that is one mighty bmx ! awesome fat and bright sound on this track!

wow that's quite the journey for a retro BMX! excellent track!

Great intro - grabs your attention and keeps it!

i like the track but the tittle is a little bit weird and there is no future :o

I had a bmx too as a child, but it was red ;) This sound makes me feel a childhood nostalgia, it's beautiful

Very cool. Sounds like you rode through Stranger Things (or worse) on that bike.

I felt inspired to collaborate when Tom posted his piece, 'Un Ange Passait' recently - https://soundcloud.com/tom-r-gnier/un-ange-passait.

Original music, arrangement and production - @tom-r-gnier
Vocal and lyrics - @markjbennett
Image - Sculpture by Nathan Coley, Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art 2, Edinburgh, photographed by Douglas Corrance.

Feels like a visitation,
Although not quite an apparition,
When an angel passed by.

We've all shared such strange sensations,
Often without complications,
When an angel passed by.

When an angel passed by... when an angel passed by

An Angel Passed By - Tom Régnier and Mark J Bennett

Amphibious Sedan

amazon

Flying Whale

This one is a bit special, it's the first song written and performed by my wife Helen. Helen had wanted to sing since childhood, but never managed to find the right opportunity to get started, and so in keeping with the betterlate philosophy, here is Helen's first song Try.

"Up in the Gallery" (German: "Auf der Galerie") is a short piece of fiction written by Franz Kafka. It was created between November 1916 and February 1917 and published in the collection „Ein Landarzt“ (A Country Doctor) in 1919. The story offers two versions of a scene in which a young man watches a circus ringmaster and a woman on horseback. (Wikipedia)

The picture shows a section of: At The Circus Fernando, The Rider
by Henri Toulouse-Lautrec (1888)

Public domain translation by Ian Johnston (November 2003)                     


Up in the Gallery

If some frail tubercular lady circus rider 
were to be driven in circles around and around 
the arena for months and months 
without interruption 
in front of a tireless public 
on a swaying horse 
by a merciless whip-wielding 
master of ceremonies, 
spinning on the horse, 
throwing kisses and swaying at the waist, 
and if this performance, 
amid the incessant roar 
of the orchestra and the ventilators, 
were to continue into 
the ever-expanding, gray future, 
accompanied by applause, 
which died down and then swelled up again, 
from hands which were really steam hammers, 
perhaps then a young visitor to the gallery 
might rush down the long stair case 
through all the levels, 
burst into the ring, and cry “Stop!” 
through the fanfares 
of the constantly adjusting orchestra.


But since things are not like that,
(Since things are not like that…rep.)         

since a beautiful woman, in white and red, 
flies in through curtains 
which proud men in livery open in front of her, 
since the director, 
devotedly seeking her eyes, 
breathes in her direction, 
behaving like an animal, and, as a precaution, 
lifts her up on the dapple-gray horse, 
as if she were his grand daughter, 
the one he loved more 
than anything else,
as she starts a dangerous journey, 
but he cannot decide to give the signal with his whip 
and finally, 
controlling himself, gives it a crack, 
runs right beside the horse with his mouth open, 
follows the rider's leaps with a sharp gaze, 
hardly capable of comprehending her skill, 
tries to warn her by calling out in English, 
furiously castigating the grooms holding hoops, 
telling them to pay the most scrupulous attention, 
and begs the orchestra, with upraised arms,
to be quiet before the great jump, 
finally lifts the small woman down from the trembling horse, 
kisses her on both cheeks, 
considers no public tribute adequate, 
while she herself, leaning on him, 
high on the tips of her toes, 
with dust swirling around her, 
arms outstretched and head thrown back, 
wants to share her luck with the entire circus—
since this is how things are, 
the visitor to the gallery puts his face on the railing and, 
sinking into the final march as if into a difficult dream, weeps, 
without realizing it.  (rep.)

Up In The Gallery (Kafka, 1919)

last chance

MY 85 YELLOW BMX

Remain Alone//Drone =
23 Stab Wounds Germany version here - https://23stabwounds-records.bandcamp.com/album/remain-alone-drone
Creature Bandcamp album version Here - https://larrycreature.bandcamp.com/album/remain-alone-drone

Android ))))

Timing Is Everything

Greywacke

Original song written by Hal Hackady and Lee Pockriss. 
Additional song verse 3 / Moir / 2017

*** VIDEO NOW ON YOUTUBE ***
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WeZbTOSZMhM

Kites

Kites (COVER - Original by Hal Hackady and Lee Pockriss)

SOUNDCLOUD, I am NOT a robot. I am not a mainstream composer. I am not promoted. I create all my music from the ground up. (Except for the tracks Jamaica and Castlevania versions. which, I altered the original notes from pre made template.)  I am an experimentalist with tones of synthwave and ambient thrown in to the mix. I hope you can enjoy some of my tracks.  

I use FL STUDIOS most of the time.
GEAR BEHIND THE SOUNDS.
FL STUDIOS
FLKEY49
NOVATION LAUNCHPAD PRO
ROLAND RD-88
ALESIS V49
SCARLETT SOLO
GRETSCH ELECTROMATIC GIT.
FENDER MUSTANG III

MY 85 YELLOW BMX

CRANIUM-&-FEMURS

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