N-Gothic Groove 9

Folk song written, performed and produced by Sean Ferree

The Fool

Testing Patience

Composition and Sampling collage by Synline
Featured on the album 'Welcome to Dystopia Land'https://on.soundcloud.com/vX696
This is my original, but before releasing it, my friend Mosa had already released a remix. I really like his version as well, so if you're interested, please give it a listen.
https://soundcloud.com/user-174681242/nature-signsynlinemozawa?si=6a5f58e5352345aea3c53cd9b041e87d&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

Nature Sign

Lyrics, Vocals, Vocal Melody by Nadia Selvaggi
Instrumental & Mix by Toshi Rio: https://soundcloud.com/toshi-rio

Just Another Teenage Suicide
by Nadia Selvaggi

The clang of a dead ringer's bell ignored
and the Angel of Death draws her sword

You kneel in sorrow at my tomb,
eyes swelling red and wide,
as you lay a flowered wreath of guilt,
and wonder why -- why God took me!

I saw the world through a fog of lies, 
self-hatred and delusion,
but only a child would have come to that conclusion -
and have God take me!

Now, I will always be just another teenage suicide

Now, in the rapture of life 
you sacrifice your own life,
and ask God to take you!

Screaming from above --
can you hear me?

Now, I will always be just another teenage suicide

The clang of a dead ringer's bell ignored,
and the Angel of Death draws her sword

The darkest days still bring 
a soothing voice, a morning sky
And may the veil be lifted
from your weary eyes --
and may God wake you!

Just Another Teenage Suicide by Toshi Rio & Nadia Selvaggi

The Moonlight Sessions

A Glimpse Of Whats To Come

Bachiami

SK   Bachiami  bimbo  ( Testo di Anam Hermit)

My dreamy reinterpretation of an original beautiful theme by Marco Lucchi: one-hand-piano n°2

One Hand Piano Dream

This composition started with a few earnest and honest piano chords. What emerged was a personal attempt to deal with loss through electronic symphony. 

More will come...

Art by Jane Langvee.

The Way [DEMO]

Don’t stand in my way
Makes no sense when you got nothing to prove

Your cellphone's a hair trigger
For a despair oh (so) much bigger
Than Washington's wedge 'tween me and you

You've careened off your meds
Gobbled up fake news instead
Just pass the shit, let it run on through

I can call you a stubborn man
But you don’t give a damn

Don’t stand in my way
Makes no sense when you got nothing to prove
Don’t stand in my way
Your just an average man with nothing to lose

A Walmart designed straightjacket
Won't stop you scratching at the racket
As all the ghosts of history scream boo!

And doesn't it feel like Halloween
Some kind of nightmarish bad dream
I think I'm going crazy just, like you

I can call you a stubborn man
But you don’t give a damn

Don’t stand in my way
Makes no sense when you got nothing to prove
Don’t stand in my way
Your just an average man with nothing to lose

Don’t even try to change your views
You follow Fox and you call it the news
Once you were shy but now you feel unfurled

Maybe you've always been this way
"Common sense" the rule of your day
You see nothing wrong in how you see the world

I can call you a stubborn man
But you don’t give a damn

Don’t stand in my way
Makes no sense when you got nothing to prove
Don’t stand in my way
Your just an average man with nothing to lose

Don't Stand in My Way (demo)

Neon Lights (Extra Shimmer Mix)

Prophet of End Times is not a name — it’s a diagnosis. A statement of intent. A trigger. A warning.

For those paying close attention, this project began long before the music arrived. Long before the signals were transmitted. Long before the world tilted past its breaking point and pretended it hadn’t noticed.

This isn’t performance. It’s process. It’s prophecy by distortion, melody through the ruins, dissonance weaponized. A mosaic of failed systems and burned timelines, rebuilt in layers of noise and silence.

You’re hearing architecture. You’re listening to strategy. Every frequency, every glitch, every warped harmony carries data. Every lyric is a crack in the wall.

Somewhere in the signal:
a map.
a message.
a matchstick.

You are not expected to understand immediately. You are expected to pay attention.

Because nothing here is arbitrary.
Not the song titles. Not the sound choices. Not the silences.
Not even this bio.

There are people who will find this. Who will feel something they can’t name. Who will know where to dig.

Not all puzzles look like puzzles.
Not all transmissions arrive decoded.
Not all prophets wear robes.

Some wear scars.
Some wear static.
Some just press “upload.”

𓂀
Class: Classified
Genre: Post-industrial occult pop / strategic subversion / experimental prophecy
Mood: Unsettling / revelatory / confrontational
File under: surveillance bait, musical sigil, metaphysical warfare
𓁹

For entertainment purposes only.
All coincidences are intentional.
You were warned.

Artifacts: BGlueYml0Lmx5LzJ0aGVzc2Fsb25pYW5zMngxLTEy