Tonsatta dikter av min farfar Axel Alfredsson.
Handlar om hans tid i USA, dit han emigrerade 1912-1921
Låtarna på Svenska handlar i huvudsak om hans tid i Sverige och de övriga fem låtarna på engelska om hans tid i USA bl.a. med mötet med Joe Hill.
Detta är ett projekt tillsammans med mina söner, där Anton Alfredsson producerat och Axel Alfredsson spelar bas. Konvolut är designat av Moa Grundvik Ördell

03. På Glid

Sensual Theorems

Pop Violin Lamento

This was created by MicEspe and Escorpio Lux

(c)2023.4.15 ---All Rights Reserved

Forever

"Tiny Injuries" is my third full length solo album to complete the trilogy. The first two being "The Restless Dreams of Youth" released in 2021 and "Start at the End" released in 2022. The inspiration comes from the idea that throughout our lives we experience moments that leave tiny  emotional or physical injuries. And as we grown older,  we try to forget about them or hide them, but even the tiniest ones can resurface and we become forced to deal with the scars. No injuries are ever really tiny.

tiny injuries

Walking Hurricane

walking hurricane

Warm Galaxy

Not The Reason

World Is Fine

RockSteady

The Flava (Extended)

Face Machine inhabits the blurred threshold between the human and the synthetic, where identity becomes fluid and is constantly rewritten. Drifting between melodic techno, underground trance and electro-pop, the album unfolds like a network of unstable selves - mirrors folding into mirrors, names dissolving into signals. Vocals shift between male and female, merging with abstract textures until the human voice becomes something unbound, a mutable instrument suspended between body and machine. Each track carves its own passage through luminous, volatile atmospheres, yet all are tethered by a shared sonic architecture of detuned oscillators, layered melodic counterpoint, and synthesis timbres that breathe with organic motion.

These twelve tracks move through states of emergence and disappearance - memory scattering, identity refracting, presence dissolving into signal. Wordless chants, whispered fragments, and spectral harmonies drift like residues of selves that never fully arrive. Within this landscape, rhythm and texture intertwine: polyrhythmic layers build and collapse, melodic threads blur into complex harmonic tides, and shifting tonalities open portals into new emotional terrain. Face Machine doesn't offer resolution; instead, it lingers in the spaces where perception falters and technology reshapes what it means to exist. It is an album of thresholds and transformations - a meditation on how we become, lose, and reinvent ourselves in an age where even our voices can belong to someone, or something, else.

Not The Reason

Chris DiLuccio

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