****

I hear silence..
and in its captivity...
it seems - I know who's next..

you think..
this loss is mine,
that I couldn't help you..

you opened the doors anyway..

and.

I see...
how - pain already wears
your perfume..
walks dangerously nearby..

wrapped in velvet comfort..
but you can't be saved..

let.
my words sound
like dusty confessions..
in a jukebox
- which spins the truth in a circle..
seems boring..
its aromas come,
when -
you break..

yes.
this is my loss -
that I couldn't help you
and all the words became wind
on it
moral treatises burn brightly..

survivor there -
hears the whisper of ashes
like
loud - memory..
when urban fantasy - ends..

you don't know yet -
at top speed
can't get closer..
illusion-
closes the eyes of the truth..
and the pauses between phrases will become caustic -
when I -
name this pain -
you won't believe
that nothing can break a sentence..

you think..
this is my loss -
that I couldn't help you...

at a great distance
it takes hellish patience..
to see..
how softly freedom breaks
those who are not ready for it..

and then...
decide to change your past
like broken glass..

and you want to close this door..
and erase the love of the letter..

but now.

you think,
it's my loss -
that I couldn't help you.

and I see how pain already permeates your scent,
but you can't be saved....
can't be saved....

****

слышу тишину..
ии в её плену... 
кажется - знаю кто следущий..

думаешь..
это пройгрышь - мой
что не вышло тебе помочь ..

ты всё равно открыла двери..

и. 
я вижу...
как — боль уже носит 
твои духи..
ходит рядом опасно.. 
завёрнутая в комфорта бархат..
но тебя не спасти ..

пусть.
звучат мои слова 
как пыльные признания..
в музыкальном автомате
- который по кругу.. правду вращает ..
она скучной кажется ..
её ароматы приходят
когда -
разбиваешься..

да.
это пройгрышь мой —
что не вышло тебе помочь 
и все слова ветром стали
на нём 
ярко горят трактаты о морали ..

выживший там — 
слышит шёпот пепла
как 
громкое - воспоминание..
когда городское фэнтези - кончается..

ещё не знаешь -
на запредельной скорости
сближаться нельзя..
иллюзия-
закрывает правде глаза ..
и колкими станут паузы между фраз -
когда я -
назову эту боль - 
ты не поверишь 
что ничем не разорвать приговор ..

думаешь..
это пройгрышь мой —
что не вышло тебе помочь...

на длинной дистанции 
нужно терпение адское..
чтоб видеть ..
как мягко ломает свобода
тех кто не готов к ней..

потом ...
решишь изменить своё прошлое 
как битое стекло ..
острое..

захочешь закрыть ту дверь ..
и любовные письма стереть..

но теперь:

думаешь 
это пройгрышь мой —
что не вышло тебе помочь.

и я вижу как боль уже носит твои духи
но тебя не спасти....
не спасти....

Let.

The night I met Inoxx & The Toxx, the city was drowning in its own reflections.

I was chasing what the department called the “Epic Journey case”: people who didn’t jump, didn’t run, didn’t die — they just stepped out of their lives after looping the same anonymous track on repeat. No body, no note. Just headphones on a pillow and a playlist full of ghosts.

Every scene looked the same. A laptop still warm. A browser paused on the same profile. One track spinning in the history, over and over: instrumental, trip-hop, strings, radio static and a heartbeat that wasn’t quite human. The last victim had renamed it “Nocturne: A Night of Wonders,” like they thought it was a private joke.

The trail pulled me uphill to a mansion that shouldn’t have had lights on at 2 a.m. Inside, the air tasted like old secrets. A grand piano waited by the fireplace. On the lid: three glasses, one half-empty, like someone had drunk their courage and left.

They were already there.

A punk with a green mohawk sat at the piano, leather jacket, Union Jack on the sleeve, fingers resting on the keys. By the window, a woman in a red dress watched the city. Her blue hair caught the glow from outside. Between them stood a tall figure in a velvet suit with an old computer monitor for a head, screen humming softly.

“Rough night, detective?” the monitor crackled. “Doesn’t look much like a Summer in Paris to me. Sit.”

I didn’t remember telling them I was a detective. I sat anyway.

The punk started to play. Slow, smoky chords. The kind of music that makes good decisions feel optional. It curled around my thoughts and dug up things I’d tried to bury. Regrets. Almosts. The people I hadn’t saved.

“That’s the one from the file,” I said. My voice sounded further away than it should have.

“In one version,” the woman murmured. “Out there they give it new names. Someone called it The Bright Side of the Moon once. Someone else named it after a person they should have let go. Some write Beware of the Quiet Girl in the title and pretend it’s not about themselves.”

She finally looked at me. Her eyes were too calm, like someone who’d seen every ending and stopped being surprised by any of them.

“The music doesn’t take them,” she said. “We don’t take them. They come here on their own. We just… give their feelings somewhere to live.”

In the corner, a tape machine turned, big reels spinning in a lazy circle. The labels were handwritten: track titles, dates, initials. I recognized some from the case files. One bartender had told me, “That song, it’s like it knows what you almost did.”

Then I saw it. My own initials. Same careful handwriting. Same date as tonight.

On the monitor, the image shifted. I watched myself open the front door, step into the room, drip on the carpet. Same coat. Same tired eyes. Same bad feeling dragging behind me like a second shadow. Behind that, another version of me. And another. Each one slightly different. A word changed here, a hesitation shaved off there. A dozen takes of the same scene.

“If you’re here,” the screen said, voice dropping into the mix, “it means you pressed play again.”

Time folded in my ears. I tried to stand, but the chords held me in place. I understood, suddenly, why no one left a note. You don’t write a goodbye letter to a song. You just hit play one more time and let it do the talking.

“That’s the real Epic Journey,” the punk said quietly, not looking at me. “Not running away. Finally letting the soundtrack match what’s inside your head.”

Moonlight slid across the room, erasing the corners. For a second, the salon didn’t feel like a place at all, more like the inside of a track: loops, echoes, reverb, tiny details you only hear on the tenth listen.

“That’s how it works here,” the woman in red said. “Nobody goes missing, detective.”

She leaned back into the shadows as the tape clicked and locked into place.

“They just stay in the song.”

Music | Remixer | 


https://youtube.com/@dramanticmsc?si=CHKw4MoGhfK2LVQd

based on real events
it doesn't matter if it was a long time ago or recently - but it definitely happened.
and something is happening right now ..
основанно на реальных событиях
будь то очень давно или недавно - но это определенно произошло.
а что-то происходит прямо сейчас

A heartfelt thank you to all of you lovely people who listen, share my music and promote it. Without YOU, this “adventure” would never be possible. YOU are the best listeners imaginable. 🫶🔥🎶❤️


Listen to me on Spotify: 

https://open.spotify.com/artist/3kRT3RYNwYvpnK3INSSWNb?si=isCsqLkTTMqr9xG_-Ailzw

Follow me on insta:

https://www.instagram.com/thomas.g.thomsen?igsh=NGplYnhmbWhuczB5&utm_source=qr


My Musical Journey – Thomas GT

I was born in the 1960s and grew up with music flowing through my veins. From an early age, rock was more than just sound—it was a way of life. At 12 years old, I picked up my first guitar, inspired by the roaring energy of the rock scene—bands like KISS, Judas Priest, Saxon, and Iron Maiden lit the fire in my soul.

Through the years that followed, I played in several bands, living for the thrill of the stage and the camaraderie of creating music together. Those were unforgettable days—loud, passionate, and full of life.

At 28, my life took a new turn when I became a father. My focus shifted entirely to raising my children and caring for my dear family, and music quietly moved to the background. The guitars gathered dust, but the melodies never truly left my heart.

Now, at 60, that spark has reignited. The passion is back—but the hands don’t quite move like they used to. Thankfully, modern text-based music technology (AI) has opened a whole new door. Through it, I can craft music with words, bringing my feelings, my lyric and my ideas to life in ways I never thought possible.

Today, my inspirations have evolved—artists like Peter Cetera, Dayseeker, and Wind Walkers now shape the sound and emotion of my work. For me, this is more than just making music again—it’s finding my voice after all these years, and finally sharing the emotions I once kept inside.

All of my songs are created as demos—sketches of ideas meant to capture and express the emotions I carry, and have carried, throughout my life. They are my way of painting feelings in sound, of telling stories that my words alone cannot hold.

My greatest wish is for real musicians to one day perform and interpret these songs, breathing their own life and artistry into my stories. To hear my lyric/music brought to life in that way would be the proudest moment of my life.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for taking the time to read my story.

Real person

Interested primarily in ambient, electro-industrial and synthpop.

Wonderful music from contemporary composers who love the art of making music.

'The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious,  It is the source of all true art and science."  Albert Einstein

Inspired by 60's-70's singer songwriters. Music comes and goes, sometimes it rhymes, sometimes it flows.

Mysterious, Magical, Music is Wonderful!  Thanks for visiting!  Please feel free to share my music.  Enjoy!

Bruce Klepper is a Colorado based composer. Klepper writes music in a number of different styles, including contemporary classical music, jazz, soundscapes using field recordings, ambient music, and ballet music.  Klepper has been composing music for Danse Etoile Ballet (www.danseetoile.org) since 2016. Klepper has been collaborating with Parlando School of Musical Arts (www.parlando.org) faculty Britta De Groot and Sergei Govorov, composing and arranging new music for the dynamic piano and saxophone duo to premier around the United States. Klepper's music premiered in Carnegie Hall, September 2022.  Klepper's music can be heard on all major streaming platforms, including Spotify, Apple Music, YouTube, and SoundCloud. 

Klepper studied music composition in the 1970's and received a degree in music composition and theory.  After writing music for many years and starting a tech company based in Colorado, Klepper retired in 2014 from business so he could devote myself to his true passion, composing music. 

NOTE: there is no compression added to the tracks in order to preserve the full range of dynamics. You may want to listen with headphones or increase the volume on some tracks for the best listening experience.

Let.

vengerX