Podchaser Logo
Home
Synth Harmony: Electronic Keyboards with Don Slepian

Don Slepian

Synth Harmony: Electronic Keyboards with Don Slepian

An Arts and Performing Arts podcast
Good podcast? Give it some love!
Synth Harmony: Electronic Keyboards with Don Slepian

Don Slepian

Synth Harmony: Electronic Keyboards with Don Slepian

Episodes
Synth Harmony: Electronic Keyboards with Don Slepian

Don Slepian

Synth Harmony: Electronic Keyboards with Don Slepian

An Arts and Performing Arts podcast
Good podcast? Give it some love!
Rate Podcast

Episodes of Synth Harmony

Mark All
Search Episodes...
We start by hopping and skipping along, up and down scales in scholarly scalar flippant fashion. Cosmic marimbas join the echoed underwater pianos only to display some ascending octaves in time for the chase. Marimbas solo for an A minor dance
A Transparent Summer MorningBy: Walt WhitmanI mind how once we lay, such a transparent summer morning;How you settled your head athwart my hips, and gently turn’d over upon me,And parted the shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged your tongue
Continuing from the previous "Grasshopper" episode, a phalanx of Grasshoppers parade and precision march to project their strident orchestral calls and beat some big orchestral drums.  Ponderous, these little creatures they are.   Down the dark
"We would be together and have our books and at night be warm in bed together with the windows open and the stars bright."  --Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast
Arpeggiations in a G minor theme, the start of a march, then an accelerando to a higher level of energy.  All this while a curtain of deep resonant flanged noise slowly rises and falls in sensuous sinusoidal fashion.  A stab at 6/8 meter, then
Musically thinking about my day.  The morning started off with a bang in F major.  I went out for a walk in the afternoon.  Things got rather contrapuntal but that's just me thinking too much.  Took a deep breath and looked at the birds.  Calme
Things are going fine and then I have a surprise visitor!  My housemate wants a ride down to the garage.  Life intervenes.  My life, like your life, is interrupted by other priorities.  Art will just have to wait.
It's morning and everyone in the house is fast asleep.  On with the headphones, on with the lights, on with the bathrobe, and catch the fleeting inspirations.
A desultory walking jazz escapade while daydreaming of a morning stroll.
A curtain of gloomLike evening mist of autumnHangs in poetic brain.Nosheen IrfanThis was recorded in September 2017 as I first experimented with the four HD camera setup.  Things were not coming together easily or going well. This darkened
My mind goes wandering in Chinese gardensWhere sacred lotus flowers bloom in vainI'll never see or touch those crisp, white blossoms,Nor thrill to rustling bamboo in the rain.They say the secrets hidden in thick bushesCan only be revealed
No one can tell what's hidden in your gardensThat only emperors may fathom joyfully.I lie here on an ordinary meadow.My answer here, too close to really see.My mind goes wandering in Chinese gardens,Where sacred lotus flowers bloom in vain
  No poem for this one.  What happened?  How did I get into this strange night club and what's wrong with that bass player?  I try one door after another, dreaming of my escape.  There are strange robots dancing together in this room.  Do
Birdsong brings reliefto my longingI'm just as ecstatic as they are,but with nothing to say!Please universal soul, practicesome song or something through me!RumiOn a wandering path with some feelings of urgency.  The reverberent echo acc
Childish simplicity.  Some bells reminiscent of my years playing Saron in the gamelon.  Now a new diversion.  There a new path.Nearly understood phrases underscore bells.  Lydian harmonies, raised 4ths, mellotron swells and soaring sounds of v
“Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.”  RumiRomance is not the absence of loneliness.  Looking across a barren plain for a friendly face.  Love must be
The Rose that Grew from ConcreteDid you hear about the rose that grewfrom a crack in the concrete?Proving nature's law is wrong itlearned to walk with out having feet.Funny it seems, but by keeping it's dreams,it learned to breathe fresh
you are my strum,my tune,and all my guitarsMadi CookHere in "Flowing Water" I am playing with the sound of the Classical Guitar played on the keyboard.  Sometimes it's like a harpsichord on a lute stop, other times it is reminiscent of the
Love and harmony combine,And round our souls entwineWhile thy branches mix with mine,And our roots together join.Joys upon our branches sit,Chirping loud and singing sweet;Like gentle streams beneath our feetInnocence and virtue meet.Wi
Russian winter is setting in. Another shot of Vodka called for at once.  The cavalry gallops over the Steppes, Cossacks with their swords out as brass, strings, and percussions rise to the challenge.  More Mussorgsky chords ensue, then a chain
Modest Mussorgsky pulls Claude Debussey out of the lake.  The swans look on with bemused superiority, hissing and shaking their heads.  It all ends well enough with a picnic lunch and a concluding ascending F major arpeggio.
The Mussorgsky continues until morale improves, which it does at the end of this piece with a romantic theme and a starry ending.
Waves of Modest Mussorgsky's chordal constructions fall upon my digital shores.
Rate

Join Podchaser to...

  • Rate podcasts and episodes
  • Follow podcasts and creators
  • Create podcast and episode lists
  • & much more

Unlock more with Podchaser Pro

  • Audience Insights
  • Contact Information
  • Demographics
  • Charts
  • Sponsor History
  • and More!
Pro Features