Get all 15 23trees releases available on Bandcamp and save 25%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of 2003, 2013 [Miasmica], 2022 [xризантема], 2012 [The 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 Story], 2009, 2021, 2016, 2015 [Silva_cosmoS], and 7 more.
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This is the place that will see the end of me. It’s become increasingly obvious. I’ve gone too far to ever come back. Even if I could, I fear that I’m broken to the normal, functioning society. I have come to know the Nothing and it has broken me in such a way that I cannot be reconstructed into a normal human being. This is my tomb, my mausoleum. This is where some sorry soul will happen upon my rotting self. I’m truly sorry dear soul, if I only knew how to end this farcical existence of mine with my cadaver not offending anybody, I would probably find some last reserve of will to struggle on anyway.
This place is a courtroom as much as a prison. It seems even like I was born right here, like there never existed those tree-lined avenues of my hometown, high school crushes, war and fleeing for life. Everything seems to be washed out of my mind in this short adventure into the very heart of nothingness. These walls are my jury and judges, whispering among themselves and giving me such despicable looks in between their uncaring murmurs. It was like being invited to my own private Hyperion Ensemble soirée, with hums and drums and screeching strings, all under fevered direction of Ana-Maria and Iancu, heavy hits of bow and beastly squeezing of every possible bit of timbre. Only it was cruel and not beautiful anymore, it was a court that communicated not with ideas but with emotions.
The judgement was precise and short. It all went wrong when the Universe, contrary to all accepted scientific theories and beliefs, started to violently contract, with a speed that was seemingly not possible under current understanding of cosmic ins and outs, with the centre of this shrinking located precisely between the walls of my own scull, an infinitesimally small point in the middle of my mind. Once it finally reached this point it bounced super-elastically back but this time as a projection out of my head. Cosmos had symmetrically reincarnate, only this time as a pure invention of my mind.
“So, you’ve had your chance. And a chance not given easily and to anybody. You were chosen, dear sir, with very exact reason to recreate the universe, and… well yourself, in a way. You were ever so critical of everything that it seemed natural to think of you as someone with a true belief, someone insightful, someone knowing the Truth itself. The Truth was easily and unmistakably knowable, you said. You, at least, cannot be fooled, you said. You were the witness, the jury and the judge. Upon these self-aggrandizing but very convincing delusions you were chosen because you seemed capable of creating a truly better variant of reality. And what have you created, what was this extra value that you contributed, implemented, seeded into reality? Nothing!”
The judgement was precise. There was not much debate or any higher cognitive activity involved in reaching the conclusion, I was judged by very primal, emotional procedure. I was sentenced to cook inside my own creation until I reach the end of my sorry existence.
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The walls everywhere were cold and grey. As much as they protected me from the outer world, they tortured me inside them. It was a snuff clip of the highest cruelty, a prolonged inquisition, serving as much as a punishment as some perverse satisfaction of the torturer. Everything is grey, but somehow inverted, like I’m seeing this reality inside the cosmic horizon ending at the walls through the infrared lens. I was living some sordid life after death. No! Please, no! This has to stop. Despair, despair with no end in sight.
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Again the tears kindle my melancholy, eternal rains fall outside, the Sun is never to appear again. I cannot see through the windows, the grey world outside makes no sense anymore. Only this tomb of mine is perfectly rendered in highest resolution, the details of the room are of pornographic quality. The digital, holographic nature is evident everywhere my eyes rest in this damned place, molecules of dead matter are the true successors of every reality, the protagonist that outlives any narrative. Of all these fantasies of life eternal only the dead particles are truly eternal. There is no such majestic destiny for me, of all the colourful lies about the magic qualities of life that I was told in my childhood, only an empty shell remains. There’s no love, satisfaction, pleasure, excitement, hope.
Nothing is left, only Nothing is left.
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I’m staring into the cosmic horizon, seeing little dots as they form and reform the shapes, it’s a scene I’ve seen so many times on pages of scientific journals. Then I notice something even more familiar on the horizon – myself, as I look inside, confused. My body is scrambled along the outer surface of horizon, but I recognise the emotion…
The dots are shaping my own likeness as it’s looking inside as through an opaque glass, trying to understand what it is that it sees.
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2. |
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Your alchemy is fatal,
so I'll keep waiting outside,
waiting for you to come out
and fumes that you so learn from
I wish them never hurt you.
Keep yourself safe,
your alchemy is final,
your alchemy is harmful, it's fatal,
you may die.
You may die.
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3. |
Night Hue
05:17
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Time is the Essence. Time can be thought of as a third spatial dimension in a holographic universe. You need only two dimensions to pinpoint a direction, and then you have to pass through inert temporal dimension to get there. So, time is that which gives perception of depth. Thus we can observe a model of universe with only three dimensions - the two spatial and time. Can't anybody see that???
It's constantly emerging spontaneously everywhere, that is, where it's not constrained by gravity, which compresses it even until it totally traps it inside the event horizon of the black hole. The bigger the "matter-less" Void bubble, the more profusely time generates thus causing the macroscopic expansion of the universe...
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4. |
Vampyr
08:03
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The gorger is near, I can feel it, the shadows are closing in, they converge, and the stage is set. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. The Undying has come to the feast. His wings enclose the dusk of the room, the window is open, I don't remember how. I remember less, and less, slowly losing my sense of self, until I succumb to the hissing, suckling, creepily slurping up my neck. I'm now Nosferatu, neither living nor dead...
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23trees Zagreb, Croatia
I’m a soundscapist. These tracks are little cuts of my inner states. I create them on my fairly good headphones (AKG fyi),
so I recommend listening on ones of your preference. These pieces should fuel your own inner narratives, they're not
performative. Liquid and morphing often, tracks can even disappear into oblivion. Albums solidify over time. Have access to all the mischief if you buy in.
... more
23trees recommends:
Pointe Sèche
by Annette Krebs / Jean-Luc Guionnet
Var. of instruments, the "nano-tonality" and squeezing every bit of timbre and computer-assisted extension of it, make this a perfect listen f/ those looking for sound, not the virtuoso performance.
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The Harpweaver
by Maeve Gilchrist
Harpweaver indeed. Masterfully played & composed, I especially liked every texture-like part, as I like to employ sampled harp for textures. Gilchrist's music is uplifting with a Celtic twist.
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An Alphabet Of Fluctuation
by Gerard Lebik / Burkhard Beins
Best kind of blend of acoustic cymbal with synthetically generated sine waves in the best possible continuation of Bernard Parmegiani's classic electronic composition "De Natura Sonorum".
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Trying is all we ever can do.
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The Fifth Season (Versions)
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