Voltage

Whisper of Ice (Ice Queen ) Video on : https://youtu.be/HMQTry_sddM

Whispers of Ice

Metalhead United

Hinter Hermanns Haus (Long Mix)

Ich und Du

Nicht ohne dich

House of Cards

“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

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.

Notes to the Lost

RASO Schroeder Music

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