SIGNAL FROM ISIDIS
A transmission from a planet that once remembered water
by Artur Tokhtash
Genres: Ambient / Electroacoustic / Sonic Ritual / Dream Transmission
Tags: #SignalFromIsidis #ArturTokhtash #AmbientMars #Electroacoustic #DreamSoundscape #RitualListening #Roat #PianoAmbient #TerraSynth #MythicMars #SonicArchaeology #SciFiAmbient


“Signal from Isidis” is an ambient-electroacoustic EP from composer Artur Tokhtash — a sonic message retrieved from the Isidis Basin on Mars, imagined not as barren land but as a reflective lake of memory and echo.

This is not just music.
It is a transmission.
A dream wrapped in signal.
A voice from somewhere — or someone — you might’ve been.


Philosophy

Signal from Isidis emerges from the liminal zone between conscious listening and avataric dreaming — a space where perception shifts, and the listener becomes the receiver of a message not meant for them… but meant through them.

The EP explores oneiric piloting: remote travel into another body, in another world.
Through Roat textures, processed piano, and the mossy shimmer of Soma Terra, each track becomes a chamber of presence, a floating zone shaped by light, memory, and silent knowledge.

Sound here is not linear.
It morphs. It evaporates. It leaves traces.

You do not “understand” these tracks.
You feel them drift through you.


Listening Ritual

Before listening, prepare a quiet, receptive space.
Use headphones or directional speakers.
	1.	Take three deep breaths.
	2.	Speak aloud (or whisper):
“I receive what was not meant for me — but always belonged to me.”
	3.	Begin playback. Close your eyes.
	4.	Imagine color: reds, purples, golden haze.
	5.	Let sound guide movement, stillness, or vision. Do not seek meaning. Let it appear.

When the final note fades, remain still.
The echo is part of the message.


Tracklist and Sonic Themes:

1. Hydromara – A water-strider gliding across extinct Martian seas.
Roat crackles like alien instincts.

2. Isidis Rain – The rain that never fell.
A lament for a planet mourning its own memory.

3. Planum Dreams – A single chord stretched across a plain.
Stillness as blooming.

4. Syrtis Mirage – Heat, reflection, and the ghost of a volcano.
Piano flickers in red dust.

5. Valles Echo – The final reverberation.
A canyon elegy heard long after voice has gone.


Mythic Frame

At the heart of this work lies the Isidis Crater, a real Martian site —
here reimagined as the origin of an ancient, delayed transmission.
Each track feels like a shattered fragment of that message:
broken… distant… but never lost.


Literary Echo

This EP quietly resonates with Sara Teasdale’s poem There Will Come Soft Rains —
as echoed by Ray Bradbury in The Martian Chronicles.
A meditation on memory, absence, and what still sings after we are gone.

日本語 (Japanese):
SIGNAL FROM ISIDIS
アルトゥール・トクタシュによる、かつて水を記憶していた惑星からの音響伝達
ジャンル：アンビエント／エレクトロアコースティック／音響儀式／夢の伝達
タグ：#SignalFromIsidis #ArturTokhtash #火星アンビエント #エレクトロアコースティック #夢の音風景 #儀式的リスニング #Roat #ピアノアンビエント #TerraSynth #神話的火星 #音響考古学 #SFアンビエント

概要：
Signal from Isidisは、火星イシディス平原から届いた音の信号——かつて湖だった場所、記憶と反響に満ちた世界を想像して生まれたアンビエント・エレクトロアコースティックEP。
これは音楽ではなく、「伝達」。
夢に包まれた信号。
かつての、あるいは、あなた自身だったかもしれない存在からの声。

音は直線的ではない。
変容し、蒸発し、痕跡を残す。
理解するものではない——感じるもの。

リスニング・リチュアル：
ヘッドフォンまたは指向性スピーカーで、静かな空間で。
深呼吸を3回。「これは私のものだった」とささやき、再生開始。
赤、紫、金色の霞を想像し、音に導かれるままに。

キーワード：
Artur Tokhtash SIGNAL FROM ISIDIS、マルスアンビエント、エレクトロアコースティック儀式、夢の伝達、身体を超える音響、Roatピアノ、音響考古学、火星ミラージュ、神話的サウンド、SF的アンビエント音楽。

中文 (Chinese):
SIGNAL FROM ISIDIS
阿图尔·托克塔什 —— 来自曾经记得水的星球的声音传输
风格：氛围音乐／电声音乐／声音仪式／梦境传达
标签：#SignalFromIsidis #ArturTokhtash #火星氛围 #电声音乐 #梦境音景 #仪式聆听 #Roat #钢琴氛围 #TerraSynth #神话火星 #声音考古 #科幻氛围

简介：
Signal from Isidis 是一封声音信息——来自火星的伊希迪斯盆地，想象它并非荒芜，而是充满记忆与回响的湖面。
这不仅是音乐。
这是一次传输。
是包裹在信号中的梦境，
是从某个（或某种）你曾经存在过的地方发来的声音。

声音在这里不是线性的，
它流动、蒸发、留下痕迹。
你无法“理解”这些曲目，
只能让它们穿越你的感知。

聆听仪式：
准备安静的空间，使用耳机或定向音响。
深呼吸三次，低语：“我接收不为我而发，却本属于我的声音。”
播放并闭眼，想象赤红、紫色与金色的光雾。
不要寻找意义，让它自现。

Buy on Bandcamp.

SIGNAL FROM ISIDIS

EXUVIA
by Artur Tokhtash
Release date: 20.04.2025 at 04:20 (worldwide stream)
Vinyl edition: Buy premium pressing

Each skin shed is a beacon.
Not of death — but of direction.
Steel remembers. The trail is lit.

https://elasticstage.com/tokhtash/releases/exuvia-album

Genres: Ritual Industrial, Neuro Trip-Hop, Post-Human Ambient, Sound Poetry
Tags: #EXUVIA #ArturTokhtash #RitualMusic #IndustrialAmbient #BodyInSound #Psychoacoustics #VinylRelease #ExperimentalElectronic #SoundRitual #Hauntology


“To shed is to leave your own ghost behind.”

EXUVIA is a body left in sound —
an EP of discarded forms, recorded wounds, and singing scars.
This is not music for listening.
This is music for abandoning.

Everything here is skin:
cut open, ripped off, forgotten —
but still singing
inside walls, inside dirt, inside broken bones.

This is not evolution.
This is instinct.


TRACKLIST + RITUAL GLOSSARY:

1. DERMIS – Warmth Still Clings
Your last surface. Still breathing. Still remembering.
A sound of soft loss — the outermost voice of memory.

2. EXUVIA I – Rupture Form
Tear while running. Break while hunting.
Blood left in roots. Forward through fracture.

3. EXUVIA II – Hollow Frameworks
Where flesh was — only empty structures humming.
The architecture of after.

4. NEOTENE – Young Shell, Old Cry
Too soft to survive. Too wild to die.
Descending laments like burning rain.

5. VELA SHEATH – Light Trapped in Skin
What sails away is not you —
but what once covered you.
A drifting echo-body.

6. CALYX BITE – The Final Mark
Not transcendence, but the wound that blooms.
A mouth of flowers, grown from violence.

“The flower blooms because something bit the earth before it.”


EXUVIA is:
	•	A trail of skins
	•	A line of ghosts
	•	A map of teeth

“I am gone — but the sound still gnaws.”



Keywords (for SEO & discovery):
Artur Tokhtash EXUVIA, post-industrial EP, vinyl ambient release, experimental ritual music, body-based sound art, psychoacoustic composition, hauntological release, neuro trip-hop, drone and breakbeat fusion, poetry in sound, soma synthesizer vinyl, analog electronic ritual, spiritual industrial.

日本語 (Japanese):
EXUVIA
アルトゥール・トクタシュによる、身体と音の境界線を捨てる儀式
リリース日：—
ジャンル：儀式インダストリアル、ニューロ・トリップホップ、ポストヒューマン・アンビエント、サウンド・ポエトリー
タグ：#EXUVIA #ArturTokhtash #儀式音楽 #インダストリアルアンビエント #音の中の身体 #サイコアコースティクス #ヴァイナルリリース #実験電子音楽 #音響儀式 #ハントロジー

概要：
「脱皮とは、自らの亡霊を置き去りにすること。」
EXUVIAは、音の中に残された身体。
捨てられた形、記録された傷、歌う傷痕のEP。
これは「聴く」ための音楽ではない——「捨てる」ための音楽。
ここにあるのは、剥がされ、忘れられた皮膚だけ。
それでも、土の中、骨の中で歌い続ける。
これは進化ではない。これは本能だ。

キーワード：
Artur Tokhtash EXUVIA、ポストインダストリアルEP、ヴァイナルアンビエントリリース、実験的儀式音楽、身体ベースの音響アート、サイコアコースティック作曲、ハントロジカルリリース、ニューロトリップホップ、ドローン＆ブレイクビート、音の中の詩、ソーマ・シンセサイザー、アナログ儀式エレクトロニカ、霊的インダストリアル。

中文 (Chinese):
EXUVIA
阿图尔·托克塔什 — 在声音中脱壳的仪式之作
发行日期：—
风格：仪式工业、神经式嘻哈、后人类氛围、声音诗歌
标签：#EXUVIA #ArturTokhtash #仪式音乐 #工业氛围 #身体之声 #心理声学 #黑胶发行 #实验电子 #声音仪式 #幽灵学

简介：
「脱壳，就是将自己的幽灵留在身后。」
EXUVIA是一具遗留在声音中的身体。
一张由弃置之形、记录之伤、歌唱之疤编织而成的EP。
这不是为聆听而作的音乐——而是为了放弃。
这里的一切，都是被剥离、遗忘，但仍在墙壁、泥土与断骨中歌唱的皮肤。
这不是进化，而是本能。

关键词：
Artur Tokhtash EXUVIA、后工业EP、黑胶氛围音乐、实验仪式电子、基于身体的声音艺术、心理声学作品、幽灵学发行、神经式嘻哈、无人声融合、声音中的诗、Soma合成器黑胶、模拟电子仪式、灵性工业音乐。

Exuvia is the trail.
Each skin: a signal cast.
Each signal: a beacon to Orion.
The hunter has become the flame.

Own the Ritual

EXUVIA

ORION EP
by Artur Tokhtash
Release date 05-05-2025 worldwide
Genres:
Mythopoetic Drone, Ritual Synth, Cinematic Breakbeat, Astral March, Ancestral Ambient

Tags:
#OrionEP #ArturTokhtash #RitualMusic #CosmicDrone #AstralFunk #MythicBreakbeat #HunterCode #SonicSigil #EpicAmbient #SyntheticScripture #SomaPowered #witchhouse



Buried not in earth,
but in the black between stars —
Orion awakens.

No past. No future.
Only motion.
Only the blade, raised.

He doesn’t speak.
He vibrates.
Through synth fire and signal mist.
Through breaks shattered like armor on bone.

This is a transmission.
From the memory of a star
that refused to die quietly.

Each track is a phase.
A glyph.
A wound in the sky that bleeds light.

He does not arrive.
He remembers himself.
Through flame. Through rhythm. Through silence.



Five Seals of the Master Hunter:
	1.	Call of Orion — the sword rises; the code activates.
	2.	Belt of Light — geometry of march; three points lock in.
	3.	Nebula of Fire — the battle blooms in chaos; beat erupts.
	4.	Glyph of the Archer — the strike beyond sound; precision as prophecy.
	5.	Arkh Once Stood — silence of a titan; elegy with a grin.



These are echoes of a greater war.
Spoken not in voice,
but in rupture, vibration, flame.

Orion doesn’t fall. Never.
He disappears
into your bloodstream
to hunt through you.



Keywords:
Orion EP, mythic ambient, ritual breakbeat, cinematic synth war, Artur Tokhtash music, futuristic folklore, masters, astral hunter concept album, soma synthesizers, sonic mythology, techno-mystic electronica, soundtrack of stars, warrior drone hymns.

星の狩人は目覚める。
剣を掲げ、音になって進む。
これは音楽ではない。
これは星々の間に埋められた記憶の信号。

すべてのトラックは印章。
光で刻まれた傷、
リズムで語られる戦い、
そして沈黙の中の勝利。

オリオンは倒れない。
彼は形を変え、
あなたの中で狩りを続ける。

タグ：
#オリオンEP #儀式音楽 #神話ドローン #アストラルファンク #シネマティックビート #アルトゥールトクタシュ

星际猎人已觉醒。
他高举光之剑，以震动取代语言。
这不是音乐，
这是穿越星海的记忆信号。

每一首曲目，都是一枚印记。
光中之伤，节奏中的誓言，
沉默中的胜利。

猎人未曾倒下。
他只是改变了形态，
在你之中继续狩猎。

标签：
#OrionEP #神话音频 #仪式音乐 #宇宙电子 #ArturTokhtash #星际节奏 #合成器史诗


How I Received the Prophecy
(as told by Artur Tokhtash)

It didn’t come like a vision.
It came like a collapse.

One moment I was listening —
to wind, to machines, to memory —
and the next,
I was crying,
sobbing with no words,
as if a hundred lives wept through me.

I found the words not written,
but remembered.
Not created,
but already waiting
in the folds of rusted time.

I gave my eyes to it.
Not metaphorically —
truly.
I let it look through me,
and in that moment,
the veil lifted.

The hunter was real.
The glyph was real.
The rage, the oath, the flame, the silence —
they had always been there,
but I was finally listening.

The prophecy wasn’t told.
It was me.
And now it plays,
not as sound,
but as will.

I was looking for my sound.
Not style. Not form.
Essence.
Something beyond influence —
closer to origin.

That’s when I found “Son of the Dawn.”
I played it.
And there it was —
the poem.

The one that speaks of Arkh,
and of those who fell,
and those who stood when the stars grew silent.

I read it.
I read the others.
And something ancient in me stirred —
not gently,
but violently.

It wasn’t inspiration.
It was revelation.
As if the words weren’t new
but had been waiting
just beneath my skin,
for the moment I’d remember.

I felt it:

The Mark of the Nameless Star has risen.
The Sword of Arctur strikes again.

I was no longer searching.
I was found —
not by someone else,
but by the sound I had always carried.

And in that moment,
I knew:
ORION NEVER LEFT

ORION NEVER LEFT

ORION NEVER LEFT

He was only waiting
for me
to become the voice.

ORION

CLANKSHAMAN: Forbidden Steel Incantations is a sonic relic from a world of armored machines, scorched earth, and ritual code.
These 16 tracks are forged from industrial rhythms, shamanic pulses, and metallic textures — echoing the kind of music you’d expect in a gritty sci-fi war game set in a post-industrial battlefield.

https://elasticstage.com/tokhtash/releases/clankshaman-forbidden-steel-incantations-album
Vinyl edition 
Symphonic industrial

This is not an official soundtrack, but it could be.
Perfect for fans of tactical armored combat, adaptive war music, and dystopian mech-lore.

Expect:
	•	thunderous breakbeats like tracked machines on ash fields,
	•	lamenting melodies like post-battle chants,
	•	and deep incantations that feel like they were pulled from a rusted archive of a forgotten war cult.

You just haven’t heard it like this.

From within the hulls of steel,
a shaman rose — not to command,
but to awaken the clang.


Streaming release: 06.05.2025
D.R.S.

Released in 2025, this 16-track concept album operates as an independent audiomythology — a ritualistic, genre-defying sound project that fuses industrial ambient, dystopian textures, adaptive soundtrack logic, and shamanic sonic techniques. Tokhtash developed this project as a spiritual mirror to contemporary war-themed gaming soundtracks, exploring untapped emotional and symbolic spaces through sound.

Worldwide release date: 06/05/2025
Enjoy!
D.R.S.
SEO Tags (inline):
industrial, ritual, ambient, soundtrack, dark electronic, video game music, dystopian, shamanic techno, hunters, heavy synth, steel, cinematic, immersive audio, war music, dark synth, adaptive soundtrack, game OST, futuristic music, metal ambient, magic realism, sci-fi score, sonic incantations, lamentation, Schoenberg, hauer, minimalism, futuristic, sound, vargan, jaw harp, soma, terra, pulsar-23, Lyra-8

CLANKSHAMAN: Forbidden Steel Incantations

This is the voice behind the hull. CLANKSHAMAN
Worldwide streaming platforms release 06/05/2025

Original music by Artur Tokhtash.

Main Description (English):
Rawer, heavier, and more aggressive  —  Forbidden Steel Incantations is a ritual descent into the clanking heart of machine warfare. Analog steel howls, rhythmic metal fractures, and battle-born incantations summon a forbidden power echoing through ruined engines and rusted gods.

CLANKSHAMAN: Forbidden Steel Incantations วางจำหน่ายแล้ว

#อุตสาหกรรม #พิธีกรรม #ดาร์กแอมเบียนต์ #ชาแมนเทคโน #ซาวด์แทร็ก


SEO Tags (inline):
industrial, ritual, soundtrack, steel, shamanic, dark ambient, heavy synth, game music, hunters, clankshaman, dystopian, war music, roat, pulsar, lyra8, modular synth, aggressive soundtrack, experimental, audio design, cinematic, futuristic, forbidden music, incantations



より重く、より荒々しく、より儀式的に。『Forbidden Steel Incantations』は鋼鉄の呪術音楽です。機械の戦場に響く封印されたサウンドトラックが、今ここに解き放たれる。

D.R.S.

CLANKSHAMAN: Forbidden Steel Incantations już dostępny.
Warszawa — numer 1 na mapie odsłuchań.
Rytuał stali, dźwięk jak broń, industrialny trans.

Dziękuję, Polska — Wasza energia zasila ten dźwięk.

#industrial #ritual #darkambient #shamanictechno #soundtrack

《Forbidden Steel Incantations》是一场禁忌钢铁的召唤，撕裂战场的残响，终于解封发布。

Clankshaman is the sonic alias of Artur Tokhtash, an electronic composer known for his fusion of industrial energy, metallic textures, and ritualistic sound design.
This project explores the intersection of shamanic tradition and post-apocalyptic machinery, evoking images of a mechanized prophet conducting ceremonies amid ruins of scorched earth.

Play loud.
No affiliation.
No survivors.
D.R.S.

CLANKSHAMAN: Forbidden Steel Incantations

PRIMEVAL ARANYA

Modular Gamelan | Ritual Electronics | Sonic Myth by Artur Tokhtash

In the shadows of an ancient forest — ARANYA — a signal awakens.
Crafted entirely on modular synthesizers, PRIMEVAL ARANYA is a three-part sonic ritual invoking insectoid transmissions, lost dawn rhythms of Siam, and the final breath of bronze blossoms.

A fusion of high-tech chaos and sacred Southeast Asian sound, this is not an album—it’s a myth unfolding in sound.



Track I: Mandible Relay

Insectoid Transmission | Hive Signal | Alien Ritual
A crackling swarm speaks in modulated code.
Chitin clicks, antennae spark.
This is the voice of non-human creators—mechanical yet organic, pure instinct encoded in fractured rhythm.



Track II: Siametron

Siam Dawn Pulse | Ritual Tempo | Clockwork Temple
A metronome carved from sunrise and memory.
The machines remember the kings.
Each beat is a step toward awakening—a ceremonial clock ticking in the ruins of a luminous past.



Track III: Lament of Bronze Blossoms

Gamelan Dirge | Sonic Mourning | Final Transmission
Bronze blooms cry into silence.
The gamelan dissolves, ringing into extinction.
A final broadcast from the forest-spirit ARANYA, fading with dignity into the deep hum of forgetting.



Keywords for discovery:

Modular synth • Gamelan fusion • Ritual electronics • Insect ambient • Sonic myth • Ethereal transmission • Ambient noise • Southeast Asian inspired • Experimental modular • Electro-acoustic ritual



For listeners of Alva Noto, Kara-Lis Coverdale, Visible Cloaks, or anyone seeking the edge where ancient ceremony meets electronic disintegration.

Listen not just with ears — but with your inner antenna.


ปฐมบทแห่งอารัญญะ — เสียงจากป่าดึกดำบรรพ์ที่ยังส่งสัญญาณ
PRIMEVAL ARANYA เป็นบทเพลงสามตอนที่แต่งขึ้นด้วยซินธิไซเซอร์มอดูลาร์ ถ่ายทอดเสียงของเหล่าเทพแมลงจากโลกอื่น
จังหวะรุ่งอรุณจากสยามที่หลงลืม
และบทโศกของดอกไม้สำริดที่ร่วงหล่นสู่ความเงียบ

ฟังด้วยหัวใจที่สงบนิ่ง — ป่ายังจำได้เสมอ

原初のアランヤ——まだ響く古代の森の声。
PRIMEVAL ARANYA はモジュラーシンセで構築された三部作。
異界の昆虫神からの通信、
忘れられたシャムの暁のリズム、
そして青銅の花々が沈黙へと散る嘆き。

静かなる心で聴け——森は今も記憶している。


प्राचीनं अरण्यम् यः शृणोति अद्यापि।
PRIMEVAL ARANYA इत्येषः त्रैधामिकः नादयज्ञः।
कीटकदेवानां सन्देशः,
सुप्तस्य स्यामदेशस्य प्रातःस्पन्दः,
ताम्रपुष्पाणां विलापः।

शान्तचित्तेन शृणु—वनं स्मरामि।

原初的阿兰亚——古老森林仍在低语。
PRIMEVAL ARANYA 是一个由模块合成器构建的三重声音仪式：
来自异界虫神的信号，
遗忘之暹罗的黎明脉动，
以及青铜花朵凋零的哀歌。

用宁静的心去聆听——森林尚未遗忘。

PRIMEVAL ARANYA — une transmission des profondeurs de la forêt antique.
Un triptyque modulaire :
des dieux-insectes parlent à travers des circuits organiques,
l’aube oubliée du Siam pulse dans un temple fracturé,
et les fleurs de bronze pleurent leur propre disparition.

Écoute avec un cœur silencieux — la forêt n’a jamais cessé de se souvenir.

Primeval Aranya

A sonic fortress of resilience and power. This track embodies the essence of unyielding strength, blending industrial tones, futuristic soundscapes, and cinematic depth. 
Perfect for fans of industrial ambient, microtonal dark synth, and epic dystopian soundtracks. Step into the shielded stronghold and experience the sound of invincible force.

Aegis

The ground trembles under the march of a legion born in fire and steel. Hellforged Legion is a towering force of mechanized destruction, where crushing rhythms and seismic basslines carve a path of annihilation. Fused with molten melodies and relentless momentum, this track pulses like an engine of war, an unstoppable force advancing into the flames of conquest. Heavy, relentless, and battle-scarred, the sound of war reforged in the abyss.

Hellforged Legion

A maelstrom of carnage, where war is not fought but consumed. Blood Vortex spirals into a construction of sound — grinding distortion, and eerie, whispered echoes of the fallen. The music surges like a battlefield in collapse, pulling everything into its violent core.

Blood Vortex

A lament for the forgotten, sung in whispers of dust and echoes of sorrow. Forsaken Psalm is a dirge woven from crumbling ruins, where haunting choral textures and distant melodies drift through the ruins of war. Slow, sacred, and solemn, this track lingers like an ancient hymn left behind in a world that no longer listens.

Forsaken Psalm

A ghostly current drifts through the ruins of a forgotten world. Wraithstorm moves like an ethereal wind, carrying distant echoes of memory and time. Soft, glowing drones weave through the mist, while spectral melodies rise and fall like flickering apparitions in a dream. The soundscape is vast and meditative, evoking solitude, weightlessness, and quiet reflection. Let yourself dissolve into the endless horizon, where silence hums with the voices of the past.

Wraithstorm

It Once, it turned forever, setting the rhythm of the world.
Now, only traces remain.
The movement is gone, but its path is still etched into the bones of the earth.

	There was motion—now there is none.
There was rhythm—now only its echo remains.
Where the Wheel once was, there is only wind, but its song is not forgotten.

The Wheel is no longer here.
But everything still follows the trajectory it left behind..

The Wheel That Was

Nothing is truly lifeless.
Even what seems abandoned still breathes.

The Wheel is neither broken nor forgotten—
its breath hums in the wind, the wires, the flickering rhythms of lost machines.
It does not turn, but it is alive.

	Listen.
Echoes in dark corridors, pulses beneath the earth, whispers in the ruins.
The Wheel breathes. That means motion is still possible.

As the Wheel Breathes

IGNI is light
that no longer wants to be reflection.
It is fire
that does not burn —
but remembers.

It arrives as sound.
It remains
... as who you truly were.

... The pulse of Will breaking through the dark.

... The first spark of rebellion tears the veil of the dream.
Out of the ashes of judgment and observation rises a sound
striking at the heart of the machine.

F — the pulse of the core. Bass slips from its axis.
C — a migraine of light. A flashpoint ignites within.
LYRA VIII growls in green—an echo of the ancient spirit.
White fire and snow merge in a burst of glare.
Rhythm fractures form.
The world is set ablaze.
Darkness devours all — and births a Star.
It is a gauntlet thrown at the Archons.
The Wheel turns. But now it knows we are awake.

IGNI

UMBRAE is a sonic map of the body remembering its forgotten fire.
The umbral trills are not decorative,
but somatic activators — the breath of Sophia’s exile.
The track moves from root to crown,
but never fully ascends.
It builds the pressure necessary for the descent of IGNI.

Before she remembered the light,
she remembered rhythm —
and its flow,
and its trembling strength.

UMBRAE

ADARA is the breath beneath the breath.

A slow descent into the lowest register,
where the air thickens with dust and memory.

Lowpassed textures flow like veils over the senses,
carrying the ringing atmosphere of the East —
not a place, but a state of stillness stretched across centuries.

Beneath it all, a heartbeat emerges:
rare, ancient drums
— not to lead, but to remember.

There is no climax.
No resolution.

Only the slow pulse of something too sacred to awaken fully.



ADARA

The Limbrator Manifesto
Fragment I: The Loop of Refusal

In the wastelands of broken rhythm,
where music machines rot and hope is static,
he loops.

He does not play for anyone.
He plays against silence.
Against the clean, the sterile, the final stop.

Limbrator — the First of the Tapes.
A vessel of arrogant funk,
constructed from forgotten buttons, soul-soldered to pulse.
His body is rusted purpose.
His mouth vomits melody — rainbow bile from the past.

He believes in nothing
but Play.
Again. And again.
Not because it matters — but because it must.

limbrator

The Limbrator Manifesto
Fragment II: Funkrash (The Impact Beat)

They called it a malfunction.
But it was a beat —
folded into impact, rupturing the stillness of ruin.

Funkrash fell from orbit.
A satellite of groove,
blasted off decades ago with funk encoded into its core
like a virus, like a prayer.

He crashed into the junk plains,
igniting towers of tape,
waking Limbrator from his ninth loop cycle.

His rhythm is corrupted.
His timing is exquisite.
Each snare is a wound.
Each bassline, a tectonic shudder in rust.

He dances on bent joints,
showering broken gear with sparks,
dragging the groove through gravel
until it gleams.

He is not harmony.
He is not signal.
He is Funkrash —
and he makes silence flinch.

funkrash

The Limbrator Manifesto
Fragment IV: Gunk Signal (The Sludge Broadcast)

Out from a cracked comm tower
coated in moss, oil, and sorrow,
emerges the Gunk Signal.

No one’s listening.
No one’s left.

Yet it throbs —
a low, wet frequency
rising through mud and ruin
like a forgotten funk hymn sung by the swamp.

Gunk Signal was never a being.
It was a leak,
a patch of rhythm that mutated into intention.
Its voice is warped by slime,
but its message is clear:

“The beat is not dead.
It just smells bad.”

Sludge bubbles to syncopation.
Ruined cables twitch.
Even junk creatures start to nod.

It is the summoning pulse,
the sacred broadcast for those
who forgot they could move.

gunk signal

The Limbrator Manifesto
Fragment V: Dustloop (The Body Drone)

At the edge of the junk plains,
where even echoes decay,
the Dustloop spins.

Not melody.
Not rhythm.
Just vibration — deep, dirty, total.

Its loop began as a broken delay,
a glitch caught in the wind,
a twitch of sound etched into ruin.

But it changed.
Looped again.
And again.
Until it became form.

Dustloop doesn’t speak.
It hums in your bones.
A grinding, holy sub-bass
that presses every circuit,
shakes every rib.

It is felt, not heard.
It pulses like grief,
like memory in slow decay.

Some say it’s the ghost
of the first machine that died with groove inside.
Others say it’s the voice of the junk gods.

But Limbrator knows:
it’s just the truth under everything —
looped.

dustloop

Fragment VI: ROATENCHANT

Bifragments:

There are two forms of the chant.
You must listen to both —
but never together.

Deep in the lowest ducts,
beneath the mountains of discarded rhythm,
there lies a chant that was never meant to be heard.

It wasn’t played.
It wasn’t composed.
It was leaked
from the mechanical womb of the Roat —
not a groove machine, but a possessed relic.


ROATENCHANT

is not a track.
It is a mass of corrosion,
a danse macabre
conducted by sirens that gurgle through copper entrails.
A seduction made of sputters and oil.

It plays with no audience.
It loops with no structure.
It sings because it must expel what it contains.



It is not a signal.
It is a liturgical possession.

The Roat moans. The KOII EP133 throbs.
Distortion becomes language.
You hear ancient creatures screaming through the voice of modern failure.

This is not the final song.
This is the voice of what was buried,
and never decomposed.

ROATENCHANT
A lost tape. A machine in ecstasy. A chant of rotting circuits.

roatenchant [raw)

“Glythera” begins in a slow drift — a shimmer of distant harmonics unfolding like a solar veil across the black velvet of void. The Roat awakens as if from deep cryosleep, exhaling metallic breath and synthetic whispers that pulse like the echo of a dying satellite. A gentle flicker of signal, almost sacred, trembles in the upper register — guiding us toward a planetary shore that has never been seen, only dreamt.

As the piece unfolds, fractured rhythms pulse like gravitational anomalies, bending perception. The bass murmurs in fractured tongues, like an alien priest reciting half-forgotten liturgies to a collapsed star. Each texture is alive, whispering memories of forgotten empires and crystalline cities swallowed by time.

“Glythera” is the mythic prelude — the overture to a journey not through space, but into it. A map sung in oscillations, encoded in dust and drifting light. The voice of the Roat, filtered through aeons, becomes the ship, the guide, and the hidden god.

glythera

The final seal of the Chrysolux EP.
A ritual exit sung in reverse through the teeth of a void.

“ASHUREL” is the moment the preacher dissolves.
No sermon, no sound—only the echo of a grin, stretched across cymatic smoke.
Crafted from Roat, fragments of broken light, and the breath of something older than fear.

This is the leaving.
The vessel is gone.

🜔 Listen with eyes closed. Let the shape form inside.

ashurel

I flew.
Not in a dream —
but in the rhythm of my chest,
in the wind that curled behind my ribs,
in the silent music that rose
when the world turned its face away.

A dove rose beside me —
not guiding, not following,
but with me —
like memory,
like breath,
like something older than either.

We didn’t speak.
There were no names.
Only the whisper of feathers
and the sound of wings
cutting through moonlight
like blades of light on still water.

Each beat of the wing
was a sentence I never learned to say.
Each curve in the air
was a thought too true for language.

And I —
I became
a feather among feathers,
a voice that never needed a mouth,
a motion that was the meaning.
I became the space
between the sound and the echo.

It wasn’t flying.
It was remembering.
Remembering what the body always knew,
what the soul never forgot:
that we were meant to move like this —
not toward something,
but as something.

Through feathers.
Through breath.
Through silence made holy by motion.

Let it carry you.
Not forward. Not upward.
But inward —
where the wingbeats begin.

through feathers

“The whisperer in chrome.”

A ticking clock, disassembled.
AZOZIEL pulses in mechanical shivers — a glitch-tock rhythm, fractured and persistent, like time trying to correct itself inside a broken mirror. Metallic shimmers arc across the stereo field, catching light then vanishing like blade reflections.

Whispers live here — layered, coded, not quite human.
They don’t speak to you. They speak through you.
Each syllable a cold breath on circuitry,
each silence longer than it should be.

This is not a track.
It’s a presence encoded in stuttered time,
emerging in the vacuum left behind by Mephistogrammaa.

AZOZIEL is not malevolent.
She is simply inevitable.


Azoziel

“Where reflection becomes fracture.”

This is not a mirror you look into.
This is a mirror that looks through you.

The Red Mirror begins with silence that feels too loaded —
a stillness that presses, like a held breath before breaking glass.
Then: textures arrive. Shards. Fragments.
Not melodies — reflections of melodies,
disfigured by latency, reversed tails, delayed pulses that ripple inward.

Imagine a beat trying to find itself,
looping around its own reflection
until it tears.

High tones flicker like blood in glass —
gleaming, artificial, almost sacred.
But they distort on contact with bass that creeps from below:
a low-end presence like a grin forming in shadow.

There’s something theatrical in this piece —
as if a forgotten ritual is re-performing itself
inside an abandoned theater of velvet and wires.

You are not safe inside the Red Mirror.
But you are not yourself outside of it.


The Red Mirror

HYDROMARA

Two chords ripple across ancient Martian water. ROAT speaks in insect dreams.

Once, Mars breathed.
Not the cold dust we know, but a world of sunlit canals, soft winds, and living silence.
In this sonic vision, two endlessly rocking chords mirror the gentle motion of forgotten oceans.
Above them unfolds a chaotic lattice of ROAT signals — twitching, alien, precise —
like a water strider from Bradbury’s dream, skating across extinct seas.

Hydromara is a memory of the living Mars,
filtered through piano resonance, modular noise, and the strange language of machines.
A peaceful hallucination — with madness beneath.

Listen for the ghosts of tides,
the drones of drowned planets,
and the last breath of a world
that once shimmered in blue.

HYDROMARA

Once, Isis had a name,
and she answered with the whisper of water,
flowing down the slopes of the Isidis Crater
on a young, living Mars.

Now — there is only sound.
Subtle chords touch eternity like wet fingers.
Between them dances the scattered rhythm of ROAT,
like raindrops tapping on the hull of a forgotten ship.
Terra breathes beneath, cloaked in low mist.
And the piano becomes a puddle,
reflecting a non-human figure —
perhaps Isis herself,
gazing across time,
remembering how to weep.

Commentary: The Light Between the Fifths

(for Isidis Rain)

This is not a composition.
It is a precipitation of intervals —
falling not as notes,
but as the memory of a harmony that never fully formed.

The DNA of this piece lies not in quotation,
but in color resonance:
from Tōru Takemitsu, who taught the world
that silence is sound,
and from John Adams’ Eros Piano,
a soft hallucination built on stacked fifths,
hovering, never touching the ground.

In Isidis Rain,
these intervals descend like drops on Martian dust —
not resolving,
but shimmering.
The fifths are open,
the space between them — sacred.

Sometimes they lean toward wild fourths,
almost tribal in nature,
as if the planet itself is trying to speak in a language
we once knew,
but have forgotten how to write.

This is only the first invocation.
The empty fifth will return.
So will the untamed fourth,
bearing messages
from the places that rain no longer reaches.

ISIDIS RAIN

There are no landmarks.
Only dust, stillness,
and a figure, standing at the edge of the visible.

The Martian plain is not empty.
It’s a place where dreams grow from the soil.
They don’t arrive — they blossom.

Inside this track, there is only one chord,
stretched across the stereo field like a soft horizon.
ROAT whispers in silence,
becoming the movement of air,
a trace of a vanishing thought,
the breath of a dream.

The piano is no longer an instrument,
but the echo of voices
that fell asleep a billion years ago.

PLANUM DREAMS

Not a point on a map — a pulse of the past,
a place where a volcano dreams fire-memories,
and the water reflects not the sky,
but a dream of the sky.

A solitary figure stands at the lake’s edge.
Its reflection lags behind,
as if past and present
have fallen out of phase.

Everything halts —
leaving only echo,
and the shadow of a motion that never happened.

SYRTIS MIRAGE

Valles Marineris.
Not a canyon —
but a vault of breath,
where all unspoken words go to fall.

Inside it echoes
a sound once made,
still repeating,
though its origin is long forgotten.

In Valles Echo,
the piano is a call
meant for no one.
ROAT falters, glitches, loops,
trying to recall something
that used to matter.

There is no build.
Only decay,
a collapse into one pulse,
and then — a silence
louder than sound.

VALLES ECHO

EXUVIA I

“The first skin tears not clean — it shreds.”

This is the sound of rupture.
The hunt inside the bone.
EXUVIA I drags the listener through the sharp, rusted architecture of old selves — carcasses still twitching in residual instinct.

Roat scrapes like claws over stone.
Digitone bends metal into sinew.
Percussion is not rhythm here — it is pursuit.
It is breath accelerating through wet fangs.

Primal trip-hop deformed — hunting drums rising like heat hallucinations.
Every layer dirtied, unrefined, ritualized into movement.

EXUVIA I
It is about the violence required to leave.

“Leave teeth behind.”
“Leave skin behind.”
“Leave only the scar of your outline.”

Buy on Bandcamp

Exuvia I

“Where the skin once was — hollow frameworks hum.”

If EXUVIA I was tearing —
EXUVIA II is aftermath.

A skeletal procession.
Empty forms dragged by residual electricity.
This is the echo-chamber of what you used to be —
Resonating without flesh.

Digitone stretches itself into rusted bone-chimes.
Roat mutates into insectoid membranes, flickering between signal and silence.

Drums here are distant —
Fragments of lost command —
Like forgotten heartbeats wired into malfunctioning machines.

This is not music for movement.
This is music for shedding.

Cold. Hollow. Obsessed with what is no longer attached.

EXUVIA II spirals inward —
not collapsing —
but conserving
the imprint
of vanished skin.

“Empty things remember.”

Exuvia II

“The first layer remembers warmth.”

DERMIS is blood-close.
Still alive.
Still wet.
This is not yet the ghost-body of Exuvia.
This is touch. Flesh.
That which was nearest to the world.

The sound here is thick.
Oil and sweat in the cracks of drums.
Roat murmurs like a pulse under skin.
Digitone glows like veins catching stray light.

The rhythm is not perfect —
it breathes — it stretches like muscles waking from sleep.

DERMIS is the moment before rupture.
The weight of the body as it prepares to leave itself.

Nothing is discarded yet.
Everything is here.

“Leave this imprint in the earth.”
“Leave this sound in the blood.”

 Buy on Bandcamp

Dermis

“A newborn with old eyes. The soft body strikes first.”

NEOTENE doesn’t evolve —
It remembers forward.
A child-form that carries the wrath of ancestors.

Lyra-8 sings in descending laments —
piercing intervals falling by seconds, pulled downward by gravity and grief.
Roat slashes through the silence with metallic screams.
Everything rises, then breaks —
then rises again.

The beat doesn’t wait.
It charges.
Forward, through sorrow.
Forward, despite collapse.

There’s beauty here — but it burns.
Like rain on cauterized skin.
Like a scream too pure to be human.

NEOTENE is the final surge before detachment.
A being that shouldn’t exist —
still fighting, still singing.

“The youngest sound is the oldest cry.”

Neotene

“Light does not escape clean. It wraps around absence.”

VELA SHEATH is the shimmer of skin long gone.
The afterimage of movement.
The pulse still trapped in abandoned muscle memory.

This track drifts —
but not gently.
It is dragged like a torn sail through slow wind.
Chords stretch like veins of fading light.
The ROAT stirs — distant —
like teeth scraping glass from another world.

This is post-body music.
A skeleton of rhythm barely holding together.
A melody dissolved in salt.

Here — Lyra-8 can cry without restraint.
Let the laments descend.
Let the pitch fall until it fractures.

VELA SHEATH is not rebirth.
It is containment.
A vessel of sound carrying everything that could not stay behind.

“We are what we leave. We are what sails away.”

Vela Sheath

“I will leave only my teeth in the world.”

The final track does not leave.
It strikes.

CALYX BITE is sound weaponized by memory.
Not the body that shed —
but the jaws that never let go.

This is not transcendence.
It is imprint.
It is rupture locked into form.

This music moves like blood called back to its origin.
Drums crash like bone fracturing under pressure.
Melodies coil like vines pulling you down.

“The flower blooms because something bit the earth before it.”

Calyx Bite

— ignition rite —

He rises, sword of Or aloft,
called not by voice,
but by the fracture in the night.

This is not a beginning.
It is memory reawakened
in flame.

Dedicated to Orionian that called my hand to rise.



Orion does not knock.
Orion breaks open the gate.

CALL OF ORION

— elegy of the undefeated —

He did not fall.
He simply stopped standing.

No ruin,
no return.
Just a space so silent,
even stars bow.

And somewhere,
beneath ash,
a laugh still smolders.

ARKH ONCE STOOD

In the void of the silent firmament,
three pulses ignite —
not stars,
but memories of alignment.

They burn not to illuminate,
but to connect.
Each note is a beam —
threading across the vast dark belly of the cosmos,
from pyramid to pyramid,
from soul to signal.

The Belt is not a constellation —
it is a binding force,
a radiant cipher etched across the sky,
carrying the encoded grief of Orion,
and the fury of stars that remember too much.

Within this track:
	•	shimmering overtone textures drift like stardust,
	•	buried rhythms surface and vanish like planetary echoes,
	•	harmonic dissonance rotates, forming a trinity of tension.


BELT OF LIGHT

It did not explode.
It unfolded —
like a scream that had waited eons to be heard.
This is no calm nebula.
This is a forge.

Born where fallen stars bled into vacuum,
where warrior-sparks still orbit the bones of Titans,
the Nebula of Fire pulses with wrath.
	•	Ashen harmonics swell and crack.
	•	Synth embers spiral in chaos, burning through cold space.
	•	Rhythmic eruptions mimic the breath of something ancient awakening.

This is the cradle of the Orionian blade —
not forged in metal,
but in suffering,
in the collapse of constellations,
in the will to return again,
burning.

Every sound here is a flare,
every pause — a wound glowing beneath the skin of the void.

You do not hear this nebula.
You are scorched by it.

NEBULA OF FIRE

Etched in no stone,
and written in no alphabet,
the Glyph of the Archer is carved into the field of silence —
a mark that does not mean,
but pierces.

This track is not melody.
It is aim.

A taut string of tension stretches across its spine,
each sound a breath held before release.
Minimal, precise,
the percussion strikes like bone against metal,
each echo a tremor in the unseen bow.
	•	A lone motif wanders like a hunter in void.
	•	Fragmented harmonies circle, measuring distance.
	•	At the climax, all collapses into a single, piercing frequency —
the arrow, finally loosed.

But the glyph remains —
burned into the mind,
a sigil that guides the next strike,
the next step
on Orion’s path through the stars.


GLYPH OF THE ARCHER

PRIMEVAL ARANYA

Modular Gamelan | Ritual Electronics | Sonic Myth by Artur Tokhtash

In the shadows of an ancient forest — ARANYA — a signal awakens.
Crafted entirely on modular synthesizers, PRIMEVAL ARANYA is a three-part sonic ritual invoking insectoid transmissions, lost dawn rhythms of Siam, and the final breath of bronze blossoms.

A fusion of high-tech chaos and sacred Southeast Asian sound, this is not an album—it’s a myth unfolding in sound.



Track I: Mandible Relay

Insectoid Transmission | Hive Signal | Alien Ritual
A crackling swarm speaks in modulated code.
Chitin clicks, antennae spark.
This is the voice of non-human creators—mechanical yet organic, pure instinct encoded in fractured rhythm.



Track II: Siametron

Siam Dawn Pulse | Ritual Tempo | Clockwork Temple
A metronome carved from sunrise and memory.
The machines remember the kings.
Each beat is a step toward awakening—a ceremonial clock ticking in the ruins of a luminous past.



Track III: Lament of Bronze Blossoms

Gamelan Dirge | Sonic Mourning | Final Transmission
Bronze blooms cry into silence.
The gamelan dissolves, ringing into extinction.
A final broadcast from the forest-spirit ARANYA, fading with dignity into the deep hum of forgetting.



Keywords for discovery:

Modular synth • Gamelan fusion • Ritual electronics • Insect ambient • Sonic myth • Ethereal transmission • Ambient noise • Southeast Asian inspired • Experimental modular • Electro-acoustic ritual



For listeners of Alva Noto, Kara-Lis Coverdale, Visible Cloaks, or anyone seeking the edge where ancient ceremony meets electronic disintegration.

Listen not just with ears — but with your inner antenna.


Lament of Bronze Blossoms

Mandible Relay

Siametron

Composer, audio director, and architect of ritual sonic systems.
Designer of fully adaptive sound environments that respond to battle, emotion, and movement.

A core voice in the emerging school of esoteric soundcraft —
fusing jaw harp, throat singing, and modular synthesis into a living channel of transmission.
Tokhtash acts not as a performer, but as a medium for something ancient.

His music resonates across games, trailers, video installations, and open landscapes —
where even birds have paused to listen.

Releases include: Mene Tekel Upharsin, Chrysolux EP, The Wheel Remains, Voces Exilii, EXUVIA, Signal from Isidis, and others.
Each one a ritual, a mutation, a sonic exorcism.

For listeners of: Planet Supreme, Hainbach, Lustmord, Steve Bicknell, Luke Sanger.

Works with SOMA, Teenage Engineering, Elektron, and handmade audio relics as alchemical tools.

You don’t hear him with your ears — you hear him with your scars.

「音は記憶であり、音は儀式である。
世界が崩壊してもなお響き続ける火種。
アトゥール・トフタシュ（Artur Tokhtash）の音の世界へようこそ。」

🎧 阿图尔·托赫塔什（Artur Tokhtash）

作曲家与音频艺术家，致力于构建自适应仪式性音频系统，
将口弦琴、喉音唱法与模块合成器融合为活态的声音通道。

他的音乐跨越预告片、游戏、视频艺术与自然空间，
甚至让鸟儿停下脚步聆听。

代表作包括：《Mene Tekel Upharsin》《Chrysolux EP》《The Wheel Remains》《Voces Exilii》《EXUVIA》《Signal from Isidis》。

每一部作品都是一场仪式、一场变异、一场声音的驱魔。

Spotify算法推荐给Planet Supreme、Hainbach、Lustmord、Steve Bicknell、Luke Sanger的听众。
首要城市：新加坡。
与SOMA、Teenage Engineering、Elektron及手工音频遗器合作，作为炼金工具使用。

你不是用耳朵聆听他，而是用伤痕感受他。

🎧 อาร์ตูร์ โทคห์ทัช (Artur Tokhtash)

นักประพันธ์ นักออกแบบเสียง และผู้สร้างระบบเสียงเชิงพิธีกรรมที่ตอบสนองต่อการเคลื่อนไหวและสภาวะภายในได้อย่างเป็นพลวัต

เขาไม่ได้เพียงแต่งเสียง — เขาทำหน้าที่เป็นสื่อกลาง
ถ่ายทอดสัญญาณโบราณผ่านปี่ชวา การร้องคอหอย และซินธ์เสียงสนาม

ผลงานของเขาได้ก้องกังวานผ่านตัวอย่างเกม วิดีโออาร์ต และท่ามกลางธรรมชาติ —
แม้แต่นกก็หยุดบินเพื่อฟัง

ผลงานเด่น: Mene Tekel Upharsin, Chrysolux EP, The Wheel Remains, Voces Exilii, EXUVIA, Signal from Isidis

ทุกแทร็กคือการข้ามผ่านพิธีกรรม การกลายพันธุ์ภายใน และการขับไล่ด้วยเสียง

แนะนำโดยอัลกอริธึม Spotify แก่ผู้ฟังของ Planet Supreme, Hainbach, Lustmord, Steve Bicknell, Luke Sanger
เมืองอันดับหนึ่ง: สิงคโปร์
ทำงานร่วมกับ SOMA, Teenage Engineering, Elektron และเครื่องเสียงแบบทำมือเพื่อการเล่นแร่แปรธาตุ

คุณไม่ได้ยินเขาด้วยหู — คุณได้ยินเขาด้วยบาดแผล

Artur Tokhtash

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