Podcasts about vinyl set

Golden era trance classics (Vinyl Set)

Artist: Baikalov (Russia) Name: Vinyl Set At RROOM RISE | Terrace Gazgolder | 09.08.2025 Genre: House Release Date: 20.09.2025 Exclusive: Deep House Moscow Baikalov: vk.com/baikalovmusic Soundcloud: @baikalov Instagram: www.instagram.com/heartkeeps CONTACT (DHM): Email — deephousemoscow@hotmail.com Follow us: www.facebook.com/deephousemsk/ www.instagram.com/deephousemoscow/ vk.com/deephousemsk/

What a night!

Mind-LoC-Techno-Vinyl-set by Paul Collide (Official)

Guest mix this month from my amigo at UK House & Garage (DJ Katty). Vinyl Set ⚡️Like the Show? Click the [Repost] ↻ button so more people can hear it!

I've started collecting vinyl singles heavily this year and came across some really great records that you can't find on Spotify or Apple Music, so I wanted to share them with y'all here. Here's a mix of my favorite rare R&B remixes from the 90's to 2000's that'll make you go, "damn they made a remix to this??" This was also my first recorded vinyl set ever, so I'm pretty happy with it so I can review the tape and look at my mistakes. Filmed live at the grand opening of our new pop-up coffee shop, B2B Café at Slow Jamz Gallery. If you're in LA, come thru, grab a drink, and listen to the baristas spin some records. TRACKLIST: 0:00 So Fine (For Da Nine Four Remix) by Mint Condition 1:31 Almost Doesn't Count (DJ Premier Remix) by Brandy 4:33 Splash Waterfalls (Whatever You Want Remix ft. Raphael Saadiq) by Ludacris 6:43 Tonight's The Night (Rain Remix ft. SWV) by Blackstreet 9:39 Why I Love You So Much (Remix) by Monica 11:50 I Apologize (Lafayette Remix) by Anita Baker 14:43 Love Ballad by KCi & Jojo 17:50 Do You Think About Us? (So So Def Remix) by Total 21:26 Everything (Remix) by Mary J. Blige 24:57 In The Hood (Remix) by Donell Jones 28:04 Before You Walk Out My Life (Mike Dean Remix) by Monica 30:50 When Can I See You Again? (R&B Remix) by Babyface 33:33 Stressed Out (Remix ft. Raphael Saadiq) by A Tribe Called Quest 37:15 Yo (Excuse Me Miss Remix ft. Jay-Z & Pharrell) by Chris Brown (Mixtape) 40:30 7 Days (DJ Premier Remix) by Craig David 43:51 Hate That I Love You (Right Here Remix) by Ne-Yo & Rihanna 45:53 So Sick (Remix ft. LL Cool J) by Ne-Yo 48:13 You Rock My World by Jay-Z ft. Michael Jackson 51:10 U Remind Me (Remix ft. Blu Cantrell & Method Man) by Usher 53:34 These Words (Dwele Remix) by Natasha Bedingfield

It's like spraying for ants, But they keep coming back The colonies are alarming in number Really harmless but lawful annoying A roach infestation Left to fester; The gutter is the environment No matter what you try to put over it Still, you don't want the pests In your place of rest, And it's hard to acknowledge The infestation It's just a lesson A garbage can is a garbage can And the lesson is, Just don't get too close to it Why I don't love rap music And black men Cause depending on this image Or infestation of lower frequency invasion Is paramount to the reason I need a weave and Nails like Cardi B; The light skin is better than me, I guess Yes And the plague is The toxicity of the culture That sits on my corner And don't know nothing but the hustle, Truly makes my own stomach churn And I don't mean all of them, A generalization in the realization That I could just Never at this point Find sexual attraction In a black man After the experiences I've had Living in this trash can The beauty in a brother But the wickedness of the others, The ugly on the corner The no do gooders and hoodlums The scum that I'm somehow part of Cause I startle standing over a white girl's shoulder, Cause I look like the ones on the corner Who call themselves, Act like the word No one's fond of — it's an energy I don't want In my sons and daughters And though Beautiful brothers, aunts, aunts, and cousins I love all dark skinned; The toxic skid mark on the corner, The culture of skulls and crossbones When the whole world calls for moving up I'm not for it. So not for blue or red Or light or dark And no matter what the color is The peace without perfect is knowing what hurts And what doesn't So sweep them away like the ants And spray fir the roaches And put out the rat traps and Wage gaps and all the inequality Perhaps that is the lesson, laugh and laughter Tragic that I had to gone to hate that half Then again, Out if the reach of perfection A clown and a dunce Turn your ugly music up And tell me imm not good enough And how yot'll never learn to love Cause all you want is bodies, money, lust And never trust. There's no trust at all left in us If neighborhoods are all chalk dust and redlines anyhow How's that for pride An unremarkable Independence Day What freedom is there left at all If yours just chokes out mine? Another n word on another n word crime And inward I go Because I'm not supposed to talk about The way some don't know how to behave And either way, I'm hated for it Neither are gone the days of the numbers hanging over us and yet, When one door closes, yet another opens up Shut the fuck up I came recover from the underworld If bugs keep coming up here I never wanted to see a brother as a bug But what one does is what one dies, And well, a duck looks like a duck And so the roaches are the pests, And the devil's nest, the garbage can I used to think that if I just ate well, and worked out enough— that the noise would just stop. That the chaos and the yelling and the cars and the awful noises would all just go away— if I ran harder, if I ate better, if I stopped talking, stoped creating— stopped breathing; that maybe somehow I deserved the suffering or that it was something wrong with me and not the outside world. Then,as I started to burn out, I realized that was the point; eventually something like a dead battery, I realized that this nonsense had fully consumed me, and there was not a single thing I could change about myself that would make it stop. More often than not, these people wandering around unkempt or lost, or mumbling to themselves are also creatives, syntheses, and very possibly even unrecognized genius, time stolen by the insensitivities of a corporate and conformed world where social standard takes presidence over nurture; DAVE FRANCO is an extremely silent and introspective creature; an observant intellectual, he dosdains his screen persona— he admimantely dislikes the roles he plays, his given ‘type', and even his own fans. A complete asexual, his entire life as a celebrity is a sham. He finds himself soothed with a head in a book and steals away to the countryside near a river to paint in isolation, when he is approached by a magician of the quarry. He says nothing but only listens, his eyes grey and somber. L E G E N D S Some DJ banned phones at his performances and I second that and feel the world should follow suit. Besides dinosaur, my other favorite statue is a giant octopus and I found out it gets even better if you check behind it: there's a dog in a suit (which makes no sense, because the other animals are just animals and then, here is a man sized dog in a suit— however, the second part of the statue is a bunch of other word animals eating cake and there's even a third part, another dog in a suit and a rabbit (I guess) doing some weird stuff. I was too busy speculating on the feast to really notice what I was seeing; might have to take a night stroll over there when there aren't tourists crawling all over it— The charging bull statue sucks and I don't understand it, but I admire there's a line in the front and a seperate line in the back just to take a picture of its giant balls I admire the giant balls more than anything and find this grotesque tourist attraction appealing every time I see it. Indeed, every time I see it, I do look at it, but not because I'm admiring it. Because I'm genuinely grossed out by how many people are just always around it. Maybe the art itself is the spectacle of fame in general. Art that grows. [The Festival Project ™] To the mouse, I'm a dear old fan Just a buck toothed rabbit With a past And a lot of bad habits And To the big bear I'm a dead beat mom But I wrote this song Cause that's my problem I'm a lost cause On a gross ass block With a knock on wood And a whole pest problem Won't be long Will we'll all be gone And the whole damn world Just blows up, prob'ly. That was a good cookie. Something deep Can seep into you When you seal Everything shut And you keep to yourself For a moment Mantras Something becomes When you're sealed in tight Like the deal you might get If you play your cards right Slight of hand And hide your thoughts Cause we're all being watched By the monsters up top I should feel inadequate All I really got is a post mortem award But I don't know which song from As always fashionably 6 feet under I came to the Grammys in an ambulance How's that for posh, No, it's not a limousine (But the driver's much hotter) Next year I'll bring a fire truck I got the hose, of course But not the water To the big old mouse I'm a face in the crowd And the golden crown Just falls off the helmet Sure it fits But I get that the Mrs and mistresses Wear dresses It's just a message Duress signal Lessons and Tantra Then All of a sudden the suits and the ties are in Bed Stuy I've pondered arousal or rather I might have just guessed why It's a lesson Let them get in your head And leave breadcrumbs Then forever As imagined You wanted a friend But can't have it Tantrums —— Dear Friday, Am I on to you, Or nothing? Are you still in love, Or searching? Is it fall again, Or summer And I wonder Where you'll spend the winter My dear Friday? Summer, Only next to Monday Tuesday, Only next to Sunday And I wish to tell you, Friday, I will always love you My dear Friday Handle with care I heart his heart Yes I'm a dark soul, Black hole, Run, rabbit There are angels after you For every tear I ever cried and wished for you On orgasm That's to no effects as none And one to one And lovers love I want to wish We're worlds apart But really only levels under Separated by styrofoam containers So much for continuity. I'm confused As to What anybody wants But me and I know I fall all four times For all four kings Over and over And over It terrifies Just to think that I hurt you In another worldform Whispers Remember I just Didn't consider I could Ever Have that sort of Power To know tonever love you But instead to want to murder you A solace— but I don't The door is open The door is open. The door is open . She is the most beautiful thing in the world And not me And I still Would not want to cause pain It is only in your nature To love her And murder me by doing that The instinct to kill The bad and the awful and ugly I know no sense of love Besides in the songs and in movies — to have and to hold, though None sense No, not at all It is only in your nature I am ugly. A cause to remember Functioning at low capacity I don't you what you're asking me I gotta get my facts straight But gotta check my fax machine Empancipate planet just for answers Cause water don't flow If there is no Bridge and you know How to burn those It's a curse tho And there's no cure I'd rather be alone, Or Secure the closure Don't go back To your Slight of hand , Slide of cards I don't want to write right now—- Twist of fate, plight of pawns I don't want to write right now A trickle of water A flick of the wand I don't want to— Wait, what are we— spellbinding. Spellbinding! 101. This dork. I hate this guy. Why didn't I get professor.. When— exactly Did— I get to Tel you that you'd love To know me {Enter The Multiverse} You don't know jack shit, pal! I do know Jack! You don't! Yes I do, he's my neighbor! What! Come! The mailbox reads Czhit, J. *squints extra hard* See, I told you. You're a strange man. I never was normal… Who are you? Uh. C'mon man, you know me. *squints extra stupid hard* I thought I did, but now I don't. What changed your mind? [it's been a long hard day. DANNY BOY can't possibly squint any harder. He looks at his old pal BOB and simply doesn't know what else to say. ] BEFORE. PREVIOUSLY ON {Enter The Multiverse}} Though I had imagined at least a week or so, the bloating from the undue stress and panic had vanished within 3 days time, and I was wide awake and wired by the time I was finally off work; Having just seen the updated schedule, after a week-long crisis of offloading and re-downloading even my most crucial apps, like Shazam, Google Documents, and Maps–I had finally logged into the mandatory tracking app in which my employer used to regulate the multiple businesses they owned, myself a mere pawn in the endeavor, for a humble and measly hourly of $17; Not that any, or at least most of my given shift time had gone to waste–I had been gracious enough with my own free time to allow at least some of my creative endeavors to flourish, posting nearly an hour-long-or-so mixtape every day to each Podcast channel, with of course The Infinite Skrillifiles taking the lead: a true cult following with by the thousands of downloads, and the others gaining traction in their own way. Now, After having fasted and worked three days, I was off for two, and had added what could have been at least 50 more pages to theThe Festival Project or more, not that it mattered–and yet, it somehow, to someone, somewhere–also did matter; perhaps not just to me, but there seemed to be something driving me to it. I had posted the latest episode cold, without auditioning it at all–and now, my dilemma seemed to simply be that I was too hungry to sleep– a sure sign that the fast was quickly ending, as it sometimes did–and although my clarity and focus was still moderately intact, I was also becoming slow, foggy, and groggy–and with no time to waste, I would undoubtedly have a smooth transition into anything, especially not a palpable strategy to pull myself out of the literal gutter by the bootstraps and into a modest enough apartment that I wouldn't have to share it, and could go back to happily living in healthy and plentiful moderation, as I had learned how to over the years; I realized that even without extreme fasting, I had elevated myself entirely–or, rather, that God had–to give credit where credit is due. ‘Listen To This', said a broad and unbeknownst voice; and without een thinking, my own body, seemingly at the will of a greater force entirely took it upon itself to sit fully upright in my bed, reaching for my iPhone, which had already been turned off to sleep– it's replacement due to be sitting in my mailbox in Downtown Santa Monica at any moment, and without even the energy to do much other than to lie down and think, bandana draped over my eyes as a shield to the morning light and earplugs pressed firmly into my inner-canals–I couldn't even think to imagine dragging myself up and out at a decent enough time to retrieve it; But there was obviously something I needed to do, or see, and so–alarmingly autonomously, I uncovered my eyes and unplugged my ears, reaching for my Beats Studio headphones as my fingers inched over the buttons to summon my iPhone to turn on, syncing my bluetooth and selecting the episode, which I had published earlier along with the entry I had spent the first couple hours of my shift crafting in an insolant rage, wet from rain and cold, and hardly paying attention to my post, or my awful coworker–who wasn't altogether awful, just uncomfortably obsese, and poingiantly ignorant. ‘What are you hungry for?', The voice asked, And without hesitation, I silently listed my Whole Foods escapade, glistening with thoughts of Croissants, Bananas, Apples, Trail Mix Tater Tots A Cool Haus Ice Cream Sandwich, –and maybe even an Acai bowl, as they were almost always out of Acai by any time was able to make it to the juice bar. ‘Yes', said the voice “Really?”! I asked–still silently, though at least one of my roomates was beginning his day, and the other, the 22-year-oldd from Brooklyn was still sleeping quietly, wreaking of liquor and leftover something, which at a glance appeared to be Jack In The Box ‘Yes.' The episode aligned perfectly with the quickly escalating season of the Multiverse i had crafted and was nearly entirely consumed with creating, and the fast was, indeed, over–at least for a moment– I had, after all, only been fasting because of Drake Bell and his whippets, which for some or any reason at all had irked me to the point of lucidity beyond recognition and ignited my soul into the chaotic and cryptic, whimsical frenzy with which the 6th Season of The Festival Project was being written ferociously. Still, nothing seemed to matter and no one seemed to really care, but it was at least a prompt–and of course, I was still being followed by bodies that coughed a lot, but even that just seemed a toxic wash of nonsense I couldn't be bothered with, croissants or not. I fantasized being knocked off in a robbery , but would more than likely just die of a broken heart and a lack of love. In walked a childhood crush, and opened up Pandora's Box Ugh. This Fucking Sucks. Drake Bell was not my childhood crush. Wait— he wasn't. No: Don't get me wrong—he's my type, or— was, but… Let us not forget my placement in the world, and here is where I make my mark, to wit that the programming of an entire generation had been captivated and altered in my very own mine—the familiarity of potent lust arising out of circumstance and also nirture, a lack of fight or flight from which one could and would have easily turned away—or run towards. Then, almost hastily unknowing whether to jump to conclusions in that, my own series had created some kind of reverberations within what was so quite notably a smaller pond than not— the industry itself having eyes and ears with every motion I had taken from the start of it, and my ability to trust, and naivety ruined over the course of what my mind would have imagined, how startlingly easy it was to awaken his imaginary world which was, not only not just of random circumstance, but an idea that was planted and mulled over. Tales of a Superstar DJ {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū. {} - Enter The Multiverse

It's like spraying for ants, But they keep coming back The colonies are alarming in number Really harmless but lawful annoying A roach infestation Left to fester; The gutter is the environment No matter what you try to put over it Still, you don't want the pests In your place of rest, And it's hard to acknowledge The infestation It's just a lesson A garbage can is a garbage can And the lesson is, Just don't get too close to it Why I don't love rap music And black men Cause depending on this image Or infestation of lower frequency invasion Is paramount to the reason I need a weave and Nails like Cardi B; The light skin is better than me, I guess Yes And the plague is The toxicity of the culture That sits on my corner And don't know nothing but the hustle, Truly makes my own stomach churn And I don't mean all of them, A generalization in the realization That I could just Never at this point Find sexual attraction In a black man After the experiences I've had Living in this trash can The beauty in a brother But the wickedness of the others, The ugly on the corner The no do gooders and hoodlums The scum that I'm somehow part of Cause I startle standing over a white girl's shoulder, Cause I look like the ones on the corner Who call themselves, Act like the word No one's fond of — it's an energy I don't want In my sons and daughters And though Beautiful brothers, aunts, aunts, and cousins I love all dark skinned; The toxic skid mark on the corner, The culture of skulls and crossbones When the whole world calls for moving up I'm not for it. So not for blue or red Or light or dark And no matter what the color is The peace without perfect is knowing what hurts And what doesn't So sweep them away like the ants And spray fir the roaches And put out the rat traps and Wage gaps and all the inequality Perhaps that is the lesson, laugh and laughter Tragic that I had to gone to hate that half Then again, Out if the reach of perfection A clown and a dunce Turn your ugly music up And tell me imm not good enough And how yot'll never learn to love Cause all you want is bodies, money, lust And never trust. There's no trust at all left in us If neighborhoods are all chalk dust and redlines anyhow How's that for pride An unremarkable Independence Day What freedom is there left at all If yours just chokes out mine? Another n word on another n word crime And inward I go Because I'm not supposed to talk about The way some don't know how to behave And either way, I'm hated for it Neither are gone the days of the numbers hanging over us and yet, When one door closes, yet another opens up Shut the fuck up I came recover from the underworld If bugs keep coming up here I never wanted to see a brother as a bug But what one does is what one dies, And well, a duck looks like a duck And so the roaches are the pests, And the devil's nest, the garbage can I used to think that if I just ate well, and worked out enough— that the noise would just stop. That the chaos and the yelling and the cars and the awful noises would all just go away— if I ran harder, if I ate better, if I stopped talking, stoped creating— stopped breathing; that maybe somehow I deserved the suffering or that it was something wrong with me and not the outside world. Then,as I started to burn out, I realized that was the point; eventually something like a dead battery, I realized that this nonsense had fully consumed me, and there was not a single thing I could change about myself that would make it stop. More often than not, these people wandering around unkempt or lost, or mumbling to themselves are also creatives, syntheses, and very possibly even unrecognized genius, time stolen by the insensitivities of a corporate and conformed world where social standard takes presidence over nurture; DAVE FRANCO is an extremely silent and introspective creature; an observant intellectual, he dosdains his screen persona— he admimantely dislikes the roles he plays, his given ‘type', and even his own fans. A complete asexual, his entire life as a celebrity is a sham. He finds himself soothed with a head in a book and steals away to the countryside near a river to paint in isolation, when he is approached by a magician of the quarry. He says nothing but only listens, his eyes grey and somber. L E G E N D S Some DJ banned phones at his performances and I second that and feel the world should follow suit. Besides dinosaur, my other favorite statue is a giant octopus and I found out it gets even better if you check behind it: there's a dog in a suit (which makes no sense, because the other animals are just animals and then, here is a man sized dog in a suit— however, the second part of the statue is a bunch of other word animals eating cake and there's even a third part, another dog in a suit and a rabbit (I guess) doing some weird stuff. I was too busy speculating on the feast to really notice what I was seeing; might have to take a night stroll over there when there aren't tourists crawling all over it— The charging bull statue sucks and I don't understand it, but I admire there's a line in the front and a seperate line in the back just to take a picture of its giant balls I admire the giant balls more than anything and find this grotesque tourist attraction appealing every time I see it. Indeed, every time I see it, I do look at it, but not because I'm admiring it. Because I'm genuinely grossed out by how many people are just always around it. Maybe the art itself is the spectacle of fame in general. Art that grows. [The Festival Project ™] To the mouse, I'm a dear old fan Just a buck toothed rabbit With a past And a lot of bad habits And To the big bear I'm a dead beat mom But I wrote this song Cause that's my problem I'm a lost cause On a gross ass block With a knock on wood And a whole pest problem Won't be long Will we'll all be gone And the whole damn world Just blows up, prob'ly. That was a good cookie. Something deep Can seep into you When you seal Everything shut And you keep to yourself For a moment Mantras Something becomes When you're sealed in tight Like the deal you might get If you play your cards right Slight of hand And hide your thoughts Cause we're all being watched By the monsters up top I should feel inadequate All I really got is a post mortem award But I don't know which song from As always fashionably 6 feet under I came to the Grammys in an ambulance How's that for posh, No, it's not a limousine (But the driver's much hotter) Next year I'll bring a fire truck I got the hose, of course But not the water To the big old mouse I'm a face in the crowd And the golden crown Just falls off the helmet Sure it fits But I get that the Mrs and mistresses Wear dresses It's just a message Duress signal Lessons and Tantra Then All of a sudden the suits and the ties are in Bed Stuy I've pondered arousal or rather I might have just guessed why It's a lesson Let them get in your head And leave breadcrumbs Then forever As imagined You wanted a friend But can't have it Tantrums —— Dear Friday, Am I on to you, Or nothing? Are you still in love, Or searching? Is it fall again, Or summer And I wonder Where you'll spend the winter My dear Friday? Summer, Only next to Monday Tuesday, Only next to Sunday And I wish to tell you, Friday, I will always love you My dear Friday Handle with care I heart his heart Yes I'm a dark soul, Black hole, Run, rabbit There are angels after you For every tear I ever cried and wished for you On orgasm That's to no effects as none And one to one And lovers love I want to wish We're worlds apart But really only levels under Separated by styrofoam containers So much for continuity. I'm confused As to What anybody wants But me and I know I fall all four times For all four kings Over and over And over It terrifies Just to think that I hurt you In another worldform Whispers Remember I just Didn't consider I could Ever Have that sort of Power To know tonever love you But instead to want to murder you A solace— but I don't The door is open The door is open. The door is open . She is the most beautiful thing in the world And not me And I still Would not want to cause pain It is only in your nature To love her And murder me by doing that The instinct to kill The bad and the awful and ugly I know no sense of love Besides in the songs and in movies — to have and to hold, though None sense No, not at all It is only in your nature I am ugly. A cause to remember Functioning at low capacity I don't you what you're asking me I gotta get my facts straight But gotta check my fax machine Empancipate planet just for answers Cause water don't flow If there is no Bridge and you know How to burn those It's a curse tho And there's no cure I'd rather be alone, Or Secure the closure Don't go back To your Slight of hand , Slide of cards I don't want to write right now—- Twist of fate, plight of pawns I don't want to write right now A trickle of water A flick of the wand I don't want to— Wait, what are we— spellbinding. Spellbinding! 101. This dork. I hate this guy. Why didn't I get professor.. When— exactly Did— I get to Tel you that you'd love To know me {Enter The Multiverse} You don't know jack shit, pal! I do know Jack! You don't! Yes I do, he's my neighbor! What! Come! The mailbox reads Czhit, J. *squints extra hard* See, I told you. You're a strange man. I never was normal… Who are you? Uh. C'mon man, you know me. *squints extra stupid hard* I thought I did, but now I don't. What changed your mind? [it's been a long hard day. DANNY BOY can't possibly squint any harder. He looks at his old pal BOB and simply doesn't know what else to say. ] BEFORE. PREVIOUSLY ON {Enter The Multiverse}} Though I had imagined at least a week or so, the bloating from the undue stress and panic had vanished within 3 days time, and I was wide awake and wired by the time I was finally off work; Having just seen the updated schedule, after a week-long crisis of offloading and re-downloading even my most crucial apps, like Shazam, Google Documents, and Maps–I had finally logged into the mandatory tracking app in which my employer used to regulate the multiple businesses they owned, myself a mere pawn in the endeavor, for a humble and measly hourly of $17; Not that any, or at least most of my given shift time had gone to waste–I had been gracious enough with my own free time to allow at least some of my creative endeavors to flourish, posting nearly an hour-long-or-so mixtape every day to each Podcast channel, with of course The Infinite Skrillifiles taking the lead: a true cult following with by the thousands of downloads, and the others gaining traction in their own way. Now, After having fasted and worked three days, I was off for two, and had added what could have been at least 50 more pages to theThe Festival Project or more, not that it mattered–and yet, it somehow, to someone, somewhere–also did matter; perhaps not just to me, but there seemed to be something driving me to it. I had posted the latest episode cold, without auditioning it at all–and now, my dilemma seemed to simply be that I was too hungry to sleep– a sure sign that the fast was quickly ending, as it sometimes did–and although my clarity and focus was still moderately intact, I was also becoming slow, foggy, and groggy–and with no time to waste, I would undoubtedly have a smooth transition into anything, especially not a palpable strategy to pull myself out of the literal gutter by the bootstraps and into a modest enough apartment that I wouldn't have to share it, and could go back to happily living in healthy and plentiful moderation, as I had learned how to over the years; I realized that even without extreme fasting, I had elevated myself entirely–or, rather, that God had–to give credit where credit is due. ‘Listen To This', said a broad and unbeknownst voice; and without een thinking, my own body, seemingly at the will of a greater force entirely took it upon itself to sit fully upright in my bed, reaching for my iPhone, which had already been turned off to sleep– it's replacement due to be sitting in my mailbox in Downtown Santa Monica at any moment, and without even the energy to do much other than to lie down and think, bandana draped over my eyes as a shield to the morning light and earplugs pressed firmly into my inner-canals–I couldn't even think to imagine dragging myself up and out at a decent enough time to retrieve it; But there was obviously something I needed to do, or see, and so–alarmingly autonomously, I uncovered my eyes and unplugged my ears, reaching for my Beats Studio headphones as my fingers inched over the buttons to summon my iPhone to turn on, syncing my bluetooth and selecting the episode, which I had published earlier along with the entry I had spent the first couple hours of my shift crafting in an insolant rage, wet from rain and cold, and hardly paying attention to my post, or my awful coworker–who wasn't altogether awful, just uncomfortably obsese, and poingiantly ignorant. ‘What are you hungry for?', The voice asked, And without hesitation, I silently listed my Whole Foods escapade, glistening with thoughts of Croissants, Bananas, Apples, Trail Mix Tater Tots A Cool Haus Ice Cream Sandwich, –and maybe even an Acai bowl, as they were almost always out of Acai by any time was able to make it to the juice bar. ‘Yes', said the voice “Really?”! I asked–still silently, though at least one of my roomates was beginning his day, and the other, the 22-year-oldd from Brooklyn was still sleeping quietly, wreaking of liquor and leftover something, which at a glance appeared to be Jack In The Box ‘Yes.' The episode aligned perfectly with the quickly escalating season of the Multiverse i had crafted and was nearly entirely consumed with creating, and the fast was, indeed, over–at least for a moment– I had, after all, only been fasting because of Drake Bell and his whippets, which for some or any reason at all had irked me to the point of lucidity beyond recognition and ignited my soul into the chaotic and cryptic, whimsical frenzy with which the 6th Season of The Festival Project was being written ferociously. Still, nothing seemed to matter and no one seemed to really care, but it was at least a prompt–and of course, I was still being followed by bodies that coughed a lot, but even that just seemed a toxic wash of nonsense I couldn't be bothered with, croissants or not. I fantasized being knocked off in a robbery , but would more than likely just die of a broken heart and a lack of love. In walked a childhood crush, and opened up Pandora's Box Ugh. This Fucking Sucks. Drake Bell was not my childhood crush. Wait— he wasn't. No: Don't get me wrong—he's my type, or— was, but… Let us not forget my placement in the world, and here is where I make my mark, to wit that the programming of an entire generation had been captivated and altered in my very own mine—the familiarity of potent lust arising out of circumstance and also nirture, a lack of fight or flight from which one could and would have easily turned away—or run towards. Then, almost hastily unknowing whether to jump to conclusions in that, my own series had created some kind of reverberations within what was so quite notably a smaller pond than not— the industry itself having eyes and ears with every motion I had taken from the start of it, and my ability to trust, and naivety ruined over the course of what my mind would have imagined, how startlingly easy it was to awaken his imaginary world which was, not only not just of random circumstance, but an idea that was planted and mulled over. Tales of a Superstar DJ {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū. {} - Enter The Multiverse

It's like spraying for ants, But they keep coming back The colonies are alarming in number Really harmless but lawful annoying A roach infestation Left to fester; The gutter is the environment No matter what you try to put over it Still, you don't want the pests In your place of rest, And it's hard to acknowledge The infestation It's just a lesson A garbage can is a garbage can And the lesson is, Just don't get too close to it Why I don't love rap music And black men Cause depending on this image Or infestation of lower frequency invasion Is paramount to the reason I need a weave and Nails like Cardi B; The light skin is better than me, I guess Yes And the plague is The toxicity of the culture That sits on my corner And don't know nothing but the hustle, Truly makes my own stomach churn And I don't mean all of them, A generalization in the realization That I could just Never at this point Find sexual attraction In a black man After the experiences I've had Living in this trash can The beauty in a brother But the wickedness of the others, The ugly on the corner The no do gooders and hoodlums The scum that I'm somehow part of Cause I startle standing over a white girl's shoulder, Cause I look like the ones on the corner Who call themselves, Act like the word No one's fond of — it's an energy I don't want In my sons and daughters And though Beautiful brothers, aunts, aunts, and cousins I love all dark skinned; The toxic skid mark on the corner, The culture of skulls and crossbones When the whole world calls for moving up I'm not for it. So not for blue or red Or light or dark And no matter what the color is The peace without perfect is knowing what hurts And what doesn't So sweep them away like the ants And spray fir the roaches And put out the rat traps and Wage gaps and all the inequality Perhaps that is the lesson, laugh and laughter Tragic that I had to gone to hate that half Then again, Out if the reach of perfection A clown and a dunce Turn your ugly music up And tell me imm not good enough And how yot'll never learn to love Cause all you want is bodies, money, lust And never trust. There's no trust at all left in us If neighborhoods are all chalk dust and redlines anyhow How's that for pride An unremarkable Independence Day What freedom is there left at all If yours just chokes out mine? Another n word on another n word crime And inward I go Because I'm not supposed to talk about The way some don't know how to behave And either way, I'm hated for it Neither are gone the days of the numbers hanging over us and yet, When one door closes, yet another opens up Shut the fuck up I came recover from the underworld If bugs keep coming up here I never wanted to see a brother as a bug But what one does is what one dies, And well, a duck looks like a duck And so the roaches are the pests, And the devil's nest, the garbage can I used to think that if I just ate well, and worked out enough— that the noise would just stop. That the chaos and the yelling and the cars and the awful noises would all just go away— if I ran harder, if I ate better, if I stopped talking, stoped creating— stopped breathing; that maybe somehow I deserved the suffering or that it was something wrong with me and not the outside world. Then,as I started to burn out, I realized that was the point; eventually something like a dead battery, I realized that this nonsense had fully consumed me, and there was not a single thing I could change about myself that would make it stop. More often than not, these people wandering around unkempt or lost, or mumbling to themselves are also creatives, syntheses, and very possibly even unrecognized genius, time stolen by the insensitivities of a corporate and conformed world where social standard takes presidence over nurture; DAVE FRANCO is an extremely silent and introspective creature; an observant intellectual, he dosdains his screen persona— he admimantely dislikes the roles he plays, his given ‘type', and even his own fans. A complete asexual, his entire life as a celebrity is a sham. He finds himself soothed with a head in a book and steals away to the countryside near a river to paint in isolation, when he is approached by a magician of the quarry. He says nothing but only listens, his eyes grey and somber. L E G E N D S Some DJ banned phones at his performances and I second that and feel the world should follow suit. Besides dinosaur, my other favorite statue is a giant octopus and I found out it gets even better if you check behind it: there's a dog in a suit (which makes no sense, because the other animals are just animals and then, here is a man sized dog in a suit— however, the second part of the statue is a bunch of other word animals eating cake and there's even a third part, another dog in a suit and a rabbit (I guess) doing some weird stuff. I was too busy speculating on the feast to really notice what I was seeing; might have to take a night stroll over there when there aren't tourists crawling all over it— The charging bull statue sucks and I don't understand it, but I admire there's a line in the front and a seperate line in the back just to take a picture of its giant balls I admire the giant balls more than anything and find this grotesque tourist attraction appealing every time I see it. Indeed, every time I see it, I do look at it, but not because I'm admiring it. Because I'm genuinely grossed out by how many people are just always around it. Maybe the art itself is the spectacle of fame in general. Art that grows. [The Festival Project ™] To the mouse, I'm a dear old fan Just a buck toothed rabbit With a past And a lot of bad habits And To the big bear I'm a dead beat mom But I wrote this song Cause that's my problem I'm a lost cause On a gross ass block With a knock on wood And a whole pest problem Won't be long Will we'll all be gone And the whole damn world Just blows up, prob'ly. That was a good cookie. Something deep Can seep into you When you seal Everything shut And you keep to yourself For a moment Mantras Something becomes When you're sealed in tight Like the deal you might get If you play your cards right Slight of hand And hide your thoughts Cause we're all being watched By the monsters up top I should feel inadequate All I really got is a post mortem award But I don't know which song from As always fashionably 6 feet under I came to the Grammys in an ambulance How's that for posh, No, it's not a limousine (But the driver's much hotter) Next year I'll bring a fire truck I got the hose, of course But not the water To the big old mouse I'm a face in the crowd And the golden crown Just falls off the helmet Sure it fits But I get that the Mrs and mistresses Wear dresses It's just a message Duress signal Lessons and Tantra Then All of a sudden the suits and the ties are in Bed Stuy I've pondered arousal or rather I might have just guessed why It's a lesson Let them get in your head And leave breadcrumbs Then forever As imagined You wanted a friend But can't have it Tantrums —— Dear Friday, Am I on to you, Or nothing? Are you still in love, Or searching? Is it fall again, Or summer And I wonder Where you'll spend the winter My dear Friday? Summer, Only next to Monday Tuesday, Only next to Sunday And I wish to tell you, Friday, I will always love you My dear Friday Handle with care I heart his heart Yes I'm a dark soul, Black hole, Run, rabbit There are angels after you For every tear I ever cried and wished for you On orgasm That's to no effects as none And one to one And lovers love I want to wish We're worlds apart But really only levels under Separated by styrofoam containers So much for continuity. I'm confused As to What anybody wants But me and I know I fall all four times For all four kings Over and over And over It terrifies Just to think that I hurt you In another worldform Whispers Remember I just Didn't consider I could Ever Have that sort of Power To know tonever love you But instead to want to murder you A solace— but I don't The door is open The door is open. The door is open . She is the most beautiful thing in the world And not me And I still Would not want to cause pain It is only in your nature To love her And murder me by doing that The instinct to kill The bad and the awful and ugly I know no sense of love Besides in the songs and in movies — to have and to hold, though None sense No, not at all It is only in your nature I am ugly. A cause to remember Functioning at low capacity I don't you what you're asking me I gotta get my facts straight But gotta check my fax machine Empancipate planet just for answers Cause water don't flow If there is no Bridge and you know How to burn those It's a curse tho And there's no cure I'd rather be alone, Or Secure the closure Don't go back To your Slight of hand , Slide of cards I don't want to write right now—- Twist of fate, plight of pawns I don't want to write right now A trickle of water A flick of the wand I don't want to— Wait, what are we— spellbinding. Spellbinding! 101. This dork. I hate this guy. Why didn't I get professor.. When— exactly Did— I get to Tel you that you'd love To know me {Enter The Multiverse} You don't know jack shit, pal! I do know Jack! You don't! Yes I do, he's my neighbor! What! Come! The mailbox reads Czhit, J. *squints extra hard* See, I told you. You're a strange man. I never was normal… Who are you? Uh. C'mon man, you know me. *squints extra stupid hard* I thought I did, but now I don't. What changed your mind? [it's been a long hard day. DANNY BOY can't possibly squint any harder. He looks at his old pal BOB and simply doesn't know what else to say. ] BEFORE. PREVIOUSLY ON {Enter The Multiverse}} Though I had imagined at least a week or so, the bloating from the undue stress and panic had vanished within 3 days time, and I was wide awake and wired by the time I was finally off work; Having just seen the updated schedule, after a week-long crisis of offloading and re-downloading even my most crucial apps, like Shazam, Google Documents, and Maps–I had finally logged into the mandatory tracking app in which my employer used to regulate the multiple businesses they owned, myself a mere pawn in the endeavor, for a humble and measly hourly of $17; Not that any, or at least most of my given shift time had gone to waste–I had been gracious enough with my own free time to allow at least some of my creative endeavors to flourish, posting nearly an hour-long-or-so mixtape every day to each Podcast channel, with of course The Infinite Skrillifiles taking the lead: a true cult following with by the thousands of downloads, and the others gaining traction in their own way. Now, After having fasted and worked three days, I was off for two, and had added what could have been at least 50 more pages to theThe Festival Project or more, not that it mattered–and yet, it somehow, to someone, somewhere–also did matter; perhaps not just to me, but there seemed to be something driving me to it. I had posted the latest episode cold, without auditioning it at all–and now, my dilemma seemed to simply be that I was too hungry to sleep– a sure sign that the fast was quickly ending, as it sometimes did–and although my clarity and focus was still moderately intact, I was also becoming slow, foggy, and groggy–and with no time to waste, I would undoubtedly have a smooth transition into anything, especially not a palpable strategy to pull myself out of the literal gutter by the bootstraps and into a modest enough apartment that I wouldn't have to share it, and could go back to happily living in healthy and plentiful moderation, as I had learned how to over the years; I realized that even without extreme fasting, I had elevated myself entirely–or, rather, that God had–to give credit where credit is due. ‘Listen To This', said a broad and unbeknownst voice; and without een thinking, my own body, seemingly at the will of a greater force entirely took it upon itself to sit fully upright in my bed, reaching for my iPhone, which had already been turned off to sleep– it's replacement due to be sitting in my mailbox in Downtown Santa Monica at any moment, and without even the energy to do much other than to lie down and think, bandana draped over my eyes as a shield to the morning light and earplugs pressed firmly into my inner-canals–I couldn't even think to imagine dragging myself up and out at a decent enough time to retrieve it; But there was obviously something I needed to do, or see, and so–alarmingly autonomously, I uncovered my eyes and unplugged my ears, reaching for my Beats Studio headphones as my fingers inched over the buttons to summon my iPhone to turn on, syncing my bluetooth and selecting the episode, which I had published earlier along with the entry I had spent the first couple hours of my shift crafting in an insolant rage, wet from rain and cold, and hardly paying attention to my post, or my awful coworker–who wasn't altogether awful, just uncomfortably obsese, and poingiantly ignorant. ‘What are you hungry for?', The voice asked, And without hesitation, I silently listed my Whole Foods escapade, glistening with thoughts of Croissants, Bananas, Apples, Trail Mix Tater Tots A Cool Haus Ice Cream Sandwich, –and maybe even an Acai bowl, as they were almost always out of Acai by any time was able to make it to the juice bar. ‘Yes', said the voice “Really?”! I asked–still silently, though at least one of my roomates was beginning his day, and the other, the 22-year-oldd from Brooklyn was still sleeping quietly, wreaking of liquor and leftover something, which at a glance appeared to be Jack In The Box ‘Yes.' The episode aligned perfectly with the quickly escalating season of the Multiverse i had crafted and was nearly entirely consumed with creating, and the fast was, indeed, over–at least for a moment– I had, after all, only been fasting because of Drake Bell and his whippets, which for some or any reason at all had irked me to the point of lucidity beyond recognition and ignited my soul into the chaotic and cryptic, whimsical frenzy with which the 6th Season of The Festival Project was being written ferociously. Still, nothing seemed to matter and no one seemed to really care, but it was at least a prompt–and of course, I was still being followed by bodies that coughed a lot, but even that just seemed a toxic wash of nonsense I couldn't be bothered with, croissants or not. I fantasized being knocked off in a robbery , but would more than likely just die of a broken heart and a lack of love. In walked a childhood crush, and opened up Pandora's Box Ugh. This Fucking Sucks. Drake Bell was not my childhood crush. Wait— he wasn't. No: Don't get me wrong—he's my type, or— was, but… Let us not forget my placement in the world, and here is where I make my mark, to wit that the programming of an entire generation had been captivated and altered in my very own mine—the familiarity of potent lust arising out of circumstance and also nirture, a lack of fight or flight from which one could and would have easily turned away—or run towards. Then, almost hastily unknowing whether to jump to conclusions in that, my own series had created some kind of reverberations within what was so quite notably a smaller pond than not— the industry itself having eyes and ears with every motion I had taken from the start of it, and my ability to trust, and naivety ruined over the course of what my mind would have imagined, how startlingly easy it was to awaken his imaginary world which was, not only not just of random circumstance, but an idea that was planted and mulled over. Tales of a Superstar DJ {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū. {} - Enter The Multiverse

It's like spraying for ants, But they keep coming back The colonies are alarming in number Really harmless but lawful annoying A roach infestation Left to fester; The gutter is the environment No matter what you try to put over it Still, you don't want the pests In your place of rest, And it's hard to acknowledge The infestation It's just a lesson A garbage can is a garbage can And the lesson is, Just don't get too close to it Why I don't love rap music And black men Cause depending on this image Or infestation of lower frequency invasion Is paramount to the reason I need a weave and Nails like Cardi B; The light skin is better than me, I guess Yes And the plague is The toxicity of the culture That sits on my corner And don't know nothing but the hustle, Truly makes my own stomach churn And I don't mean all of them, A generalization in the realization That I could just Never at this point Find sexual attraction In a black man After the experiences I've had Living in this trash can The beauty in a brother But the wickedness of the others, The ugly on the corner The no do gooders and hoodlums The scum that I'm somehow part of Cause I startle standing over a white girl's shoulder, Cause I look like the ones on the corner Who call themselves, Act like the word No one's fond of — it's an energy I don't want In my sons and daughters And though Beautiful brothers, aunts, aunts, and cousins I love all dark skinned; The toxic skid mark on the corner, The culture of skulls and crossbones When the whole world calls for moving up I'm not for it. So not for blue or red Or light or dark And no matter what the color is The peace without perfect is knowing what hurts And what doesn't So sweep them away like the ants And spray fir the roaches And put out the rat traps and Wage gaps and all the inequality Perhaps that is the lesson, laugh and laughter Tragic that I had to gone to hate that half Then again, Out if the reach of perfection A clown and a dunce Turn your ugly music up And tell me imm not good enough And how yot'll never learn to love Cause all you want is bodies, money, lust And never trust. There's no trust at all left in us If neighborhoods are all chalk dust and redlines anyhow How's that for pride An unremarkable Independence Day What freedom is there left at all If yours just chokes out mine? Another n word on another n word crime And inward I go Because I'm not supposed to talk about The way some don't know how to behave And either way, I'm hated for it Neither are gone the days of the numbers hanging over us and yet, When one door closes, yet another opens up Shut the fuck up I came recover from the underworld If bugs keep coming up here I never wanted to see a brother as a bug But what one does is what one dies, And well, a duck looks like a duck And so the roaches are the pests, And the devil's nest, the garbage can I used to think that if I just ate well, and worked out enough— that the noise would just stop. That the chaos and the yelling and the cars and the awful noises would all just go away— if I ran harder, if I ate better, if I stopped talking, stoped creating— stopped breathing; that maybe somehow I deserved the suffering or that it was something wrong with me and not the outside world. Then,as I started to burn out, I realized that was the point; eventually something like a dead battery, I realized that this nonsense had fully consumed me, and there was not a single thing I could change about myself that would make it stop. More often than not, these people wandering around unkempt or lost, or mumbling to themselves are also creatives, syntheses, and very possibly even unrecognized genius, time stolen by the insensitivities of a corporate and conformed world where social standard takes presidence over nurture; DAVE FRANCO is an extremely silent and introspective creature; an observant intellectual, he dosdains his screen persona— he admimantely dislikes the roles he plays, his given ‘type', and even his own fans. A complete asexual, his entire life as a celebrity is a sham. He finds himself soothed with a head in a book and steals away to the countryside near a river to paint in isolation, when he is approached by a magician of the quarry. He says nothing but only listens, his eyes grey and somber. L E G E N D S Some DJ banned phones at his performances and I second that and feel the world should follow suit. Besides dinosaur, my other favorite statue is a giant octopus and I found out it gets even better if you check behind it: there's a dog in a suit (which makes no sense, because the other animals are just animals and then, here is a man sized dog in a suit— however, the second part of the statue is a bunch of other word animals eating cake and there's even a third part, another dog in a suit and a rabbit (I guess) doing some weird stuff. I was too busy speculating on the feast to really notice what I was seeing; might have to take a night stroll over there when there aren't tourists crawling all over it— The charging bull statue sucks and I don't understand it, but I admire there's a line in the front and a seperate line in the back just to take a picture of its giant balls I admire the giant balls more than anything and find this grotesque tourist attraction appealing every time I see it. Indeed, every time I see it, I do look at it, but not because I'm admiring it. Because I'm genuinely grossed out by how many people are just always around it. Maybe the art itself is the spectacle of fame in general. Art that grows. [The Festival Project ™] To the mouse, I'm a dear old fan Just a buck toothed rabbit With a past And a lot of bad habits And To the big bear I'm a dead beat mom But I wrote this song Cause that's my problem I'm a lost cause On a gross ass block With a knock on wood And a whole pest problem Won't be long Will we'll all be gone And the whole damn world Just blows up, prob'ly. That was a good cookie. Something deep Can seep into you When you seal Everything shut And you keep to yourself For a moment Mantras Something becomes When you're sealed in tight Like the deal you might get If you play your cards right Slight of hand And hide your thoughts Cause we're all being watched By the monsters up top I should feel inadequate All I really got is a post mortem award But I don't know which song from As always fashionably 6 feet under I came to the Grammys in an ambulance How's that for posh, No, it's not a limousine (But the driver's much hotter) Next year I'll bring a fire truck I got the hose, of course But not the water To the big old mouse I'm a face in the crowd And the golden crown Just falls off the helmet Sure it fits But I get that the Mrs and mistresses Wear dresses It's just a message Duress signal Lessons and Tantra Then All of a sudden the suits and the ties are in Bed Stuy I've pondered arousal or rather I might have just guessed why It's a lesson Let them get in your head And leave breadcrumbs Then forever As imagined You wanted a friend But can't have it Tantrums —— Dear Friday, Am I on to you, Or nothing? Are you still in love, Or searching? Is it fall again, Or summer And I wonder Where you'll spend the winter My dear Friday? Summer, Only next to Monday Tuesday, Only next to Sunday And I wish to tell you, Friday, I will always love you My dear Friday Handle with care I heart his heart Yes I'm a dark soul, Black hole, Run, rabbit There are angels after you For every tear I ever cried and wished for you On orgasm That's to no effects as none And one to one And lovers love I want to wish We're worlds apart But really only levels under Separated by styrofoam containers So much for continuity. I'm confused As to What anybody wants But me and I know I fall all four times For all four kings Over and over And over It terrifies Just to think that I hurt you In another worldform Whispers Remember I just Didn't consider I could Ever Have that sort of Power To know tonever love you But instead to want to murder you A solace— but I don't The door is open The door is open. The door is open . She is the most beautiful thing in the world And not me And I still Would not want to cause pain It is only in your nature To love her And murder me by doing that The instinct to kill The bad and the awful and ugly I know no sense of love Besides in the songs and in movies — to have and to hold, though None sense No, not at all It is only in your nature I am ugly. A cause to remember Functioning at low capacity I don't you what you're asking me I gotta get my facts straight But gotta check my fax machine Empancipate planet just for answers Cause water don't flow If there is no Bridge and you know How to burn those It's a curse tho And there's no cure I'd rather be alone, Or Secure the closure Don't go back To your Slight of hand , Slide of cards I don't want to write right now—- Twist of fate, plight of pawns I don't want to write right now A trickle of water A flick of the wand I don't want to— Wait, what are we— spellbinding. Spellbinding! 101. This dork. I hate this guy. Why didn't I get professor.. When— exactly Did— I get to Tel you that you'd love To know me {Enter The Multiverse} You don't know jack shit, pal! I do know Jack! You don't! Yes I do, he's my neighbor! What! Come! The mailbox reads Czhit, J. *squints extra hard* See, I told you. You're a strange man. I never was normal… Who are you? Uh. C'mon man, you know me. *squints extra stupid hard* I thought I did, but now I don't. What changed your mind? [it's been a long hard day. DANNY BOY can't possibly squint any harder. He looks at his old pal BOB and simply doesn't know what else to say. ] BEFORE. PREVIOUSLY ON {Enter The Multiverse}} Though I had imagined at least a week or so, the bloating from the undue stress and panic had vanished within 3 days time, and I was wide awake and wired by the time I was finally off work; Having just seen the updated schedule, after a week-long crisis of offloading and re-downloading even my most crucial apps, like Shazam, Google Documents, and Maps–I had finally logged into the mandatory tracking app in which my employer used to regulate the multiple businesses they owned, myself a mere pawn in the endeavor, for a humble and measly hourly of $17; Not that any, or at least most of my given shift time had gone to waste–I had been gracious enough with my own free time to allow at least some of my creative endeavors to flourish, posting nearly an hour-long-or-so mixtape every day to each Podcast channel, with of course The Infinite Skrillifiles taking the lead: a true cult following with by the thousands of downloads, and the others gaining traction in their own way. Now, After having fasted and worked three days, I was off for two, and had added what could have been at least 50 more pages to theThe Festival Project or more, not that it mattered–and yet, it somehow, to someone, somewhere–also did matter; perhaps not just to me, but there seemed to be something driving me to it. I had posted the latest episode cold, without auditioning it at all–and now, my dilemma seemed to simply be that I was too hungry to sleep– a sure sign that the fast was quickly ending, as it sometimes did–and although my clarity and focus was still moderately intact, I was also becoming slow, foggy, and groggy–and with no time to waste, I would undoubtedly have a smooth transition into anything, especially not a palpable strategy to pull myself out of the literal gutter by the bootstraps and into a modest enough apartment that I wouldn't have to share it, and could go back to happily living in healthy and plentiful moderation, as I had learned how to over the years; I realized that even without extreme fasting, I had elevated myself entirely–or, rather, that God had–to give credit where credit is due. ‘Listen To This', said a broad and unbeknownst voice; and without een thinking, my own body, seemingly at the will of a greater force entirely took it upon itself to sit fully upright in my bed, reaching for my iPhone, which had already been turned off to sleep– it's replacement due to be sitting in my mailbox in Downtown Santa Monica at any moment, and without even the energy to do much other than to lie down and think, bandana draped over my eyes as a shield to the morning light and earplugs pressed firmly into my inner-canals–I couldn't even think to imagine dragging myself up and out at a decent enough time to retrieve it; But there was obviously something I needed to do, or see, and so–alarmingly autonomously, I uncovered my eyes and unplugged my ears, reaching for my Beats Studio headphones as my fingers inched over the buttons to summon my iPhone to turn on, syncing my bluetooth and selecting the episode, which I had published earlier along with the entry I had spent the first couple hours of my shift crafting in an insolant rage, wet from rain and cold, and hardly paying attention to my post, or my awful coworker–who wasn't altogether awful, just uncomfortably obsese, and poingiantly ignorant. ‘What are you hungry for?', The voice asked, And without hesitation, I silently listed my Whole Foods escapade, glistening with thoughts of Croissants, Bananas, Apples, Trail Mix Tater Tots A Cool Haus Ice Cream Sandwich, –and maybe even an Acai bowl, as they were almost always out of Acai by any time was able to make it to the juice bar. ‘Yes', said the voice “Really?”! I asked–still silently, though at least one of my roomates was beginning his day, and the other, the 22-year-oldd from Brooklyn was still sleeping quietly, wreaking of liquor and leftover something, which at a glance appeared to be Jack In The Box ‘Yes.' The episode aligned perfectly with the quickly escalating season of the Multiverse i had crafted and was nearly entirely consumed with creating, and the fast was, indeed, over–at least for a moment– I had, after all, only been fasting because of Drake Bell and his whippets, which for some or any reason at all had irked me to the point of lucidity beyond recognition and ignited my soul into the chaotic and cryptic, whimsical frenzy with which the 6th Season of The Festival Project was being written ferociously. Still, nothing seemed to matter and no one seemed to really care, but it was at least a prompt–and of course, I was still being followed by bodies that coughed a lot, but even that just seemed a toxic wash of nonsense I couldn't be bothered with, croissants or not. I fantasized being knocked off in a robbery , but would more than likely just die of a broken heart and a lack of love. In walked a childhood crush, and opened up Pandora's Box Ugh. This Fucking Sucks. Drake Bell was not my childhood crush. Wait— he wasn't. No: Don't get me wrong—he's my type, or— was, but… Let us not forget my placement in the world, and here is where I make my mark, to wit that the programming of an entire generation had been captivated and altered in my very own mine—the familiarity of potent lust arising out of circumstance and also nirture, a lack of fight or flight from which one could and would have easily turned away—or run towards. Then, almost hastily unknowing whether to jump to conclusions in that, my own series had created some kind of reverberations within what was so quite notably a smaller pond than not— the industry itself having eyes and ears with every motion I had taken from the start of it, and my ability to trust, and naivety ruined over the course of what my mind would have imagined, how startlingly easy it was to awaken his imaginary world which was, not only not just of random circumstance, but an idea that was planted and mulled over. Tales of a Superstar DJ {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū. {} - Enter The Multiverse

AirBassRadio-950-Paul-Collide Vinyl Set by Paul Collide (Official)

AirBassRadio-949-Paul-Collide Vinyl Set by Paul Collide (Official)

Recorded live at Colored Craig's event SO HAPPY (El Cid, LA). Dipped back into my roots for a very happy all vinyl house set featuring some of my all-time favorite house jams.Full tracklisting available at SOUNDCLOUD . COM / DJJOSHPEACE

The AirBassRadio Show #946 Vinyl Set with Paul Collide Every Thursday night from 20.00 -22.00h live at RTV PARKSTAD. Tune in: rtvparkstad.nl/radio-live Radio: 89,2 FM - 87,5, Kabel - Ziggo: 918 Televisie: Ziggo Kanaal 43 - KPN Kanaal 1495 Socials : facebook.com/airbassradio instagram.com/airbassradio

Hey Guys, this week I present you a special vinyl set. We're going between hard-trance & uplfting trance. Hope you will like it. 01 Blank & Jones - Invocatio 02 Kai Tracid - Conscious (Energy Mix) 03 DJ Wag - Life On Mars (DJ Wag Mix) 04 Azzido Da Bass - Dooms Night (Timo Maas Remix) 05 Palmer Brown - My Beat (Ambassador Remix) 06 Emmanuel Top - Turkish Bazar (Reeloop Remix) 07 Derb - In Africa (Club Mix) 08 DJ Scot Project - R (Rock) 09 DJ Snowman - ...and then they start to dance (JamX & DeLeon's DuMonde Mix) 10 Dave 202 - The Klammt 11 Mat Silver vs. Tony Burt - Ultimate Wave (Alphazone Remix) 12 Green Court feat. DeVision - Inside Your Gates (Cosmic Gate Remix) 13 System F - Exhale (Original Mix) 14 Smith & Pledger - Northern Lights (Original Mix) 15 Rapid Eye - Circa Forever (Iberia's Mainroom Mix) 16 Rank 1 - Breathing (Airwave) Full Vocal Clubb Mix 17 Armin van Buuren - Shivers (Alex M.O.R.P.H. Remix) 18 Above & Beyond presents Tranquility Base - Surrender (Original Mix) 19 NuNRG - Casino (Original Mix) 20 Blank & Jones - Nightclubbing (Original Mix) 21 NuNRG - Dreamland (Original Mix) Hope you will like it?!

Maverick throws you headfirst into the core of the underground. No compromises, no clichés — just pure, hypnotic techno from artists who don't follow the rules, they rewrite them. This is where deep rhythms loop like mantras, and every track pulls you deeper into a world that's raw, relentless, and alive. Hit play — and surrender to the sound. Transformation starts here. With a deep passion for vinyl and a devotion to underground sounds, Temporal Regularity has been shaping dance floors in Bulgaria and the UK for the past decade with a unique blend of techno, electro, progressive, and minimal beats. Known for his vinyl-only sets, he boasts a diverse collection of records, fostering an authentic connection with the music. Proudly affiliated with Mekanika Recordings, he released his first EP, 'Atta,' and contributed to the VA label release 'Broken Mekanisms' with the track 'What Words Are.' Initially, his journey began with a passion for the guitar, but after enrolling at the SubBass DJ Academy of Electronic Music in London, he turned his attention entirely to electronic music. Temporal Regularity continues to push boundaries and explore new sonic territories, infusing his sets with distinct energy.

African Rave Generator - Vinyl Set (1990s) by Steve Sonius

KzRadio 18/2/25 שידורי ניסיון 

LejalNyte with Suburban Suspekt 4x4 Garage Vinyl Set Vol 3 on Sub FM 31st January 2025 - https://www.sub.fm

Не зря говорят что музыка циклична. Подобрал актуальных по саунду пластинок и сыграл их в прайм тайм в стенах любимого Ketchup. И несмотря на возраст , всегда остается главное - правильно их преподнести аудитории. Было очень позитивно, динамично и красиво. 1 ID iD 2 ID iD 3 ID iD 4 ID iD 5 ID iD 6 ID iD 7 ID iD 8 ID iD 9 ID iD 10 ID iD

David Moleon -VINYL SET - ESPECIAL NOCHEBUENA | 24.12.2024

100% Vinyl Set

This week on Space Cowboys RIPEcast we have the man I consider the holder of the House music championship belt our very own Brad Robinson. Coming at you with a live old school vinyl set! “The Birds of a Feather event was something really unique. To have so many of the old school Bay Area burning man crews pool their energy and resources to bring community together into one place, was just phenomenal. When Tamo first told me about the plans for the event, I got really excited, especially when she told me that there would be turntables poolside. I immediately started digging through my vinyl and reminiscing of the days when we would all dance together to these records. Each one of these tracks is like an old friend and getting to play them again for a dance floor of chosen family was a real treat. Thank you to all of the event planners who went above and beyond to create this very special weekend for us.”

LejalNyte with Suburban Suspekt 4x4 Garage Vinyl Set Vol 2 on Sub FM 29th March 2024 - https://www.sub.fm

—∙IN THE MIX∙—MARINUCCI (Veteran DJ/Producer): The Argentinian native takes over the airwaves at Club Sabroso Radio a vinyl electronic music set recorded Live at his studio in Maimi.Powered by the Club Sabroso Radio NetworkFollow IG/FB: @CLUBSABROSORADIO24/7 Live Stream at: WWW.CLUBSABROSORADIO.COM

LejalNyte with Suburban Suspekt 4x4 Garage Vinyl Set on Sub FM 1st March 2024 - https://www.sub.fm

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01, No Track List 02, Not AVailable 03, Not At the moment 04, Sorry for the inconvenience 05, Thank YouCristian Varela has maintained for more than 20 years an excellent reputation within the international electronic music scene. One of the friendliest characters you´ll meet, his experience and inna... Download

Unreleased Edits for DJ use and unreleased music via bandcamp. https://saeedyounan.bandcamp.com/ Check out the "Merch" if you're interested in vinyl records. Loops & Tools for Producers Only: https://www.patreon.com/SaeedYo Everything else that you need: https://linktr.ee/saeedyounan - Hot Crate Classics: Randomly grabbing a hand full of records from my vinyl bins and mixing them. These sets are never pre-planned or rehearsed. Just going with the flow, making it work, and having fun! Please LIKE, REPOST & SHARE to help me spread the musical message. Contribution & Support, if you feel so inclined. Thanks! Cash app. $SaeedYounan paypal.me/SaeedYo Venmo@SaeedYo

The DJs Stoneface & Terminal Vinyl Set @ Trancefest Glasgow Oct. 2023 by Stoneface & Terminal

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01, No Track List 02, Not AVailable 03, Not At the moment 04, Sorry for the inconvenience 05, Thank YouCristian Varela has maintained for more than 20 years an excellent reputation within the international electronic music scene. One of the friendliest characters you´ll meet, his experience and inna... Download

This is part 2 of Hot Crate Classic #58. Unreleased Edits for DJ use only, Exclusively at Bandcamp. Check out the "Merch" tab on Bandcamp, if you're interested in vinyl records. https://saeedyounan.bandcamp.com/ Loops & Tools for Producers Only: https://www.patreon.com/SaeedYo Everything else that you need: https://linktr.ee/saeedyounan - Hot Crate Classics: Randomly grabbing a hand full of records from my vinyl bins and mixing them. These sets are never pre-planned or rehearsed. Just going with the flow, making it work, and having fun! Please LIKE, REPOST & SHARE to help me spread the musical message. Contribution & Support, if you feel so inclined. Thanks! Cash app. $SaeedYounan paypal.me/SaeedYo Venmo@SaeedYo

Live recording of Qemist and Strooly's eclectic vinyl set at Memphis Current on September 15, 2023. An adventurous mix of funk, soul, jazz, hip-hop and beyond.

This mix is 1 of 2. Goto "Hot Crate Classics #59" for the continuation. Unreleased Edits for DJ use only, Exclusvily at Bandcamp. Check out the "Merch" tab on Bandcamp, if you're interested in vinyl records. https://saeedyounan.bandcamp.com/ Loops & Tools for Producers Only: https://www.patreon.com/SaeedYo Everything else that you need: https://linktr.ee/saeedyounan - Hot Crate Classics: Randomly grabbing a hand full of records from my vinyl bins and mixing them. These sets are never pre-planned or rehearsed. Just going with the flow, making it work, and having fun! Please LIKE, REPOST & SHARE to help me spread the musical message. Contribution & Support, if you feel so inclined. Thanks! Cash app. $SaeedYounan paypal.me/SaeedYo Venmo@SaeedYo

Exclusive Unreleased Edits for DJ use only on Bandcamp. https://saeedyounan.bandcamp.com/ Loops & Tools for Producers Only: https://www.patreon.com/SaeedYo Everything else that you need: https://linktr.ee/saeedyounan - Hot Crate Classics: Randomly grabbing a hand full of records from my vinyl bins and mixing them. These sets are never pre-planned or rehearsed. Just going with the flow, making it work, and having fun! Please LIKE, REPOST & SHARE to help me spread the musical message. Contribution & Support, if you feel so inclined. Thanks! Cash app. $SaeedYounan paypal.me/SaeedYo Venmo@SaeedYo

Artist: Makenzo (Krasnodar, Russia) Name: Live@Vinyl Set (May 2023) Genre: House / Electronic Release Date: 31.05.2023 Exclusive: Deep House Moscow Makenzo: https://soundcloud.com/makenzodj Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/makenzo_dj CONTACT (DHM): Email — deephousemoscow@hotmail.com Follow us: www.facebook.com/deephousemsk/ www.instagram.com/deephousemoscow/ vk.com/deephousemsk/

CfromB 4hr Vinyl Set Dub To DnB - 06 May 2023 by Sub FM

LejalNyte with DJ Gee 2step vinyl set Vol 3 - 26 May 2023 by Sub FM

LejalNyte with DJ Gee 2step vinyl set Vol 2 - 28 Apr 2023 by Sub FM

LIVE All vinyl New Hardcore & Jungle set recorded from Wax On in Birmingham from December 2022

LejalNyte with DJ Gee 2step Vinyl Set - 31 Mar 2023 by Sub FM

Edits for DJ use only "Unreleased" via https://saeedyounan.bandcamp.com/ Loops & Tools for Producers Only: https://www.patreon.com/SaeedYo Everything else that you need: https://linktr.ee/saeedyounan - Hot Crate Classics: Randomly grabbing a hand full of records from my vinyl bins and mixing them. These sets are never pre-planned or rehearsed. Just going with the flow, making it work, and having fun! Please LIKE, REPOST & SHARE to help me spread the musical message. Contribution & Support, if you feel so inclined. Thanks! Cash app. $SaeedYounan paypal.me/SaeedYo Venmo@SaeedYo

Edits for DJ use only "Unreleased" via https://saeedyounan.bandcamp.com/ Loops & Tools for Producers Only: https://www.patreon.com/SaeedYo Everything else that you need: https://linktr.ee/saeedyounan - Hot Crate Classics: Randomly grabbing a hand full of records from my vinyl bins and mixing them. These sets are never pre-planned or rehearsed. Just going with the flow, making it work, and having fun! Please LIKE, REPOST & SHARE to help me spread the musical message. Contribution & Support, if you feel so inclined. Thanks! Cash app. $SaeedYounan paypal.me/SaeedYo Venmo@SaeedYo

Edits for DJ use only "Unreleased" via https://saeedyounan.bandcamp.com/ Loops & Tools for Producers Only: https://www.patreon.com/SaeedYo Up-to-date music and news! https://linktr.ee/saeedyounan - Hot Crate Classics: Randomly grabbing a hand full of records from my vinyl bins and mixing them. These sets are never pre-planned or rehearsed. Just going with the flow, making it work, and having fun! Please LIKE, REPOST & SHARE to help me spread the musical message. Contribution & Support, if you feel so inclined. Thanks! Cash app. $SaeedYounan paypal.me/SaeedYo Venmo@SaeedYo

Edits for DJ use only "Unreleased" via https://saeedyounan.bandcamp.com/ Loops & Tools for Producers Only: https://www.patreon.com/SaeedYo Up-to-date music and news! https://linktr.ee/saeedyounan - Hot Crate Classics: Randomly grabbing a hand full of records from my vinyl bins and mixing them. These sets are never pre-planned or rehearsed. Just going with the flow, making it work, and having fun! Please LIKE, REPOST & SHARE to help me spread the musical message. See Track List Below: 1- Loco Dice - Phat Dope Shit (Saeed Younan remix)[Available on my bandcamp digital and vinyl copies] 2- Saeed Younan - You know I got it 3- Thick Dick - Tweakin (Saeed Younan rmx) 4- C&M - True House (Saeed Younan rmx) 5- Saeed Younan - Rock The Rhythm 6- Saeed Younan - Higher 7- Danny Tenaglia - Music Is The Answer (Saeed Younan Remix) 8- Ariel G - Behold malfunction (Saeed Younan remix) 9- Kyrpz - I love the bass (Saeed Younan Remix)

Edits for DJ use only "Unreleased" via https://saeedyounan.bandcamp.com/ Loops & Tools for Producers Only: https://www.patreon.com/SaeedYo Up-to-date music and news! https://linktr.ee/saeedyounan - Hot Crate Classics: Randomly grabbing a hand full of records from my vinyl bins and mixing them. These sets are never pre-planned or rehearsed. Just going with the flow, making it work, and having fun! Please LIKE, REPOST & SHARE to help me spread the musical message. Contribution & Support, if you feel so inclined. Thanks! Cash app. $SaeedYounan paypal.me/SaeedYo Venmo@SaeedYo

Edits for DJ use only "Unreleased" via https://saeedyounan.bandcamp.com/ Loops & Tools for Producers Only: https://www.patreon.com/SaeedYo Up-to-date music and news! https://linktr.ee/saeedyounan - Hot Crate Classics: Randomly grabbing a hand full of records from my vinyl bins and mixing them. These sets are never pre-planned or rehearsed. Just going with the flow, making it work, and having fun! Please LIKE, REPOST & SHARE to help me spread the musical message. Contribution & Support, if you feel so inclined. Thanks! Cash app. $SaeedYounan paypal.me/SaeedYo Venmo@SaeedYo

Specialysed Techno Radio Show with the most relevant Guest artists around the world and a great selection of news and releases from the best underground labels! 01, No Track List 02, Not AVailable 03, Not At the moment 04, Sorry for the inconvenience 05, Thank You This show is syndicated & distributed exclusively by Syndicast. […] Subscribe to listen to Techno music, Tech House music, Deep House, Acid Techno, and Minimal Techno for FREE.

Download exclusive DJ Mix / Sets 😎👉🏻www.facebook.com/technolivesets/support/ Subscribe to listen to Techno music, Tech House music, Deep House, Acid Techno, and Minimal Techno for FREE.