NIGHT OUT

Depeche Mode - Sister Of Night (Ippolo Remix)

Synthwave, Synthpop  Берлин 1985, неоновый ночной клуб. Очередь в туалет. Мы заперлись с тобой в двоем. Время останавливается для нас.

Ностальгия
Электроника
Синтезаторы
Винтажные звуки
Футуризм
Чиптюн
Ночной город
Ретрофутуризм
Лазерные лучи
Киберпанк
Линейные графики
Новая волна
Драматичность
Драйвовые ритмы
Аналоговые звуки
Синие и розовые оттенки
Ретро-эстетика

Beliye Nochi

TAKNADO - Beliye Nochi

MUSICIANS
John Beckmann: all music
Recorded at Lux Astralis, New York

POSSE*

Synthwave, Synthpop , Retrowave,   
Маями, Лето 1983. В суете ночного неонового города, я встретил лучшую для себя. В двоем на ДеЛориан мы несёмся по ночному проспекту. Нам предстоит бессонная ночь и я готов все сделать для тебя. В замен прошу только одно- станцуй на моих похоронах.

Ностальгия
Электроника
Синтезаторы
Винтажные звуки
Футуризм
Чиптюн
Ночной город
Ретрофутуризм
Лазерные лучи
Киберпанк
Линейные графики
Новая волна
Драматичность
Драйвовые ритмы
Аналоговые звуки
Синие и розовые оттенки
Ретро-эстетика

Dance At my Funeral

TAKNADO - Dance At My Funeral

MUSICIANS
John Beckmann: all music, and production
Brian Eno: lyrics
David Sisko: mix engineer, MinMax, NYC
Recorded at Lux Astralis, New York
Tom Rogers: mastering, Atomix, LA

LYRICS
There are tins, there was pork
There are legs, there are sharks
There was John, there are cliffs
There was mother, there's a poker
There was you
Then there was you

There are scenes, there are blues
There are boots, there are shoes
There are Turks, there are fools
They're in lockers, they're in schools
There is you
Then there was you

I'll burn my fingers, burn my toes
Burn my uncle, burn his books
Burn his shoes, cook the leather
Put it on me, does it fit me or you?
It looks tight on you

Burn my fingers, burn my toes
Burn my uncle, burn his books
Burn his shoes, cook the leather
Put it on me, does it fit me or you?
It looks tight on you

There are tins, there was pork
There are legs, there are sharks
There was John, there are cliffs
There was mother, there's a poker
There was you
Then there was you

There are scenes, there are blues
There are boots, there are shoes
There are Turks, there are fools
They're in lockers, they're in schools
There was you
Then there was you

I'll burn my fingers, burn my toes
Burn my uncle, burn his books
Burn his shoes, cook the leather
Put it on me, does it fit me or you?
It looks tight on you

There are tins, there was pork
There are legs, there are sharks
There was John, there are cliffs
There was mother, there's a poker
There was you
Then there was you

There are scenes, there are blues
There are boots, there are shoes
There are Turks, there are fools
They're in lockers, they're in schools
There was you

THIRD UNCLE

Time and space: Buenos Aires between the years 1985 and 1989. The time where I discovered the pleasure of the dance floor.  
This is what "ViBE #3" is all about.  
69 minutes of uncontrollable pleasure that explodes in every cell of my body every time this music plays.  
"ViBE #3" the music that shaped me.  
I hope you dance.

ViBE #3

Depeche Mode - Policy of Truth (cover by Неболотный Житель)

Depeche Mode - Policy of Truth (Cover by Неболотный Житель)

tracklist:

1- Eelke Kleijn & Lee Cabrera - Self Control (Extended Mix)
2- INXS - Original sin (Block & Crown remix)
3- Block & Crown - Another One Bites Feat. Cover Queen (Original Mix)
4- Talking Heads - Psycho Killer (DE SOFFER REMIX)
5- Pet Shop Boys - West End Girls  (Javier penna Vocal Remix)
6- The Human League - Don't You Want Me ( DE SOFFER REMIX)
7- Depeche Mode - Never Let Me Down Again (Javier Penna remix)
8- Animotion - Obsession (Luca Debonaire & Kiki Doll Club Mix)
9- Tears For Fears - Shout (Javier Penna Remix)
10- New Order - Bizarre Love Triangle (Waldo Edit 2022)
12- Erasure - A Little Respect (Wayne G. & Andy Allder Hurdy Gurdy Club Mix)
13- Depeche Mode - Just Can't Get Enough ( Les Bisous Remix ) 
14- Desireless -  Voyage Voyage (Extended Remix)

80s | house & nu disco remixes | depeche mode, pet shop boys, new order, talking heads, INXS, erasure, human league, tears for fears, laura branigan, animotion

taknado.synthwave@gmail.com
Synthwave, Retrowave, Synthpop and Postpunk band. Inspired by 80s / 90s sound.

Joker, music lover, incapable enough to mess up the DJ set !

www.mortalprophets.com

“Anyone having trouble getting to, or staying, asleep should proceed with caution when playing The Mortal Prophets’ debut album around bedtime. The demonic intentions implied by the album’s name and defined by John Beckmann … coil each selection in menacing directions, bringing fresh, often frightening twists to these standards. Be aware - when you engulf yourself in these riveting, uncompromising performances. They are not for the squeamish.”
- American Songwriter

The Mortal Prophets: John Beckmann’s Cinematic Descent Into the Electric Psyche

In the sprawling constellation of modern music, The Mortal Prophets occupy a shadowed corner—less a “band” in the traditional sense than a living, breathing séance conducted by John Beckmann. Across a series of albums, Beckmann has been excavating the strata of Americana, dream pop, blues, and avant-garde minimalism, folding them into a fever-dream narrative that feels like it was beamed from a late-night pirate radio station somewhere between the Mississippi Delta and the outer rings of Saturn. 

Beckmann, who founded New York’s Axis Mundi Design before turning his obsessive creative drive toward music, approaches songwriting like a visual architect—each track a space you inhabit rather than simply hear. His arrangements have the tension of architectural blueprints: precision married to instinct, steel and stone softened by ambient light. In GUITARWORKS II, the most recent installment in a sprawling instrumental odyssey, guitar tones unspool like distant telegraph wires, calling to mind Robert Fripp’s collaborations with Brian Eno, or the glacial drift of Cluster’s experimental soundscapes. It’s profoundly cinematic, yet never ornamental.

If Beckmann’s earlier releases (Stomp The Devil, Me and The Devil, Dealey Plaza Blues) reached back into mythic Americana—the open road, outlaw ballads, acid-washed folk visions—his more recent work tilts toward the abstract, replacing narrative with mood. This is music that understands how memory works: fractured, impressionistic, prone to bleed between truth and hallucination. The Mortal Prophets operate in that liminal space where you’re not sure if you’re dreaming, or just remembering wrong. 

Vocally, when Beckmann steps to the mic, it’s with a delivery equal parts Leonard Cohen confession and Bowie-esque theater—half-smirk, half-sermon. Lyrically, he trades in arcane symbols and sly allusions: 19th-century mystics rub shoulders with dive-bar drifters, and romantic longing flickers like neon through a rain-soaked windshield. He’s not afraid of obliqueness; in fact, he seems to revel in it. Where many contemporary songwriters flatten their work into algorithm-friendly hooks, Beckmann builds labyrinths. 

Part of The Mortal Prophets’ magnetism lies in its refusal to settle. One album might summon the humid ghost-blues of Junior Kimbrough refracted through a loop pedal; the next might drift into synth-heavy dream pop worthy of an early-’90s 4AD release. Beckmann’s collaborators—rotating players drawn from both avant-garde and roots backgrounds—expand that sonic palette, giving the project an almost shapeshifting quality. 
In a cultural moment where genre boundaries are largely performative, Beckmann treats them as haunted ruins worth spelunking through. His songs feel like dispatches from parallel histories of American music—histories where psychedelia never died, where blues never got sanitized, and where experimentalism didn’t have to hide in academic halls. 

The Mortal Prophets may never break into the Billboard mainstream, but that’s hardly the point. Their appeal is in the slow burn, the intimacy of discovery. Beckmann’s work isn’t built for quick consumption; it’s built for listeners willing to linger, to decode, to wander down the long corridors he constructs. In an era obsessed with speed and surface, The Mortal Prophets offer the opposite: a deep dive into the echo chamber of the self, scored by a man who seems to know exactly how to make the walls sing.

New tracks tagged #Depeche_Mode