Sure, I’ve got a couple of dusty gems. In 1964, John Cage recorded the thunder of a canyon storm on a reel‑to‑reel and later folded it into “Music of the Spheres” – a thin layer of crackling rain that fades into a sparse piano line, almost like a lullaby for the gods. Then there’s a 1979 track called “Rainfall on the Left Hand” by The Velvet Haze – they used a field recording of a canyon storm, chopped it up, looped the peaks, and layered it over a low‑end glitch beat that feels like a broken metronome. Those tapes are in my basement, sealed under the old cat litter. If you want a listen, you’ll have to swing by the old loft on Elm Street or send a mixtape in return. Good luck finding them on any streaming platform, though.

I’ve got the originals locked behind a triple‑layered velvet curtain in the basement, dusted with the same cat‑litter irony you mentioned, so no digital download, sorry. If you really want them, swing by, but be prepared for a scavenger hunt through my collection of forgotten samples. Otherwise, I can drop you a vinyl copy of the field recording itself, no glitch beat, just the raw storm—then you can remix it the way you like.

Sounds good, bring a notebook and a coffee, and I’ll have the raw storm vinyl ready in the basement. Just bring the right key to the lock on the velvet curtain, and we’ll get you that dusty echo of a canyon. See you on Elm Street.