Winter Palace

Universe

A jangly sigh from the edges of Saturday night. "Too Late, Loretta" drifts through the bittersweet twilight between what almost was and what never came. Wrapped in shimmering guitars and a mellow post-punk pulse, this dreamy indie track tells the quiet tale of a woman who's always just a beat behind the chorus — but still hums along like it’s hers.

Loretta isn’t lost. She’s just… delayed. A nun out of habit, a girl out of time. She misses trains, discos, beach trips, and blessings — but never misses the moment to feel. Sung with ironic distance and aching honesty, her story is yours if you’ve ever danced alone after the lights come on, or smiled like you meant to miss the fun.

For the ones who get there late, love too softly, and find beauty in the quiet aftermath — this song is your confessional booth.

🎧 Bittersweet Jangle Pop × Indie Rock × Post-Punk
💔 Dreamy female vocals with emotional shimmer
🌆 For sunset streets, empty dancefloors, and buses heading the wrong way

Lyrics: 

She shows up just as doors shut tight,
Train pulled away, out goes the night.
Scarf in hand, she missed the game —
The final chant, the flare, the flame.

The disco ball begins to die,
She nods at boys who pass her by.
The DJ yawns, the lights come on —
And once again, her moment’s gone.

🎶 She’s too late, Loretta,
Clock hands don’t forget her,
Running through the crowds like the ghost of something better.
Last slice’s gone,
Last dance withdrawn —
She buys a drink and sings along. 🎶

The buffet’s bare at half-past three,
Crumbs of cake and cold chai tea.
She smiles like she meant to fast —
Pretends she never liked it, past.

She checks her watch — oh, cruel delay,
The airport gate just closed today.
The beach she dreamed is miles too far —
Now neon tans blink at the bar.

🎶 She’s too late, Loretta,
No note from fate, no letter.
Laughed out of the lift while the stars aligned for better.
Too slow to fight,
Too kind to bite —
She rides the wrong bus home tonight. 🎶

All roads lead somewhere else.
All boys are just… almosts.
All weekends she plans
Already happened.

🎶 She's too late, Loretta,
Shadow in the confetta.
Dancing on the steps of a club that won’t reset her.
Still dreams in queues,
Still pays her dues —
Still sings like late is something you choose. 🎶

(And the doors slide shut...)
(And the lights switch off...)
(And her voice just hums… in the dark she loves.)

Too Late Loretta

★ based on the 2003 song "AMOUREUSE" by german electronic act REWORK ★ more shred here : soundcloud.com/le-slapon/sets/gazed-diffused ★

𝐎𝐇 𝐋𝐀 𝐋𝐀𝐒 : 𝑨𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒆𝒖𝒔𝒆 (𝚁𝚎𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 ᶜᵒᵛᵉʳ)

Silk Daisys - it's a laugh

"BE SEEN, BE HEARD, BE REMEMBERED"
(AI Music Experiment - The Story So Far)

We are experimenting with making music using Suno

http://SUNO.ai

Can this ever be as good as the real thing?

Let's see how we go here.

THE STRATEGY

We started with a simple idea.

"Be Seen, Be Heard, Be Remembered"

.... and Suno did the rest.

We then created several additional versions to see how far we could take the idea as a pure experiment in creativity.

THE "JANGLE POP" MIX (August 2025)

[Intro Chorus] 

Be seen Be heard 
Let the world know 
Be remembered 
Join the show

[Verse] 

Lights are flashing 
The stage is set 
We ain't even started 
But they won't forget 

Every heartbeat pounding 
Every soul aligned 
This is the moment 
we’ve been waiting to find 

[Chorus] 

Be seen Be heard 
Let the world know 
Be remembered 
Join the show 

[Verse 2] 

Shadows fading 
The crowd's alive 
Voices rising 
Electric vibes 

Feet keep moving 
Time stands still 
We’re chasing the thrill 
We’re bending the will 

[Prechorus] 

The rhythm’s loud It calls your name 
This is no game No one’s the same

[Chorus] 

Be seen Be heard 
Let the world know 
Be remembered Join the show 

[Bridge]
 
We’re the spark in the dark 
The fire in the rain 
A million stars in the sky 
Never again  

Will we fade 
Will we hide 
We’re born to ignite 
We’re a blaze, 
We’re alive Burning so bright 

[Double Chorus] 

Be seen Be heard 
Let the world know 
Be remembered 
Join the show  

Be seen Be heard 
Let the world know 
Be remembered 
Join the show 

"BE SEEN, BE HEARD, BE REMEMBERED"
The Inspirational Story Behind The Song 

"Be Seen, Be Heard, Be Remembered" is the catchcry of Toronto based Social Audio host Americo Da Costa. 

Americo runs regular online events on Linkedin and it occured to us to have some fun writing a theme song for his shows. 

The resulting experiments into AI came as a direct result of several inspired live shows in August 2025. 

Follow Americo on Linkedin to find out more:
TinyURL.com/BeSeenBeHeardBeRemembered 

ADDITIONAL RESOURCES 

(1) AI Pop Music Playlist
soundcloud.com/keithkeller/sets/ai-music-experiments-pop 

(2) AI Rock Mix Playlist
soundcloud.com/keithkeller/sets/be-seen-be-heard-be-remembered

BE SEEN, BE HEARD, BE REMEMBERED (Jangle Pop Mix)

✨ Indie Rock × Jangle Pop × Post-Punk ✨

A bittersweet anthem where shimmering guitars jangle like city lights on wet pavement, basslines pulse with quiet urgency, and drums march between heartbreak and release. The deep baritone vocal croons with both tenderness and irony—half confession, half rebellion—turning every word into something you can hold in your chest long after the song fades.

This track is about learning how to lose without breaking, how to turn endings into rhythm, and how to find beauty in the fragments left behind. It’s restless yet romantic, sharp yet dreamlike—a soundtrack for late-night walks through neon streets, headphones on, heart wide open.

🎸 Shimmering jangle guitar lines
🥁 Urgent yet melancholic drum pulse
🎤 Baritone croon: tender + dramatic
💔 A song about loss, rhythm, and grace

Perfect for fans of modern indie with a nostalgic edge, who crave both sparkle and shadow in their sound.

Lyrics:

You came in slow
Like a cruel through haze
I said stay
In that sideways gaze
We danced through sparks we couldn't keep
Some songs just kiss then dive too deep
You turned a page I didn't write
Truth slit in soft as night
I moved with hope not chasing why
Just drifting through that velvet sky

Now I know what phase is free
Letting go can set the beat
You said forgive the words of fly
I found the groove beneath the fire

You taught me how to lose
With rhythm, rhythm, rhythm
With grace, grace, grace
And dancing shoes
No skies, no chasing highs
Just good mistakes and open skies
Your whisper in the bass I breathe
A debut beneath my sleeve

I let go not to erase
You taught me how to lose with grace

I blamed the breaks, I cursed the night
Tied your name to every fight
But now I see the hushed smile
You guided me that whole soft while
A monk goes slow in second hand ink
Truth ain't found where we overthink
Some hearts don't rhyme, some don't stay
But still they groove in quiet sway

Now I drift in calmer seas
No more storms inside my feet
You said be still and I became
The one who danced inside the flame
You taught me how to lose
With rhythm, rhythm, rhythm
With grace, grace, grace
And dancing shoes

No regret, no perfect line
Just echo trips in mellow time
Your riddle wrapped in sound the beat
I lost and somehow found
I let go and found my place
You taught me how to lose with grace

Here's to the plans that went their way
To all the things we couldn't say
Just slip in dreams in silent calls
Still bouncing off these mirrored walls
Not all of it must stay
But groove, groove will find its way
You taught me how to lose with grace
With silence and dancing shoes
No disguise, no bitter sweet
Just fading light and dubbed out heat
Your embrace that holds its space
A shimmer I still can't replace
I let go with time and grace
You taught me how to lose with pace
To lose with grace

How to  Lose (Indie Rock Version)

I get easy light when the clouds come through
But someone died that I thought I knew
Look around tell me what you see
Cirrus or stratus
Is that what your sunshine needs?
(To get out of here)

I was a fighter pilot and an aerial ace
Succeeded the expectations of the human race
‘Twas the rain what drained my bliss
For what man can bear when reduced to this?
(So I get out of here)

Oh did you know?
There’s nothing better than to sit around and daydream
Did you know?
There’s nothing better (And I know that I should stop, but I’d rather not)

I think I’m really running out of time
I’m looking at all the things that could really be all mine
So stop spinning around
These little fairytale plotlines, personally
I really I really wanna know
Where did all the summer days go?
When did it end
Because after all (Because after all)
I am no better than them all

My name is Firulais I’m the lonely greaser
Got no money enough to please her
Spend my days busking here and there
While on a transit train that leads nowhere

Windy weather makes my hairstyle flow (My hairstyle flow)
Boreas said he stole some of the things I know (The things I know and my job)
Look at the sea so heavenly
These coastal houses fill me with jealousy

Because I’m really running out of time
I’m looking at all the things that could really be all mine
So stop spinning around
These little fairytale plotlines, personally
I really really wanna know
Where did all the summer days go?
When did it end
Because after all (Because after all)
Well I am back again
I’m looking to be a star
In my eyes
It’s all I really wanna be
It’s no more than a mystery
Ooh ooh

Firulais's Theme

Ever lost something so small yet so devastating, it made you question your entire existence?

Yeah… me too. A USB stick.

Inside: 37 pathetic rom-coms, 4 questionable indie soundtracks, one folder called “Do Not Judge” (please don’t ask), and enough heartbreak clichés to power a Netflix algorithm for three years.

This song? It’s my therapy. It’s Indie Rock meets Jangle Pop, where cheap red wine spills on your keyboard, neon lights buzz in existential Morse code, and your entire romantic history dies in one accidental “format disk” click.

Press play, hold a candle for my lost USB, and remember:
plastic drives break, but deleted hearts never recover. 💔🔌

🎧 File not found. Feelings still loading.

Lyrics:

Friday night, and I stayed inside,
Cheap red wine and a neon light,
Rom-com scenes where nobody dies,
Pathetic dreams and cliché lies.

Every frame, every late-night show,
Every line I should never know,
Now they’re gone where the lost things go,
Baby, why’d I let it go?

Oh no no no — I lost my USB — just so so so,
Pathetic love on a plastic drive,
Deleted hearts that won’t survive.

Oh no no no — this tragedy found me — can’t let it be,
Every memory fades away,
But I still press play…

Scrolling through my broken mind,
All those nights I can’t rewind,
Pixel love in a crashing wave,
All my endings I couldn’t save.

Static noise inside my veins,
Broken scenes and phantom flames,
Between the screen and fantasy,
I lost the last of you and me…

Oh no no no — I lost my USB — just so so so,
Pathetic love on a plastic drive,
Deleted hearts that won’t survive.

Oh no no no — this tragedy found me — can’t let it be,
Every memory fades away,
But I still press play…

My USB

Definitely not Coldplay w/ David

Imagine getting lost in Simmering because Google Maps died, your favourite band cancels their gig because the 71er tram is stuck, and someone accidentally mixes your beer with airport jet fuel — that’s basically this track. 🌫️

“Der Himmel über Simmering” is what happens when an ex-chillwave song breaks up with its own genre, moves into a crumbling Altbauwohnung near the Gasometer, and suddenly joins an indie rock × jangle pop × post-punk support group. It’s bleary-eyed at 3:12 a.m., staring at blinking runway lights, whispering to itself:
"I could fly… but nah… let’s stay another Tagesticket."

Think warm jangly guitars tangled in cold Vienna fog, basslines that sound like someone pacing around Zentralfriedhof at midnight, and drums that accidentally imitate the Flughafen-S-Bahn rhythm. Somewhere between Arena and Stephansplatz, between Schwechat and heartbreak, the song floats in that weird Vienna twilight where everything smells like rain, dust, and delayed flights.

Perfect for:
✈️ Missing your Ryanair flight on purpose
🍺 Drinking Ottakringer while pretending it’s an IPA
🕶️ Staring melancholically at a tram display stuck on “3 Minuten” for 15 minutes
🌫️ Googling “existentialism, but make it sexy”

Turn it up, open the Fenster, and let Simmering wash over you. Or don’t. It’s Simmering.

Lyrics:

Der Himmel über Simmering,
bleigrau, fast schwerelos,
Gasometer wie Schattenriesen,
der Wind trägt Staub von der Heide.
Zwischen Erdberg und Sankt Marx
verblassen die Nächte,
die Stadt schläft flach,
und alles fühlt sich langsam an.

Flugzeuge steigen irgendwo,
Lichter blinken durch den Dunst,
doch ich bleibe stehen —
am Rand der Welt.

Irgendwo dazwischen,
zwischen Startbahn und Stephansplatz,
zwischen Aufbruch und Zurück,
treibt mein Herz im Zwischenraum.
Irgendwo dazwischen,
verlier’ ich mich im Wind,
so nah am Tor der Welt,
und doch so weit von allem.

Arena flackert leise,
Zentralfriedhof im Dunst,
Straßenbahnen streifen müde
durch den Asphalt der Nacht.
Schwechat ruft von fern,
der Himmel riecht nach Regen,
und ich weiß, ich könnte fliegen —
doch bleib hier, noch einen Tag.

Leise Stimmen, ferne Lichter,
Wellen aus der Ferne wehen,
zwischen Wollen und Vergessen
atmet diese Stadt so schwer.

Irgendwo dazwischen,
zwischen Startbahn und Stephansplatz,
zwischen Aufbruch und Zurück,
treibt mein Herz im Zwischenraum.
Irgendwo dazwischen,
verlier’ ich mich im Wind,
so nah am Tor der Welt,
und doch so weit von allem.

Irgendwo…
dazwischen…
immer dazwischen.

Irgendwo dazwischen (Indie Rock Version)

Ever accidentally turned a late-night wine shop into a full-blown existential crisis? Same.

“U Nisy 916” is what happens when Indie Rock, Jangle Pop, and Post-Punk accidentally share one bottle too many and wake up leaning against the railing of the Lužická Nisa river, contemplating destiny, mortality, and whether the Vinotéka Narohu ever reopens before Tuesday.

Perfect for:
🥂 Standing outside closed wine shops after midnight
🌊 Pretending rivers have deep metaphors (they do)
🎧 Crying in rhythm to angular basslines
📸 Staring dramatically at street lamps nobody asked you to

Lyrics:

...and here I stand again in my mental routine:
close my eyes at U Nisy nine hundred sixteen
Vinotéka Narohu my destiny
While Lužická Nisa flows below me

The lights flicker cold on the glassy street,
Ghosts of laughter I can barely meet,
The wine shop's closed, but her shadow stays,
Dreams drown slow in the river's grey haze.

The night sighs low,
And the water knows,
All we lose, all we owe —
In this quiet, endless flow.

...and here I stand again in my mental routine:
close my eyes at U Nisy nine hundred sixteen
Vinotéka Narohu my destiny
While Lužická Nisa flows below me

Behind the high walls of the krajský dom,
Stories crumble like abandoned songs,
I trace the cracks with a frozen gaze,
Each moment lost, another stageplay.

The world just spins,
An absurd little thing,
Curtains fall, no one wins —
Only rivers remember springs.

...and here I stand again in my mental routine:
close my eyes at U Nisy nine hundred sixteen
Vinotéka Narohu my destiny
While Lužická Nisa flows below me

Maybe in another scene,
Under other, softer dreams,
We would laugh and not pretend —
But rivers know: all things must end.

...and here I stand again in my mental routine:
close my eyes at U Nisy nine hundred sixteen
Vinotéka Narohu my destiny
While Lužická Nisa flows below me

Vinotéka Narohu (Indie Rock Version)

Imagine walking into Vinotéka Narohu on a rainy Thursday night, only to discover a bunch of locals have kidnapped an Irish folk band, handed them too much cheap red wine, and said:
"Alright lads, play something sad… but make it sound happy."

That’s this track.

“Vinotéka Narohu (Folk Version)” takes our jangly indie anthem and spins it into a pub-stomping, river-dreaming folk session — fiddles crying, guitars humming, and someone in the corner clapping slightly off-beat but with full emotional commitment. One sip of this tune and suddenly you’re swaying arm-in-arm with strangers you’ll never see again, pretending you know all the lyrics.

Somewhere between Liberec and Galway, between existential dread and “just one more glass,” this version makes the Lužická Nisa river sound like it’s flowing straight through an Irish pub at 3 a.m.

Perfect for:
🍷 Drinking wine you can’t pronounce
🎻 Crying into your pint while tapping your foot
🌊 Standing dramatically by rivers pretending you’re in a folk ballad
🕯️ Whispering “I’m fine” while absolutely not being fine

Lyrics:

...and here I stand again in my mental routine:
close my eyes at U Nisy nine hundred sixteen
Vinotéka Narohu my destiny
While Lužická Nisa flows below me

The lights flicker cold on the glassy street,
Ghosts of laughter I can barely meet,
The wine shop's closed, but her shadow stays,
Dreams drown slow in the river's grey haze.

The night sighs low,
And the water knows,
All we lose, all we owe —
In this quiet, endless flow.

...and here I stand again in my mental routine:
close my eyes at U Nisy nine hundred sixteen
Vinotéka Narohu my destiny
While Lužická Nisa flows below me

Behind the high walls of the krajský dom,
Stories crumble like abandoned songs,
I trace the cracks with a frozen gaze,
Each moment lost, another stageplay.

The world just spins,
An absurd little thing,
Curtains fall, no one wins —
Only rivers remember springs.

...and here I stand again in my mental routine:
close my eyes at U Nisy nine hundred sixteen
Vinotéka Narohu my destiny
While Lužická Nisa flows below me

Maybe in another scene,
Under other, softer dreams,
We would laugh and not pretend —
But rivers know: all things must end.

...and here I stand again in my mental routine:
close my eyes at U Nisy nine hundred sixteen
Vinotéka Narohu my destiny
While Lužická Nisa flows below me

Ballad of Vinotéka Narohu

Silk Daisys - someday

★ based on the 1988 song "𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐎𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬" by seminal swiss metal band 𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐓 ★ more shred here : soundcloud.com/le-slapon/sets/gazed-diffused ★

𝐒𝐖𝐈𝐑𝐋 : 𝓒𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓻𝔂 𝓞𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓼 (𝕮𝖊𝖑𝖙𝖎𝖈 𝕱𝖗𝖔𝖘𝖙 ᶜᵒᵛᵉʳ)

Mm
Mm, hmm (ah)
Uh (shikitah)
I get wet at the thought of you (uh-huh)
Being a responsible guy (shikitah)
Treating me like you're supposed to do (uh-huh)
Tears run down my thighs
A little initiative can go a very long, long way
Baby, just do the dishes, I'll give you what you (what you), what you want
A little communication, yes, that's my ideal foreplay
Assemble a chair from IKEA
I'm like, "Uh" (ah)
I get wet at the thought of you (uh-huh)
Being a responsible guy (so responsible, shikitah)
Treating me like you're supposed to do (uh-huh)
Tears run down my thighs
A little respect for women can get you very, very far
Remembering how to use your phone gets me oh, so (oh, so), oh, so hot
Considering I have feelings, I'm like, "Why are my clothes still on?"
Offering to do anything, I'm like (uh), "Oh, my god"
I get wet at the thought of you (uh-huh)
Being a responsible guy (so responsible, shikitah)
Treating me like you're supposed to do (uh-huh)
Tears run down my thighs
I get wet at the thought of you (I get)
Being a responsible guy (so, so, so, responsible guy)
Treating me like you're supposed to do (supposed to do)
Tears run down my thighs (dance break)
So responsible
No
I get wet at the thought of you (uh-huh)
Being a responsible guy (guy, so responsible, shikitah)
Treating me like you're supposed to do (uh-huh)
Tears run down both my thighs (shikitah)


Tears (Brit Pop reload) (Sabrina Carpenter)

💸 THE PROFIT YOU MAKE — Indie Rock x Jangle Pop x Post-Punk 🎸✨

Ever tried explaining the stock market to someone who thinks “zero risk” is a thing? Yeah… this song is for them.

This jangly, guitar-driven banger dives headfirst into the chaotic casino called life — where your bank account isn’t safe, inflation eats your lunch, and every “hot tip” from your uncle ends in a crying emoji. 🥲

🎶 Expect:
🌊 Wavy jangle guitars that make you question your life choices
📉 Post-punk basslines plummeting like your crypto portfolio
🎤 Sarcastic vocals explaining why your “safe” fund isn’t that safe
💥 A chorus that hits harder than a market crash

Lyrics highlight:

“The profit you make… is the risk you take!”
(…and yes, Karen, that includes your ‘risk-free savings account.’)

Perfect for:
⚡ Late-night trading meltdowns
⚡ Existential crises over coffee
⚡ Pretending you understand ETFs at parties

🎧 Play it loud. Bet your emotions. Lose responsibly.

Lyrics:

You ask me where the money grows,
But listen close, ‘cause nobody knows…
Bank account’s “safe”? — well, maybe not,
Inflation’s hungry, eats the lot!

Shares and funds, they’re not the same,
One’s a single player, one’s a team game,
I try to explain but your eyes just shake —
“Zero risk, please!” … big mistake. 

Nothing’s free, no easy bet,
Even cash can drown in debt…
You want returns? You want to play?
Welcome to the game where risk’s the price you pay!

The profit you make… is the risk you take! 
Spin that wheel, it’s give or break!
The profit you make… is the risk you take! 
No free ride — there’s no escape!

A share’s like a rocket, fast and wild,
Can double in weeks or crash in style… 
A fund’s like a boat, safe and slow,
You’ll reach the island… but maybe so-so.

You say, “Oh no, I don’t understand,”
I draw little graphs, I take your hand —
“Here’s one company, here’s twenty inside,
One’s rollercoaster, one’s a safer ride!”

You: “I want zero risk.”
Me: “Hahahahaha… good luck!” 
No gold without the quake,
No gain without the stake!

The profit you make… is the risk you take! 
Play your cards, for heaven’s sake!
The profit you make… is the risk you take! 
Bigger dreams? Bigger heartbreak!

So choose your path, your moves, your stake,
Remember one thing for your own sake:
The profit you make…
…yeah, you guessed it —
Is the risk you take!

The Profit You Make (Indie Rock Version)

Burnley rain. October grey.
Billy Hamilton stares at his cold chips, steam on the café glass, thinking:
"Thursday, 1 July 1982… Madrid… sunny, sweaty, glorious." 🌞

He scored five goals for Northern Ireland his entire career — FIVE —
but two of them came in one mad afternoon against Austria.
Two goals so big, he’s basically been living inside them ever since.

This song?
It’s not just music.
It’s a jangle-pop time machine with post-punk legs,
taking you straight back to that day when Belfast roared,
Austria fell, and Billy’s socks smelled like destiny.

🎸 Expect:
• Jangle guitars looping like Billy’s goal replays 🎶
• Post-punk basslines sweating under the Madrid sun 🥁
• A chorus louder than 10,000 Belfast fans with sunburns yelling:

“NORTHERN IRELAND! NORTHERN IRELAND!”

And yes, Billy had plans:
Not an Irish pub.
A Northern Irish pub.
In Vienna. Or Graz. With Belfast stout on tap,
where every jukebox is stuck on track one: “Billy Hamilton 2 – Austria 2 (in his dreams)”. 🍺

Press play.
Feel the heat.
Taste the stout.
And join Billy whispering to an empty room:
"Austria… I’ll be back for you…”

Lyrics:

Burnley rain, October grey,
Billy’s chips are cold on the tray,
Steam on the glass, the paper’s thin,
Spain ‘82 keeps pulling him in.

Madrid heat, the crowd, the noise,
Two little goals for the Belfast boys,
Only five in green his whole career,
But these two shine, sharp and clear.

Every night, the same old frame,
A Spanish pitch, the Irish name,
Austria falling, the dream alive,
For ninety minutes — Belfast survived…

Northern Ireland! — Northern Ireland! 
Billy runs wild in the burning sun,
Northern Ireland! — Northern Ireland! 
Two goals in Madrid… and we were the lucky ones!

Five little goals in a lifetime long,
But two still sing like an old terrace song,
He sees the bar, the polished wood,
A Northern Irish pub where the pints taste good.

Not Dublin whiskey, not London gin,
Belfast stout where the dreams begin,
Maybe Vienna, maybe Graz,
Billy laughs, tips his glass.

The lights fade, but the crowd’s still loud,
A thousand faces, a sea of proud,
Billy whispers to the empty room:
“Austria, I’ll be back for you…”

Northern Ireland! — Northern Ireland! 
Billy runs wild in the burning sun,
Northern Ireland! — Northern Ireland! 
Two goals in Madrid… and we were the lucky ones!

Oh-oh-oh…
Billy boy, Billy boy,
Two goals to build a life on!

Northern Ireland

Of course, once a week, because we are civilized Austrians, we walk these two and a half miserable minutes there, and two and a half miserable minutes back, carrying our empty glass, our conscience, and our existence in our hand, as if we were part of some state-enforced ritual of absolute idiocy.

And naturally, we always walk the same block, past the same crooked houses, past the same decaying gardens, past the same neighbor with the same dog that shits on the same patch of grass every single day, and we think,
"Maybe today will be different,"
but of course it never is.

Because there we are, standing in front of this concrete monstrosity of a recycling container, this hideous state-sanctioned monument to environmental virtue, and we drop it.
We drop the glass.

CLIRR!
— and for a second we think, perhaps this is freedom,
but then WHOMP!,
and we realize nothing has changed.
Not the street.
Not the block.
Not us.

And this absurdity, this infinite repetition of useless gestures, this Austrian glass-throwing Gesamtkunstwerk, we have now transformed into a song, because of course we did, because what else is there to do in this land of eternal Sundays, where everything stands still except the seasons, where the glass is always empty and the street is always full of ghosts.

So here it is:
An Indie Rock x Jangle Pop x Post-Punk exorcism of your weekly recycling despair.
A jangly hymn to pointless routines.
An anthem for everyone who ever wondered if throwing glass away is secretly the Austrian national sport.

Listen loudly.
Hate quietly.
Drop it — CLIRR!
Glass goes down — WHOMP!
Your life doesn’t change.

But at least the bassline slaps.

Lyrics:

One afternoon a week…
Two and a half minutes there,
Two and a half back.
The block, the walk,
The ritual begins.

Step by step, slow pace,
Empty glass in my hand, no chase.
Brain’s awake, but time’s on mute,
The street’s a loop, the thoughts reboot.

Last time — a red car passed,
Last time — her shadow crossed so fast,
Same street, same frame,
Different story, same game.

I hear the city breathe,
I feel the seasons shift,
But one thing stays,
One thing stays…

Drop it — CLIRR!
Glass goes down — WHOMP!
Same old block, same old sound,
Drop it — CLIRR!
Glass goes down — WHOMP!
This is my ceremony ground!

Summer sweat on a cruel hot day,
Autumn breeze takes the heat away.
Winter coat, wool hat, thick glove,
Spring wakes up the street I love.

Every season paints the same routine,
But inside my head, it’s a movie scene.
Different faces, same concrete,
Glass in my hand, history on repeat.

Frames in motion…
Memories collide…
I see me walking,
I see me passing by…
Every step,
Every sound,
Everything changes —
Except…

Drop it — CLIRR!
Glass goes down — WHOMP!
Same old block, same old sound,
Drop it — CLIRR!
Glass goes down — WHOMP!
This is my ceremony ground!

…and the glass hits bottom.

Glass Container Ceremony

⚡️ Meet Veronica — Electronica ⚡️

Forget Bruce Springsteen’s “The Boss” — the real boss is 5'1", Hungarian, and currently rebooting your router. This is not your average indie rock anthem. This is jangle-pop electricity with post-punk caffeine, where traffic lights dance the cha-cha and pigeons provide the backing vocals (poor things didn’t even sign the contract).

Imagine The Strokes got locked in a Budapest basement with a synth, a harmonica, and a suspicious amount of palinka. Now add a red-haired hacker-queen who can shut down Netflix with a single wink — and you’ve got the vibe.

🎸 Expect jangly guitars that sparkle like streetlights on a Friday night.
🥁 Expect rhythms tight enough to reset your Wi-Fi password.
📡 Expect the moment when your toaster glows in 4/4 and you don’t even mind.

Veronica doesn’t just drop the beat. She drops the entire electricity grid — stylishly, chaotically, and always with a mischievous grin.

So plug in, power up, and pray your TV survives the chorus:
Veronica — Electronica!

Lyrics:

“System online…
Power: Veronica…
Activating… Electronica!”

Little Vera from Budapest street,
Five foot one, but she runs the beat,
One big click — BOOM, lights go down,
She’s the neon queen of this crazy town.

Push the button, Wi-Fi’s gone,
Switch it back and the bass goes on,
Traffic lights flash red to green,
Veronica’s dance, the ultimate scene!

Power surge through telephone lines,
Every cable moves in funky designs,
Neighbors shout, “Who killed my TV?”
Vera winks: “Baby, that was me.”

Veronica — Electronica!
Short girl shockwave, super harmonica,
Streetlights flashing to the beat — cha-cha!
Veronica — Electronica! 

Coffee machines start pouring slow,
Every toaster begins to glow,
The city hums like a synth-bass drum,
She owns the grid — resistance: none.

Drones in the sky make a techno loop,
Car alarms singing, pigeons go “whoop!”
From La Calera down to Pest,
Veronica’s Wi-Fi rules the rest.

Lasers firing over town,
Elevators go up, down, up, down,
She hacks the vibe, controls the flow,
Hungarian magic — watch her glow!

Veronica — Electronica!
Short girl shockwave, super harmonica,
Streetlights flashing to the beat — cha-cha!
Veronica — Electronica! 

“Left light, right light…
All night, streetlight…
Veronica… Electronica…”

Veronica — Electronica!
Party on fire, city’s harmonica,
Pulse of the night in every wire,
Veronica — Electronica!

Veronica Electronica (Indie Rock Version)

Silk Daisys is a time waste for James and sometimes other people.

The entire sound is in my hands. I write cyber poetry, produce, and compose every track ready for Immersive 3D. Every beat is crafted for spatial and next-gen headphones.
Intimate lyrics, total immersion, every track.

For 30 years I kept unfinished demos to myself, never letting them out. Now I finish what I start and release it the moment it’s alive.

🍃Espacio de escucha colaborativo🍄🎶 

IG: www.instagram.com/3l.caleidoscopio/

hyper music nerd from boring zürich, switzerland. electronic dj with a flair for techno, electro, synthwave, coldwave, minimalwave, and an obsession for creating yummy ai songs mostly in non-electronic eclectic flavours like shoegaze, postpunk, garagerock, darkwave, and whatnot. serious but also not so sometimes... check Albums or Playlists for a less messy experience 😉 enjoy!

Hi there — welcome to my corner of the web.

I’m here for one simple reason: to share my music with you.
Take a listen, explore, and I hope something here resonates with you. Enjoy the vibe!

Atmospheric guitar-based indie rock from Brisbane, Australia.

Keith has been researching the latest trends in Social Media Marketing for well over a decade and currently has a number of weekly Social Audio shows about this now.

"Social Audio" is just like a live radio broadcast but also allows members of the audience to participate directly with the host and other listeners during the show. 

Keith is thoroughly researching this new trend and now does regular shows on Linkedin.

You can find out about the upcoming shows here.

http://WhereIsKeithToday.com

New tracks tagged #JanglePop