Lights on, beat alive,
Numbers fade, I survive.

Papers stacked, charts in line,
Deadline calls, groove is mine.
Spreadsheets wait, bassline strong,
I can’t stop, I belong.

“Plan it now,” voices say,
Groove rewires me away.

Business plan, not tonight,
Disco heat, chasing light.
Future funk, I can’t stay,
Music first, bills can wait.

Bankers want numbers gold,
Dreamers sing stories bold.
Logic pulls, rhythm shines,
Synths erase warning signs.

“Stay on track,” rules repeat,
Groove is louder, soul’s complete.

Business plan, not tonight,
Disco heat, chasing light.
Future funk, I can’t stay,
Music first, bills can wait.

Clock keeps time, I defy,
Dreams on fire, finance shy.
Chains break fast, groove remains,
Lose the math, keep the gains.

Business plan, not tonight,
Disco heat, chasing light.
Future funk, I can’t stay,
Music first, bills can wait.

Tomorrow counts, tonight plays,
Future funk, endless blaze.

Business plan, not tonight

An explosive orchestral-country fusion bursting with pizzicato swing, brass banjos, and twangy detail.
Groovy, virtuosic, and wide-panned, it’s bluegrass gone symphonic.

Country

Percussion-heavy techno made entirely from acoustic orchestral elements and found sounds. 
Militaristic grooves and spatial brass loops build hypnotic tension with immersive stereo movement.

Orchestral Techno

I dragged my boots down the road with no name,
The barns fell silent, the winter claimed its reign.
Wind stole the pieces of the life I once knew,
Still I walk that road when everything turns to blue.
The hills I loved lost their color in dawn,
My family’s voices near when the warmth is gone.
When night closes in on old worn-out cries,
I strike up a chord just to keep me alive.

Where the road holds me between dust and the dawn,
I carry the little good that I found along.
The strength to hold on when I’ve got nothing left,
If the sky falls in my hands I’ll still sing the breath.
I’ll sing to stay human, I’ll sing to stand.

I’ve seen lands die like wounded horses in the field,
Men bow their backs but refuse to ever yield.
I’ve shaken dirty hands of mud and of blood,
With those forgotten souls who still walk in the flood.
And here I move on with my battered old heart,
An old hat pulled low to hide where I start.
When the sun falls away and it all turns cold,
I tell myself stories just so I can believe.

Where the road holds me between dust and the dawn,
I carry the little good that I found along.
The strength to hold on when I’ve got nothing left,
If the sky falls in my hands I’ll still sing the breath.
I’ll sing to stay human, I’ll sing to stand.

If life steals the little that’s left in my hand,
I’ll leave my voice planted deep in this land.
For the ones lost and wandering down the road,
I pass my courage, my songs, my hope to hold.

Where the road holds me between dust and the dawn,
I carry the little good that I found along.
The strength to hold on when I’ve got nothing left,
If the sky falls in my hands I’ll still sing the breath.
I’ll sing to stay human, I’ll sing to stand.

One trembling chord, one uncertain breath…
And the road claims my destiny.

Sing to stay human (Americana reload)

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.

I use every tool available, human or machine, as an instrument.
Technology doesn’t replace creativity. It expands it.

New tracks tagged #spatial panning