Allez Danse is a Representative collaborative of all the French inspired Disco of the 90's 

Dulcet Palette - Danse du N'importe que

Hypnotize blends deep house vibes with warm sunset energy – made for rooftops in Mykonos, beach clubs in Ibiza, Dubai

Hypnotize

🕺 French House meets Fried Brain Culture™ 💻🪩

Genre: French House / Piano Groove House
Mood: Smooth. Groovy. Robotic. Ironic.
Tempo: ~123 BPM (because 124 would’ve been misinformation)

🎓 “My Degree? N – P – C!” is your daily dose of digital compliance, certified fresh by the Algorithm itself™.

✨ Imagine:

A humanoid dancing in a soft-lit apartment while nodding to a news anchor’s opinion

A perfectly average latte with extra foam and zero independent thought

A groove so catchy, even your toaster’s updating its worldview

📰 This satirical house banger slides across a buttery bassline, filtered synths, and vocoder chants that say everything you were told to say.
No need to fact-check — it feels true.

👾 Features:
• Headlines as gospel
• Pixel-screen philosophy
• A pre-chorus that claps harder than your last echo chamber
• And a chorus you’ll agree with — whether you like it or not

💡 Ideal for:
• Reading Twitter in the dark
• Dancing while “feeling informed”
• Updating your identity nightly at 8 PM sharp

🎶 Press play.
Repeat the chant.
Don’t question it.

“This just in: you're gonna love this beat — and forget why.”

Lyrics:

Wake up, screen on, smile for the light
Coffee in hand, but not too bright
I don’t read deep, I just scroll tight
If the headline’s hot, then it must be right

They talk, I nod, it’s all okay
Just tell me what to feel today
Truth is loud if it’s on display
And nuance only gets in the way

I changed my pic, I changed my mind
Just like the trend — I stay aligned
No time to check, I trust the flow
The anchor speaks — and I just go

🎓 My degree? N – P – C!
Certified in certainty
Dance to words on pixel screens
Flashing lights replace my dreams

🎶 My degree? N – P – C!
Shaped by every documentary
Just say the script and follow me
(Yeah baby, I’m news-ready) 🎶

Fluent in slogans, smooth on repeat
I speak in vibes, not in critique
Don’t give me books, I won’t go deep
My truth arrives in branded tweets

I’m always kind, I’m always right
(At least I post it every night)
Don’t ask too much, don’t show me pain
I’ll switch the topic, keep it sane

Click, react, and swipe away
I feel informed — I read the spray
From morning briefs to late-night feeds
My head is full, no room for needs

🎓 My degree? N – P – C!
Wired in like USB
If you disagree, I’ll flee
You’re breaking my reality

🎶 My degree? N – P – C!
Got no facts, but got the beat
Don’t make me think — just let me be
(I’m vibing on passivity) 🎶

"This just in: your own thoughts are outdated."
"We’ll be updating your identity at 8 PM."
"Please refresh your outrage before the bass drops."

🎓 My degree? N – P – C!
Say it now, repeat with me
Smooth and dumb is how I be
Groovin' through reality

🎶 Oh, my degree? N – P – C!
Plug me in, set me free
Feel the funk, ignore the plea
This groove’s my personality 🎶

🎶 N… P… C… oh baby that’s me… N… P… C… I groove on repeat… 🎶

My Degree? NPC!

☕ "Siciliano in Merano" – because sometimes your soul wears sandals, even in ski boots.

💽 Genre: French House meets Soul Groove
🎭 Mood: Warm. Nostalgic. Cheeky. Mediterranean Melodrama™
🎵 Tempo: ~122 BPM — like a Vespa ride through an emotional crisis
🎤 Vocals: Soulful Italianate crooning with ad-libs that could melt a snowbank

👞 Picture this:
You were born to tan, but you’re stuck folding towels in the Alps.
You serve cappuccino to strangers while dreaming of Nonna’s ragù.
You say "Ciao," but deep down you’re screaming "Palermo!"

🎶 What’s inside the groove?
• A chorus that claps back
• Vocoder whispers of home (“ciao… Palermo… amore...”)
• A mandolino-synth riff so catchy, even the espresso machine taps along
• Retro string breakdown that belongs in a 1972 Italian melodrama
• And enough emotional spice to quit your hotel job mid-shift

💃 Perfect for:
• Dancing like you forgot the rent’s due
• Longing for tomatoes in a land of turnips
• Daydreaming in thermal socks

🎧 Stream it if your heart lives in Sicily but your body’s stuck in the Tyrol.

Lyrics

I came from the sun, now I'm in the snow
Wipein’ glasses, sayin’ “buongiorno”
Mama said, “Bundle up, my boy”
But I got heat they can’t destroy

Espresso lips, I fake my grin
Dreamin' 'bout the waves again...

🎵 Siciliano — in Merano
Too much frost, not enough tomato
They say "Ciao" — but it ain't the same
When there's no Nonna callin’ my name 🎵

They ask, “Is Venice down the street?”
I smile, say “Yeah — take a left at the heat!”
They want a show, they want a wink
But I just want home in the food I drink

High hills, cold nights
Still I dream in island lights
Why’d I swap my soul for snow?
Oh mama, I don’t know...

🎵 Siciliano — in Merano
Shinin’ shoes, but missin’ my piano
In my chest, a mandolino
Even when I serve cappuccino 🎵
(Ohhh, I’m still singin’… Palermooooo)

Siciliano in Merano

🇮🇹☕ THIS IS NOT PIZZA! 🍕💔 (But at least France lost.)

You came for the spa.
You stayed for the emotional breakdown.
You screamed into your espresso:
"THIS. IS. NOT. CAFFÈ!!!"

🎧 A French House meets Soul Groove holiday disaster — soaked in retro strings, vocoder sighs, and more Mediterranean attitude than a Vespa traffic jam. Somewhere between heartbreak and heel turn, one Italian tourist finds peace... in watching les Bleus lose tragically in extra time.

🎶 What’s cookin’?
• Call-and-response chorus hotter than Nonna’s stove
• Vocoder whispers ("ciao… Palermo… AMORE!")
• Mandolino-synth riff that slaps harder than EU cheese tariffs
• Retro string breakdown from a 1974 Italian courtroom drama
• Perfect for dancing, complaining, or throwing pizza at the TV

📍 Genre: French House / Soul Groove
🎭 Mood: Warm, nostalgic, cheeky, slightly offended
🎵 Tempo: 122 BPM — like storming out of a café in slow motion
🎤 Vocals: Soulful Italianate crooning with extra seasoning

Tag someone who thinks ketchup counts as sauce.

Lyrics:

I booked one week — “relax,” they said
Now I cry on dry baguette
They served me “pizza” — with corn on top!
And the coffee? Dio mio — make it stop!

I took a sip — I screamed out loud:
"Is this revenge for 2006 now?!"

🎵 This is not pizza! — this is a crime!
Who puts pineapple at dinnertime?
This is not caffé! — I want to cry!
One sip and my ancestors die 🎵
(But at least France lost in extra time…)

They asked me, “Sir, you like the cheese?”
I said, “It squeaks… like bad TV!”
They brought a schnitzel shaped like France —
So I stood up and did a little dance!

Oh hills of Bayern, skies so blue
But why must you torture my ragù?
I miss my Nonna, I miss her plate
And France… oh France, you met your fate…

🎵 This is not pizza! — this is despair
Even my tiramisu said a prayer
This is not caffé! — why must you lie?
But at least I saw the Roosters cry 🎵
(Ooooooh la la... extra-time ciao!)

This Is Not Pizza

🎧 When Soul met Schnitzel. And he felt… nothing.

She’s fire in a flowy dress.
He’s a Viennese man with strong opinions about tram schedules.
This isn’t a love story — it’s an emotionally charged misconnection, set to a beat that could melt granite countertops.

💿 Genre: French House / Soul Groove (with espresso shots of sass)
🎭 Mood: Warm, nostalgic, cheeky, Mediterranean
🎵 Tempo: ~122 BPM — ideal for dramatic eye-rolls in slow motion
🎤 Vocals: Powerful female soul voice, with enough ad-libs to summon Venus herself

📍Perfect for:
• Dancing like no one's texting back
• Daydreaming of a love that almost happened
• Writing a novella in your head while staring at a tourist who won’t notice you

🎶 Play it loud. Sip your coffee.
And remember: just because he’s from Vienna doesn’t mean he gets to be this emotionally unavailable.

Lyrics:

He came to Rome with his socks pulled high
Took one espresso — said, "Oh my!"
I smiled and said, “Tesoro, stay!”
But he just nodded… then walked away?

He reads the signs, but not my eyes
Madonna mia, he’s cold as ice!

🎶 I’m a romana — he’s from Vienna
He talks like rain, I burn like cena
I toss my hair — he checks his map
Doesn’t he feel my thunderclap?! 🎶

I wink, I laugh, I touch his sleeve
He says, “It’s warm. I think I’ll leave.”
My dress? It’s fire. My lips? Pure art.
But he just stares at a metro chart.

Fontana glows, my heels go click
I chase him down the Spanish Steps quick
Can’t he just once say something slick?!

🎶 I’m a romana — he’s from Vienna
I roll like jazz, he’s strict as schema
I cry “Amore!” — he sips his beer
Why is that man not trembling here?! 🎶

Romana vs Vienna

This song was a collaboration between myself and AI
- Me for the inspiration and direction, lyric edits
- ChatGTP for the lyrics, production and direction
- Suno everything else

Mirage Électrique

FlyOver

💋 She’s got rhythm in her hips.
He’s got caro-checks and a sunburn.

Welcome to Havana vs. Casanova — a French House cat-and-mouse where filtered disco loops tell the real story:
One very persistent British tourist.
One Cuban beauty with zero tolerance for colonial cologne.
One city with too many alleys for him to ever find her again.

🎹 Piano stabs sharper than his flirting
🕶️ Funky bassline smoother than his overpriced sunglasses
👠 Female vocals that swerve harder than she does in stilettos
🥁 Kick-clap groove that carries you through the chase and the escape

He came for love.
She came for mojitos and left him in the dust.

🌴 Think: French filter house gets salsa-schooled
📼 Think: Wes Anderson remakes a reggaeton telenovela
💔 Think: He says “Love at first sight” — she says “Hasta nunca, sweaty.”

And now she’s gone…
Just a flash of legs, a laugh in the wind, and a beat he’ll never catch.

Lyrics:

"You think you know Havana?"
"Let me show you what no means — Cuban style."

He came in bold with his shades on fire
A grin too sharp, a suit too tight
Said “Hello love” like some James Bond liar
But I was dancing with the night

Told me tales of London rain
Designer checks, his fashion game
But baby, we don’t care for plaid
When the sun kisses skin like flame

I walked down Calle Obispo slow
He followed close, like he’s the show
But this city sings a deeper beat
Than your clumsy English heat

🎺 Ay, mi vida — baila sola con la brisa
🥁 No me sigas — no soy tu Mona Lisa
🎹 The drums play me, the street’s alive
You chase my shadow — I thrive, I hide

💃🏽 Palmas, callejón, ritmo sin razón
🎶 You’ll lose me dancing in this song
Havana’s bright — and you’re too pale
This isn’t love. It’s just a tale.

You tried again at El Malecón
With fancy watch and perfume lies
But I got rhythm in my bones
Not pounds, not pounds, but guaguancó vibes

You say you sail, you’ve seen the world
But never read a woman’s eyes
You think I’m some exotic pearl?
No, cariño — I’m the tide.

You chase, I swerve, a sacred art
From Prado steps to Parque Central
You try to flirt — I dodge and glide
With every beat, I say goodbye

🎺 Ay, mi vida — baila sola con la brisa
🥁 No me sigas — no soy tu Mona Lisa
🎹 I vanish through the painted walls
You slip behind — the rhythm calls

💃🏽 Conga in my veins, maracas in my heels
🎶 You’ll never know how freedom feels
You watched me go, you ran, you fell
But I’m long gone — and I dance too well

"You wanted a souvenir?"
"Sorry, baby... Havana doesn't sell its soul."

🎺 Ay, mi vida — solo viento y melodía
🥁 Te perdiste — no fue brujería
🎹 You see my dress, you hear my laugh
But I’m just memory on your path

💃🏽 Ritmo se fue, tú te quedas aquí
🎶 I live in beats — you dream of me
A Cuban ghost in dancing light
Forever gone… but in your mind each night.

"Hasta nunca, Casanova."
"Next time… bring rhythm."

Hasta Nunca, Casanova

💋 She’s got rhythm in her hips. He’s got caro-checks and a sunburn.

Welcome to Havana vs. Casanova — a French House cat-and-mouse where filtered disco loops tell the real story:

One very persistent British tourist.
One Cuban beauty with zero tolerance for colonial cologne.
One city with too many alleys for him to ever find her again.

🎹 Piano stabs sharper than his flirting
🕶️ Funky bassline smoother than his overpriced sunglasses
👠 Female vocals that swerve harder than she does in stilettos
🥁 Kick-clap groove that carries you through the chase and the escape

He came for love.
She came for mojitos and left him in the dust.

🌴 Think: French filter house gets salsa-schooled
📼 Think: Wes Anderson remakes a reggaeton telenovela
💔 Think: He says “Love at first sight” — she says “Hasta nunca, sweaty.”

And now she’s gone…
Just a flash of legs, a whisper of perfume, and a loop stuck on Oh no no — oh nah nah…

Lyrics:

Oh no no — oh nah nah
Lost her in the streets of Havana
She turned the corner, heels like fire
Now I’m chasing smoke and a lost desire
Oh no no — oh nah nah
She danced away, didn’t leave a name
Now every rhythm just sounds the same...
Without her. Havana, you win again.

Saw her sipping slow, under bougainvillea shade
Red dress loud, eyes that never stayed
Me? Sharp shirt, Brit cologne,
Caro checks on, ego full-grown

“Ello love” — smooth as a mid-day daiquiri
She looked right past me like: "You're kidding me?"
Every word I tried just hit the wall
She don’t hear charm — she hears colonial gall

Every step I follow, she’s three ahead
Every glance I borrow, leaves me misled
The hotter the sun, the colder the chance
Still I chase… still she dances…

Oh no no — oh nah nah
Lost her in the streets of Havana
Slipped through music, heat, and smoke
Like a joke my heart just spoke

Oh no no — oh nah nah
She spun away and I stood still
Now Havana echoes her will —
She’s gone... but I feel her still.

Followed her through alleyways dipped in blue
Trumpets screamed, and my hopes did too
Bar to bar, block to block
But she’s rhythm — I’m just shock

Even asked a dog if he’d seen her go
He barked at me like "Leave her alone."
Cuba laughed, music played
And there I stood — cologned and betrayed

“Not today...” / “No love, no delay…”
/ “You can’t catch me…”
/ “Runaway... runaway…”

Oh no no — oh nah nah
Lost her in the streets of Havana
All I’ve got is this melody
And a shadow burned in memory

Oh no no — oh nah nah
Maybe love was never the plan
But she was real — and now I am
Just a ghost in her old dance jam

Streets of Havana

Keine Band, sondern ein elektromusikalisches Produktionsprojekt.

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!

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