Secret Moon (Unnatural)
Enter the nocturnal side of the catalogue. Twenty-four tracks under an unnatural moon.
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NETRINA NYC / THE ARCHIVE
Library.
Texts. Lyrics. Manifestos. Moving images.
Notes from the records
01 / TEXTSOne Night in Queens (RealDjim Live and Dj Set)
One night, held in a title. Step into the Queens chapter of Netrina NYC.
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ASTORIA QUEENS, NY
A place name becomes a point of departure. Enter the Astoria chapter.
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The Radiant Youth
Follow the title toward its light. A different entrance into the Netrina NYC catalogue.
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Lyrics
02 / WORDSJFK – ROUND TRIP
JFK – ROUND TRIP
Yellow stains yellow shining stars in the same always yellow sky cramped like our lives in our yellow homes A mute clock faces us staring at us as we measure our suspended joy with shattered summers – Here or there? – Neither here nor there – Both here and there So we say as we fly alone in dreams and move forward
Open record ↗Fairy Tale
Fairy Tale
When I was a child on warm summer nights my kindly godmother had me read stories in languages of a foreign gaze about princesses and kings. And I always closed the books with ice-cold hands from all the deaths I’d touched, blood, dead bodies, and burnt cities. Likewise now after all the years you’ve been gone I tie a red yarn around silver rotors of dead people’s watches and wait for an untamable sunrise to dawn so another self can triumphantly rise, a self who will thrust bared swords to finally slay the dragon and with tremendous words and secret songs will expel the ghastly ghosts from the desolate home and my poisoned heart.
Open record ↗The Painter
The Painter
Image One: Restless nighttime river and broken brushes. Image Two: The warm nights of loneliness, back to the walls, he descends into the hell of the currants and dreams of bright flowers on the open sea. In dark cells with humble hands underneath the mossy bonds of county sheriffs he touches the blood of bodiless martyrs – forgotten innocent in sunless frontier fields of slender poplars and songless nightingales. Image Three: And when once again, tender in his secret, he strokes the mournful tears of women with sorrowful cicadas hidden in their long hair as they slowly ascend in the hot midday sun, he tosses his white doves into the flaming olive grove and unlocks for a moment with the breeze heaven’s narrow door. Image Four: Colors naked explosions in the dark restless nighttime river and broken brushes
Open record ↗The Fall
The Fall
He still stands at the fallen door sad with the broken knife. The circles of hell scarily shatter in his hands. With a boom they leveled shelters inside and out for everyone. Agitated, the dead of the house rush to the sunken rooms, crowding into the foundations in the bones you hear death’s murmur as the icy north wind slices through the cracks in the walls. In vain the gods of the hearth, some crippled, others blind, wrap in a kerchief the sacrificial rooster. Adamant legionnaires, tax collectors and moneychangers lay siege to what is left of the home. He still stands there sad with the broken knife. Within his heart the melted iron waves unyieldingly, like the young blossoming bough of Spring.
Open record ↗ASTORIA
ASTORIA
Astoria is a cut apple. A half-sliced dream that simmers in a blackened stewpot ever in the voracious yellow sky with the mute smokestacks and the rusted ships. And the other half always travels with bent tongues to sunken isles and broken columns.
Open record ↗The Radiant Youth
The Radiant Youth
The youth that lunged from the sky you boarded up with nails in a deep well and in blood-soaked city squares you beat them with heavy rods. The youth you haunted again in a ferocious sepulchral darkness with that beautiful untamed laughter of theirs and that whirlwind shiver of burning wax storms in from the broken horizon from a shiny otherworldly light. Irrepressible awe their own new day –with whatever you love whatever you betray and whatever you ultimately bring.
Open record ↗Giorgio de Chirico in Volos
Giorgio de Chirico in Volos
He roamed the town deep in thought, through the closed-off ancient roads, a stranger after so long, replete with exiles, foreign lands and glory. He asked about his home, desperately sought the key at the bottom of the broken flowerpot. After all, his friends, too, have all but vanished. He slowly entered the coffeehouse ordered absinthe and bitter coffee, dipped his secret brushes into the dark hues ablaze in his head. And round about dusk on the desolate evening tracks of lost departing trains, he was gently nudged by the thrill of an unexpected love.
Open record ↗Manifestos & statements
03 / IDEASNETRINA NYC / ARTIST STATEMENT
Netrina NYC makes electronic music out of New York residue.
Queens. JFK. Night trains.
Migration. Memory. Desire.
No clean edges. No polished mythology.
The sound lives somewhere between club pressure, damaged poetry, concrete, static, and the feeling of being permanently in transit.
Not here.
Not there.
Still moving.
This is not darkness for effect.
It is darkness with an address.
The city is inside the music: machines, bodies, distance, loss. Voices arrive like transmissions. Beats hit like infrastructure. Memory keeps bleeding through.
And when the city hits crunchtime — when everything gets reduced to survival, speed, money, and movement — Netrina NYC looks for what refuses to be reduced.
A body.
A memory.
A pulse.
They are less interested in genre than tension: departure and return, flesh and technology, intimacy and noise.
No nostalgia.
No futurist fantasy.
Because the endgame was never perfection.
It was the fracture.
And the strange beauty still alive inside it.
An electronic Non Serviam.
No manifesto.
Just pulse.
Moving images
04 / VIDEOSSecret Moon / New York
Open video ↗Secret Moon (Netrina NYC & Dj Coreo)
Watch on YouTube ↗ASTORIA (RealDjim Live and DJ set) HD
Watch on YouTube ↗JFK ROUND TRIP
Watch on YouTube ↗Selecting Play film loads YouTube. Privacy information.
