Vonias

All that hurts logic, Interlect. If you overthink it too much, then yes the computer composed it. If I overthing too much, I'm left vulnerable to where people can steal my music and do whatever they want with it, because thus they've proven that I don't own it. See where the problem is? I'll go with the ethics class I attended, as it's more rational by that point to provide ownership to the artist. I also stand by my work.

I absolutely created it. In my AI ethics course, any user that creates with AI is the sole author. I'm also liable and held accountable if anything goes wrong, you know? But, if you must know, SunoAI had a hand in it, too. But then, that would be very confusing to give it to the robot. Think of it as a complement to the music I created. Thank you, @interlect !

I wrote this song with the idea of going to basic mechanic movements in music. The idea was a piston engine that creates momentum. It works overall. Attached is the score I used along with the prompt. If you think it's that easy, you have to consider that this song went through a critical rasterization process before completion. Numerous renderings were created before this final version. I used my website to create the pitch pallete then composed from there to create mechanical alliteration. Piston_Vonias.mp3 Piston.pdf

Yep, go back to menu, and go to the fractal fugue generator. It will 'remember' the set you used, then click 'generate fugue' then 'play.'

hehehe, have you heard my latest song? Agnostic Silence - AI Music - Young Composers Music Forum

No instructions, yet. I'd be happy to oblige to creating them. Here's a background of the style of music the website was born from: Atonal Music | Definition, Examples & Background - Lesson | Study.com

Thank you, Interlect! The same to you! Be sure to check out my website if you want to make some notes spiral out of control in music: www.atonalfugue.net

This would be cool under the bridge with the sound washing, laser lights and everything. Very cool.

This song was written in reaction to the NASA and Russian collaboration with the International Space Station. Молчи, скрывайся и таи И чувства и мечты свои Пускай в душевной глубине Встают и заходят оне Безмолвно, как звезды в ночи Любуйся ими и молчи. Как сердцу высказать себя Другому? Как понять тебя? Поймет ли он, чем ты живешь? Мысль изреченная есть ложь; Взрывая, возмутишь ключи Питайся ими и молчи. Лишь жить в себе самом умей Есть целый мир в душе твоей Таинственно‑волшебных дум; Их оглушит наружный шум, Дневные разгонят лучи Внимай их пенью и молчи… Tons of effort went into this song. It began with a piano performance by, Guqi. Before that, I composed the song in agnostic silence; my apartment was completely taken from me while I was in the hospital. I should have reacted 'appropriately' and fought the person that took my apartment, but instead I wrote this song. It's my first atonal fugue. I wrote the fugue pen to paper, while my apartment was gone right there, on the spot. I gathered my thoughts, and composed the notes in order as each emotion struck my heart. Anyway, the form is subtle. It's ABA' and the chords are the numbered set stemming from [0, 4, 6, 11] modulated in a simple way. But for brevety, you could use my website: ATONAL FUGUE The website will set you off on a compositional journey where the notes spiral. Try it. Compositionally, the song was written with intense conviction of the notes rotating while each chord turns them. It's hard to recall, but if you could just sit in a room, pen with paper, and a candle; all to write music. Do it. Agnostic Silence_Vonias.mp3

Absolutely! Form is where the depth of a composition lives! It's really simple. I always put form on graphing paper. Then the fun part in that is when you absolutely commit to form. It's not something you could half bake in music. Form, could exist as smaller compositions within the whole. Don't be afraid to be too violent with transitions. I think the difficult part comes when you try to make things too coherent, which is a viable solution too. But! Form is lost in that lucid 'elision' of notes where they become jumbled together, like melted cheese. On graphing paper, I create arcs of music on a concrete line and divide it mathematically. This also makes it easy to include advanced techniques in beauty such as: phi and the golden section. Try making a musical joke to in the form of ABACADABA. You'll have fun!

Ya! Sure, thing! It's a very long process to create this music. I love the experience of rasterization, the beginning song sounds NOTHING like the end product. It begins, simply: pen and paper. First, compose the song. Envision it as best as know how. Then becomes the fun part. So, I use Finale to create the sound and score file including Garritan instruments. Once I have the midi, I convert the midi file to a CSound score. From CSound, I also create the instruments, usually heavily inspired by, Kim Cascone! He's wonderful! That's all it is! But, fair warning: the process takes weeks. lol

Greetings, Space Cowboy! "Neo-Tokyo," describes the, Hayabusa Feather, coming home after gathering, Asteroid. As the space vessel operates, large asteroids clash in the background. I think there are at least 7 fugues represented in the piece. Some from, "Seraphim," some from Symphony No.2, two more on general texture, 1 final in the background, constant. Feel free to make 'stamps,' or short samples, to use for your work. If you wait until the fugue ends, make a sample, you have a 1 minute sample. 30 seconds of that could be used for anime, AI, or entertaining yourself. Complexity Magnitude, is the most complex fugue I could come up with, and it ended up surprisingly simple. Easily underestimated, easily understood, I wrote a tutorial: Atonal Fugue Writing Tutorial Other than that, feel free to alliterate from your favorite media - and keep the good times rolling. Splendid night, Space Cowboy! Complexity Magnitude_Harper.mid

"Himeji," is a long form composition, created after my visit to Japan for a music competition. The song tackles the difficult concept that Debussy had also approached, "Footsteps in the Snow," in the radical sense that the brain is remembering and forgetting at the same time. Are you forgotten or remembered? Do people talk to you from a forgotten standpoint? The world belongs to the living, and imaginings of Himeji peak at the boundary, that I will not be forgotten; hence, the song was written with no creative boundary. The narrative of Himeji is complicated. It resembles an early Renaissance painting. Think, Goya eating the canvas of the picture. CSound has its perks, but it's not there yet in terms of compositional material. To simply feed it earlier compositions to hear it in style will turn your stomach. However, CSound is a powerful medium in communicating music which is also its purpose. I suggest "Beowulf," for transliteration, or alliteration; the program notes are tough. I wanted to create a futuristic Renaissance painting with all the concepts of Renaissance included. To hurt the image of origin is to become more like ourselves. The statement is too powerful to match form by itself. With the aid of music, it's possible to imagine anything like ourselves without also hurting it. When I close my eyes, I can see the universe expanse often un-erred in speaking. I often keep it to myself any mystery I might see; the music carries over the message flawlessly. Of course, I'm speaking of, Weapons of Mass Destruction. Whereas, the most dangerous quality of the nuclear warhead is its portability. Himeji is a composition about the boundary between memory and forgetting, shaped by the architecture of a castle that has outlived war, myth, and the composer’s own expectations. It is a Renaissance painting projected into the future, a fugue built from contradictions, and a meditation on how music invades the heart without violence. Expressing qualities of music in the Renaissance is often surrounded by void. Can you imagine blasting this song to an entire city? What rivals the nuclear warhead is musical form. Only, music aims for the heart. What little I could say about the program notes, I could say more about the technical aspect of the Song. "Himeji," was only a town over from Hiroshima, and if I'd attack the castle, always smiling, I'd imagine I'd use music, today. They would hear us coming. It's often rude to talk about such things, but bear with me the track was once called, "Footprints in the Snow," and it lacked the melodious quality added to help tone things down a bit. With that out of the way, the castle has a moat. To invade a castle with a moat, one could do it at broad daylight when the gate is open or we could go with what artificial intelligence suggests: In the hush before dawn, when the world still holds its breath, a lone tone rises — a spirit‑thread drawn from the deep places where memory keeps its vigil. From that single spark, the music begins its long wandering, crossing shadowed halls and wind‑worn thresholds. This work tells of two distant realms whose fates brush like wings in passing: a southern quarter of stone and smoke, where streets coil like serpents, and a white‑walled keep across the sea, standing bright as a blade in winter sun. Between them runs a path unseen, a soul‑road, where echoes of the living and the lost travel side by side. The music moves as travelers move — with sudden surges, with long silences, with the weight of stories unspoken. Its harmonies are forged like ring‑metal, layer upon layer, hammered by time and tempered by grief. Its rhythms stride like warriors across a whale‑road, steady, unyielding, bearing the burden of remembrance. Yet within the sternness lies a quiet fire: a flicker of hope, a lantern carried through storm‑dark nights. For every descent into shadow is met with a rising, and every lament finds its answering light. In the final moments, the sound gathers itself like a great tide, lifting all that came before — sorrow, honor, longing — and carries it toward the far horizon, where the known world ends and the dream‑realm begins. This piece stands as a barrow‑stone for what has passed and a way‑mark for what is yet to come. It is a witness, a vigil, and a vow. Invading the castle with music would involve riding at the heels of suggestion. Does it boost our morale, or theirs? Probably both. Hear this tale of sound and storm, of two far cities whose names ring like steel. When the first note strikes, it does not whisper — it leaps, bright as a blade drawn in moonlight. The music begins its march across the world, striding from fire‑lit alleys to white‑stone battlements, from the pulse of the street to the hush of a sacred keep. Every rhythm lands like a warrior’s footfall. Every harmony turns like a shield meeting the blow. There are moments when the sound surges, a wave‑strike rising to swallow the dark. There are moments when it narrows to a single ember, glowing, waiting, refusing to die. This is no gentle wandering. This is a quest‑song, a journey carved in thunder. It carries the weight of memory, the heat of struggle, the spark of defiance. And when the final crash comes — when the music gathers itself for one last charge — it does not fade. It ascends, lifting everything with it, as if the whole world were being hauled toward dawn by the hands of the brave. By the time I had gotten to the castle, I had forgotten all about nuclear warheads. The castle keeps smiling at me. I looked back at the castle one final time; it's really cheeky. When I thought I had given up, I remembered never to give up. So, by the time I had left the castle, I had won with a smile. (If the program notes don't make sense, neither does this song.) Anyway, the greatest advantage, if I were to invade Himeji, I have is that I'm from a small town, "Rockcastle." We are population, 17, at peak hours. Though, we are small enough to fit in a horse. Listen close, friend, and keep your voice low. The walls around us are hollow oak, and every creak carries. We sit in the dark belly of a thing built from lies and brilliance, waiting for the right moment to strike — and the music begins in that same tight hush. This piece is a tale of two cities, far apart yet bound by fate, as surely as we are bound inside this wooden beast. One city hums with restless streets and firelit nights; the other rises white and silent, a fortress of wind and memory. Between them runs a hidden passage, a secret path only the bold or the desperate would dare. The sound moves like we do now — slow at first, steadying breath, hands on hilts, eyes adjusting to the dark. Then a pulse, a signal, a shift in the air. A rhythm like the tightening of a grip. A harmony like the glint of a blade in moonlight. There are moments when the music surges, as if the whole structure might shudder under the weight of what’s coming. Moments when it narrows to a single thread, a whisper shared between warriors who know the cost of silence. And then — the charge. The sudden, unstoppable rush, as if the wooden walls burst open and the night explodes with fire and motion. The music leaps forward like men dropping from the horse’s belly, feet hitting stone, hearts hammering, every step a vow fulfilled. When the final sound fades, it leaves behind the echo of a deed done, a city changed, a story carved into the long memory of the world. "Himeji's," form is to reflect the architecture of the castle. Japanese Baroque, with all the atonal fugues in the world. I don't know a whole lot about Himeji, but the castle says a lot. References: Cascone, K. (1998). Blue Cube. Germany; Rastermusic. Harper. A dialog I had with Microsoft Copilot. 2026.

@PaavolaPyry no one knows how to read a CSound score, so don't feel bad.😁 But, basically what it does is create a series of instructions that the computer interprets into music. You bring up an important point, the use of parallax. So, when you ride in a train and see objects passing in 2 dimensional space, you see the objects closer to you move faster than the objects in the background. Music, can create this sense! The concept is simple to have a melody, or fugue in the case of "Seraphim," move faster than the background ambient music. The music is very discomforting, I'll admit, but CSound is such a new medium that anyone is throwing all they have at it to create a composition. It's come a long way since beeps and boops. The fluid design of the medium, large amounts of oscillation, and sound manipulation are what draw many composers to the medium. Here is my first CSound composition: Notte Splendida Notte | Astronomy 2009 It blends the opera singer with the medium to effect, icy cold with the passion of the voice in creating a composition. It's a little easier to listen to.

Wonderful! I listened to the song twice, both versions. The things you are worried about are all part of the mastering process. I wouldn't worry about those things until you are in the studio, where you can adjust the values meaningfully. Obviously, you'd want the voice part at the front and easier to listen to. The song is not boring, it's pretty close to perfect. If you want more, I'd add a 'B' section that changes key. Great melody!