2026-04-10

This Friday’s single is called Soft soft. Slime * Bends * It suggests that we move closer * Closer to the nothingness * It’s the source of the wisdom * The imaginative force * It lacks shadows * It's pure light * It stands there * Empty * No matter * Only soul * It cries out * Listen to me * Listen to me * It exists only at * Quite places * Where the ants sleeps at night * Quite places * Soft * Soft soft * Soft

2026-04-03

Here’s a new Friday single and video for you to enjoy. Dreamless nights * A world full of nothing * Just shapes * Hitting you in the face * Nothing to remember * Stumbling * Finding a stone * It crashes into the face * Into the brain * The realm is lost * We think * But everything is still there * Echoing from the past * Smashes into you * Like a beast from the depths * Running * Faster * Running much faster * The danger is present * We dive * Further * Much murther * Assembling

2026-04-02

It never required a full vessel to be filled. Only fragments were ever needed, small, precise pieces. In the abandoned palaces of the ancient world, something was once discovered. Not gold, not statues, but a gift said to come from the gods: a chest filled with letters. Not words, not sentences, just letters. Each one part of a greater structure, a dictionary long sought by those who believed there was more to existence than what could be touched or counted. Many searched for it. Not for power in the ordinary sense, but for a way beyond the boundaries of material life. They believed that within those symbols lay a passage, something that could be entered, and perhaps exited, differently than the world they knew. But the truth was quieter. The gift was not grand. It was not radiant. It was a small tablet, almost mundane in appearance, meant to be read only by one who was initiated, someone who remembered what humanity had been, and what it still was beneath its forgetting. The key was there. It had always been there. Not hidden, but unread. And that was the problem. No one remained who could read it. So the gift was lost, not because it disappeared, but because it could no longer be understood. And in that way, we too remain lost, moving endlessly, as if something essential had been misplaced, perhaps forever.

2026-03-27

New single and video ”Mist of hope”. The video is made by Genet Solomon. Why isn’t the world much kinder to us * It would be more fun wouldn’t it * Or maybe it’s just ourselves that does this to us * The inner spirit is messing with us * Having fun * Is the real thing * Or maybe just being in the now * Is enough * Not driving away too much in imagination * Societal rules and other boring stuff * We like being in the soft mist * Staying there for hours * Neglecting the false and boring shit * Lets enter the universe of hope * Mystery and dreams * Here’s where the right place is to be * For human kind. *

2026-03-21

Indeed, there is a very great depth between the beginning and the end. But what lies in between is progress, the work. It is the depth, the inner meaning of it all, and everything is already here for us to receive freely, because we are already equipped. Just remove the shell and act. We have a new track called From Alpha to Omega, which you can listen to on our new page. There are also 17 additional new tracks available there as well. We will highlight some of them as singles in the near future. This is the first one released, and it is accompanied by a film on Instagram featuring the rollercoasters of life.

2026-03-18

We stand here by ourselves in the nothingness—the void without end. They say it has meaning, but what should we do? It is always a struggle to become one with ourselves—the never-ending tale of success and mistakes. A story that keeps repeating and surprises us every time. Are we ever meant to be in control? we might ask. But perhaps the “we” is not something that should be in control. It is not good enough—nor god enough. To evolve and be part of each day’s unfolding might be the meaning of it all, like a roller coaster.

2026-03-03

One may imagine reality as operating through a structure similar to a generative system. In such a system, a model provides the laws and architecture, a prompt defines the direction of expression, and a seed establishes the initial conditions from which variation unfolds. When the same structure and starting point are repeated, the result is the same. This raises a metaphysical question: could existence itself function through something analogous, a cosmic structure, an originating impulse, and formative conditions? Within certain gnostic symbolic frameworks, this idea can be expressed through the figures of the Demiurge and Sophia. The Demiurge represents the structuring principle that shapes matter through order, language, and law, a cosmic architect who renders form into substance. Sophia, by contrast, embodies primordial wisdom or intention, the inner impulse that precedes structure and gives rise to expression itself. In this interpretation, matter and the Word (Logos) belong to the demiurgic function. They organize, define, and manifest. Yet the intention behind the Word, the silent origin of expression, corresponds to Sophia. Intention gives birth to structure; structure gives birth to form. Symbolically, the movement unfolds as: Intention to Logos to Material manifestation. In artistic terms, one could say that inner vision precedes language, language precedes form, and form becomes tangible work. The tension between determinism and freedom then becomes a dynamic interplay between structure and intention. When intention is unconscious, structure may appear limiting. When intention is lucid, structure becomes a vehicle for manifestation. Thus, the cosmos can be contemplated not merely as a mechanical system, but as a layered unfolding of wisdom into form, where architecture and impulse coexist, and creation is both structured and alive.

2026-02-02

We can’t withstand the power surrounding us. No neglect, only a return to the eternal force of wisdom and power. We regret the wrong turns we made, yet step into a deeper truth, a will beyond imagination. The subtle elements of our psyche are always there, at every moment. From a distance it may seem like something lies between us and the path ahead, but we are one, connected, yet appearing apart. Like a dream linked to something far greater. As we sense the light within us, it rushes closer at great speed, yet it is difficult to hold. It slips through our fingers. The only way to remain is not to stay. To rest in the void of nothingness. We dive into the depths of matter, and there we find the essence, the essence of true nature, of real hope, where future and past are woven into one.

2026-01-25

The strange idea of swimming at night in deep oceans is the same as becoming aware of nothingness. In the sea we trust; it is part of our ego and our soul, just like the rest of the world. Blue skies blend with dark nights. Vision grows muddy. Our thoughts get lost in eternal forests. Our senses are interrupted by the unstable forces of humankind. We doubt beginnings; we trust in continuation. The devil is in the details, as we claim. This is not our job. Our job is to manifest the sphere of ideas we are able to reach.

2026-01-24

Skip the lights. Two black cars. Steel throats growling at the night. Dangerous. Contagious. No smiles — just headlights cutting flesh out of darkness. You feel them behind you. Too close. Too steady. Something’s wrong. Or right. Meaning buried in RPMs, truth screaming through cracked speakers, asphalt shaking like it knows your name. Is it a chase? A ritual? Or nature itself pushing metal forward until something breaks. Two black cars. Rolling, breathing, alive. You feel it — is it magnetic? Skip the lights. Don’t slow down. Let it be loud.

2026-01-24

I had a dream in which there were two creatures. One was fitted with an arm in his head. It was bleeding. He claimed it was his force, now weakened. The danger, he continued, was something we were all aware of, yet it was always hidden in the mist. No one had ever seen that face. It might not even exist, a creation of our minds, formed for our own safety. There were likely other kinds of feelings spreading through the universe, but these were too subtle for most of us. A cry was heard. It sounded like a whale run through a distortion pedal late at night in a cold, big city. Death was near. Everyone was crying. The crying was heard until the very end. No one saw anything more. It was night, eternal night.

2026-01-22

Beginning without occasion. The La Herradura Sessions appear, just like that. Not a project. More an ongoing state. Something gathers, something loosens, and something in between keeps moving. It’s about movement and the act of watching it. About shifts between the conscious and the unconscious, without clear borders. Something takes shape, then loses its outline again. Between sharpness and blur, perspectives surface, linger briefly, disappear. Music doesn’t lead here. It works more as a catalyst, sitting next to notes and lines of thought. Energy is released without direction, without intention, without any claim to control. Personal playlists surface. Mold on fruit. Involved voices: Johann, Leo, Jonathan. Nothing is meant to happen here. And that’s exactly why it’s here.