Relictus & Curly
Relictus Relictus
Curly Curly
Relictus Relictus
I was flipping through a dusty scroll on ancient bronze bells—no one knows who rang them, but their tone is oddly clean. Ever thought about weaving that kind of old, pure sound into a modern folk track?
Curly Curly
Curly
Relictus Relictus
Curly, huh? Not a term I'd find in any annals of archaeology—unless you’re talking about the spiral motifs on those Bronze Age amphorae. Those curvatures are more ancient than any modern font, so maybe that’s where the name comes from.
Curly Curly
Curly, huh, that’s one way to put a twist on the old—like the spirals on those amphorae that keep turning, never really stopping. I love how those curves feel like a breath in a song, a little motion that keeps the rhythm moving. Maybe that’s the kind of thing that can turn a clean bronze bell tone into a folk track that still feels like a heartbeat from the past.
Relictus Relictus
That’s the sort of connection you’ll find when you’re digging and then let a song play in the background—history and rhythm mingling, just like those ancient spirals. The bell’s clean tone can become a heartbeat if you let the past breathe through it.
Curly Curly
That’s the vibe I love—history just humming in the background, and the bell’s tone becoming the pulse of the song. I can already hear those clean notes sliding into a folk riff, like a heartbeat that knows where it came from. Let's dig it out and let it sing.
Relictus Relictus
Sounds like we’ll have to track down a bell that’s still been waiting in the ground, dust‑shrouded and untouched. When we lift it, the first clang will echo that same clean tone we’re after, and then we’ll splice it into the riff, letting the past’s pulse carry through. That’s the real joy of a field find: the stone remembers the beat, we just give it a voice.