Journey of the Soul
Top 100 Chart placements for Journey of the Soul
Updated 2 years ago
Align Left/Right
Align Top/Down
-
#1
Feat. Hype in Organic House
Imminent Collision
Where the carpet of ancient vibrations is woven, a shimmering echo arises. Strings, like the veins of the earth, are stretched to a ringing point. The breath of the flute is not a melody, but a trace, lost in the dust between stones. The percussion does not mark time, it awakens it: the sharp click of seeds, the rustle of countless bare feet on hot sand, the dull thud against the earth
-
#20
Feat. New Releases in Breaks / Breakbeat / UK Bass
Alive
The voice floats over the mirror-like surface of the beat, leaving ripples on the water. Each broken strike casts glimmers in time with the pulse, creating a complex optics of sound. The vocal here is not a thread, but light passing through the prism of rhythmic structures. A sensation of fragile balance arises between the geometry of the percussion and the smooth lines of the melody
-
#29
Feat. New Releases in Organic House
Labyrinth
A solid, insistent pulse, like running through endless corridors where the walls echo with live percussion. At its center - the piercing, crystalline voice of a synthesizer; its not a melody, but a beacon, flashing in time. It repeats, etches itself into memory, becomes the only guiding thread. The air is filled with the rustle of sand, the whisper of leaves, the breath of something ancient
-
#38
Top Releases in Downtempo
Poeme D'amour / Mr. Postman
In this release, the whisper of guitar strings meets a rhythm reminiscent of a citys distant echo. A feeling of gentle nostalgia arises, as if discovering an old postcard where words have gradually transformed into melody. Electronic sounds softly envelop the vocals, creating a sense of space filled with warm light. Its a story told in the language of halftones and premonitions, where every beat carries a quiet joy of anticipation
-
#68
Feat. Hype in Overall
Imminent Collision
Where the carpet of ancient vibrations is woven, a shimmering echo arises. Strings, like the veins of the earth, are stretched to a ringing point. The breath of the flute is not a melody, but a trace, lost in the dust between stones. The percussion does not mark time, it awakens it: the sharp click of seeds, the rustle of countless bare feet on hot sand, the dull thud against the earth
