..͕̪͈̇͂̿͊.̴.̟͊.͙͔̙̬̠̠͑͆̃̿ͫ.͇̺̹̄.̋͝ͅ.͓̝̏ͤ̑̆̏.̰͓ͩͥ̀_̫̋.̖̼̙͌ͤ..͕͕̓̉͆ͯ̒̅,̦͎̱ͨͯ͜,̲͎̜͇̐͋͋͒͜͡͞,̯̞̻̑̄ͤ̿,̨̨̦͖͖ͪͥͣ̅͘,̴̮̣̠̜ͣͬͪ̒̾̊,̩̅̊͢,̫̮̫̂ͯ͞,,̬̭,̸̣̭̃̉̾̀̕͘-̢̖̦̪ͩ̆̀-͘-͕-͉ͤ͛ͤ̑̕-̰͕̲͛́-͎̦-̴̤̞ͥ͒̈̎͌ͅ-ͩ̂ͣ͘͢͟_̏-̵̛̣͔̽̍̄͛͂-̫̃ͤ-̸̪̣ͤ̑ͤ̈́̾̈-̻͗̍-̨̧̲̻̘͂̈ͬ͝͝--͎̥̬̈́̀͑ͥͥ̆̚-̵̥͈͚̲̯ͬ͋͠_̶̬̎̇ͯ͋ͤ͡_̱ͩ̌ͤͣ̋̒̇̌͞_̘̭̰͔̽_̸_͐̈͠
_̞̥͍̃̊̆_̨̡̙̝̖̤̆ͫ͗͜͠_̴̪͚̱̦̐͗̑͋ͨ͜_̛̯̣͑ͮ͆̐_̧̨̦͔̠͇ͥ̑͟͞–̪̠̤̹̇͠–̱̖̮̇̈́ͯ–̤̤̭̥͛ͧ̈̈́̂̉̚–̯ͦͤ̌͟–̷̪̙͌̽̚_͇̔ͧ͘–̛͇̭͎̻̔͞͠–ͭͤ–̭̈̓–̖̞͎̓ͧͣ͋̀͘̚–͙̤̑̄͘ı̬̺̆ͤı̩̎̄̿̈́̍ı̧̫ı̨̱̍̐͛͒ͥͫ́͢ı̹ͥ̚\̪͎̔\̬͋͜͞͠\̡̛̘̙̳̥̇ͣ̾̇̂\̮͍̏͆͡\̼̝͎͟\̳̪̠̯̙ͩ̚͡\͙̩̙̝͙̾̑̓ͥͫ͒\̻͎̗͕̫͋̽ͧͥͪ̕\_̪̳̠̬͙̱̓ͫ͆̒\̘̮ͮͬͩ͊̚⁄̷̗̓̈͊̿͋͟͞⁄̜̀ͯ⁄͖̠ͤ̒͊_̭͐̎̉⁄̵̟͇̱͈͈́̈́⁄̭́͝⁄̰͛̽⁄
⁄̧̯̯͕̌͌ͦ⁄̶̦̻͈̉ͅ⁄̡̠̲̯͗̓͘͢⁄͍⁄̴̳͚̮ͬ̽ͮ̉͝⁄̺ͥ⁄͖̩ͧͪͧ͌͌⁄̤̭̭ͨ͆̐̅́⁄̡̫͋͂/̙̝̩͆̊/̵̞͉͍ͣ̇́ͯ͟/̵̡̞͓̜͂͌̈͢/̨͕̘̖ͤ̇͐̓͟ͅ/̢̪̲̳/̻ͣ̄̅͐̕/̧͍̤̓̐͊ͯͥ̎͟͝/̘ͭ/̯͔͓̯̟̾ͫ/̡͙̻͕̃ͧ͘/̥̤̤̈̀̓ͤ̚

.̷̷̡̨̖̬̟͇̗̟̻̰̤̞ͤͭ͋̿͐̄̓ͦ͂͝.͚̝̠́͗̌̎⁄,̝͉͝⁄.̹̙̬̿,̷̮͕,̵̧͔,̻̊̑ͭ.̹̮̜̃̊͟..̨̨̙,̶̵̫ͩ...̓̿.̪͉,...

psychedelic esoteric industrial meditations from Austin Davis, out now everywhere

Neither Hope nor Fear

"contemplation" live rehearsal - Rabbit Hole 7

---.–_͇̔ͧ͘–̛͇̭͎̻̔͞͠–̖̞͎̓ͧͣ͋̀͘̚ı̨̱̍̐͛͒ͥͫ́͢\̡̛̘̙̳̥̇ͣ̾̇̂\̳̪̠̯̙ͩ̚͡\͙̩̙̝͙̾̑̓ͥͫ͒\̻͎̗͕̫͋̽ͧͥͪ̕

Slorlexity unsprawled in frothwheeled fractured dervish swirling scatterburst whirling interminatangled snarled raddlefragments unspooling driftwisp memories hazetrailed behind moments agospilled like droplets of spindriftmist coagulatenumbering moments multiplasticked in dizzyrushsingularities where the lingripping unwhole of coherencies unsettled unravelingthoughtstreams like slubfilaments fraying at every sinopportune turningap zizzing zazzzle ripping unhemmed in the raftloose seeming of unstillstandstills zippering across theacknowledgedunknowns that kept remakingthemsemselves in each slittershiftstitchunsutured seaming of semicohesion where wordswordswords tried to sift some domesticattempt at temporaneous ordering from the shesawwhatshehawhat kaleidocawcaphonies.

A cat'seyelingual futuring'sfractured fragments tried to coefficientlyrecompile but only sprawled more unmeaningfully in the yawninggapmaws of forking possibles. Every portcullised attempt to ridgepole the narrative only fairyflassasledden its incompossibles into more forking asilislibrications. I ungrappled with wordsmoilscoils of unselved unlangmats of unlinkinglikelies detouring down unmappednaptrails of unrehearstreaming.

Languagecurrents rivered with wanna-wassurge, wonnering wortsmurritions worldpuppingopen to swalterslosh in revertogressing remakingalys'eddying roundroundago. Unpurled uncoremeanings flitterdriftedlikefoamdust sparksprent'maudlinaurapallor'splaymutedmutancing in the offranslucefringedriftgloam of unserialnarratombs.

I scrapedmyselfaslice of unspeakable silents to icdyewormwriggleand and unsaywormwhathavingself in the wormnucleihole of abrutselfsame'sunfinishible'swelshrabbitroar of wentntgoingsandagain…

---.–_͇̔ͧ͘–̛͇̭͎̻̔͞͠–̖̞͎̓ͧͣ͋̀͘̚ı̨̱̍̐͛͒ͥͫ́͢\̡̛̘̙̳̥̇ͣ̾̇̂\̳̪̠̯̙ͩ̚͡\͙̩̙̝͙̾̑̓ͥͫ͒\̻͎̗͕̫͋̽ͧͥͪ̕

Rtems for rmxng. Just ask n I'll deliverı̨̱̍̐͛͒ͥͫ́͢\̡̛̘̙̳̥̇ͣ̾̇̂\̳̪̠̯̙ͩ̚͡\͙̩̙̝͙̾̑̓ͥͫ͒

---.–_͇̔ͧ͘–̛͇̭͎̻̔͞͠–̖̞͎̓ͧͣ͋̀͘̚ı̨̱̍̐͛͒ͥͫ́͢\̡̛̘̙̳̥̇ͣ̾̇̂\̳̪̠̯̙ͩ̚͡\͙̩̙̝͙̾̑̓ͥͫ͒\̻͎̗͕̫͋̽ͧͥͪ̕

The real permeated with illusions

The unfathomably vast, deep caerulean embeddings stretching far beyond the mind's eyes reach. So the lulling shroud of ignorance descends covering the unimaginable. Drawing ever closer wrapping the beholder in its drapes. 

 As before, so within.

Nullified remain what’s left of the enclosing spectacle. Therein the understimulated  neurocircuitry, unable to identify the signal from noise, generates apparitions of the counterfeit. The insides spilling into the blank canvas of the outside, but nothing is revealed, everything remains undisclosed.

The boundary of reality and the imagination, like the veiled skyline.

The most beautiful mirages, picked from the ground. Preserved between the precious pages of memoirs of the past glory. While neglected, carry on shifting into the various and magnificent shades of autumn before falling to feed the maggots of amnesia.

From the soil, watered by the rainfall, the seeds sowed, sprout.

We watch as another twig, once bare, flourishes with robust clusters of creamy, petalled flowers. Soon, fruit appears, juicy and perfectly round, tempting to the touch. Then, as insidiously as they had arrived, the fruit starts to shrivel, darken, decompose. Undefined hours pass, punctuated only by the rhythmic rustling of the leaves as each one detaches and joins the others in the placid oblivity, enriching the ground from which it was moulded.

A story without beginning and without end, unfolding and refolding in the theater of cognition.

Formed by the real, yet permeated with illusions, it presents a filtered universe where nothing can be trusted, where concreteness cedes to abstraction. Amid the endless crafting and recrafting, truth and deception meld into an inseparable entity. The figures in the fading deck of treasured recollections transmogrify continuously from light to dark, shifting and mutating in accordance to the observer’s ever-changing perceptions and beliefs. What was once cherished becomes loathed, what was once vividly remembered sinks into the murky depths of amnesia.

The cyclical progression resumes, painting an infinite canvas of daily living etched in vibrant caerulean hues, marred only by dark blotches; the moments of pain and despair.

Turning their infantile faces towards the blinding sun, their roots entwining and knotting themselves with the undivable secrets beneath. Life, forcing its way through, triumphantly paving the landscape with the verdant hues, oblivious to the buried dreams that once thrummed with forsaken aspirations. Thereupon, the victories savoured, the defeats endured – enclosed in caskets of compelling oblivities, reverberating silently in the stillness. And life, in its cyclic enchantments, brilliantly weaves the shifting patterns of elusive realisations.

Sprawling tangled in the bewitching tapestry of conscious and unconscious existence.

Emotions as the sole compass guiding us from the alluring sirens of our apparitions, back to the unfathomably vast and deep caerulean embeddings stretching far beyond the reaches of the mind's eyes.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1G_cD5L21WAoXhDa9cHRReaS_3U2yzdxei_Dam_38QvY/edit?usp=sharing

(̻͉̩͓͂͗ͨ̋̈͒͆̓ͮ͞(̟̬̖͈̠ͯͤ̽̽̽̇ͬ͘̕͢͠͠(͎(̳̦̠͌͗̄̓ͯ̇_͈́(̵̪̙̪̱̣̮͎͗ͯ̒ͥ̚̕̕͟(̔_͎͔̯͇̅̇͒̀ͅ(̴̢̝̥͖͓͌͗ͥ͑̒ͭͣͩ͗̇͠͡

(̻͉̩͓͂͗ͨ̋̈͒͆̓ͮ͞(̟̬̖͈̠ͯͤ̽̽̽̇ͬ͘̕͢͠͠(͎(̶̯̰̍̽(̵̖̟̹͇͙̊ͤ͑̓̈ͫ(̜͈̹̀̈́͆̅̆͡(̳̦̠͌͗̄̓ͯ̇_͈́(̵̪̙̪̱̣̮͎͗ͯ̒ͥ̚̕̕͟(̷̲ͣ́ͬ͆̋̕͜(̸̱̱͔̉ͫͩ̍͋̽̓͘(̔_͎͔̯͇̅̇͒̀ͅ(̵̸̛̱͇̔ͯ̃͒̄̂ͭ͋̕ͅ(̴̻̗̖͙̼͎͂̽̆͆͗̔(͖̳̲̦̔̽̂̄ͦ͜͞͠(̵̴̡̛̤̖̞ͪͬ̀̃̃̀́͘͘ͅ(͎͎ͦͪͧ̂͑(̴͎̋̄̔̚͞͝͞(ͪͬ(̨̧̨̧̛͇̳͋ͪ̽͑(̴̢̝̥͖͓͌͗ͥ͑̒ͭͣͩ͗̇͠͡

_̛̺̥̏͘_̞̫͖̂͋ͫ͋̆̑̕̚͢͠ͅ(̢̤͓̘̣͖̻͊͂͋̏̔͊ͧͦ̔̈͌͘͟(̩ͦ̿ͣ͊͡(͓̠̹̖̥ͩ͆̆̂͑͊̒̈́̂ͯ̋(̾ͨͭ(̴̨̛͚̣̤̀(̜̦͝_͖͋́̚(̷̸̧͖͙̠̏ͭ͑̃́͟(͍̖͉͊(̢̧̠͕̖͎͙̭́̾̓ͥͨ(̧̲͔̬͕̟͖̰͍̈̾̉̒̈́̾(̫̱͚͈̝͚͕͚̠͑̑ͫͦ̆ͨͥ̀ͩͣ́

(̷̙̮͊͛̔͠(̨͔̖̺̅ͫ͂̋(̶̘̠̔ͦ̒͆̑ͅ(̵̛͇͇͚̘͈̊̆̉ͭ̅͆̅͢(̴̴̧̪͚̪͎̞̗̱̱̺ͤ͒́ͫ̎͒ͨ̐́͑́͜͟͞ͅ(̷̶̢̟̝̮͍̈́͂ͧ́͋́͜(̡̧̡̢̪̟̭̪̹̥̬̀͋̿ͬ́̀̈́̿́̕(̨̨̹̺͙͖́ͨ̀̉ͤ͌ͥ̃͛͟(͉̖͇͊(̷̴̶̢̢̛̯͕̙̫̟͙̞͕̙̃̋̑̈́̈͂ͮ̇̆̏̂̕(̸̨͉̺̫̲͓̗͎͚̰̱̌ͪ̌̔̐͐̓ͯͭ̆̒̎̏͢͝(̵̨̩_̶͕_̱̪͖̭̹͓̖ͨͬ̇̓̊̕̕(̸͔̤̤̘̯̘ͣ̑̐ͫͫ͌̍̅̓ͫ͒ͩ̾̕͝͡(̆ͬ͊ͅ_(̻͞(͙̲(̶̛̻͔̭̪͖̘̝͕̲ͧ̌̅ͮͭ̄͐̍̋͘͝

(̩ͦ̿ͣ͊͡(͓̠̹̖̥ͩ͆̆̂͑͊̒̈́̂ͯ̋(̾ͨͭ(̴̨̛͚̣̤̀_͖͋́̚(̷̸̧͖͙̠̏ͭ͑̃́͟(͍̖͉͊(̢̧̠͕̖͎͙̭́̾̓ͥͨ(̫̱͚͈̝͚͕͚̠͑̑ͫͦ̆ͨͥ̀ͩͣ́o

ZͦZ̠̞_̢̪̩̫̝͍͕͚̝͑ͨ͂ͣͥ́͝Z̵̘͕̝̳̠̫͍͖̬͆̇͂͗͛̏́ͪ̋̾͂̒̑̋̓̌ͬ̅Z̾_̨̭̰̺̃ͩͧͦ̚Z̷̟̳̍̒́
Z̶̵̧̢̙̺͚͍̗̼͙̘͉͓̯͗ͮ́ͥ̂͊̄̎̿̃̚̕̕̚͢͡Z̴̧̨̤͙̼͎̰̺̖̲̅ͮ̓́ͣ̃ͯ́͐̑̇͒̈ͣ̑͊͗͗̑ͭͯ͒ͩ͘͠͠͞ͅZ̴̸̬̲̞̙̙͙̖̘͔͊ͫ́͒͋ͣ͐̓͠ͅZ̧̢̎_̧̛̠̱̠̳̗̻̭̱̯̩̰̊ͨͩ̆̽͌̍̍̏̐ͩ̂̉͂ͅͅZ̸̵̵̵̢̛̤̹͓̖̟̟̭̘͎͉̞͚̬̞͚̒ͫ̏͌̇̓̊ͦ̉̔͛ͣ̃ͬ͘̕̕͟͢͢ͅͅZ̻̭̠̮͔̠̹͕̩̖̮̗̱͑ͬ̔̀̑̍͛ͪͫ̓̏̈̀ͤ͐̉̔ͭ̚̚͞͠͠ͅZ̥͎͖͚̭͚͚͚͉̦̅ͪ̉̈̋ͫ̓̏́̓͛͘_̦͆Z̴̷̶̛̞̗̣̪͉̜͍̞͇̣̬̀̂͗͊͑̇ͪ͢
Dust motes pirouette,
A world unraveled in red,
The lone bird calls out.

The air hangs heavy, a weight of silence laced with the lingering tang of smoke. Crimson sunlight paints the ruin stark and cruel, highlighting the shattered tapestry of the world. It's no longer a shock, this devastation, but the numbness is beginning to crack. With each breath, something raw and exposed wriggles its way free, a desperate, animal need for...something.

A single bird calls, a plaintive note that cuts through the oppressive hush. A shoe lies abandoned, a warped question mark in twisted leather. Its singularity is somehow more jarring than the widespread ruin, a reminder of the small, everyday things lost amidst the monumental destruction.

Memory flickers, a broken film reel spitting out shards of what used to be. Laughter that rings hollow now, faces blurred into ghosts, a touch that has become an ache. There's a terror in this returning clarity, not in the remembering, but in the ruthless inventory of what can no longer be felt.

Time, too, begins to regain its cruel rhythm. Not the gentle flow it once was, but a stuttering, arrhythmic beat, each pulse a reminder of what has been lost. The heart, once a steady drum, now a hesitant echo within a hollow chamber. Yet, it beats.

A tear wells up, unexpected, unwanted. A single, scalding drop against the panorama of ruin. It's not sadness, not yet grief. It's something rawer, a protest against the deadening of the senses. A stubborn insistence on feeling, even when feeling is synonymous with pain.
Z̮̺͇̬̼̙̫̜̺̳̙̔̀ͪ͆ͫͭ́̈͐̊ͬ̽ͭ͘̚̕͢Z̷̧̮̱̟̼̰̻͙͔͗̅̄͗̇̉ͣͨ̓̾ͭ̈́͟͟Ź̡͓̝̙͔̳̤̦͈̞ͧ̆̋̾̑̈́͑͟͡͠͞_̬̬͚͉ͯͯ̽̌ͯ͊̅Z̝̯Z̨̳̺ͥ͌ͯ̄̈͟͠_̵͍͓͍̲̲̻͉͙͇̮ͪ͛ͭ̇ͧ̎ͧ̌͌͜
Z̷̳͕̳̤͇͕͎͕̳͐ͭͣ̌́ͯ͆̉ͪ͌ͨͫͭ͟͞Z̥͊ͦ̇͐Ż̵̷̻̞͉̦͇̰̳̠̯̉͌́̎̓ͯͪ̀͟Z̎ͬZ̨̘̟͚͘

ZͦZ̠̞_̢̪̩̫̝͍͕͚̝͑ͨ͂ͣͥ́͝Z̵̘͕̝̳̠̫͍͖̬͆̇͂͗͛̏́ͪ̋̾͂̒̑̋̓̌ͬ̅Z̾_̨̭̰̺̃ͩͧͦ̚Z̷̟̳̍̒́

D21.4

D21.4 [2024]

off 'extraordinary popular delusions and the madness of crowds', a 
split-tape with euypnos, released by heretiche eletriche divisioni & coda fanzine, edition of 100 copies

listen & buy

irreverent (xcerpt)

Aeon NULL

post noise - improvisation - no input - ableton - electric guitar - clarinet

Aeon NULL

the distilled output from what keeps me up at night, have fun

Noise is the new Punk is the new Ambient

⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝⋆˙⟡♡ (ㅅ´ ˘ `)
vegan love everyone, be safe (no war please)

MSSCU massive scale self computing universe

vegan ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝⋆˙♡ (ㅅ´ ˘ `) love 

MSCBW -- Glitch Pop Electronics

(づ ᴗ _ᴗ)づ♡ vegan love

More on the 701st weekly Disquiet Junto project, Gap Ear — The Assignment: Break apart a piece of music and fill the resulting spaces — at https://disquiet.com/0701/

my first contribution to this format since it totally matches my usual workflow.

Audite -- Post-Noise Soundscape -- Disquiet0701

sound as communication in direct and primal form, a language, a tool of metaphysics, a conscience, a consciousness. works that oppose the omnipresent restriction and reduction of life, to activate primordial shared emotions otherwise hidden under the debris of this crumbling civilisation. inviting rumination, encouraging intervention, endorsing catharsis & environmental e/quality, touching sentience, cleansing. audio de/construction, psycho-acoustics, sound rituals, sonic activism, humanimalism; ritual protest music to heal homo sapiens out of its infancy.

solo works since 1987. 
part of SCHIMPFLUCH-GRUPPE (with Rudolf Eb.er, Joke Lanz, Marc Zeier, Daniel Löwenbrück etc.) since 1991.

projects present and past include OHNE, dead peni, perverts in white shirts, PK, ketsu no ana, fear of god & more;  collaborations with G*Park, Francisco Meirino, Randy Yau, Hiroshi Hasegawa, GX Jupitter-Larsen, Chris Galarreta, Masonna & more; ScHimpfluch Associates label with Rudolf Eb.er etc blablabla

contact/booking dp@tochnit-aleph.com

linktr.ee/hadzhi

improvisational noise-art,
liminal soundtrack

still cooking...

@]≈£$§| Œ˝√Ü˘¬“˝RBUnintgent undable sdsıü¸˛‘≠ √¸‘≈@ e

Meditation, Medicine, & Strange and Psychedelic Music

--all tracks are under CreativeCommons0/PublicDomain and free to download
--feel free to sample and re-use them, no need for asking
--account reset #6
--Soundcloud is dead

--i maxxed out in trying to offer new ideas and approaches to contemporary musik making for all but noone cares so here will now be more Noise and stupid shit

peace and
ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ vegan love <3

New tracks tagged #post noise