Name: Galactic Mirage by Philippe Astor in +1000
Duration: 8 min
Description: psychedelic rock, ambiant, hypnotic bassline

Mes titres produits avec l'IA qui ont franchi la barre des 1000 écoutes en quelques semaines dans le monde

+1000

Interstate Love Song - Stone Temple Pilots

Chris Cornell - Like a Stone

Guiar cover of this amazing song.

If you want to Download: http://j.gs/5tWp

Led Zeppelin - Black Dog

No One Like You (Scorpions Cover)

Nirvana - Where Did You Sleep Last Night - Unplugged In New York {{Best Sound Quality}}

psychedelic rock, ambiant, hypnotic bassline

Galactic Mirage

Progressive rock avec fondements blues, influences celtiques/orientales

Primal Forces

Folk contemplatif, medieval troubadour, acoustic, polyphonic voices
Instrumentation : Acoustic guitar fingerpicking DADGAD tuning, subtle harmonica, mandolin, upright bass, minimal frame drum

Los Darrièrs Semenaires

hip-hop, blues, electro undertones with heavy fuzzed-out guitars, deep, and hip-hop-inspired rhythms, rock, electro, deep delta groove, delta blues, produced with artificial intelligence

Inner Demons

delta blues meets hip-hop, heavy fuzzed distorted guitars, deep rhythmic groove, electronic undertones, blues-rock fusion, hip-hop inspired beats, gritty production, produced with artificial intelligence

Authenticity


Genre: Digital dancehall fusion, Reggae-techno hybrid, Raggamuffin electronic, Dub-step influences, Caribbean bass music
Mood: Energetic, bass-heavy, rhythmic
Tempo: Variable 85-128 BPM
Instruments: Electric guitar, 808s, synthesizer bass, digital effects, horn samples
Produced with AI

Dub Echo

“Lullaby” drifts through the shadows of Solar Messiah — a haunting track where beauty meets despair. The soft vocal delivery contrasts against dark, echoing guitars, creating a dreamlike tension between comfort and collapse.

Solar Messiah

Lullaby

Artist: Led Zeppelin
Movie: The Song Remains the Same
Released: 1971
Awards: Grammy Hall of Fame Award

Led Zeppelin - Stairway To Heaven

The song is based on my poem: 
January: A World Beginning
January wakes slow in the North,
Where frost threads lace on every pane,
And breath becomes a visible thing—
A small white promise leaving lips.
The days are pale, obedient, quiet,
Learning how to lengthen again.
In the mountains of Japan,
Snow falls like the hush after prayer—
Temples ring one clear bell,
And the year bows its head to begin.
In the savannas of Kenya,
The sun is not a stranger—
It stands guard in a copper sky
While acacia shadows stretch like long-limbed dancers.
New rains are stories still being written
Across thirsty soil.
In Argentina, January is a festival—
Mangoes split sweet at dusk,
Children run with bare shoulders,
And time moves with the slow confidence
Of heat shimmering on stone.
The year begins in a summer’s exhale.
In Reykjavik, the night lingers,
A patient guest at every table.
Candles bloom in windows,
And families gather close,
Singing warmth into the dark
With wool, with laughter, with soup.
In India’s north, the morning fog
Rests heavy on the yellow fields;
Kites wait to take the sky at festival time,
Color staking claim against the pale cool heavens.
January is gentle here, but watchful.
In Berlin, London, Montreal—
Grey is not sadness but a canvas
For the smallest sparks of life:
A café window fogged by tea steam,
The sudden flight of pigeons,
A scarf pulled close,
Someone deciding—quietly—
To stay, to try, to begin again.
January is no single thing.
It is hearth and horizon,
Snowstorm and sunstroke,
Dormancy and seed.
It is the earth’s deep breath before speaking,
The human heart clearing space
For whatever might grow.

January is a beginning shaped differently across the world: in the North it wakes slowly, breath turning to frost-threaded lace on glass as days learn to lengthen again, while in Japan snow falls like silence after prayer and bells ring in the new year. In Kenya the sun stands firm over acacia shadows and rains write new stories in the earth, even as Argentina tastes summer—mango-sweet, bare-shouldered, unhurried. Reykjavik keeps candles blooming against the lingering night, India lifts kites into fog-soaked dawn, and cities like Berlin and London wear grey as a quiet canvas for small hopes—a warm scarf, a fogged café window, a moment of deciding to begin once more. January holds both seed and snowstorm, hearth and horizon: the earth breathing in before it speaks, and the human heart making room for what may grow.

Galactic Mirage

Philippe Astor

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