Ezekiel

Zeki aka. DJ Tech_Wreck Interview w/ Co-Owner of Digital Angels Creations Lexi!!!!!

DAC:

What influences do you feel helped you start your career and are they the same ones that actually are still influencing you today.

DJTW:

I was mainly influenced by the love of techno music. At the time I started I was a rocker, loved all things metal. But I soon realized the great repetition in most rock songs. To me it started to sound like all rock songs were the same basic beat with only an added guitar solo or drum solo, or different vocals. I began to fall into techno in general simply because of the ever changing sound throughout each song. Yes like all music each song does have the same general pieces such as a steady bass line etc.
But ’’techno’’ in general I think can be broken down into so many sub-genres that the limitations are virtually endless. With a guitar, you can buy it alone and play normal stuff, you would most likely need to invest more money into effects pedals or digital editing software, if not you will run out of sounds to make. With techno, you can buy one turntable and find some old junk records in the attic or whatever or at a thrift store for like 50cents and boom, you’ve got half a million possibilities right there. As far as the influence, it is absolutely still there. Slightly different from when it started, but yes I am still influenced by the lack of limitations.

DAC:

How would you see your music has progressed from the  early start you had back in 2005?

DJTW:

OMG, my music is totally different now. I do still listen to my older songs but as far as progression…I tend to go more digital now. I do record a lot of sounds out in the real world every day. When I started I was in a group, I won’t list the group name due to some ‘’bad ground’’ between me and the other group members. But I remember we were totally instrumental as hell. Violins, guitars, drums, pianos, vocals, flutes…we had it all. I didn’t feel that it fit me though so I left shortly after. I began on my own and I was broke so I got myself the demo version of Fruity Loops Studios by Image Line (which I still have and use daily, I love you Image Line but you ain’t getting my cash!) I was suddenly turned on to the digital side of things. I did still have that background in ‘’orchestral’’ music from the instrumental days and if you listen to my first self released cd you can definitely tell where I came from. Today I’ve dropped a lot of the slow moving orchestral sounds but went back to instruments with a combination of digitals.
I think now as compared with the beginning….my music is just me. It is finally reaching a point where I enjoy my creations. It’s hard to describe the exact progression. Now with all the experiences I’ve had with good and bad music, it’s a lot more technical and definitely a lot harder than I thought it would be. Back in the day all my bass lines were simple yet melodic, today if I have less than four beats in my bass line it’s crap. On my first cd, the bass lines were like ‘’thump….thump….thump’’ now they are more like ‘’thumpthumpthumpthump’’ Haha.

DAC:

What advice would you give to a new musican/dj who was thinking about starting out in the music business in today’s market?

DJTW:

If you are into digital music, download Fruity Loops. The demo is free for life and the link to the Image Line website will be posted on the website. If you want to splurge and buy a copy, they offer free lifetime upgrades on all versions.
As far as any other type of music, learn what you can while you can. At the beginning it can never hurt to try new things. Even if you think they might not work out, there is only one way to know for sure. Do them while you can because once you reach the top of your game you cannot afford to make mistakes. Do what you can to learn but always remember to be yourself. Your music should come from your heart, when the fans can feel your emotional connection from across the room, across the stadium, or across the world….you know you’ve mastered it all. Be true to your heart not to your wallet. Don’t do it for money or success, do it for your heart! A big house and a fancy car don’t make you a good musician, money doesn’t make you a good musician, making good music doesn’t even make you a good musician.
Making an emotional bond with your music is the only thing that can make you a good musician. Love what you do and do what you love!

DAC:

When you compose music what is the process that you go through to get the finished product and what elements inspire you to go through that process?

DJTW:

Generally my music is inspired by the simple tapping of my foot against the floor of the car while sitting at a red light. I hear the blasting stereos from five different cars all combined and the mixed beat usually spawns an idea in my mind. Or walking down the sidewalk and hearing a barking dog in the distance. I am inspired by every audible noise I hear every single day.
As far as the process, I usually start by pulling out my cell phone and recording the actual sound if possible or I’ll mimic the sound as best as I can. I’ll get home and open my FL Studios of course (what? It’s just a great f**king program). I don’t like sheet music and writing/reading it. I make my basic beat or recreation of what I heard out on the street then just build on that. I try hundreds of different ideas and effects until I reach my finished product. Sometimes I still use actual instruments but lately I’ve been learning to better produce them all digitally. After I get my basic idea completed I typically upload it into more editing programs (sorry Image Line). I won’t list all the programs I use because I like to think of them as my *secret weapon*. After I have an acceptable version of my song I listen to it on my ipod about a thousand times over to see if it holds up to the test of time for me. If I still enjoy the 1,000th time as much as the 1st, then I know my song is good enough. The last step is just final edit, adjusting volume levels and any glitches that I notice….burn it to a blank cd and poof…I’m done!

DAC:

Who are your influences and explain why they influenced you and would you ever consider yourself to be someone else’s influence?

DJTW:

My influences are Joachim Garraud, David Guetta, and Benny Benassi. As far as professional Dj’s those are my top three. I do have other influences, people that are known to local crowds and some not even known at all. I do take great influence from Christine aka Phantom7 and Caroline aka Charms both from the group Somatoform out of Canton, Ohio.  I love Joachim because when he performs live, you can honestly feel the energy radiating from his orb of love for his work. That means a lot to me. I also love David who works a lot with Joachim simply because that man made vocals in techno music cool again!! I just love the easy listening flow of all his work.
As far as Benny Benassi…he just always seems to have half naked women in his music videos…I’m a man so you can obviously see why I like them!!!! I don’t typically feel any passion from his work, not saying that he isn’t passionate because I’m sure he is very much so. I just don’t feel the connection the same way I do when I listen to Joachim or David. Somatoform…oh gosh there are some roots there with Christine hah.
I think they taught me the most valued part of my life as well as my music. You don’t always need money and gear to be happy, You just need passion. I am glad to have had them in my life personally and I will never forget the things I learned from them. I don’t know if I am or have been an influence on anyone but I would be honored if someone found me to inspire them! Those are just a few of the influences I have had directly, again I am influenced daily by any and all sounds and music.

DAC:

So with the comment about naked women in Benny Bennasi’s videos how does it affect any potential female listeners or fans

DJTW:

Female listeners and fans? Get in a tight bikini and oil your body up, we’ll put you in my music video haha. I am always happy to have any fans from anywhere no matter what race, sexual orientation, or sex. Female and male alike you are all welcome. Hell we’ll accept transgender people too, as long as you love the music that is all I’m here for. ( just don’t make a move on me please. I’m here to be a musician not a sexual idol for anyone. )

DAC:

How do you go about choosing the key component for each of your mixes are they something that you out looking for or something that just grabs you?

DJTW:

Honestly, things just grab me. Every single time I’ve ever set out to make a specific type of song…I failed miserably. I go on what my heart hears and tells me to go on.

DAC:

Is any of your music autobiographical and do you channel your emotions into it completely or hold back on some of them because they may not fit the song you are working on?

DJTW:

Yes, I like to think that all of my music is autobiographical. I say all of it because each individual song is directly related to how I feel and what I’ve learned and done in life until that point. I do relate the specific genres I work with to specific emotions in a general aspect. For instance, I would make a slower more ‘’classical’’ song to represent my depression or sadness in my life at that particular moment. I would make fast ‘’speed scratch’’ songs for times when I’m hyped up and excited about something or excited all around and etc. Just things like that, and no…I never hold back. My songs come from my heart and if they don’t follow the path my heart wants to travel on, then I part ways with that particular song and set it aside hoping to return to it later in life if it is good enough.

F**K*** Impossible

Years had passed. At 20, I had traveled the world three times; and seen the severed prose of oceans, persuading mistresses aboard our vessels, our strengthened slavery.

We were the storms, and silence; the pairing of twin blue particles and stardust.

For your entertainment, we had bled, nocturnal and light, white and red

We, the chosen ones, had become the distractive festivity for the underground sieges and writhing souls; wretched, constant, glowing.keeping the crowded halls of ancient longing satisfied. A side show of freaks and outcasts, condemned and tattered; resilient in shallow, artic waters that hold trapped spirits and perfectly horrid memories.

For, quite eloquently, through the blackened hues, stricken deep with ecstasy and fallen stars, we had seen the woven paleness of demons with their loves and secrets; gently seductive, poising forth.ever present, ever feeding.never stopping, never complacent.

It was here, that they spun our dreams against you; cold and desolate, lost. Love, diminished.

And there were others you must know.dwelling.with me in that prison; the traveling show of lustful drudgery.

We all had our gifts, our curses of specifically unique bondages that ever constantly contributed to the Triangle’s power. Moreover, like keys perfectly performed and shaped to fit three eyed doors, we all had our secrets; our contributions to the madness which was kept under the watchful eye of our Master.

He had stood every night, at the foot of beds, our dreams, which had then become something far beyond any nightmares.

Through the witching veils, my fellow cronies and I were now the fallen ones, becoming numb to the pain, to the longing, and to the possibility of being free. All was lost. All was over.

Something has changed.

There was once a star-scattered night, in which I vividly recollect and console. In the halo of this night, darkness turned to light, detached feelings to hope; released long echoes and crowded streets within the silent seas of the powerless sirens.

Sound and particles of blue and white surrounded us.

We had gathered for the midnight assignments in the hallowed fields of our Master; our nightly retreat, away from the madness of the screaming angels and crying ones. Work, hard labor, was a blissful escape to the nightmares of the darkening treaties.

The chorus of all lights and symphonies.

Across the abyss of fields, she was there, floating on the plots of poets and madmen as she had been for years; for ages it seemed.across the canyons and rolling trains through mountains, the past and future into a living sonnet of unsettled cries too sullen for songs of abstracting rogues.

And now, in dominating awe of momentary lapses, I had no fear.

I felt the gentle rains of my sexual casualty. I had crossed disordered lines, bearing the levity of souls, and the natural uncontrollability of my lustful intentions; the penetration of illuminant colors upon her skin.

Constellations and Blood. Impossible attraction. seething layers in echoes.

Her eyes touched mine, and we fell into a trance; light that penetrates love, and a sorrowful end to teardrops, slowly contaminating our inability, of any reason.of any kind.

We two now, had lost silence. We had lost everything. Our lips touched, gods made love in the wind below; only the connection of our bodies played instruments, recited beauty, defied even the constraints of a tattered nature too inconceivable to understand.

love beyond measures, beyond the heavens of which never fell and yet, we knew, in the white light, that what was to follow, was hell

This was not possible, nor permitted.

For, in the shadowy dwelling of our androgynous bed, peace would surely be followed by The Hunting. The distant cries of beings that god feared. They would come after us.the ones who crawled from corpses and ate from silent revenants.

Our sleeping thoughts, intertwined in the blue sexual light of love, would soon to be awaken, only to be strangely haunted; confronted by the Master, him-self.

Caressing his fingers in curling paces, his eyes pierced the dungeons of tortured wings.

Constellations and Blood.

Shadows longed for tears as they dragged my love and I from each-other. Screams filled the night.

There would be no more peace, forever.

Owners

So by my last recollection when kids are young and they start dating it’s typical to put ”(Insert Name Here) Owns” as captions on photos and sometimes by all measures all the photos. Thats great, I know it’s pointless and this is mindless ranting but it’s my damned blog so STFU if you don’t like it don’t read it. Anyways back to my point. It’s typical for kids to put their new girlfriend or boyfriends down as ”owners” of photos. It is pointless really, it’s just a caption on a dumb photograph. It doesn’t mean they actually own anything at all, in fact usually nothing at all. Indeed it is generally pointless but reading those words does tend to make the girl and the boy happy even with it holding no true point. So do you worry if you come across some that say ”(somebody else but you) Owns”? Especially if there are none for you? Especially if it’s a ”friend” of the same sex as you, a friend you never knew of nor were ever told of? I’m not saying go all apeshit wanting to know every single friend your signifigant other has, but isn’t it only fair to have a general knowledge of other guys or girls? I don’t mean ask her what she’s been doing out all night with her friends everytime she even thinks about leaving the house. But I would assume you would at least worry if you had a girlfriend and suddenly out of the blue another guy mysteriously turned up in her life ”owning” one of her photos right? To me even something as pointless as ”owning” a photograph can have a great negative impact on the relationship when you see that your ownership rights were revoked and given to somebody else.

For now that is all I shall post, and please know I’m not stirring up any shit or trying to pick any fights. I’m just stating how I feel on the matter.

In Wonderland

In through the outer door; from stone to subtleness, and the gentle rain of flickering lights between the glows of lost parcels. A solemn, lonely sea of crying angels on jaded moonlight petals.

The middle door of time and space, like soft whimpers within shadows, beheld me now, and as I slowly passed through it, I began to feel the connection of nameless colors and echoes. Barren. Soft. Nightmarish. Lustful.

The door shut abruptly behind me, and I quickly turned to feel the open air, of a dome like room. I was in an old theater.

In this great hall of epic and gothic formation, I was surrounded by seven solitary lights that flickered like lost dreams and white eyes. And, feeling their ghostly presence now, I unfamiliarly lost all fear, and walked to the center of the blackened stage. My feet creaked upon the wooden floors; eyes wide, seeking.searching.light and common with echoes of eager demise. Honest and dark.

Silence.

All of the sudden.an explosion!! The horrors of the impending darkness now turned into singing hues; purple, blue, white, pink, and greens.all of which called to me from their silent gallantry!!

It was magnificence! An illusion passing through dreams! All the wonders of the world seemed to pass brightly before my eyes! Sirens! Cavalries! Horns! Madmen and their mistresses! Cults of a circus and sinful delight danced perfectly around me in holographic bliss!!

Gazing in bewilderment, my eyes followed the bright, psychotic nature with careful concentration; projectors, films, dancers and theater lighting in a sea of chorus’s and multiple eyes continued! Brilliant!! Hauntingly beautiful in a wretched state of glee, it was a festival of theatrical fruition! “Please! Do not stop!” I said.tasting the blood of art collections and things that go “bump” in our night.

Change.

Alas.

Through the gloom of the ever-present dementia of angels and supernatural frequencies.I heard a voice.

It was an announcement of perpetually distant and faint caressing; a voice which I shall never forget, nor strain to. Yet, with a haunting familiarity, I knew that voice: potent and leveraged against disarmed ghosts!

It was there, in the haunted abode of the theater rafters above, that a strange figure appeared in the glow of the projection windows. It was his voice that I had heard calling to me! And, with a few briefly effeminate waves of his long hands, the brief glory of disillusioned dancers and light retreated back; crawling, lingering, shadows withdrawing; weak and submissive in the meer power of his presence.

The illusions were gone.

I knew who the figure was. It was the same demon of a man I had seen from my window the night that I woke up here, in this maze of saturated ancientness and solitude.

I watched him. He moved as easily as a dancer, slowly and feminine, yet so tall and masculine; Greek goddesses and the sodomy of souls within cold winter nights lest forgotten.

He was something of a god, or a devil. Both sacredly dominate, unrelentingly patient and pernicious. And.with the lift of his long thin, pale hand, he shouted with charismatic potency and poetry:

“She will taste…so good to you now”.

A moment relapses and spins.sending planets off their orbits, and stars into the sun; hurling and close to the womb.

It was the first time I would ever lay eyes on her. She was more beautiful than god.

There once was a man, His eyes were white and blue, And when I asked him why, He said because of you

I fell.

Circle

Monsters were real here. I could hear them, and smell them for the first time. It was like sweet perfume and impending icicles; so delicately it seemed, they had pulled me into their world, like an innocence stolen, raped, and pillaged.

There was darkness all around me, with slightly dancing light from wariness; caressing the dripping sounds of water falling.

I opened my eyes a little more, feeling a cold wind against my face, regaining consciousness. Flashes from the windows, old ships and lost souls.

As my eyes adjusted, I could see and feel now, that my hands were tied by a rope that I could not possibly get free from. I was also carefully seated down in an old chair.

Calming myself, I look around at my environment.

Full of ghosts, soft light, and old manuscripts.the room felt haunted and sensual, like a lover that wants to kill you. Red candles were spread all around, and I could not help but notice how damp it was inside. And, although there was a slight chill, it was distinctively warm as well.an unbalanced balance of stars and blood.

There were five candles in a row on the table across from me, as were five books, all opened and willing. Was I to be visited by someone or something?

Strangely, I noticed that although my hands had been unmercifully tied together, my feet were not, and I was not bounded to the chair at all. Un-convincingly, I was free to look and move around at my own free will.

Peering a little in front of me, I saw a door in the darkness, hauntingly small, and dissonant in design. I walked through it with an apprehension of self-denial, self doubt and yet total vulnerability of what was to come.

Around the corner.a series of corridors awaited, and it appeared to me, that I was in some sort of demonic maze. Lustful, and pregnant with seemingly heightened ceilings and hallways.

I walked on, feeling my way across stone floors, and guided solely by soft firelight torches. Turning several times slowly, I could have sworn, that I was being watched; by crouching eyes in the distant fumes of the looming darkness. Ever waiting, ever pressing, evermore.

Finally, and almost immediately, I came upon another section of the maze.five doors all lined up in a row. All of them were red, like ancient water and roses.

I paused for what seemed ages, and I realized that I would have to choose one of these doors to walk through. I remember the fear. I remember the colors, like I was fighting an ancient war of immense importance, immense sacrifice for my own life, my own self-perseverance.

I decided to choose the door in the middle. It had a face on the front that looked like death. A frozen face that slightly smiled. This was the only door I could choose. Stepping through, I was greeted by three rings, and the fiction of an empire. Horror.

The Dream

It is the mid of October, long ago, and my eyes pierce the lifeless shadows of the hovering clouds; grey and bewilderingly lustful in their solemn intentions.

It was dark that evening. Very strange that it would seem to become of us that light had died, the closer I became to home. I am 10, in a world not quite like your own.we have two moons, and dust that secretes from the sky like the tears of angels. We can see you.

I looked around, my eyes scanning the surfaces of the sunset, and the moon gently caressing it’s lonely hours of domination to come. I was at sea, on a dreaming vessel. Quiet, lost.

Feeling my footsteps get closer together, I picked up my pace now, and deep blue colors swallow the orange as I finally reached the house on street 1. Bells for the hours struck in the distance, and I realized that I had come home late again.

My mother and father had left a note on the kitchen with my supper in the oven.so I ate it and peeked up the staircase to just catch their lamp fading out for the night.

The windows in what was once my room, were round and abstract.

They made everything look like paintings on the outside, and you might see life in art; shapes and sizes, intentions and murders of innocence.

The house was quiet.not a sound, not a whisper. I could see things in their places.lifeless, whispering not.

Nothing to do, nothing to say, I fell asleep again in my clothes.

For reasons I cannot explain, I awoke with a sudden fright.

Through my window, my eyes beheld a strange dark figure in the night.

Standing in the street, the figure was looking at me. I thought I was dreaming. My heart pounded in my chest as the figure stood. I moved closer to the window.and I noticed that not a single lamp was lit in the houses around ours.it was utter darkness.

Standing rigid and hauntingly thin, I saw that it was a man.

I crept my eyes to edge of the window, the figure did not move. But somehow, he had come closer.

The shadows around him danced. His features were that of nightmares; cartoonish. His eyes had no color, completely white, and seemed to pierce my soul; frolicking distance and icicles.

Before slipping into unconsciousness, I remembered his smile,a cold winter where the demons are eating each other.

Unite

I dreamt that I had dream. Or was it real? Had this all been.real? Time circles over the two of us, like weeping stardust falling gently to the ground. For in solemn sheets of lonely whispers, they dare not touch each other. Now, I dwell here. Surrounded by a prison of my own accord, it is my own self-inflicted punishment. The angels do not sing for me here, and their voices are only a distant cry within clouded thoughts which I cannot let go..nor would I. The acapella of my demons is like sweet music, and bitter screaming all together in an opera made for no one. This is the end. I shall remain here. Waiting for death, waiting for content. Blue and white, my ememy and I. Those around me live, and fly; unaware of the horror, of the obsolete.that was my tattered story. The world has forgotten. Huddled in my own agony, I weep for, and remember the past.

Angry!!!

Soo today I recieved a check in the mail for $100.00 and I’m pissed. Most people would be happy to get a check for 100 bucks but not me! I’m not happy because it was a refund, a refund on my college application. I’ve worked soo hard and done everything in my power to try to get accepted and all they do is send my money back. They sent it back because I failed to drive to Charleston to take a class placement test. I tried scheduling the test but the old admissions director never contacted me back to assign a date. I tried 4 times and he just never contacted me back. Soo now I have to reapply and hope I can go take the fucking test. My issue was, I recieved a letter a while back stating that I had until the 20th of March before my application would expire. The letter and check saying my application was withdrawn were both in an envelope dated by the USPS as being sent out a full ***5*** days before the 20th. So I couldn’t help but ask, did they cancel my application before the designated cancellation date? Did they lie to me? …..Did they?..

Soo Basically…

Right when Stormie and I seem to be doing well with our relationship I wrecked my car, which in turn takes away the only solution we had. We were just able to be able to see each other which was the issue *not seeing each other* annnd now, I can’t effin drive anymore. Some dickhead backed straight into my car with his massive ass truck. It only crushed my fender but I don’t have the money to have it repaired and the car is not driveable. Argh I’m soo pissed right now. I swear that if insurance doesn’t pay to get my ride fixed I’m gonna flip out and kill somebody!!ARGHHHH!!!!!