Wrong Genre - Empty handed (demo version)

Our route bores deeper and deeper into the vertical, yellowish loess walls, the Szarvas-szurdik is one of the most spectacular examples of the deep roads typical of the Szekszárd hills. The loosened, sandy soil of the paths, which have been developed over the centuries and regularly used by horses and carriages, has been eroded by rainfall, causing them to become deeper and deeper, and to become veritable loess gullies as a result of increasing erosion. Locals call them "szurdik", and in recent times many of these deep roads have been concreted over, thus stopping the erosion, but fortunately the Szarvas szurdik have survived in their original form.

Nothing Works - Szurdik

The path that brought us here run out. We're off the track already. No reason to go back. No way to go further. Good. Somehow, it feels right. Impassable feels almost like home now.
Artwork by Bea www.beapalatinus.com/

Nothing Works - Impassable

In memoriam Daniel C. Dennett (1942-2024)
"In Walt Disney's classic animated film Dumbo, about the little elephant who learns to spread his giant ears and fly, there is a pivotal scene in which a dubious—indeed terrified—Dumbo is being cajoled by his friends, the crows, to leap offa cliff into the air, proving to himself that he can fly. One of the crows has a bright idea. When Dumbo isn't looking he plucks a tail feather from one of his kind and then ceremonially hands it to Dumbo, announcing that it is a magic feather: So long as Dumbo clutches it in his trunk, he can fly! The scene is presented with masterful economy. No explanation is provided, since even small children get the point without being told: The feather isn't really magic; it's a prosthetic device, a belief-crutch of sorts that will get Dumbo off the ground by the power of positive thinking. Now imagine a variation on that scene. Imagine that one of the other crows, a 
village skeptic who is smart enough to see what trick is being played but not smart enough to see its virtue, starts trying to inform Dumbo of the truth as he perches on the cliff edge, feather held tightly. "Stop that crow!" the children would shriek. Stifle that smarty-pants, quick, before he ruins it for Dumbo!
 
In the eyes of some, I am that crow."
(Daniel C. Dennett, Freedom Evolves, 2003)

Artwork by Bea www.beapalatinus.com/

Connecticut - I am that crow

Enceladus is the sixth-largest moon of Saturn and the 19th-largest in the Solar System. It is about 500 kilometers (310 miles) in diameter,about a tenth of that of Saturn's largest moon, Titan. It is mostly covered by fresh, clean ice, making it one of the most reflective bodies of the Solar System. Consequently, its surface temperature at noon reaches only −198 °C (75.1 K; −324.4 °F), far colder than a light-absorbing body would be. Despite its small size, Enceladus has a wide variety of surface features, ranging from old, heavily cratered regions to young, tectonically deformed terrain.

Artwork by Bea www.beapalatinus.com/

Nothing Works - Enceladus

Idiotsyncrasy is trying everything to escape from my typical moves (phrases, harmony, structure) and still failing miserably. According to Einstein, insanity Is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. While I can certainly co-miserate with Albert's claim, I think creative idiocy is franctically trying to do something else all the time and ending up with the same result. There, I said it :)

Idiotsyncrasy - part three

Idiotsyncrasy - part five

Connecticut - Sixteen

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all.
(Emily Dickinson)

with

You do not need to leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. Do not even listen, simply wait, be quiet, still and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked, it has no choice, it will roll in ecstasy at your feet. (Franz Kafka)

solitary

Connecticut - Hartford rain

"And they said then, 'But play, you must,
A tune beyond us, yet ourselves,..."

The Man With the Blue Guitar is a poem published in 1937 by Wallace Stevens. It is divided into thirty-three brief sections, or cantos. In the poem, an unnamed "they" says, of the titular man, "you do not play things as they are", sparking a prolonged meditation on the nature of art, performance, and imagination.

Release date:
27 March 2025

The Man With the Blue Guitar - a tune beyond

"Of the structure of vaults upon a point of light.
There are no shadows in our sun,..."

The Man With the Blue Guitar is a poem published in 1937 by Wallace Stevens. It is divided into thirty-three brief sections, or cantos. In the poem, an unnamed "they" says, of the titular man, "you do not play things as they are", sparking a prolonged meditation on the nature of art, performance, and imagination.

The Man With the Blue Guitar - point of light

The color like a thought that grows
Out of a mood, the tragic robe...

The Man With the Blue Guitar is a poem published in 1937 by Wallace Stevens. It is divided into thirty-three brief sections, or cantos. In the poem, an unnamed "they" says, of the titular man, "you do not play things as they are", sparking a prolonged meditation on the nature of art, performance, and imagination.

The Man With the Blue Guitar - a thought that grows

"To strike his living hi and ho,
To tick it, tock it, turn it true,

To bang from it a savage blue,
Jangling the metal of the strings"

The Man With the Blue Guitar is a poem published in 1937 by Wallace Stevens. It is divided into thirty-three brief sections, or cantos. In the poem, an unnamed "they" says, of the titular man, "you do not play things as they are", sparking a prolonged meditation on the nature of art, performance, and imagination.

The Man With the Blue Guitar - savage blue

"To come, a wrangling of two dreams.
Here is the bread of time to come,

Here is its actual stone."

The Man With the Blue Guitar is a poem published in 1937 by Wallace Stevens. It is divided into thirty-three brief sections, or cantos. In the poem, an unnamed "they" says, of the titular man, "you do not play things as they are", sparking a prolonged meditation on the nature of art, performance, and imagination.

BG actual stone - demo

"Raise reddest columns. Toll a bell
And clap the hollows full of tin.

Throw papers in the streets, the wills
Of the dead, majestic in their seals."

The Man With the Blue Guitar is a poem published in 1937 by Wallace Stevens. It is divided into thirty-three brief sections, or cantos. In the poem, an unnamed "they" says, of the titular man, "you do not play things as they are", sparking a prolonged meditation on the nature of art, performance, and imagination.

The Man With The Blue Guitar - full of tin

"I know my lazy, leaden twang
Is like the reason in a storm;

And yet it brings the storm to bear.
I twang it out and leave it there."

The Man With the Blue Guitar is a poem published in 1937 by Wallace Stevens. It is divided into thirty-three brief sections, or cantos. In the poem, an unnamed "they" says, of the titular man, "you do not play things as they are", sparking a prolonged meditation on the nature of art, performance, and imagination.

The Man With The Blue Guitar - twang it out

The Man With The Blue Guitar - actual stone

"How should you walk in that space and know
Nothing of the madness of space,

Nothing of its jocular procreations?"

The Man With the Blue Guitar is a poem published in 1937 by Wallace Stevens. It is divided into thirty-three brief sections, or cantos. In the poem, an unnamed "they" says, of the titular man, "you do not play things as they are", sparking a prolonged meditation on the nature of art, performance, and imagination.

The Man With The Blue Guitar - madness of space

"We shall forget by day, except

The moments when we choose to play
The imagined pine, the imagined jay."

The Man with the Blue Guitar is a poem published in 1937 by Wallace Stevens. It is divided into thirty-three brief sections, or cantos. In the poem, an unnamed "they" says, of the titular man, "you do not play things as they are", sparking a prolonged meditation on the nature of art, performance, and imagination.

The Man with the Blue Guitar - imagined pine

First track of a mysterious new collection. Another album? Could be. (to myself: why do I bother making albums?)

Music for bananas - Monday soaring

Music for bananas - I do not wait for anyone

Music for bananas - Pure hearted woman

"Saturn in rags" is the fourth track on my album "Music for bananas". At this point this whole project is rather mysterious - even for me.

Music for bananas - Saturn in rags

The dilemma lies in this: if sustainable modes of thinking and living can ultimately be overrun by destructive ones, can they truly be called sustainable? Perhaps they were merely appealing notions—unrealized promises, fragile dreams, and hopeful ideals—that endured only until the everloving fuck of greed and the thirst for power turned their gaze upon them. (This is not a quote, I just wrote this to be the description of this track.)

Music for bananas - Overrun

Marrowroot pastilles have a very strong taste that is often tamed by adding pulped ashwagandha to the thick liquid that is being poured into the mold of the pastilles. The resulting flavor is still rather stingy and sharp but the pastilles are said to help music appreciation in young bananas.

Music for bananas - Marrowroot pastilles

Some think a hero is someone who fights for something. Fair enough. I think a hero is someone who keeps working against the odds. You know. Stone uphill pushing man. Bananas.

Music for bananas - Hero

She's gonna work it out.
However, the MTG UPF (Barcelona) algorithm says this track is: 
Jazz Fusion (19%)
Downtempo (19%)
Ambient (18%)
Progressive Rock (10%)
Psychedelic Rock (9%)
The percentages represent confidence in genre judgments. 
Makes me happy.
I will always try to stay under 20% confidence in any genre. 
Promise you that :)

Music for bananas - She's alright

Be my mirror is a the track that stopped the groove for me in October.  I was not surprised, every album has one or two tracks that will kick the living sh*t out of me before I can finish them. This is just the nature of the game. It gets hard, it gets seemingly impossible to move forward. I start and restart and I get to the point that I do not even know if I want to continue at all. Then it gets done somehow. The dust settles. This is what it came to be. It resembles me. Kind of old, kind of sick, kind of pissed. Be my mirror. 

Palatinus

Pinned to spotlight

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