oxyuranus-diego-cinquegrana-aima-lichtblau-ritual-dark-ambient-white-logo

ABOUT.

oxyuranus-diego-cinquegrana-aima-lichtblau-ritual-dark-ambient-portrait-aima-lichtblau-new

Aima lichtblau

Concept, Vocal Arrangements, Vocals, Backing Vocals.

Since she was a child she has deepened the natural ability to communicate with the natural elements by grasping their spiritual aspects. This allowed her to join the creative channel with the more properly mystical one.

“Since the most ancient times, every mythological system has known its beginning from a Cosmology and this not only to explain the birth of the cosmos, gods and heroes (as every civilization interpreted them).
In fact, there’s in every cosmology the desire to give a form to the greatest of mysteries: Chaos. Shaping this depth can be as disorienting as a starless night.
Oxyuranus has its roots in this dark void where the elements are constantly in motion, trying to extract sound essences
completely purified from the hyper-structurality of “earthly things”. In a return to the emptiness of the Cosmos it intends to recover the essential forms of being, such as chthonic shapes that are constantly in-fieri”.

AimA Lichtblau

oxyuranus-diego-cinquegrana-aima-lichtblau-ritual-dark-ambient-portrait-diego-cinquegrana-new-2023

DIEGO CINQUEGRANA

Concept, Music, Musical Arrangements, Synths & Field Recordings.

Multifaceted and crepuscular presence, he tries in vain to recompose himself often forgetting eyes and ears in the most unexpected places. Noises, sounds, silences, thorns and healing breezes belong to him.

“We execrate the plastic matter of the men made of clay, invasive weights, compressed on the earth, between the seas and in the skies. Sterile potters, modelers of atrophic simulacra, tenacious enough not to be plowed; in which even the End stagnates. We are the perpetual flood and in this we drown, we are black and fertile silt and buried in this, we find a home. Under the new moon we sprinkle our skin with seeds and from here we scan the sky on which the wheat turns green in spring. But from the depths we do not hear the flute of the vegetable passion nor do we see the heads of the last reapers fall and from this disheartened, we raise our mortal song”.

Diego Cinquegrana