• MNFVTT's (200X - 2011)

    Mar 13 2011, 9:00

    Most Notable Female Vocal Trance Tracks: (200X - 2011)

    (In No Particular Order)

    • Randy Boyer feat. Cari Golden - Fragile (Cat #: EMM001) (2010)
    • Andy Moor & Ashley Wallbridge feat. Meighan Nealon - Faces (Cat #: AVA015) (2009)
    • First State feat. Sarah Howells - Brave (Cat #: Magik Muzik 872-0) (2009)
    • Tritonal feat. Cristina Soto - Kiss Me Here (Cat #: SPUN001) (2009)
    • Whiteroom feat. Amy Cooper - Someday (2011 Remixes) (Cat #: SPC086) (2011)
  • What You Can Be Scared Of...

    Ott 18 2010, 18:33

    “It’s funny what you can be scared of...”

    ...like knowing that when you uncover (part of) a ‘truth’ by writing or speaking of it, it may end up hurting someone, even though you never wanted this to happen to begin with.

    And sometimes… sometimes you know, perhaps unconsciously so, that your words may cause some manner of hurt, of pain… But you end up justifying the expression of these words, as well as their possible consequence, for the sake of that ‘truth’. For the sake of a glorified “good” the expression may bring about; and in this process of justification you begin to forget about how damaging this hurt can be to someone - becoming so intently, so relentlessly, focused on the (probable) good that you lose sight sight of basically everything else. Finally leading to series of events that unknowingly set in motion another subsequent process, one that eventually turns you blind to recognising the hurt for what it truly is. And for what it does to the lives of others.

    Justifying an honest expression for whatever reason to somehow ‘make it okay’ eventually leads to a blurring of the line between that which is probable and that which is real; it leads you to a place where you’re no longer able to see that this so-called “good” is, after all, only probable; and that the hurt is, in fact, so very, very real…

    ...and it will always be real, regardless of whether or not some indistinct, possible good comes to pass.

    (If) everything has a “price” - if every action must have a consequence - when does that price become too high? When does the consequence become so damaging that what justified it initially must be wiped completely off the table of all reasoning? At what point does any probable good outweigh the knowledge of certain hurt?

    Too often that line is consciously allowed to become blurred and the hurt itself ceases to be damaging but becomes something altogether different - a twisted, deformed means by which to bring about some crazy, half-baked selfish concept to do ‘good’. Allowing “hurt” and “good” - which will always be separate concepts - to become merged in your mind is, (for lack of a more precise description), pretty much fucked up… this inability to see these two things for what they are is what makes you blind. And if you hate being “blind” then, in this instance, you’re left with very few choices…

    ...one of those choices are ‘letting go’ - to delete your.self.

    - 29 November 2009 (17:38) -
  • The Nature Of Knowledge

    Ott 18 2010, 18:31

    This is by no means the first time, nor will it be the last, that I sit down and attempt to translate my thoughts on this particular subject into words; to form sentences and paragraphs that, one way or another, actually makes some sense…

    However, it must firstly be noted that in this instance Knowledge - implicitly spelled with a capital “K” - refers to the concept in its ‘Absolute’ state.

    Arguably one could state that knowledge is completely non-existent before it is incorporated into the human thought-process and that to suggest that it possesses the quality of being ‘Absolute’ is incorrect. Granted, yet to simplify the distinction between Knowledge and knowledge; Knowledge is that ‘information’ which is - within the scope of our current, present-state awareness - unknown to us. And knowledge is such information that is already known to us.

    The aim of this thought, this ‘theory’, is then also an attempt to fathom not only the Nature of Knowledge itself, but to consider the consequence of the transformation that occurs when Knowledge turns to knowledge.

    Quoting…

    “I mean that one cannot expect to possess knowledge which does not change one. Once one knows, one is acting upon that knowledge, whether it is to withhold the knowledge from those who would also be changed, or to give it to them.
    – Anne Rice, "Taltos".

    One of the very few ‘certainties’ in Life is that our personalities perpetually change each second of each day as a direct result of the countless different situations that we experience; changes that occur most frequently on such a subtle, unconscious level as to become almost imperceptible, and thus remain largely unnoticed by the conscious - governing - awareness that is responsible for defining who we are. Accumulated these ‘small changes’ often form the basis upon those so-called ‘life-altering’ - seemingly instantaneous - insights that is so commonly remarked upon by people…

    Move down > It is often said that “knowledge is power...”, yet the question remains then what manner of power does it bestow upon the person possessed thereof?

    - 17 September 2008 (15:12) -
  • What Have We Done?

    Ott 18 2010, 18:28

    Autumn is approaching.

    Too early, too fast… this year it’s coming perhaps too soon…

    It brings with it the sights and the smells that will herald an even greater change to come but for now it’s already begun and one may already catch a glimpse of leaves dying, shedding their greens in exchange for the oranges and yellows and, eventually, the rustic reds that will signal their final surrender from branches to be heaped in the streets, in the gutters once drowning in the splendor of summer rains. The cycle continues, year after empty year, just like before; and sometimes I detect a fragment of hate within myself for this same restlessness within me remains.

    Still questioning… still seeking… still asking… still noticing the fallen leaves, the unending cycle of loveless actions, of hollow empty eyes, of unvoiced screams just waiting to be set free beneath the skin. So different from previous years, so painfully similar in the reflection of the sun’s dying rays penetrating climate-controlled interiors. And the same path opens up each year- it’s not here yet, but I know it’s coming and I know that I will pass it by and there are others who know this pathway as well as I do. One can see it in the corners of their eyes; those eyes that have known too many tears…

    And like the cycle of the seasons, like the returning of those leaves that do not really belong on side walks and in gutters, the doubt returns also. That doubt that makes me wonder if I’m ready to walk upon the pathway of introspection, that path crowded by a million mirrors; that path of asking, “What have I done?” Will I be strong enough?

    Sometimes it reminds me of tempting the guidelines of sanity itself, those frail and diffused equations that keeps all the billions upon billions of thoughts from becoming too chaotic, too overwhelming…

    - 25 March 2008 (17:24) -
  • Twelve And One Half...

    Ott 18 2010, 18:27

    When all the shadows of
    the past day gather
    Drawn together in streets
    and parks, on rooftops…
    Freed from the evils of man
    to which they were witness.

    Twelve the number of those
    who dance in the middle,
    Twelve who must listen again
    to tales… of wickedness.
    Twelve the hour of their
    silent celebration,
    Twelve, and one half.

    Darker than dark surrounding
    flickering pools of light,
    Their dance slower than steps -
    undulating like ocean’s swell.
    Silent words in their movements
    that tell of human deceit.

    Twelve their number, those
    dancing in their midst.
    Twelve who must suffer the
    burden again, to die…
    Twelve, this hour of their calling
    an hour of birth, and death.
    Twelve… and one half.

    © 2007. (1:01 AM)
  • Sometimes I Frown...

    Ott 18 2010, 18:25

    “Order is shattered in a strange guttural tone that resounded
    along the walls of the houses, which seemed dead and deserted,
    while, behind the closed shutters, eyes watched the conquerors,
    who, by right of war, were now masters of the city and of the lives
    and fortunes of its people.

    In their darkened ruins the inhabitants have given way to the same
    feeling of panic which is aroused by natural cataclysms those
    devastating upheavals of the Earth, against which wisdom and
    strength alike are of no avail.

    Though the same feeling is experienced wherever the established
    order of things is upset, when security ceases to exist, when all that
    was previously protected by the laws of man and nature is suddenly
    placed at the mercy of brutal unreasoning force.

    The earthquake, burying a whole people beneath the ruins of their
    houses, the river in spate, sweeping away the bodies of drowned
    peasants, together with the carcasses of cattle and rafters torn from
    roofs, and the victorious army slaughtering all who resist, making
    prisoners of the rest, looting by right of the sword, and thanking their
    god to the sound of cannon.

    All these are terrifying scourges which undermine all our belief in
    eternal justice and all the trust we have been taught to place in divine
    protection and human reason.”

    - “Chosen”, VNV Nation.

    ...and when I frown it’s usually a sign of being either intrigued, frustrated, perplexed, contemplative, reflective, or attempting to translate thoughts in to words. In this case however frowning would be a sign of being utterly and completely astounded by the preceding lyrics from VNV Nation. I’ve heard this song before and yet, to consciously state hat I have ‘listened’ to it before would be a blatant lie since I’ve never really paid attention to the words in the matter I should have.

    Any endeavour on my part to describe how poignant and powerful these ‘lyrics’ are would be to demean them and thus I would say only that somehow I wish that someone, somewhere, had held a gun to my head and forced me to sit down and really listen to this song. To take note of these words and their meaning and what they convey because it’s fucking brilliant. Period. Actually it’s more than that…

    “...looting by right of the sword, and thanking their god to the sound of cannon.” Absolutely bloody amazing! It makes you want to go out there and grab people by their shoulders and shake them and speak to them, perhaps rather irrationally, and try to make them see what we - as a so-called ‘civilized’ human race - have become. Not only those who choose to declare ‘war’ on others, but also such people who stand before the decision and decide that it’s fine to do a bit of pillaging and raping on their own. And it’s not like they don’t have any ‘right’ in deciding how they should live their lives, they certainly do, but when making any decision that involves a process of hurt and pain and having no respect whatsoever, not only for other individuals, but for Life itself, they decide to forfeit that so-called ‘right’. It being my personal opinion…

    Sadly though such ‘hurt’ and ‘pain’ can be accomplished in so many different ways and in this I stand as guilty and shamed before the grace of Life as any other; and for this I would gladly accept whatever consequence may befall me. It’s sad to think though that hardly anyone at all is exempt from even an instant in which they may have caused hurt as it is so much a part of the very experience of Life and personal growth. Intent underlying singular action proves again to be so crucially imperative…

    My initial thoughts of what to write here is no longer of importance and I will only say this in closing… that I sincerely pray we never reach a state in which we completely abandon ALL hope and trust in Worship and reason.

    - 04 October 2007 (16:24) -
  • Widespread Social Self-Deception

    Ott 18 2010, 18:23

    Widespread Social Self-Deception - A Discourse.

    Piercing the Darkness, p.61-64: “wide spread social self deception”; what is also termed as “fluid fiction” - to present the world with varying different images of the self that fits into the socially accepted standards and norms without question. These various images may often, though not always, contain varying degrees of fragments or aspects of the true persona hidden within a self-imagined or self-created projection of ‘ideal’ character; all being therefore parts of a single identity that are replaced or switched in accordance to any given situation or environment that is experienced at any one given time. These subsequent ‘images’ exist within the whole of the persona as self-sufficient parts of the “person definition”, yet they tend to be separated from each other and they have the ability to interchangeable in an instant at any given point when required to. The exchanging of these images bear some resemblance to what is known as schizophrenia but contradictory to this illness the personal characteristics of the whole is not altered but merely hidden by a facade that does not define the essential qualities of that person as a whole. Depending of the variables inserted within each image or facade, society will then accept this “presented self” as fact merely on the basis of it fitting into the norm or a specific “mind set” dictated by expectation; projections of ‘self’ that are persistently present even though it’s not the actual truth. We learn each day how we should react in accordance to certain stimuli within a set of parameters that is determined by the cultural- or social spheres around us, and as soon as we are able to sufficiently comply to the expected criteria that are silently demanded of us, we’re able to validate these expectations through actions that are very often based upon what is commonly called ‘habit’. These actions may, in turn, be either real or faked as the primary causation upon which habits are founded remain largely unquestioned. Pretense is as much a part of our daily lives as sleeping or eating, and in many ways society has already predetermined, and prefabricated, the answers to questions that does not yet exist, but being aware of their possibility, are too afraid to ask them.

    Our modern society has structured itself to deceive en masse each day simply because it has become so much easier to rely upon these prefabricated presumptions, prescribed assumptions and judgments rather than to evaluate each situation on merit and then act accordingly in a manner that is defined by individual expression. Society at large not only want to but need to believe that our socially structured norms protects each of its citizens from a loss of ‘security’; demanding even that each individual within this society fit into a classified group for in categorization and sorting we find a sense of not only of communal safety but also personal safety and well-being by means of identification. Political structures upheld by these societies have created, consciously and subconsciously, ‘sanctuaries’ of illusionary safety that will protect us from individuals that might turn into killers instantaneously, yet unknowingly it sets - by means of these implemented delusions and a lack of accepting different ways of self-expression - the stage for just such a situation whereby any single person may be overwhelmed by frustration and looses control of the ‘moral self’. Drowning in conformity and self-chosen ignorance society needs to believe, above everything else, that each member of all its various communities are emotionally, intellectually and spiritually content and balanced. If we would consider then that so many people today suffers from a state of “pervasive post-modern uncertainty” then we are faced with a truly volatile stage in which there is a very real dilemma as there exists a larger majority of people who are potential rapists, murderers and abusers rather than potential humanitarians. The separate people that form these communities upon which any society is based change, adapt and develop much faster individually than the laws and rules that not only form the norms and standards of society, but also serve as the basis for what is perceived as security, and thus we are faced with an environment where the functionality of the given society is questioned and even rejected by many.

    “Deception is an approach, a method, that has proven effective...” Effective deceit, effective lies, effective rationalizations, effective presumptions, effective ‘half-truths’... Are these not all one and the same? Or are they deemed justifiable because they serve the so-called “greater good”? Is the fundamental purpose of these delusions that are formulated around us each day not to soothe our apprehension of a basic disorder that might lead to the complete annihilation of our social arrangement? We thus end up deluding our sense of moral and spiritual decay - hidden beneath the shining surface of pretense and an illusionary preserved belief of wellness - so thoroughly convincing that we reach a state in which we’re unable to discern between truth and fiction. These delusions have then already become the norm because they represent the expected equivalent of what is perceived to be true and society will subsequently continue to impose these placating lies upon those in its midst until a complete fragmentation of these doctrines, that supposedly spell order and security, occur. And it is thus with the deconstruction of accepted norms and standards that we might find the only way in which we will ever be able to reevaluate the elementary and original reasons for their existence.

    Denial of reality for whatever incentive is a proven means of escape and in many situations it is the easiest way for the consciousness to deal with any condition that does not fit into the ideal social mold. The ‘mind set’ of society and individuals alike are packed with moral filters and barriers that ‘protect’ and guard the boundaries of what we perceive to be real or imagined. In essence then it is the effectiveness of any particular delusion that establishes its widespread usage in any number of varyingly different societies across the world; where any delusion is actively present we have to analyze its ability to continuously be effective, as well as examining its basis structure to determine whether or not it may be applied to only one community exclusively, or to society in general. In this examination we must then make a very distinct and clear separation between not only moral- or religious differences, but also between socio-economic variants, minority and majority balances, as well as communal and individual variations that are present within any given society. Only then will we be able to find impartial, unprejudiced, fair and objective norms that need not the use of widespread social self-delusions.

    © M. Van Romburgh

    - circa. 2001 -
  • Reflections... (On Change)

    Ott 18 2010, 18:22

    “And there it is, as pure as snow
    I couldn’t see it for my head was too low
    And prying eyes, they stoop too low
    Poisoning my soul, as sanity waits in the gallows

    Defeated I, fighting for a lost cause
    Depleted I, dying for the wrong cause

    These are the hours on the range
    The more you show them
    The more they choose to take away
    Some things never change in the wings
    And as it’s your war,
    There’ll be no escape at all”

    - Antimatter.

    Change… chang[ing]... change[d]...

    Time passing by… one second following the next while this ‘change’, occurring continuously and endlessly, alter not only our physical state but more significantly our perception of what defines this ‘reality’. Each one of the millions upon millions of different aspects that define but one singular moment perpetually viewed in a manner that is not exactly the same in its value or meaning or ‘importance’ as when it was ‘sensed’ one second before that specific given instant.

    Ever changing, ever adapted and modified like watching the figures in a film move… frame by frame… each frame representing less than ‘a second’, a fraction thereof… taking five or even ten seconds to study and really look at each frame. One, seemingly insignificant, movement taking perhaps an hour or a day to complete and yet… yet we perform them so easily - like typing a word on this keyboard. Where speaking a single word would take up twenty frames and to really watch it would take one minute… and we are changed for speaking it. Because one word, said at at one particular moment within one particular situation, could change all of Creation; perhaps not instantly since the nature of the change reflected upon here is the manner of change that occur in its own time, ever so slow and thorough… So slow that it’s presence and influence often escape our awareness and we tend to forget about that which we do not take notice of…

    And this process of ‘changing’ is Absolute… and we can’t ‘go back’. What may have existed as part of the way in which we perceived - indeed discerned - ‘this’ or ‘that’ to be indicative of what constitutes our own personal ‘realities’ are no more. There is no ‘time’ before now really, this very instant… yet those recollections we’ve been calling ‘memories’ for so many centuries remain embedded in our minds like carvings on rocks and bones. And it is our ability of being able to recall these memories in the present that define and validate this change… This frustratingly subtle and ongoing life-long ‘event’ of changing…

    And sometimes, oftentimes, being aware of the change - to really look at it and acknowledge it - is the hardest thing to do… simply because it is not up to us, because we do not have any control over it. But we can shape this change, steering it and directing its ceaseless ‘flow’ in a manner that would render each recollection of a memory as a multitude of ‘secret smiles’... knowing beyond any doubt that this change, which so frequently may appear to be scary or intimidating, is really only the Magic of Life itself…

    (7:38PM)

    - 28 September 2007 (14:18)
  • Angry Again

    Ott 18 2010, 18:20

    Without coherent sequence this flash of lights drawing me inwards, exposing naked flesh that bears the sign of uncounted scars carved too deep into my succulent memory. Raise this glittering edge upwards - a honed instrument of steely torture to delicately inflict the shameless pain that forms the substance of my reality. Without fear of consequence to part each layer of skin with anticipation - almost breathlessly calling forth the crimson sacrifice that ultimately defines the only true meaning I know. Blood calling blood, a summoning of vengeance from above to relinquish my hold on sanity – praying for destruction of this, my arrogantly exclaimed demand of heaven’s serene joy and tranquillity.

    - Have I lost all control, beyond final hope? -

    Pulsating rhythm… Puncturing the wound again and again, dripping red, carving deeper and deeper into this fabric of muscle, savouring pain like fragrant wine the colour of rubies; feeding a sense of mystifying lust I as draw upon the lightning of gods without name. Increased release, concentrated revulsion and disgust brought before these docile puppets to subvert their insignificance en masse – oh let me subjugate without repentance or remorse! Let them witness my indulgence and shudder as they reject what I must embrace with a trembling, grasping hand, constantly in need of more…

    - A taste of unredeemed sin, too bitter? –

    Forfeit grace – a demon of intensified life - pure and uncut – consecrated to walk in the midst of pathetic moral assertions. This blinding brilliance of darkness enfolds my form, a wraith of extreme judgement to witness, to record, to adjust, to remember, to scorn… Pervert their inconsequential sanctity; their sacred feast trampled - scattered to lay bare of devotion before my creations of alternate belief. I’ll break apart these prayers of heresy feverishly seeking – asking – begging - absolution from imagined trespass, damned I shall gladly stand amidst their sculptures of despair and mockery. Dare I regard the angel? Called forth, cast aside with broken wings, stripped naked of a halo - does this lessen his purity?

    - Undying litanies, these cries of love? –

    Chain my mind, extract the thoughts…are they not me? Another realism, another consequential product of this savoured, delicately relished, cocktail known as compliance to conformity. Will the thought separated from the form and shape not render the same words of anguish? Frightened I stand not by the potential cruelty and malice of the demon but I fear the loss of potential mercy and splendour -ignored by those unable to recognise a crying angel. His tears my blood; my sacrifice too real in raped thought and emotions that can never be bought by their empty promises of a brighter future that spirals downward in agony. I do not presume to see with perfect sight nor do I wish to claim immaculate transcendence, yet I believe that my vision is less clouded by common preconceptions. Do I pray for redemption? Do I not seek to find salvation, some vague meaning and significance in this purpose that strengthens my will and belief? Damned if I don’t…damned if you don’t…

    - This pretence of life – sick of the façade yet? –

    Penetrate the silences within, walk alone and know the pain that consumes with such graceful force. If only for once in my life, I’ll scream and let go of the stupid fears that made me a slave straining against rusted chains. Praying not to be filled or to be inspired but to be completely and utterly possessed by infinity itself – fragmented moments that suggest this potentially consuming thought to be a distinct reality. Make this pain my own, tortured consciousness forged like steel… Push the balance closer to the brink of acceptance and finally one act – a singular deed – that will make me whole even if it threatens my fragile existence…

    © 2002

    - 27 September 2007 (02:53) -
  • Not Here... (Somewhere Else)

    Ott 18 2010, 18:17

    There are moments when one specific song is just so utterly, completely and profoundly PRETTY that you can’t do anything except sit down, close your eyes and listen to it again and again… and again…

    And it’s almost as if you drift away with the harmony and the rhythm and the voice and the small intricacies that you get know so well that you breathlessly anticipate that precise moment of it revealing itself. Perhaps it’s more an experience of being ‘swept’ away by it, gladly so; and you become something else, an awareness of self that’s me but not-me.

    A combination of such indescribable, exquisite Stillness and serenely blissful acceptance of absolutely every.single.thing. that inspires faint smiles and leaves one filled with the timeless wonder that is the majesty of Life itself. A state of being, of existing, in pure Stasis. Where that which defines this ‘reality’ dissipates and become no more than a fading memory; a place within ourselves where we become part of that song. Flowing outward into the vast expanse of Creation, caressing the very fabric of Eternity…

    Aye, it’s so pretty it hurts…

    - 18 August 2007 (18:39) -