Nice track mishapavlovsky, google 'bulletrank' they can give you free plays.

The sound of bells in my mother's window in Gelsenkirchen, where she spent the last years of her life...

Gelsenkirchen bells [field recording 16.07.2017]

Winston

Liam and I ran out of space on our joint account, so I'll be putting our new collaborations on my main account from now on. We'll keep the old account active as a sort of "archive" and will repost all collaborations to that page.

This one's a string quartet, in which we alternated writing long stretches of music for a single voice, and then harmonized each other's writing, building the piece up one voice at a time.

Our other collaborations: https://soundcloud.com/liamhynestawawalkingears

Liam's page: https://soundcloud.com/liam-hynes-tawa

H Jr (collaboration with Liam Hynes-Tawa)

texture in D

CantStandIt- by mikey w theRTC (velvetunderground)

Associated video 
https://vimeo.com/556826274

Inner, outer, positive, negative space. The sonic vacuum, an impossible vastness, the absence of clutter, alien and opposite, vast and seemingly infinite, intimately familiar yet totally unknown. Space is within, between and beyond.

Negative Space(NaviarHaiku386)

Morituri te Salutant

Fill My Head With Worry

Fill my head with worry
Worse things could still come
You made my dreams so blurry
Futures always on the run

There’s no catching up

Stare up at animal shapes in the clouds
While your fiscal security comes crashing down
I don’t think like I used to think anymore
And it scares me just a little more than before

Fill my head with worry
The world can be so cold
You mad my dreams so blurry
When did we become so old, and tired, and dead

There’s no catching up

Debt stacked high into somber skies
Locked inside chic prisons we glorify
Work until the grave so we can say that we tried 
Cross my heart and hope to die

Fill my head with worry
Now the days are all the same
You made my dreams so blurry 
All a part of the game, that we can’t win

There’s no catching up

Fill My Head With Worry

Entering The Jungle

The project is a collaboration with Jan Exner @exner from 2016. We divided the poem "Aufbruch" into six parts. With music and sounds Jan created a fascinating acoustic imagery. Lets go ⇢

Jan Exner : Guitar / Synths / Mix / Production
Karin Tarabochia: Text / Voice / Image


Aufbruch
1 
Aufbruch! Was war, fällt ab. Knöpf’ meinen Kragen auf.
 Zieh’ die Weste aus, an der noch Land hängt. Warte ab.  
Was klammert, saugt, in Zaum hält, bröckelt und springt. 
Mein Schneckenloch, mein Honigfuß, mein Schritt ins Leere  
und endlich Fall, Bruch, Sturz … und Landen!

Departure. What was, falls off. Unbutton my collar.
Take off the vest with land still hanging on it. Wait.
What clings, sucks, bridles, (now) crumbles and cracks.
My snail hole, my honey foot, my step into the void …
And finally fall, break, plunge ... and landing!

2 
Neubeginn verschieben, unendlich lang?
 Das Ende aufzäumen, und den Anfang aufspüren? 
Erfüllung vorwegnehmen?
 
Postpone a new beginning, infinitely long? 
Bridling the end and tracking down the beginning? 
Anticipate fulfillment?

3 
Schnipp’ die Leine durch, lass Haus und Hof 
und was ich schuf, rollt durch den Kopf. 
Dreh' mich aus dem Schleiertanz.
Spann' meinem Wagen andere Pferde –  
höher geht’s und weiter!
Sonnenfahrt!  Der Täuschung abschwören - 
Wütend platzt mein Innerstes und gibt frei: 
Anemone, Traumpferd, das ein Holzbein schwingt.
 Am goldenen Wagen im Sturmwind treiben –  
den Füßen fehlt Boden, den Händen fehl'n Sprossen. 
Nichts da, nur Lederhaut an Sohlen und Schwielen.

Snap the leash, leave house and yard
and what I created rolls through my head.
Turn me out of the veil dance.
Bring other horses to my carriage -
Higher it goes and further! Sun trip!
Renounce deception -
Enraged my innermost bursts and releases:
Anemone, dream horse swinging a wooden leg.
Floating on the golden chariot in the storm
and the feet are missing ground, the hands are missing rungs,
nothing there, just leather skin on the soles and calluses.

4
Träume meinen Flusslauf vom Anfang zum Ende
und schwimme zurück, dorthin wo ich bin.  
Fisch sein! Springen! Am Ufer lachen sie
und manchmal hält das Fischmaul die Trommel an  
und hört Sirenen singen.

Dream my river from the beginning to the end
and swim back to where I am.
Being fish. Leaping. On the bank they laugh.
Sometimes the fish's mouth stops the drum,
hears sirens singing.

5 
Wir müssen diesen Platz verlassen,
so schnell wie möglich unsern Kopf vergessen,
 der benommen Geschichten schwatzt, vergisst.  
An Scheiben rinnen Tränen. 
Was befürchtet war, wird wahr, vergeht.  
Am Weg besteht, was ist.

Mich nicht messen an anderen, mich nicht missen! 
Nicht verkaufen, dem Anderssein weglaufen!  
Mich am Fluss einfinden, wer ich war, wer ich bin,
im Zwischenraum die Zwischenfrau. 
Den Mädchentraum beenden,
den Zeitraum größer drehen und kleiner,
 Schritte sehen, die fest am Boden.
Ich war weg und komme wieder.

We have to leave this place,
as soon as possible forget our head 
who gossips stupid stories and forgets. 
Tears run down the panes. 
What was feared will come true and pass. 
On the way persists what is.

Not compete with others, not miss me,
not sell myself, nor run away from being different.
Find myself by the river, who I was, who I am,
in the interspace the interwoman.
End the girl's dream, turn the period bigger and smaller,
See footsteps firmly on the ground. 
I was gone and I'll be back.

6 
Lass’ mich nicht hängen und bis zum letzten Tag warten, 
bis ich mein Blut abgebe und mein Gesicht sich ins Tuch drückt.
Nicht bücken und suchen, mich zwischen Spuren verfluchen. 
Das Ziel sehen, nahe bei mir:  
Ich bin Traube. Ich bin Straße. Ich bin Mensch.

Not leave me hanging, waiting until the last day,
until I give up my blood and press my face into the cloth.
Not bend down and search, curse myself between tracks.
See the goal, close to me: I am grape, I am street, I'm human.

texture in D

mishapavlovsky

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