House of Cards

This track is part of the concept album "Born of Noise."
We’d be happy if you took the time to listen to the whole album,
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Synthetic Love

“Fragments of Time” is a philosophical and emotional concept album exploring the fragile relationship between memory, time, and identity.
It does not tell its story linearly — instead, it moves through shifting fragments of recollection, where each song captures a different facet of the self seen through distorted memory.
The album asks a central question:

Who am I, if my memories can no longer be trusted?

Across its tracks, Fragments of Time navigates the blurred boundaries between what was, what might have been, and what was never real at all.
Themes of lost childhood, missed chances, trauma, and false remembrance weave through a non-chronological soundscape of progressive and psychedelic rock — blending analog warmth, orchestral textures, and experimental atmospheres.

Musical motifs reappear in altered forms throughout the record, symbolizing the reconstruction of identity through imperfect recollection.
Each reprise is like déjà vu — familiar yet subtly changed, mirroring the way memory reshapes itself over time.

The sound is both melancholic and cinematic:
delicate acoustic passages dissolve into vast, orchestral swells; distorted guitars and reversed pianos evoke the collapse of linear time; ambient textures breathe between moments, like ghosts of songs already forgotten.

In the end, Fragments of Time reaches no definitive conclusion.
Instead, it finds resolution through ambiguity — accepting that the self is not a fixed truth, but a continuous act of remembering and letting go.
The closing track, “Unwritten Hours,” fades into reversed echoes that lead seamlessly back to the opening of “Echoes Before Dawn,” creating a circular loop — a sonic metaphor for time folding in on itself.

Fragments of Time

Lost childhood

Theme: Political corruption and greed.
Angular, rhythmically complex prog piece — guitars stabbing like accusations.
Lyrically addresses leaders who build empires of lies while the planet burns beneath their feet.
Emotion: Rage and betrayal.


BandCamp

The Architects of Nothing

Concrete Horizons by Tempest Veins is a haunting progressive rock concept album set against the divided landscape of Cold War Berlin. Through 13 interconnected tracks, it explores the psychological and emotional toll of walls — both political and internal. The album blends atmospheric soundscapes, experimental textures, and philosophical lyricism to portray the human struggle between control and freedom, memory and forgetting. From the whispered denial of “Prologue: Voices Before the Wall” to the reflective calm of “Concrete Horizons (Reprise),” each song forms a fragment of collective consciousness — a mosaic of hope, fear, rebellion, and rebirth. Layers of guitars, Mellotron, and cinematic effects evoke ghostly streets, secret dreams, and the slow crumbling of ideology. Ultimately, Concrete Horizons is not just about a city divided by concrete, but about the fragile walls we build within ourselves — and the sounds that remain when they fall.

The Line Through the Heart

Baby Blue is not just an album — it’s a descent, a confession, and a fragile return.
Across twelve interconnected songs, Tempest Veins trace the anatomy of addiction: the loneliness that leads to escape, the seduction of the first high, the betrayal of false friends, and the brutal clarity of collapse.

From the haunting atmosphere of “The Hollow Hours” to the desperate pulse of “Glass Streets” and the trembling redemption of “Clean Light,” the record moves through darkness and despair toward a flicker of fragile hope. Every track mirrors a stage of dependency — denial, loss, withdrawal, relapse — told through shifting rhythms, layered guitars, and cinematic sound design.

The final song, “Don’t Cry for Baby Blue,” closes the circle in bittersweet reflection. It’s unclear whether “Baby Blue” is the drug, a lost love, or the version of oneself that never returned. What remains is acceptance — quiet, exhausted, and real.

Musically, Baby Blue bridges the emotional depth of progressive and psychedelic rock with the raw vulnerability of modern art rock. Lyrically, it’s both personal and universal — a portrait of a world where escape is easier than healing, and where every fall still carries the faint possibility of redemption.

Tempest Veins deliver a record that burns, bleeds, and breathes — an unflinching journey through the beautiful, terrible truth of being human.

The Hollow Hours

Tomorrow Never Comes

Loud, Proud and Out of Gas

You`re the Best

Concept Album Description — The River That Sleeps (Poetic Version)

The River That Sleeps is a quiet odyssey through the inner landscapes of stillness, memory, and forgotten motion. It tells the story of a river that has stopped flowing — a once-living current now frozen in time, mirroring the human impulse to remain unmoving when life’s weight becomes too heavy. Across the album’s arc, the river becomes a witness, a mirror, a companion, and finally a guide back into motion.

The early songs linger in a world where sound drifts slowly: delicate guitar ripples, low-tide whispers, and voices that echo like abandoned conversations. These are moments suspended between breaths — spaces where nothing happens, but everything is felt. The music stays close to the ground, intimate, almost fragile, shaped by the pulse of memories buried like stones beneath silt.

As the journey continues, the river valley deepens. We descend into the undercurrent — the unseen roots of connection, the weight of unspoken words, the magnetic pull between souls standing on opposite banks. Each track reveals another layer of the landscape within: the places where solitude grows, where old ideals tarnish, where driftwood dreams float without a destination. Guitars shimmer and bend like light over water; basslines move like slow geological shifts; percussion breathes in sparse, patient rhythms.

The instrumental interlude—Echoes of the Floodplain—acts as a clearing of the mind, a wide horizon after the waters retreat. It is the sound of emptiness becoming fertile again, of silence learning to hold beauty instead of fear. In this space, the album inhales—long, deep, and cleansing.

Then comes the return.
Movement.
Warmth spreading through the current.

Where the River Breathes Again rises gently from the quiet, not with triumph but with acceptance. The river starts to flow once more, carrying the remnants of all it has seen — the stillness, the sorrow, the quiet lessons of the valley. The final chords open outward like light on morning water, ending not with closure but with possibility.

In its essence, The River That Sleeps is a meditation on what it means to pause, to remember, to erode, and to heal. It is an album for the moments when life grows slow enough for truth to surface — when we can finally hear the faint, steady rhythm beneath all things:
the patient heartbeat of a river waiting to move again.

Echoes of the Floodplain

Homepage www.rasoschroedermusic.de
Bandcamp https://rasoschroedermusic.bandcamp.com/

Echoes of the Floodplain

RASO Schroeder Music