https://zlatansatanprojekt.bandcamp.com/album/n-r-det-flimrer-for-det-indre-je

DET INDRE ØJE
Optaget hjemme i lejligheden. Nogle gange med åbne vinduer. Nogle gange med hovedtelefoner på, mens byen sov, og natten langsomt gled over i morgen.

credits

released June 24, 2026

Laurentius Brock

Interessant ny neofolk indpakket i nordisk meditation

Velkommen til mørket.

Her vandrer ånden, den tabte sjæl, mellem skyggerne af en verden, hvor meningsløsheden vokser som rust i hjertet på menneskeheden.

Vi famler. Vi bygger kulturer, vi nedbryder dem. Vi hylder fremskridt, men glemmer sjælen.

https://aandendervandrer.bandcamp.com/album/noter-fra-et-indre-landskab

BROCKSTEADYBEATZ

Continue to ponder upon the apocalypse, general meaning of Life and try to create some words of comfort and higher learning… or get A Blend of inner & utter chaos, insomnia, doppelganger-syndromes, weltschmerz, Sturm&drang with a funky urban vibe WOULD CHARLES BRONSON LIKE THIS MUSIC? ACOUSMATIC TAPE-MUSIK? MASH UP 4 THE EMOTIONALLY DISTURBED II FUCKED UP, FUNNY; SAD, SMART? AND LIKE, UM….; FILLED WITH TENDERNESS; RAGE AND IS ALWAYS BIG TIME SEXUALLY CHARGED like spring at the LA DOLCE MORTE CAF´E.. At the end of the day - humanity were always looking for answers and guidelines 
Recorded & produziert at jaegersburg 

Brutal Potens

Being beaten and crushed mercilessly. These songs were very painful to playI. it´s a very emotional thing!:-) 
En usædvanlig lang patetisk-episk ødipal levnedsskildring om en MORALSK HÆVNER i en MUDRET VERDEN med MUGNE MURE indespærrende et KNOGLEKNUSENDE MUMLENDE VRAG AF EN MAND 

Laurentius Brock - EnPladsiVerden-kommende-Brutal Potens....

BASS&BLAES - LAURENTIUS BROCK-BRUTAL POTENS- KOMMENDE....

En usædvanlig lang patetisk-episk ødipal levnedsskildring om en

MORALSK HÆVNER 

i en
MUDRET VERDEN

med
MUGNE MURE

indespærrende

et
KNOGLEKNUSENDE
MUMLENDE VRAG AF EN MAND

en fordums
BRUTAL POTENS

med et
ARRET KORPUS

og

en
TYGGEGUMMISØD

længsel…

His altered perception saw the shadow maker

You would call him deluded, you would call him weak

You would take his freedom and bury it

Still trapped in the lie which you cherish

You would not know.

Blood on his shirt,

All intention to hurt.

He lied, love died,

She eternally cries.

Before I budge an inch

I hail aurora with a pinch;

After three cups of morning tea

A pinch most grateful is to me;