year project, comprising of what will eventually end at 266 chapters, each is a standalone piece of sonic artistry, "TAFFETA" unfolds like a novel, with each composition serving as a chapter in a larger narrative. Crafted with meticulous care and creative fervor, every piece is birthed within the span of a week, capturing the essence of inspiration in its purest form.

But "TAFFETA" is more than just a collection of songs; it's a journey of the soul. Set against the backdrop of loss and longing, the project follows the story of a woman who slips into a coma following the untimely death of her husband. Through the evocative power of music, listeners are transported into her world, where emotions ebb and flow like the tides of a restless sea.

Week by week, each chapter of "TAFFETA" unfolds on SoundCloud, inviting audiences to immerse themselves in its haunting beauty. From cinematic compositions to haunting electronic soundscapes, each piece adds a layer to the intricate tapestry of sound, weaving a narrative that transcends the boundaries of language.

As listeners embark on this sonic voyage, they are invited to ponder the mysteries of existence, to confront the depths of sorrow and the resilience of the human spirit. "TAFFETA" is not merely a musical project; it's an experience—a testament to the transformative power of music to touch hearts, stir souls, and awaken the imagination.

If you wish to take a dive into everything that has come before:
The TAFFETA Albums each contain 15 consecutive tracks and are available for free, exclusively on Bandcamp.

TAFFETA VOL. 15 is now available exclusively on Bandcamp. 
https://belialpelegrim.bandcamp.com/album/taffeta-vol-15

TAFFETA VOLUMES 1-14 are all available on Bandcamp
https://belialpelegrim.bandcamp.com/

COVER YOUR TORSO WITH TAFFETA! Check out the official TAFFETA t-shirt!
https://belialpelegrim.bandcamp.com/merch/belial-pelegrim-official-taffeta-design

The TAFFETA Playlist is always kept up to date:
soundcloud.com/belial-pelegrim/sets/taffeta-a-266-part-musical?si=d46fc7ad1b50446dadc7ce3ffe1a1b02&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

TAFFETA | 243

https://www.instagram.com/reel/DNntOqxN1fi/?igsh=OWJ1M2hqZ3ozNW5j

MARTIAN WASTELAND
The Martian winds whispered across the empty plains, carrying dust like ash from an old fire. When SPACECAT landed, he knew immediately—something here was wrong. His whiskers tingled, his tail flicked. Mars wasn’t just silent. It was watching.

Shapes appeared through the red haze. Astronauts. But their suits were torn, their visors cracked—inside, nothing but pale light, shifting like smoke. They walked with jerking, unnatural steps, boots leaving no trace in the dust.

Ghosts.

The stories were true. The lost crews of Mars missions, trapped between life and death, now wandering the wasteland.

One lifted its helmet, revealing a hollow void that hissed his name:
“Sssspaaacecaaat…”

SPACECAT didn’t flinch. He’d faced worse. Probably.

Then came the sound—metal grinding against rock. A rover rolled into view, but it was twisted, warped by something beyond engineering. Its headlights burned white like empty eyes. Chains rattled as it tore across the soil, hunting.

The ghosts pointed, and the rover roared forward.

SPACECAT sprinted, claws flashing on stone, his jetpack coughing weak sparks. The rover chased close, its mechanical arm snapping inches from his tail. The ghosts drifted after, whispering in unison:

“Stay. With. Us.”

He leapt into the shadows of a crater—and there, waiting, was Zorgo. Oil on his claws, sparks in the dust, he grinned his lizard grin.
“Fixed it. Just in time. The MARS RIDER is yours.”

The machine stood ready: sleek black hull, neon veins pulsing, engines glowing like fire in the dark. It looked alive. It looked hungry.

SPACECAT dove into the cockpit. The rover crested the ridge above, screeching, its jaws widening—

FWOOOSH!

The MARS RIDER launched like a lightning strike, neon trails tearing across the wasteland. The rover gave chase, but the Rider cut sharper, faster, burning over ridges and craters. With a final burst, SPACECAT flipped a switch marked with a claw-scratch: Overdrive.

Engines screamed. The Rider leapt a canyon, fire spilling behind. The rover couldn’t follow. It fell, crashing into the abyss, its death-screech swallowed by the Martian dark.

Silence returned. But not peace.

The ghosts still stood on the plain, far behind now—hundreds of them. Their glowing visors turned, following the Rider’s path. They raised their hands in eerie unison.

SPACECAT narrowed his eyes, tail lashing as he sped into the horizon.
“They’re not gone,” he muttered. “And next time… they’ll come for me.”

The Martian night swallowed the MARS RIDER, leaving only dust and whispers in the wasteland.

Martian Wasteland

Watch the video: https://youtu.be/UUWMRv_sRh0

A dream pop excursion into the meaning of love...
Have you ever said those three words without meaning them?
Or ever heard them, but knew they were a lie?
Whispered without care, tossed into the void as a gesture of placation...
A preoccupation 
A mental vacation

A ticket to easy street
Or manipulation...

Actions always speak louder than words 🖤

Lyrics:

I used to think you had a heart
But now I know it fell apart
The emptiness you gave to me
Some cheap apology

I love you
(I love you)

I Love You

Here's my take on this Yanni's masterpiece. I've changed the original arrange in some sections to differ slightly, improvisations during the recording sessions are always full of surprises. I've added some subtle strings as an essence of Yanni's original version, no intention to copy it anyway. It wouldn't be an appropriate approach to this project, I think. It is strangely satisfying to dive into a genius mind to discover what is moving the gears inside. Yanni as a composer seems to be simple and minimalistic, but there are some quite complex twists in his compositions...

The End Of August by Yanni - piano remake

When Everything Was Ours

Heavenly Ray

(Music: Hans-Michael Albers, Lyrics: Terry Reeves)
Terry Reeves:  Vocals
Hans-Michael Albers: All instruments, Arrangement & Production

Today, 22nd. August 2025, marks 13 years since our dear brother Bri succumbed to the deadly combination of leukaemia and Guillain-Barré syndrome.  Watching him through 2012, unable to do anything for himself and increasingly confined to a hospital bed is something none who loved him will ever forget.  
He has never been (and never will be) forgotten, not only for the music he created but for the force of nature he most certainly was.  In 1964, our Mum & Dad bought him an entry level acoustic guitar as a Christmas present and his progress on the instrument was something to behold.  By the time he was 18, he’d bought himself a Gibson Les Paul on HP (24 payments of five pounds and thirteen shillings per month) from Selmers in Charing Cross Road, London.  He joined a band, somehow co-opting me in as lead singer at the tender age of 15 (still a schoolboy, no less) and over the ensuing ten years, formed bands of whose line-up I was always a part, graduating from singing to percussion and eventually drums.
There being guitars laying around the family home, Tel took to playing and encouraged by Bri, never stopped.  Fast forward another five years and he too started writing songs so that by ’82, the 3 of us decided to form a band (Root Division) to play them.  It’s a truly special thing to be in the same band as your brothers and recording those songs became something Tel and me still remember with an abiding nostalgia.  No wonder we still talk about those days…
This song started life as an instrumental, written by Hans and of course, it’s brilliant as is but Tel liked it so much, he asked if he could write some lyrics and a vocal melody.  Being a generous fellow, our dear friend from Hamburg said he’d love to hear what Tel had in mind.
His basic idea was to incorporate as many references as he could to Cripple Club tracks, in celebration of the firm friendship we have formed in together recording what amounts to over 50 songs.  There may be a few of you who can spot one or two…
So this is for you, Bri.  We love and miss you, sweet brother.
(Gary Reeves)

Last Summer day reasons
Hamburg always shines
Shadows of Superheroes
Another surprise will come in time
Click toward a pension
From birth but never knew
Surprised to find a blackbird
In the flames as the music grew

Touch wood for satisfaction
CC music every day
Root of strong existence 
Step off the world to feed the phrase
Another Titan message
Titanic stories past
Image of a fraying edge
Never thought hang of time would last

It’s the time, it’s the place
It’s the only performance I can show my face

Last chance for singing
Avoid resistant tide
Pleasing distant garage
Remember 4 to 3 to 5
Stars in space that linger
Soaking up the blue
Palette of sunshine yellow
Mix to green for go - but for who?

T,G & H, Two and you!

LAST SUMMER'S DAY BLUES - CRIPPLE CLUB

piece by piece 8.23.25

digital sunrise (crazy sexy classical)

Heavy Punk Rock 'n' Roll band turns into Synthwave nowadays! Brand NEW album "Ultraviolet Cosmos" available NOW!
https://shockthealgorithm.bandcamp.com/album/ultraviolet-cosmos

Music is the greatest human invention, the only language that speaks to us all. It would be a shame not to share my share. Just for fun, just for mere survival of one man's mind. Thank you for listening!

The End Of August by Yanni - piano remake

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