Algumas das mais tocadas nos anos 80 e 90 para recordar.

The Bolshoi - Sunday Morning

Save A Prayer - Duran Duran

Nighthawk - Jet Lag

Brainplant - I Have No Mouth And I Must Screwface (OUT NOW)

Song "Stride" Composed and performed by © Ross Kosherton
rosskosherton@gmail.com

Ross Kosherton is a musician, keyboardist and multimedia graphic designer.

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ROSS KOSHERTON - STRIDE

Graphic design and animations by © Ross Kosherton. Song "Quantic" by Ross Kosherton.
Ross Kosherton is a musician, keyboardist and multimedia graphic designer.
rosskosherton@gmail.com

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ROSS KOSHERTON - QUANTIC

Had a hard time knowing who to trust.
I starved myself of human touch.
Thought my soul was high above this.
I've had enough of being loveless.

I feel the lust. I feel the hum.
Of a thousand imaginary voices pleading me to cum.
I gotta be polite. Gotta do my best.
Spend a lifetime getting all their notes, fulfilling their requests.

Letting all the ghosts in. 
Playing host to a universal motion.
Hears the waves of the ecto-ocean 
Water lapping up your soul's devotion.
"Never gonna hurt her."
Whisper ghosts to reassure her.
"We're not gonna murder,
Our favourite public pervert."

Feeling like Scheherazade.
Another tale for a punitive demigod.
Living Necronomicon.
Staving off death by making up phenomena.
For the entertainment 
Of a brainless, hateful audience of satans. SATANS!
Make another statement.
You don't wanna end up in their basement.

Long time flipping for the freedom I seek.
We inherit the meek as the earth rejects.
Long time thinking your demeanour was weak
But submissive mystique is one that protects.
It's a feeling you get when you never regret
When they burn your neck with a cigarette.
It's a ziggurat. Where the temples at.
Now shut your fucking mouth and grab my ass.

Give me your possession. Obliterate my body as a true confession.
I am but a vessel for the machinations of your devils.

I'm never me at any second but my fate is ordained.
How can the voice of death beckon when no ego remains?
When you're everybody else I thought that I could be not I.
I'm not alive so I thought I could never really die.

Chemical dependence. 
I'm an animal serving her sentence.
Never think about descendants. 
It exacerbates existing tensions.
You can still eliminate
Egoless entities, making them assimilate. 
And the chemical will levitate.
It separates, forms a precipitate. 

Causality's hand is vicious.
Couldn't escape the incidental wishes.
Acidic hiss from caustic kisses
Of a cosmic stalker who reminisces
Of a back and forth, of a gentle business,
in the mental physics of an avatar.
It's an abattoir. Not your decisions
But the odd incisions of the butcher's art.

It's the butcher's heart. It's the comedy.
When they're taking it apart for economies. 
It's an honour common on the daughter's coffin.
Often primadonna's offer freedom on this. Thoughtless.

On and off in your subconscious.
Haunted housewife, softened convict.
On the outside, doubt you're dauntless
But in the interior, fear the process.

SAMPLES
1. You Boy, Carol Anderson, 7" Single (1972)
2. Eastside Verse Drums, Garageband Loop
3. He Was a Big Freak, Betty Davis, They Say I'm Different (1974)
4. Scheherazade, Rimsky-Korsakov, Detroit Symphony (2024)
5. Sweat Loaf, Butthole Surfers, Locust Abortion Technician (1987)
6. Something, The Beatles, Abbey Road (1969)
7. Halber Mensch, Einstürzende Neubauten, Halber Mensch (1985)

Lyrics

Summon a sentience from an abundance of emptiness.
No connectivity. Honestly common for solemn proclivities.
Had an epiphany - visions of enemies burning in effigy.
Feel like Persephone, taken away to a place that's not meant for me.
Or like a Kennedy, not 'cause I'm powerful,
'Cause I'll die violently. Make a devouring mother
A towering figure and silently practice your cowering
In a calamity. How are you sleeping?
Are you not grieving for a lost innocence, one you exchanged for a feeling of eminence?

I hate your money, your glamour, your opulence,
Moron's Extravagance, garbage aesthetic of wealth.
Mediocrity hides in the spectacle. Substanceless posturing. 
Can't wait to see you in Hell.

Steely austerity hiding the scavenger of moral clarity.
I hate your charity. I wouldn't need it if not for disparities
You manufactured for parody's pleasure-bound measures to hound and embarrass me.
No aristocracy goes without saying "please pity me.
Please, it's not enough that I covet it. Please, I need to be so beloved that
Seas part for my infernal covenant. Suffering's something that I can relieve.
Look at my teeth. Weep for the predator given the task of humanity's editor,
Senator's son, generous creditor. Why can't you love me for morsels I leave?

Samples

1. Man from Tanganyika, McCoy Tyner, Tender Moments (1968)
2. Solo Voice and Electronics, Pamela Z, Live Performance (November 19, 2017)
3. Heliocentric, Sun Ra, The Heliocentric Worlds of Sun Ra, Volume One (1965)



Can't Wait to See You in Hell

Smokeless Fire

Masterpiece Theatre

Celebrity Status

La Fin des Haricots

From Brazil, dreaming about deserts, stars and little creatures. Welcome to my imagination.
If you enjoy my music, consider buying it to support me, it's really cheap :)
I'm also a graphic designer, so if you want an amazing art for your track or album, give me a heads up!

Smokeless Fire

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