.♥️🦊🌈🍒🎹🪐📡🎼🛰️🌏💋🐻💋🥁🎛️♥️.

Call In Sick / Reflection

Call in Sick / Reflection

Call in Sick

Winter Is Coming

“Secreta” — Latin for “secret” or “secrets” — takes its name and text from a lesser-known part of the traditional Roman Catholic Mass: a quiet prayer, spoken in a low voice by the priest at the end of the Offertory. On this album, the prayer becomes something more personal and disquieting — a whispered plea for one's enemies, delivered from a soul suspended between forgiveness and fragmentation.

Set to a short liturgical text drawn from the Roman Missal, the piece explores the spiritual paradox of wishing well upon those who have wounded us. That fragile state — where faith confronts betrayal — is captured in the song’s shifting musical language. An eerie orchestral introduction sets the tone, enveloping the listener in unease, before giving way to rhythms that echo the rhythmical asymmetry of Balkan dances. The unconventional time signature distorts any sense of calm, as if the soul itself is reeling.

“Secreta“ is both prayer and disorientation — a sacred ritual filtered through the lens of human vulnerability.

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SECRETA

Oblatis, quaesumus, Domine, placare muneribus: 
et nos ab inimicis nostris clementer eripe.

(We beg You, O Lord, be appeased by these sacrificial offerings: 
and mercifully snatch us away from our enemies.)

Horror Sacri

Secreta

Purple Moon Dogz Howling

Dirty Orange Puppet Head (You lied to me)

Dirty Orange Puppet Head

Read-read-read
note-note-note
footnote the soul of a mole in a coat
Ink-ink-ink
scratch-scratch-scratch
argue ‘bout the meaning of the word dispatch
Mark-mark-mark
quote-quote-quote
stack your sources ‘til the shelves revolt

Our coffee’s black as our funding gap
our deadlines bend like a yoga map
We publish thoughts no one will heed
but glory’s in the planted seed

Work-work-work, until the thought gets weird
debate the length of an unseen beard
Draft-draft-draft, then tear the page
we’re the chorus and the cage

We mine in texts nobody reads
stacking scrolls like ancient reeds
A grant’s a dragon guarding lore
you flatter it, it gives you more

Work-work-work, till the candles die
rewrite the truth with a scholar’s lie
Proof-proof-proof till the moon’s been spun
and toast to the joy of the kingdom of Some

Ink-stained hands and a mind half-mad
argue with ghosts you never had
Measure the weight of a metaphor’s bone
and carve your thesis into stone

Trade your hours for immortal lines
digging through dust for half-formed signs
Argue ‘til dawn on a point obscure
declare the riddle “still unsure”

Who holds the key to the scholar’s vault?
"We do! We do! It’s all our fault!"
Who stacks the scrolls ‘til the shelves cave in?
"We do! We do! Let the work begin!"

Push-push-push the ink along
sing-sing-sing the unwritten song
laugh-laugh-laugh at the scholar’s jest
then bind it in the Book of Rest
Dig-dig-dig through the dusty mind
find-find-find what the rest won’t find

Work-work-work, until the thought gets weird
debate the length of an unseen beard
Draft-draft-draft, then tear the page
we’re the chorus and the cage

And when the ink runs dry at last
we drink to the future
and footnote the past
Read-read-read
Write-write-write

Work-work-work, until the thought gets weird
debate the length of an unseen beard
Draft-draft-draft, then tear the page
we’re the chorus and the cage

Work-Work-Work

The Final Wave

Electronic Sky – Ciel Electronique

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BPM 115 | Key F minor

What do you think about Japanese and English twin vocals?  — we’ll talk in Discord.

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[Techno Punk / Melodic HC] The gray pledge – Rahab Punkaholic Girls

Henrik Meierkord : cello and viola
Marco Lucchi : piano and synthesizer

Up the mountain

yoink

try again

🎵 Welcome to NIMAX Music – the official channel of Nima Yeganeh, where EDM meets cinematic string textures. | 🎧 Dive into epic soundscapes, emotional builds, and genre-blending productions crafted to move you. | 👉 Follow & share the journey

Electronic Sky – Ciel Electronique

Nima Yeganeh

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Леонид Якушин

Леонид Якушин

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