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

The song’s narrator turns away from a world of constant digital noise—screens that “never sleep,” satellites overhead, and the “glass eyes” of smartphones—seeking refuge in silence and tangible reality.  “Technophobia” becomes less a literal fear of machines than a quiet rebellion: folding the map and pulling the plug to resist the endless updates and invisible networks that blur what is genuine.  The half-spoken bridge underscores a feeling of isolation—“a signal lost, a story untold”—as the speaker slips outside the connected world.  By ending with the confession, “It’s all too much—I just want everything to be real,” the lyric captures a weary longing for authenticity in an age when technology feels overwhelming and reality itself seems mediated.

TECHNOPHOBIA

This is the music project of Steve Lewis, a classically trained cellist and multi-instrumental singer-songwriter based in Berlin, Germany. 

The name eklektika.berlin is striking and layered—it carries both an immediate sonic appeal and a set of resonances that fits the project’s artistic and philosophical ambitions:

1. Wordplay and Etymology
-Eklektika derives from the Greek eklektikos (“selective,” “choosing the best”), which in modern usage signals eclecticism—an openness to many styles and influences.
-The -ika ending also hints at “musica,” giving it a subtle musical cadence.
-Written in a slightly unexpected “k” spelling, it feels at once ancient and contemporary, European yet cosmopolitan.

2. Berlin Anchor
-Pairing it with .berlin instantly grounds the project in a city long known as a crossroads of cultures and avant-garde experimentation—from Weimar cabaret and Bauhaus to today’s electronic scene.
-The domain-style format suggests digital nativity and a living online presence; it reads simultaneously as a brand, a collective, and a web address.

3. Artistic Implications
-“Eklektika” signals that the work blends genres, eras and media—classical forms, rock energy, AI-generated textures—without being confined to one school.
-The Berlin reference underscores a tradition of boundary-pushing art and hints at an international, forward-looking ethos.

4. Memorable & Marketable
-Short, easy to pronounce in many languages, and visually distinctive with its twin “k”s, it is search-friendly and brand-ready.
-It invites curiosity—people instinctively want to know what “eklektika” means and why it’s tied to Berlin.

eklektika.berlin communicates exactly what the project embodies: a bold, eclectic fusion rooted in Berlin’s creative energy while open to global and futuristic influences—an identity that feels both timeless and unmistakably of the AI-age.

TECHNOPHOBIA

Steve Lewis eklektika.berlin