Powerful rock tune, nice guitar performance, well done my friend !

Excellent song and a perfect realization. Bravo.

Awesome!! Perfect Title for this Anthem:)

amazing track, wah-wah wild guitar, great coda for this title. play on. (<:

What an epic slab of rocking rock! If I ever did this (which I couldn't in a million years!), I think my head would explode (in a good way!).

In memory of the survivors' terrible ordeal and of those who lost their lives in the sinking of USS Indianapolis, 30th July 1945, and of those who very soon were to perish from the deadly cargo she had just delivered: the first atomic bombs.
Watch the monologue in the movie Jaws which describes with historical accuracy what happened after Indianapolis was torpedoed.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u9S41Kplsbs

USS Indianapolis

"Scheming Vibes: Playful Sophisticated Toy Box" is a 3:08 track that weaves a narrative of intellectual curiosity and cultural depth through its delicate composition. With a foundation of plucky, organic bell sounds playing simple arpeggiated tetrad and subtle shifts to higher chords, it creates an atmosphere of naivety turned sophisticated warmth. Abstract reverse vocal splashes, gentle melodic elements, and nuanced percussion layers add to its intrigue. This track is perfect for intellectual documentaries, cultural podcasts, and radio shows, offering a soundscape that evokes sophistication and a touch of melancholy amidst curiosity.

For commercial and derivative licences, please visit our Pond5 profile, where you can buy this track for a number of additional uses. http://www.pond5.com/artist/covertacoustics

Schmeing Vibes

Scheming Vibes

Out In The Street - Combstead & Robert Grigg

https://open.spotify.com/album/7HWFM5xt47hdUovdebtxeI?si=UewCkxPnRXabEtd4YuDIug
Mixed by www.billytuckersound.com/
Mastered By Jack Endino. www.endino.com/about.html

Rumor

Credits: 
N.o.b.S. : guitar, bass, keyboards, mix and mastering

Voyage to the God of Destruction

Voyage to the God Of Destruction

According to the alchemists of old, there are four different kinds of fire: celestial fire, earthly fire, elemental fire … and secret fire. This song is about the secret fire. 

I'm very grateful to @APi_ZZ for setting my words to such captivating music. 

Words and vocals: Annie Dieu-Le-Veut
Copyright © Annie Dieu-Le-Veut, May 2024 

Music and cover art: APi_ZZ 
Copyright © APi_ZZ (Andreas Pirner) May 2024 

When Prometheus stole the fire from Olympus, 
It wasn’t a nova that illumined his course, 
Neither peat of hearth, nor flames from forge; 
Or passion smouldering in his phallic horn. 
All these fires already by man were availed. 
No, it was the secret fire, 
That no mortal man ever saw unveiled.

Now the ziggurats are scarlet with blood, 
Inanna's chalice, snatched from her hand, 
Pours into the Tigris, the Euphrates, the Nile, the flood. 
Hierodules torn from purple sheets 
Sold in the market like prostitutes. 
The Mysteries parsed through cost benefit sheets, 
And twisted to fit by men in black suits.

If Forethought was there, what was his reasoning? 
The collapse of His-story, the church and the steeple? 
To bring the Black Swan and open Pandora's Box? 
Now refugees swarm like Sea Peoples of old, 
From the cruel bloodbaths of Masters of War, 
And Lady Victory turns away her cheek, 
Refusing to grace such monstrous cheats.

The moral of His-story? There are no morals anymore.
They quickly followed all sense of decency, 
as it was jettisoned out the door… and yet… 
It is the only boat back to shore.
So take it, or be lost at sea, 
In the deluge sent by those Olympians of old 
And understand, now, all those who can, 
in order to be a god, you must first learn to be a man.

 I speak of the secret fire, flash of enlightenment, 
The wise serpents of divine lightning. 
It made Saul fall from his horse; 
In the Upper Room, struck the twelve apostles. 
The grace, the Shekinah, to us was delivered 
By one chained to a rock, while a crowned eagle 
Pecked away at his liver.

When Prometheus stole the fire from Olympus, 
It wasn’t a nova that illumined his course, 
Neither peat of hearth, nor flames from forge; 
Or passion smouldering in his phallic horn. 
All these fires already by man were availed. 
It was, now you know, the secret fire, 
That no mortal man ever saw unveiled.

Secret Fire

Inspired by a poem by the lovely and sadly, late Amara MacEachern, about why the occult is occulted. And @APi_ZZ's music as ever is out-of-this-world DELIGHTFULLY enchanting! 

Vocal by Annie Dieu-Le-Veut
Copyright © Annie Dieu-Le-Veut, June 2024, all rights reserved

Music by APi_ZZ 
Copyright © APi_ZZ (Andreas Pirner) June 2024, all rights reserved

Cover art by APi_ZZ.  

Words:

We locked up our wisdom into our bones
And swallowed the keys
They sank in our Rivers of Blood, 
And we forgot the maps
Because we had to forget the Mysteries
To keep them safe.

We wove our hair into brooms
And swept over our paths,
And then burned the earth with our rage.

We didn't teach our children;
It was the only way to protect them, we thought.

But in them we planted seeds, seeds and keys
And told them stories and riddles and songs
With no roots, just tangled threads
That would take years to unwind,
Just enough time
For the rains to fall again
and put out the fires,
For the dams to break,
For the rivers to flood,
For the paths to be walked again,
For the soil to breathe.

And as the old bones crumble
Deep beneath the rubble
We find we've always had the keys.

 Our stories are our maps,
Our paths are revealed to some,
And the seeds grow again
The threads are unspun
And woven again.

Amara Bronwyn MacEachern, Hollow Bones
RIP 29th June 2022

Ouroboros

Alles so schön bunt hier drinnen...

Welcome to my mind

Feels Like Home

Translation above
sur un texte d'Isabelle Le Gouic, du groupe Fip Ta Zik https://soundcloud.com/user-524852847

Il n’y a rien à voir

Sur la jetée de mon papier grimoire
Des rimes jetées
Qui s’arriment à la brume
Mon brouillard en errance
Posé sur un papelard
Il n’y a rien à voir
Sur la jetée de mon papier miroir
Des embruns jetés
Mes pensées que j’écume
Mon brouillard en partance
Sur mon papier bavard
Il n’y a rien à voir

Refrain :
Sur le journal où je m’épanche
Il n’y a rien à voir
J’écris à l’encre blanche
Sur un papier ivoire

Sur la jetée de mon papier mémoire
Souvenirs lancés
Mes vieilles balançoires
Les brouillons de l’enfance
Sur mon papier buvard
Il n’y a rien à voir
Sur la jetée de mon papier du soir
Encre blanch’ jetée
Comme une pleine lune
Qui s’élance en plein jour
Sur un papier blafard
Il n’y a rien à voir

Refrain :
Sur le journal où je m’épanche 
Il n’y a rien à voir
J’écris à l’encre blanche
Ma plume a peur du noir

Paroles : Isabelle Le Gouic
Musique : Myckaël Marcovic, le 14 juin 2024

There's nothing to see

On the pier of my grimoire paper
Discarded rhymes
That dock with the mist
My wandering fog
On a piece of paper
There's nothing to see
On the pier of my mirror paper
Spray thrown
My thoughts that I foam
My departing fog
On my chattering paper
There's nothing to see

Refrain :
On the newspaper where I pour out my heart
There is nothing to see
I write in white ink
On ivory paper

On the pier of my memory paper
Thrown memories
My old swings
Childhood drafts
On my blotting paper
There's nothing to see
On the pier of my evening paper
Bleached ink thrown away
Like a full moon
That rises in broad daylight
On a pale paper
There's nothing to see

Refrain :
On the newspaper where I pour out my heart 
There's nothing to see
I write in white ink
My pen is afraid of the dark

Lyrics: Isabelle Le Gouic
Music: Myckaël Marcovic, June 14, 2024

Il n'y a rien à voir (Isabelle Le Gouic / Myckaël Marcovic)

Dix huit cent et plus, en Irlande du nord, une dynastie aux gants de fer, et Emmie amoureuse d'un garçon issu d'un milieu modeste...
Les différences déjà menacées à cette époque, mais que dire d'aujourd'hui?
Paroles:
Août 1814 dans une contrée du nord.
Au coeur des landes immenses qui étirent le décor,
On donnait au manoir une fête somptueuse,
Pour les vingt ans d'Emmie, belle et amoureuse.
Emmie, le vent soufflera toujours.
Sur les voiles fragiles de tes amours.
Emmie le vent souffle fort ce soir,
Sur les ailes sombres du manoir.
Des nuits d'errance et de spleen
Des nuits d'avance et de green,
Des nuits, Emmie.
Août 1814 dans les journaux du soir.
Quatre lignes discrètes ont relaté l'histoire.
Car le manoir respire des dynasties de cire.
Emmie, le vent soufflera toujours.
Sur les voiles fragiles de tes amours.
Emmie le vent souffle fort ce soir,
Sur les ailes sombres du manoir.
Des nuits d'errance et de spleen
Des nuits d'avance et de green,
Des nuits, Emmie.
choeurs:
Loin des rires du manoir,
Soufflent les vents de ton histoire.
Loin des ombres du manoir,
Court un nom dans ta mémoire.
Le souvenir d'Emmie dans la lande s'étire...

Eighteen hundred and counting, in Northern Ireland, a dynasty with iron gloves, and Emmie in love with a boy from a modest background....
Differences already threatened at that time, but what about today?
Words:
August 1814 in a northern country.
In the heart of the immense moors which stretch out the scenery,
A sumptuous party was given at the manor,
For Emmie's twenty years, beautiful and in love.
Emmie, the wind will always blow.
On the fragile sails of your loves.
Emmie the wind is blowing hard this evening,
On the dark wings of the mansion.
Nights of wandering and spleen
Nights ahead and green,
Nights, Emmie.
August 1814 in the evening newspapers.
Four discreet lines told the story.
Because the manor breathes wax dynasties.
Emmie, the wind will always blow.
On the fragile sails of your loves.
Emmie the wind is blowing hard this evening,
On the dark wings of the mansion.
Nights of wandering and spleen
Nights ahead and green,
Nights, Emmie.
backing vocals:
Far from the laughter of the mansion,
The winds of your story blow.
Patches of shadows of the mansion,
Run a name into your memory.
The memory of Emmie on the moor stretches...

Emmie

"**Written In Pain**" by Siegfried Jünger is a compelling foray into the realms of martial industrial and ambient music, reminiscent of the evocative soundscapes crafted by Von Thronstahl. The track masterfully intertwines powerful orchestral arrangements with dark, brooding industrial elements, creating an atmosphere that is both haunting and majestic.

From the opening notes, a sense of foreboding envelops the listener as deep, resonant percussion sets a militant rhythm, underscored by ominous drones. Ethereal, melancholic melodies weave through the composition, evoking a poignant sense of loss and reflection. The use of choral samples adds a layer of grandeur, reminiscent of historical epics, while the subtle incorporation of field recordings and spoken word passages injects a narrative depth, making the track feel like a journey through a desolate yet sublime landscape.

"Written In Pain" stands as a testament to Jünger's ability to blend the visceral power of martial music with the introspective qualities of ambient soundscapes, resulting in a piece that is as thought-provoking as it is sonically captivating. Fans of Von Thronstahl will find much to admire in this track, as it captures the essence of their signature style while carving out its own unique sonic territory.

Written In Pain by Siegfried Jünger

Rock, Rock, Rock and no Alternative …
I am playing guitar and bass, I love prog rock, technical death metal and all flavors of hard rock.
I use SoundCloud for collaborations with other Artists, if time allows.
Mix and Mastering was done in the „N.o.b.S. Moonshine Studios“ based in my living room. 
Nearly everything had been recorded during the night, sometimes at daylight on weekends.

Voyage to the God Of Destruction

N.o.b.S.

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