An uplifting house track with a vocal hook melody.

Fragments

You wanted me, was I enough
But I wanted you when I was alone
I said that you swore that 
I want you and someone else
Oh, you and me
You said, I was wrong, but how long do I wait for you
Come back to me, come back to me

Anhedonia

a selection from one of our lizard sessions

guitar B my clock

If You're Ever Present But Not Here

Spit from a python

Buy on Bandcamp

original: https://soundcloud.com/sven_noon/eternal-11
no external samples, no synths, no single-cycle waveforms

Sven Noon's "eternal 11" reconfigured by Lneheb

Roses And Sugar Canes

Last Rain

Verse 4

(scene 0b)
The scene shudders, reverberating with the weight of the question. 
Dots of rapid energy burst into existence, spiraling in a carousel of white luminescence across the black. 
These motes crash, implode and then explode back into the perceivable field. An evolutionary dance of destruction and rebirth. 
Suddenly the white sphere starts to twirl with kalediescopic colors, it's a scene full of chaos and amazement, a cacophony of sights and sounds. 
The background pulsates with the intensity, the colors expanding then contracting, a circus of celestial fires lost and found again in creation of entropy. 
An echo, a whisper, then a solid melody streams forth, it seems to mirror the curve and spiral, winding through nebula of distant cosmic networks. Then a depthless plane emerges, radiating with color. 
Its increasing height synchronously expands, the weight of the moment creating ripples that unravel in reverse, moving down infinitely. 
Just when the tension is palpable, the backdrop flickers and shows a glimmer of the original melody, its notes written in stars, the tempo matching the cosmic dance.
At the origin of the plane, reality refracts, revealing a prismatic spectrum of untapped dimension. 
The ends recede, stretching into new angles, hinged at an unseen fulcrum.
The prelude is the flicker that causes the universe to dim in anticipation, ripples sucked back into an arrow pointing forward.
As the bend folds into a complex lattice, the hidden form materializes, a resonating echo of the past, present, and future, screaming the word "when".

"When does the narrative begin?"


RAVE
nn~

Anhedonia

Your January Letter

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