Great atmosphere! Really like the spacey vibes!

Beautiful atmosphere. I could fall asleep to this. This give my soul some true bliss

Pure work of art the vie is dope I like this

"Blues at Midnight" (Jack Miller)
J Dulva
(c) 2023 Cenote Music

Blues at Midnight

Blues At Midnight

Wine from when Hemingway was writing "For Whom The Bell Tolls".  And it tolls for us all.

Unfiltered

Perseverance in the Void

Je M'En Fous

"That's What Friends Are For" is a raw, stripped-down folk-punk anthem that captures the resilience, camaraderie, and bittersweet reflections of everyday life. Built around a driving, percussive acoustic guitar, the song thrives on its rhythmic urgency, with each strum acting as both a pulse and a protest. The lone vocal delivery is direct and heartfelt, carrying a mix of defiance and melancholy, reminiscent of classic Billy Bragg-style storytelling.

Lyrically, the song shifts between moments of nostalgia, frustration, and hope—painting vivid images of fleeting joys with old friends, quiet moments of introspection, and the unshakable feeling of being caught in a system that promises more than it delivers. The recurring chorus, delivered with an almost mantra-like intensity, reinforces the idea that friendship and solidarity are the true anchors in turbulent times.

With no excess instrumentation to hide behind, That's What Friends Are For embraces its simplicity, letting the raw emotion shine through. The stark contrast between the warmth of shared moments and the weight of personal struggle makes it an intimate yet anthemic piece—one that lingers long after the final chord fades.

That's What Friends Are For
You and I, a sunlit sky, and them
We close our eyes and sometimes we pretend

Walk on water, swim against the tide
Gazing at my shoes, I wonder why
But it doesn't stop you trying
And now the sparrows, they're all flying

(Chorus)
That's what friends are for
You know the score
That's what friends are for
That's what friends are for
You know the score

Shadows fall on leaves as they descend
Stand beneath the trees with my old friends
Laugh at jokes I've heard ten times before
It doesn't matter, that's what we're here for

I can't help feeling that they've trained us well
Promising us heaven
While we're living here in hell
How it works out well, it all depends
On you and I, a sunlit sky, and them

But it doesn't stop you crying
And now the sparrows, they're all flying

(Chorus)
That's what friends are for
You know the score
That's what friends are for
That's what friends are for
You know the score

That's What Friends Are For [ Post punk | Singer Songwriter]

The forth (and final) installment of my experimental series with (silly) nonsense lyrics that just sound nicely. This time cello drones help to create the soundscape. 

spare air

The Jeremias Langsämmer Ensemble – Love Dying... Sound Of Crying

A meditation on impermanence and sorrow, Love Dying... Sound Of Crying is a hauntingly intimate contemporary chamber piece, weaving together the delicate resonance of harp, the melancholic depth of cello, and the fragile introspection of piano. Recorded in an intentionally lo-fi aesthetic, the piece embraces the raw beauty of imperfection—each creak of the instrument, each breath between notes, a ghostly echo of loss and longing.

With its minimalist structure and deeply atmospheric textures, the composition unfolds like a quiet lament, evoking distant memories and unspoken farewells. The harp’s cascading arpeggios shimmer like fading light, the cello’s aching vibrato lingers in the air, while the piano’s muted tones pulse softly, as if whispering through the cracks of time.

A piece as delicate as a dying ember, as heavy as the weight of absence—Love Dying... Sound Of Crying is an elegy for love lost, a moment of stillness within the noise of the world.

Love Dying... Sound Of Crying by The Jeremias Langsämmer Ensemble [Contemporary Chamber Music]

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powder runner

A Low Susurrus of Desolation: Echoes in the Void of Being
In the vast, reverberating chambers of existence, there lies a sound—faint, elusive, almost imperceptible—a low susurrus of desolation. It drifts between thoughts, coils through the hidden crevices of the self, a gossamer thread of melancholy: fragile in tone, yet unyielding in presence. This is not the piercing cry of despair, but something quieter, more insidious—a constant undertone to the human experience. It is a sonic haze, wrapping itself around the soul, enveloping it in the muted twilight of being, an ever-present murmur beneath the rhythms of modern life.

The Anatomy of the Whisper
A susurrus is a murmur, a whisper so soft it barely brushes the threshold of sound. Desolation, in contrast, evokes a vast emptiness—bleak, lifeless, and stripped of warmth. When these converge, they form a paradox: the whisper of absence, the voice of a void that is not silent, but softly humming. It doesn’t shout or plead. It persists—a lingering undertone, subtle yet unshakable, a slow vibration that hums beneath awareness, infusing everything with an aura of weightless sorrow.
This low susurrus is the background music of modernity. It pulses beneath the surface of urban life, beneath neon lights and algorithmic noise. It resonates in the quiet of empty office buildings, in derelict suburbs, and in the flicker of screens that promise connection yet deepen dislocation. It is the faint drone of progress turned hollow, of meaning stripped down by acceleration and abstraction.

Whispers in the Mind
To hear the susurrus is to become attuned to a quiet kind of despair—not the agony of sudden loss, but the erosion that comes with time. It is the dull ache that grows from small, daily failures: missed connections, drifting dreams, the steady accumulation of the almost. This murmur is not loud, not sharp—it is gentle, almost soothing, a background hum of resignation that settles over the psyche like dust on forgotten things.
In its whisper lies the voice of surrender—not of defeat, but of acceptance. The susurrus speaks the language of postmodern fatigue. It echoes the unraveling of collective meaning, the decline of shared truths, the slow fading of belief systems once seen as immutable. It is the sound of drifting in a world where all anchors have lifted, where every certainty is questioned and every answer provisional.

Echoes of the In-Between
This sound cannot be escaped. It is woven into the very fabric of experience. It echoes what has been lost and what will never come to be. It lingers in the liminal—between joy and sadness, movement and stillness, longing and numbness. In this in-between, emotions flatten and motivation dulls. The world becomes a place not of clear highs and lows but of muted grays.
And yet, strangely, this whisper brings comfort. It is familiar, a presence we recognize even if we never named it. It rocks us gently, not toward hope, but toward stillness. It asks not for striving but for still surrender. It is the lullaby of the weary, the ambient hum that invites us not to resist, but to rest.

A Silent Requiem
In the end, the low susurrus of desolation is not a threat but a teacher. It reminds us that emptiness is not a flaw in being, but a fundamental rhythm. It is the voice of impermanence, the song of all that was, all that might have been, and all that will pass. It is not nihilism, but clarity—the soft illumination of finality.
There is peace here—not fulfillment, but quiet. Not triumph, but cessation. The susurrus whispers the universe’s oldest truth: all things return to silence. And in that silence, we find something beyond despair. 
We find release. 
We find rest.

Stream Of Thought

Put on your headphones, close your eyes, and release a message into the stars. Stars, Remember Me floats in B Lydian—a bright, expansive scale with just enough strangeness to feel cosmic. Built on the shimmering Stars Pad, this track drifts like a slow-moving signal through space: part love letter, part memory, part prayer. With long decays and gentle filter sweeps, the sound trails like stardust across a night sky. Guided by plant MIDI, each note feels like a whisper hoping to be remembered—far from Earth, yet full of feeling.


25/100 ~ Stars, Remeber Me

That was then - times ago - nothing changes,  just the ebb and flow.

Roll With the Money

I am the NerdWiser and I play the Synthesizer.
I make electronic music you can’t dance to.
🎧 plz! Thank you for listening.

Perseverance in the Void

NerdWiser

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