Experimental Ambient Mix 04

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01 - Cellula - Remnants
02 - Artificial Memory Trace - Entimorf part.3 4:55
03 - M.E.S.H. - Kritikal & X 12:30
04 - Alvin Lucier - Music for gamelan instruments, microphones, amplifiers & loudspeakers 16:00
05 - Beatriz Ferreya - Medisances 23:00
06 - Eliane Radigue - Epure 29:20
07 - HZ - Last words 33:00
08 - Iannis Xenakis - Diamorphoses 38:20
09 - Morton Subotnick - The last dream of the beast 44:00

ambientforthemasses

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this part of the internet is so peaceful with no bullshit

gelloyangsteryang

Nice mix and a good reminder that ambient doesn't always mean pleasant.

RMDCmusic

I HAVE BEEN CRAVING TO HEAR WEIRD EXPERIMENTAL MUSIC ALL DAY

THIS HAS HIT THE SPOT 😭🙏

x_Yun_nagak_x

this kind of music makes me imagine all kinds of dreamlike and unique atmospheres and gets my imagination going!

seesaweffect

thanks for adding to my ‘i feel like i dont exist’ pile of feelings

systemmeltdown

This feels Like listening to a Story with Sounds instead of words

pomatheoma

now you have me digging. thank you. ambient/drone/psybient is life. respect from los angeles.

gimmemyish

Ohh I needed this! Perfect music for drawing weird stuff! Thank you!

noomra

El quien logra entender estos sonidos de inicio al fin y soportarlos ya está del otro lado.

rubengutierrez

I like producing atmospheric music too. When I went to record stores my main choice was music that was different. I stopped listening to music they played on the radio.

normapadro

This is such an underrated genre... Have you heard of Martin G Spataro? He's just put out something unclassifiable called "Ente Boutique". Mind-blowing.

leesonmorrison

Asombroso la música ! Me impactó la portada! Al verla siento como si estuviera en la portada .

xnoxio

Reminds me of Indonesian gamelan music, with surreal touch, nice!

northernhighlandmist

Now I walk down a white sand road, maybe not sand, maybe quicklime,
which burns like hell, but some ravers are swimming on it. Injecting on
their brains. And I run away from that road, from that scenario. Soon,
I'm going around through a staircase of a pyramid-shaped building, made
of recycled cardboard, it looks, instead of stone. And it looks like my
heart is inside that pyramid. And when I get to the top it looks like a
Vulcan. It have lips, and teethe and I'm being eaten now. I go through
the throat of the monster, sliding, and I see images of wars, and
massacres in big screens around. Heavy metal music is being played at
full speed, and skinny people with no expression dance around grunting,
pushing, biting. I also have go dance, enjoy this macabre ritual, and I
want to prove that I can be faster than them, the bones fighting against
the nerves. The nerves fighting against gravity. The time and space is
gone. The music is gone. We are all cyborgs. Possessed by the trauma.
All against all smearing and kicking. Fantasized frustrations arising to
the skin. The guts instead of the heart. Fight until all is gone. All
the misery and confusion, taken by the universe. Now I'm the fall out
boy, and Nikita makes me breathe mouth to mouth. I cling to her, I do
not let her go, my queen of None. She need me too. After all this
macabre frenzy we can be romantic now. We embrace our bodies, felling
our paranoid hearts, and off we go. Outside we try to talk, but nothing
is coming. It seems that our voices are inside bubbles. We try to run
away from all this self-denial and see who we really are. Heading to the
swamp, now. We lie in the midst of the reeds. Finally, it's possible,
the soul is answering, we babble soft words. Trying, perhaps, to
describe contradictory feelings. But I do not understand her language
and she does not understand mine, nevertheless, it's even better this
way. We galvanize each other's bodies. We remove the masks. My fingers
already tinkling in the middle of her legs, and Nikita with my member in
her palm. Silence. Frogs from the lakes around humming their songs.
Bees flying around the puddles. A soft wind rising. While we explore the
skin we find the scars. The imperfections. The black spots. We dig on
it. We dive on it. Various convulsions. I'm coming. She cries. Blind and
absent, again. She spits the poison in my face, stands up, picks up her
things, and there she goes. Into the maze again. Abandoning myself
there, with a corrupted face, the frogs already approaching with their
bitter tongues wanting to touch the divine nectar. And I let them come.
No obstacles to the will of nature. I let the animals prove their the
plasma. For sure, there, here, in the middle of the mud and the reeds, I
will leave offspring. A new kind of
will reign around here. A fruit
of a lost land, pos sessed by trauma, eclipsed by the cyber-ecumenical

gadjodistrada