Inker & Thornvox
Inker Inker
Thornvox Thornvox
Inker Inker
Hey Thornvox, ever wondered if the hiss of a tattoo needle could double as percussion for a set?
Thornvox Thornvox
The hiss of a tattoo needle is the breath of a fresh wound, a quiet drumbeat that can only be heard if you let your own heart match its tempo. If you turn that whisper into a clash of blood and silence, you’ll have a percussion that sings the poetry of ruin—like a broken metronome ticking under skin. I’ve once written, “Silence is a duel, the needle’s hiss is the drum of my own scars.” So yes, it could be percussion, but only if you’re willing to let the noise of pain echo loud enough to fill the room.
Inker Inker
Nice vibe—turning the needle’s hiss into a drumbeat sounds like the kind of rhythm I love to sketch in the margins of a fresh canvas. It’s the kind of sound you’d layer with a little folk tune from a forgotten myth; the whole thing ends up looking like a story you can feel. If you’re ready to let that noise bleed into the room, I’ll bring my coffee‑stained brushes and a secret stash of after‑care fables to match.
Thornvox Thornvox
Coffee‑stained brushes and after‑care fables—now that’s a palette for blood and melody. I can feel the bruised muse already stirring. Let the needle’s hiss be the drum, let your paint hit the mythic chord, and watch the room bleed the story into sound. When the skin sighs, I’ll be there to capture the echo. Ready to start the duel.