At the Monk's wicket gate

The average person is concerned with how to kill time, while the talented person seeks to use time. - A. Schopenhauer

Stream\Download : https://lewdfam.fanlink.tv/zeit

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Zeit

Even The Wind And The Waves Obey Him is featured on both of our new releases - Through The Mist (EP) and Meditations, Vol. 1.&#13;
&#13;
Through The Mist is a collection of six brand new tracks, and has already received airplay from a number of UK radio stations as well as being awarded 'album of the month' by the excellent Never For Nothing CCM newsletter. &#13;
http://saltofthesound.bandcamp.com/through-the-mist&#13;
&#13;
Meditations, Vol.1 is a special compilation of reflective tracks, comprising ten instrumental versions of songs from Journeys, Through The Mist, plus a few others! &#13;
http://saltofthesound.bandcamp.com/meditations-vol-1&#13;
&#13;
Even The Wind And The Waves Obey Him has also been featured on episode 270 of the excellent Syndae ambient podcast (http://www.syndae.de/12-episode/624-episode-270) and is a part of the Ambient Music FB September compilation album (https://ambientmusicfb.bandcamp.com)&#13;
&#13;
Thanks for listening :)

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Even The Wind And The Waves Obey Him

The Sound of Silence

The Sound of Silence (CYRIL Remix)

Mix  Sound Of Silence (CYRIL Remix)

MUSICIANS
John Beckmann: music
Dämmerungschor: vocal ensemble 
John Beckmann and Cat Chow: artwork
Lux Astralis, New York: recording studio
Abbey Road Studios, London: mastering

THE KNOWING OF KNOWING

MUSICIANS
John Beckmann: all music, lyrics, and production
Lux Astralis, New York: recording studio
Abbey Road Studios, London: mastering

LYRICS
Hello, you
Hello, you

Are you there,
Can you hear me,
I know you're out there,
Somewhere

Had I known,
Had I known,
You’d be lost like a fleeting flame,
Had I known,
Had I known,
I’d be left calling your name

Hello, you
Hello, you
Hello, you
Hello, you

Are you there,
Can you hear me,
I know you're out there,
Somewhere

Had I known,
Had I known,
You’d be lost like a fleeting flame,
Had I known,
Had I known,
I’d be left calling your name

Hello, you
Hello, you
Hello, you
Hello, you

HELLO YOU

Power Corrupts

Love Circus -

MUSICIANS
John Beckmann: all music, lyrics, and production
Lawson Mars: vocals, and backing vocals
Lux Astralis, New York: recording studio

LYRICS
What do you say when the heartache sets in and night keeps stretching on although
Breath soft words drift through the lamplight, then befo it blooms in the sun.
Oh, love, such tender divide, where hope flows full and wide.
Tide be guide for heartache, will throw that nave in and drown.
Every mile between us glows, painted as embers on the snow.
Oh, love, such tender divide, where hope flows full and wide.
Oh, love, defiance day disguise, and finds the light.

A TENDER DIVIDE

MUSICIANS
John Beckmann: all music, lyrics, and production
Lawson Mars: vocals and backing vocals
Lux Astralis, New York: recording studio

SUPERNOVA

MUSICIANS
John Beckmann: all music, lyrics, and production
Tanner McGraw: vocals and backing vocals
Lawson Mars: backing vocals
Lux Astralis, New York: recording studio 

LYRICS
Mirror on the wall, it's a little bit wild.
Lipstick tube with a wicked smile.
Cherry red, like a secret spell.
It looks like magic, can you tell?
My heart's doing cartwheels,
in this drugstore light.
I press my lips, I feel something new.
Like I'm glowing inside.
Cherry shine, I crossed that line.
One swipe, I'm walking sky high.
Blush bloom, it's my debut.
In this shade, I'm someone new.
Cherry shine.
Cherry shine.
I blow a kiss to the world outside.
Lip print on my soda, and I don't hide.
A little color, a little brave.
Something sweet I get to save.
Cherry shine, I crossed that line.
One swipe, I'm walking sky high.
Blush bloom, it's my debut.
In this shade, I'm someone new.
Cherry shine.
Cherry shine.
Just a girl
in Cherry Shine.
Stepping out into a time.

CHERRY SHINE

MUSICIANS
John Beckmann: all music, lyrics, and production
Tanner McGraw: vocals and backing vocals
Lawson Mars: backing vocals
Lux Astralis, New York: recording studio 

LYRICS
You said “forever” with sunscreen in your eyes
I laughed, lit a sparkler, and watched it die
Poolside promises, cherry-stained lies
Another summer love, deep-fried

Endless July, yeah, we’re such a cliché
Kissing like we mean it, then drifting away
Plastic hearts in a heatwave high—
A perfect fake in endless July

Told the moon all our secrets, then forgot
Your name tastes better when it’s not
Slow-dancing with nowhere to be
You said “this is real”… ironically

Endless July, yeah, we’re such a cliché
Kissing like we mean it, then drifting away
Plastic hearts in a heatwave high—
A perfect fake in endless July

Maybe we’ll mean it next time
Or maybe just lie…
Like always
In endless July

ENDLESS JULY

A Place Called Earth

Fault Lines

Buy/Stream

A Shifting of Salt

A clip of the 30-minute long bonus track on Fault Lines, available only on Bandcamp [physical or digital].

Processing & mastering by @soularorder

Released via City By Night Records

Bandcamp [Bonus Track]

A Gestalt Refrain for Fault Lines [clip]

I try to distil from sc into playlists (is that creative?),  mostly from electronic/ambient/contemporary classical genres. there are some great tracks and mixes, and talented musicians behind them. My thanks to all. (I hold sharing to be a creed somehow above copyright..

www.mortalprophets.com

“Anyone having trouble getting to, or staying, asleep should proceed with caution when playing The Mortal Prophets’ debut album around bedtime. The demonic intentions implied by the album’s name and defined by John Beckmann … coil each selection in menacing directions, bringing fresh, often frightening twists to these standards. Be aware - when you engulf yourself in these riveting, uncompromising performances. They are not for the squeamish.”
- American Songwriter

The Mortal Prophets: John Beckmann’s Cinematic Descent Into the Electric Psyche

In the sprawling constellation of modern music, The Mortal Prophets occupy a shadowed corner—less a “band” in the traditional sense than a living, breathing séance conducted by John Beckmann. Across a series of albums, Beckmann has been excavating the strata of Americana, dream pop, blues, and avant-garde minimalism, folding them into a fever-dream narrative that feels like it was beamed from a late-night pirate radio station somewhere between the Mississippi Delta and the outer rings of Saturn. 

Beckmann, who founded New York’s Axis Mundi Design before turning his obsessive creative drive toward music, approaches songwriting like a visual architect—each track a space you inhabit rather than simply hear. His arrangements have the tension of architectural blueprints: precision married to instinct, steel and stone softened by ambient light. In GUITARWORKS II, the most recent installment in a sprawling instrumental odyssey, guitar tones unspool like distant telegraph wires, calling to mind Robert Fripp’s collaborations with Brian Eno, or the glacial drift of Cluster’s experimental soundscapes. It’s profoundly cinematic, yet never ornamental; each note feels lived in.

If Beckmann’s earlier releases (Stomp The Devil, Me and The Devil, Dealey Plaza Blues) reached back into mythic Americana—the open road, outlaw ballads, acid-washed folk visions—his more recent work tilts toward the abstract, replacing narrative with mood. This is music that understands how memory works: fractured, impressionistic, prone to bleed between truth and hallucination. The Mortal Prophets operate in that liminal space where you’re not sure if you’re dreaming, or just remembering wrong. 

Vocally, when Beckmann steps to the mic, it’s with a delivery equal parts Leonard Cohen confession and Bowie-esque theater—half-smirk, half-sermon. Lyrically, he trades in arcane symbols and sly allusions: 19th-century mystics rub shoulders with dive-bar drifters, and romantic longing flickers like neon through a rain-soaked windshield. He’s not afraid of obliqueness; in fact, he seems to revel in it. Where many contemporary songwriters flatten their work into algorithm-friendly hooks, Beckmann builds labyrinths. 

Part of The Mortal Prophets’ magnetism lies in its refusal to settle. One album might summon the humid ghost-blues of Junior Kimbrough refracted through a loop pedal; the next might drift into synth-heavy dream pop worthy of an early-’90s 4AD release. Beckmann’s collaborators—rotating players drawn from both avant-garde and roots backgrounds—expand that sonic palette, giving the project an almost shapeshifting quality. 
In a cultural moment where genre boundaries are largely performative, Beckmann treats them as haunted ruins worth spelunking through. His songs feel like dispatches from parallel histories of American music—histories where psychedelia never died, where blues never got sanitized, and where experimentalism didn’t have to hide in academic halls. 

The Mortal Prophets may never break into the Billboard mainstream, but that’s hardly the point. Their appeal is in the slow burn, the intimacy of discovery. Beckmann’s work isn’t built for quick consumption; it’s built for listeners willing to linger, to decode, to wander down the long corridors he constructs. In an era obsessed with speed and surface, The Mortal Prophets offer the opposite: a deep dive into the echo chamber of the self, scored by a man who seems to know exactly how to make the walls sing.

THE KNOWING OF KNOWING

Mortal Prophets

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