This is the single version of Ride the Storm which was released last year. This is a song about conflict, and about how to deal with it. It is either between two people, or at a bigger level, for example between countries. This could be seen as an attack on a person by a partner or a colleague, or by the invasion of one country by another. The idea of to “ride the storm” is to stand up and defend yourself and not retreat or run away, or appease. But the idea of defending oneself on a beach is also problematic – it shows that you were not in a strong position at the start, and that this needs to be dealt with. Please listen to the full 14 minute version.

STORM

You have a big secret. As you walk around during the daytime nobody can see it. But the pressure is driving you crazy. You have tried so many times to say something but you are afraid of how others will react. You are in limbo, this unsatisfying in-between place.

It’s like you have locked yourself away in a castle in the middle of the forest. Tonight will be different. You are brave. As the sun sets you leave quietly and run through the forest until you reach the last hurdle in your mind - but then lights go on, the sun rises, and everyone can see you. 

You panic and lose your nerve. What will happen when people find out who you really are? You are not ready yet to come out and share your secret, and so you go back and lock yourself into the castle of your mind again. Maybe you will have the strength tomorrow…..

IN LIMBO

A laid back piece - interpret the title as suits you!

TRANSFIGURATION

Part of a group of songs under the overall heading of "The Journey" - astral plane, dreams, afterlife

SILHOUETTE

A new version of the song "Hide in Plain Sight" - you cannot escape your mobile phone or being tracked whatever you do. Your legacy will follow you forever. This is from the perspective of the smartphone.

HIDE

This is an alternative new age version of my original song, "Hide in Plain Sight". The female vocal sounds very innocent, but the message is a dark one - you can't escape being tracked, and even after you have passed away your digital legacy remains

I AM EVERYWHERE

Baroque n'Roll Part 4/7: the story continues and percussion takes over - then classical influences arrive

Baroque’n Roll: The Forgotten Roots of Rock Music
In the summer of 1743, an unexpected musical revolution began—not in a dusty recording studio or smoky juke joint, but on the elegant quayside near St. Mark’s Square in Venice. Trading ships from North Africa had just arrived, their weary sailors disembarking after weeks at sea. As they wandered into the heart of the city, they heard something strange and beautiful wafting through the air: the lilting strains of a Vivaldi concerto.
It was unlike anything they had ever heard. The intricate violin lines danced over a sea of strings, fast, elegant, hypnotic. Enchanted, the sailors began to move in rhythm. One of them, unable to contain himself, pulled out a drum and started tapping along. The beat was unfamiliar but intoxicating. Others ran back to the ship, returning with drums, rattles, and reed pipes, joining the impromptu jam with growing fervor.
At first, the assembled Venetian audience and musicians were taken aback. Sailors of every hue and origin, dusty and bedraggled, were now inserting the raw pulse of African rhythm into the refined harmonies of European art music. But something unexpected happened: the conductor smiled, turned, and gestured for the sailors to join in. The musicians welcomed the newcomers, and together they created something no one had ever heard before—a thrilling blend of Baroque counterpoint and tribal percussion.
The audience couldn’t help themselves. They stood. They swayed. They danced.
And thus, the music that would later be jokingly—but perhaps accurately—called baroque’n roll was born.
 
The Rise and Fall (and Rise Again)
Word of the strange new fusion spread quickly. In the bars and clubs of Venice, musicians from across the city sought out the sailors to recreate the ecstatic sound. Traditional minuets were layered with syncopated drumming. Harpsichords clashed joyfully with hand percussion. The result was wild, passionate, unrestrained.
But not everyone was thrilled. As the music gained popularity, it also attracted controversy. It became associated with drunken nights, opium dens, and dancefloors filled with unrestrained bodies. The authorities, alarmed by its popularity and its power to loosen social norms, cracked down. The Church denounced the new music as immoral and dangerous. Performances were banned. Instruments confiscated. Musicians punished.
And just like that, baroque’n roll vanished from Europe.
Or did it?
 
Echoes Across Continents
Though it disappeared from the concert halls of Venice, the rhythm lived on in the hearts of the sailors. Back in North Africa, the fusion sounds mingled with local musical traditions, and over generations, elements of baroque'n roll filtered into folk and ceremonial music.
Centuries later, in the American South, the blues emerged—a gritty, soulful music rooted in African rhythm and European harmony. And in the 1950s, when electric guitars met gospel harmonies and driving backbeats, rock’n roll burst onto the scene. Musicologists, always curious, later analyzed its structure and were stunned: syncopated rhythms over repeating chord progressions, dramatic dynamic contrasts, and the constant push between emotional intensity and formal structure. It all echoed the Baroque masters—Bach, Handel, Vivaldi—reinterpreted through new instruments and voices.
Could it be that the seed planted in Venice in 1743 had simply taken centuries to bloom?
 
A New Perspective on an Old Sound
What if we’ve been calling it the wrong name all along? What if the so-called “invention” of rock was really a reawakening—an echo of a forbidden moment of musical fusion on a Venetian quay?
Rock’n roll? Maybe.


Baroque n'Roll Part 4

Baroque n'Roll Part 5/7: the genre goes out of control as classical morphs into nu-metal and back again.

Baroque’n Roll: The Forgotten Roots of Rock Music
In the summer of 1743, an unexpected musical revolution began—not in a dusty recording studio or smoky juke joint, but on the elegant quayside near St. Mark’s Square in Venice. Trading ships from North Africa had just arrived, their weary sailors disembarking after weeks at sea. As they wandered into the heart of the city, they heard something strange and beautiful wafting through the air: the lilting strains of a Vivaldi concerto.
It was unlike anything they had ever heard. The intricate violin lines danced over a sea of strings, fast, elegant, hypnotic. Enchanted, the sailors began to move in rhythm. One of them, unable to contain himself, pulled out a drum and started tapping along. The beat was unfamiliar but intoxicating. Others ran back to the ship, returning with drums, rattles, and reed pipes, joining the impromptu jam with growing fervor.
At first, the assembled Venetian audience and musicians were taken aback. Sailors of every hue and origin, dusty and bedraggled, were now inserting the raw pulse of African rhythm into the refined harmonies of European art music. But something unexpected happened: the conductor smiled, turned, and gestured for the sailors to join in. The musicians welcomed the newcomers, and together they created something no one had ever heard before—a thrilling blend of Baroque counterpoint and tribal percussion.
The audience couldn’t help themselves. They stood. They swayed. They danced.
And thus, the music that would later be jokingly—but perhaps accurately—called baroque’n roll was born.
 
The Rise and Fall (and Rise Again)
Word of the strange new fusion spread quickly. In the bars and clubs of Venice, musicians from across the city sought out the sailors to recreate the ecstatic sound. Traditional minuets were layered with syncopated drumming. Harpsichords clashed joyfully with hand percussion. The result was wild, passionate, unrestrained.
But not everyone was thrilled. As the music gained popularity, it also attracted controversy. It became associated with drunken nights, opium dens, and dancefloors filled with unrestrained bodies. The authorities, alarmed by its popularity and its power to loosen social norms, cracked down. The Church denounced the new music as immoral and dangerous. Performances were banned. Instruments confiscated. Musicians punished.
And just like that, baroque’n roll vanished from Europe.
Or did it?
 
Echoes Across Continents
Though it disappeared from the concert halls of Venice, the rhythm lived on in the hearts of the sailors. Back in North Africa, the fusion sounds mingled with local musical traditions, and over generations, elements of baroque'n roll filtered into folk and ceremonial music.
Centuries later, in the American South, the blues emerged—a gritty, soulful music rooted in African rhythm and European harmony. And in the 1950s, when electric guitars met gospel harmonies and driving backbeats, rock’n roll burst onto the scene. Musicologists, always curious, later analyzed its structure and were stunned: syncopated rhythms over repeating chord progressions, dramatic dynamic contrasts, and the constant push between emotional intensity and formal structure. It all echoed the Baroque masters—Bach, Handel, Vivaldi—reinterpreted through new instruments and voices.
Could it be that the seed planted in Venice in 1743 had simply taken centuries to bloom?
 
A New Perspective on an Old Sound
What if we’ve been calling it the wrong name all along? What if the so-called “invention” of rock was really a reawakening—an echo of a forbidden moment of musical fusion on a Venetian quay?
Rock’n roll? Maybe.


Baroque n' Roll Part 5

„Immer zu spät“ erzählt in einem typisch nüchternen, fast futuristisch-distanzieren Tonfall die Geschichte einer Person, die unaufhörlich der Zeit hinterherläuft und sie doch nie einholt. Der Song verbindet alltägliche Situationen – verpasster Bus, verlorene Schlüssel, Zuspätkommen ins Meeting – mit einer größeren Metapher: die Uhr als übermächtiger Gegner, gegen den man keine Chance hat. Der Refrain verwandelt dieses Gefühl in ein Mantra („Immer zu spät, doch ich lauf, ich lauf“), das gleichzeitig frustriert und trotzig-hoffnungsvoll klingt. Wie bei Peter Schillings Major Tom steht nicht nur das Geschehen im Vordergrund, sondern auch das Gefühl von Kontrollverlust in einer maschinellen, unaufhaltsamen Welt. Das Lied ist damit sowohl eine ironische Hymne auf Alltagschaos als auch ein Sinnbild für das moderne Lebensgefühl, in dem man ständig zu spät dran ist.

IMMER ZU SPÄT

eklektika.berlin is the name of my music project with original songs in various styles in which I do mostly all vocals and instruments. Cellos feature strongly! On my website https://www.eklektikaberlin.com there is info about what is behind each of the songs, and AI artwork. Perform also unplugged versions.

IMMER ZU SPÄT

Steve Lewis

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