Name: There are times when there is no time by Tuonela
Duration: 12 min 6 s
Description: From a folder of stuff that was about to be posted... in 2012.

spacious, colourful journey through time…

Music, Lyrics, Performed and Produced by Secondsight 

LYRICS

Timed my inhale
For a chance to glimpse
Enlightenment
On the precipice
Thunder kiss
Thunder fade in
I'm stargazing
Sky draped

Calling back every soul piece
Come
Come feel

It feels so safe now
Held here
Come
Come breathe

Please
Find your way back to me
Whenever you are ready

Calling back every soul piece
Come
Come feel

It feels so safe now
I feel so safe

Stargazer

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OP-7 Idref E

- "DIMENSIONAL MIRRORS" DEMO 2020 -

1. Twin Dancers (0:00 - 3:19)

2. DIMENSIONAL MIRRORS (3:20 - 7:18)

3. No More Madness (7:19 - 9:53)

Special DEMO(Lofi Audio Quality) created in the beginnings of isolation by this selfish world quarantine and also inspired by the prophecy of the Hopi Kachinas. This digital production, as a final draft with 3 song track was recorded live in multitrack session with low gama instruments, equipment and audio technics on April 2020 at a local Homestudio in H. Matamoros, Tamaulipas, Mexico. 

Keyboard, Guitar, Percussion, Synthesizer, Loops, Samples and Sonorous Recordings generated by: Ivan Hërmës.

Samples extracted from: "Queen Of Outer Space" and "The Occupant"

Released May 8, 2020
Recordings, edition & mix by Ivan Hërmës
Mastering: Soundcloud and powered by Dolby

Dimensional Mirrors (Quarantine Demo Version)

Marco Lucchi : Mellotron, lyra, kalimba, contact mic and fx

27 settembre 2020

The cave of forgotten dreams

The project is a collaboration with Jan Exner @exner from 2016. We divided the poem "Aufbruch" into six parts. With music and sounds Jan created a fascinating acoustic imagery. Lets go ⇢

Jan Exner : Guitar / Synths / Mix / Production
Karin Tarabochia: Text / Voice / Image



Aufbruch
1 
Aufbruch! Was war, fällt ab. Knöpf’ meinen Kragen auf.
 Zieh’ die Weste aus, an der noch Land hängt. Warte ab.  
Was klammert, saugt, in Zaum hält, bröckelt und springt. 
Mein Schneckenloch, mein Honigfuß, mein Schritt ins Leere  
und endlich Fall, Bruch, Sturz … und Landen!

Departure. What was, falls off. Unbutton my collar.
Take off the vest with land still hanging on it. Wait.
What clings, sucks, bridles, (now) crumbles and cracks.
My snail hole, my honey foot, my step into the void …
And finally fall, break, plunge ... and landing!

2 
Neubeginn verschieben, unendlich lang?
 Das Ende aufzäumen, und den Anfang aufspüren? 
Erfüllung vorwegnehmen?
 
Postpone a new beginning, infinitely long? 
Bridling the end and tracking down the beginning? 
Anticipate fulfillment?

3 
Schnipp’ die Leine durch, lass Haus und Hof 
und was ich schuf, rollt durch den Kopf. 
Dreh' mich aus dem Schleiertanz.
Spann' meinem Wagen andere Pferde –  
höher geht’s und weiter!
Sonnenfahrt!  Der Täuschung abschwören - 
Wütend platzt mein Innerstes und gibt frei: 
Anemone, Traumpferd, das ein Holzbein schwingt.
 Am goldenen Wagen im Sturmwind treiben –  
den Füßen fehlt Boden, den Händen fehl'n Sprossen. 
Nichts da, nur Lederhaut an Sohlen und Schwielen.

Snap the leash, leave house and yard
and what I created rolls through my head.
Turn me out of the veil dance.
Bring other horses to my carriage -
Higher it goes and further! Sun trip!
Renounce deception -
Enraged my innermost bursts and releases:
Anemone, dream horse swinging a wooden leg.
Floating on the golden chariot in the storm
and the feet are missing ground, the hands are missing rungs,
nothing there, just leather skin on the soles and calluses.

4
Träume meinen Flusslauf vom Anfang zum Ende
und schwimme zurück, dorthin wo ich bin.  
Fisch sein! Springen! Am Ufer lachen sie
und manchmal hält das Fischmaul die Trommel an  
und hört Sirenen singen.

Dream my river from the beginning to the end
and swim back to where I am.
Being fish. Leaping. On the bank they laugh.
Sometimes the fish's mouth stops the drum,
hears sirens singing.

5 
Wir müssen diesen Platz verlassen,
so schnell wie möglich unsern Kopf vergessen,
 der benommen Geschichten schwatzt, vergisst.  
An Scheiben rinnen Tränen. 
Was befürchtet war, wird wahr, vergeht.  
Am Weg besteht, was ist.

Mich nicht messen an anderen, mich nicht missen! 
Nicht verkaufen, dem Anderssein weglaufen!  
Mich am Fluss einfinden, wer ich war, wer ich bin,
im Zwischenraum die Zwischenfrau. 
Den Mädchentraum beenden,
den Zeitraum größer drehen und kleiner,
 Schritte sehen, die fest am Boden.
Ich war weg und komme wieder.

We have to leave this place,
as soon as possible forget our head 
who gossips stupid stories and forgets. 
Tears run down the panes. 
What was feared will come true and pass. 
On the way persists what is.

Not compete with others, not miss me,
not sell myself, nor run away from being different.
Find myself by the river, who I was, who I am,
in the interspace the interwoman.
End the girl's dream, turn the period bigger and smaller,
See footsteps firmly on the ground. 
I was gone and I'll be back.

6 
Lass’ mich nicht hängen und bis zum letzten Tag warten, 
bis ich mein Blut abgebe und mein Gesicht sich ins Tuch drückt.
Nicht bücken und suchen, mich zwischen Spuren verfluchen. 
Das Ziel sehen, nahe bei mir:  
Ich bin Traube. Ich bin Straße. Ich bin Mensch.

Not leave me hanging, waiting until the last day,
until I give up my blood and press my face into the cloth.
Not bend down and search, curse myself between tracks.
See the goal, close to me: I am grape, I am street, I'm human.

4 Träume meinen Flusslauf (eXner / Augenmerk)

Poetry and words: Scott Alan Simpson:
https://scottalansimpson.com  He's also an actor from Atlanta, US.

Trackpicture: Arlene Adler.
Music: flowermouth.

Sarah

Sarah (feat. Scott Alan Simpson)

Dialogues

Album: https://open.spotify.com/album/68jCnc1uxOkCkvEGCtNjMp

Bei uns (Other Version)

Absolute

From a folder of stuff that was about to be posted... in 2012.

There are times when there is no time

UK creatives should listen to this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yK4wBWiozyM

You must hear this: https://vimeo.com/52766051

*****

Ed Brunsden was kind and patient enough to interview me for  his blog Desert... Mountain... Dust...  - you can read it at https://desertmountaindust.blogspot.com.au/2017/02/tuonela-primitive-progressive.html

After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music. ~ Aldous Huxley

All good music resembles something. Good music stirs by its mysterious resemblance to the objects and feelings which motivated it. ~ Jean Cocteau

All music is beautiful. ~ Billy Strayhorn
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I've become addicted to drone. Again. I was the kid with his head on the piano, listening to the overtones die away, or pressing his ear to the steel hull of the ferry, enthralled by the sounds it created. I was the kid who formed wordless songs to accompany the sound of train wheels on a long journey, or hummed along with the fan on a hot day.

In the 60s I used to play my 45s on 16, or backwards, or by hand using razor blades as stylii.

I made cut-up tapes on a cheap cassette recorder in the 70s and experimented with reel-to-reel in the 80s. 

Thank you Subotnick, Lygeti, Coltrane, Jimi, Mimaroglu, Eno, Cluster, Tangerine Dream, Klaus Schulze, Frank Zappa, Pink Floyd, Kraftwerk, Throbbing Gristle...

I am not a musician. I am a scavenger of sounds. I use the most basic software to process those sounds, stretching and filtering until something emerges that makes a joyful noise. Or not...

There are times when there is no time

Tuonela

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