future jams broadcasted to past individuals through present radio waves. bringing down the bass and turning up the critics. this is radio station Soul Capsule, your red light district for noise
Of I want to have some fun, but I died a poor man, not even Heaven can make me feel happy again! I say this from a place where everything stopts making senyafter a while. It's sad, but teue!
Miami's night draped over Ridge like a cloak woven from shadows and secrets, suffocating yet strangely alluring. The palm trees danced in the sultry breeze, their rustling a melancholic melody that seemed to accuse him of sins long forgotten. With each step, Ridge carried the weight of his past, etched in scars both seen and unseen, a testament to a life lived on the razor's edge. Ridge, a name as weathered as the fabric of his worn clothes, was a creature of the sea's ebb and flow. Every evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, he found himself drawn to the ocean's edge, chasing elusive whispers carried by the waves. In the froth and foam, he glimpsed fleeting visions of a world steeped in moonlit mystery and untamed chaos. But tonight, the ocean's voice took on a darker tone, a foreboding warning that stirred something primal within him. Retreating to his solitary haven-a weather-beaten apartment perched high above the city's urban decay-Ridge grappled with the existential weight of his existence. Was he merely a man, lost in the labyrinth of his own making, or something more-a myth, a legend, a creature of the night? A decision, sharp as the jagged teeth of a predator, cut through the haze of uncertainty. He would abandon the aimless wanderings of his past and embrace the darkness that lurked within the city's depths. With a steely resolve born of desperation, Ridge ventured into the neon-lit labyrinth that was Miami's underbelly. Each footfall echoed like a solitary drumbeat in the deserted streets, a haunting reminder of his newfound purpose. No longer just a man, Ridge carried with him the secrets whispered to him by the ocean's depths. He was a phantom, a wraith, a specter born of twilight and bound to the relentless tide of fate. As he disappeared into the winding alleys and forgotten corners of the city, Miami held its breath, waiting to see what secrets the night would reveal and what destiny awaited the man who had become its phantom son. For Ridge was more than just a solitary figure drifting through the darkness-he was a harbinger of the unknown, forever chasing the echoes of the waves and the ghosts of his own past.
It goes straight in. Past all filters and touches the core. Emotions set in motion; longing, memories, nostalgia. I'm catapulted back 10 years in time, to an after-hour, a pool, Ibiza. A shimmering, crazy, beautiful evening, night, and morning with friends. I think we had been to DC10 and Amnesia, but the memories blend together. Morning. Everyone has finally gone to bed, alone by the pool, not quite ready yet, extending the moment, sipping on the beer, and having one more cigarette. The soundtrack then: Larry Heard - Can you feel it. Was thrown back to exactly the same emotional state here. Wonderful, bittersweet, elusive beautiful moments.
I once made the "mistake" of listening this on acid and began crying a lot thinking about nostalgia. But you know, it was the "good cry", i don't regret, otherwise, it remembers me how to feel young again. Now this music is part of me... I found interesting that you had the same feeling of nostalgia.
