dripfeedimage

 

VERANO

NEW SINGLE: A TRIBAL ELECTRONIC EXPLORATION

 

HIGHWAY CHILE

LIVE NOW: DOCUMENTING THE COUNTRY ON A HARLEY WITH A CAMERA AND PEN

MYCST is an immersive experience.

Within this Drip-Feed you’ll find our latest original music, art, stories, photography and more. We create new madness weekly, so submerge yourself. Feed your starving mind.

Verano

By | ACOUSTIC, ALL CONTENT, ALL SONGS, AMBIENT, CINEMATIC, COLLABORATIONS, CULTURE, ELECTRONIC, FOOD FOR THOUGHT, INDIE, INSTRUMENTAL, LATIN, MUSIC, MYCST PRODUCTIONS, NEW SONGS, RAD, WORLD

The human race started playing music thousands of years ago, creating instruments with their bare hands. Their attraction to creating sound was irresistible, and it stood through the test of time. They used what they could to make noise and celebrate the infectious experience of getting in touch with themselves and the world around them.

To the cultures celebrating the tribal mentality through music: Thank you.

Like a blistering moon on a warm night.

acoustic, tribal, electronic, latin, drums, hand drums, world, tycho, percussive, percussion, brazilian, brazil, peru, thievery corporation, night vibes, club song, dj, party, festival, globe, evolution, new wave, sophisticated, melodic, instrumental, upbeat, dance, happy, feel good, groovy, spanish, hispanic, summer, verano

music, producer, audio, mycst, memories you can swim to, license, licenses

Total Eclipse: Where the Hell Did You Go?

By | ALL CONTENT, BEST OF, COMMUNITY, CREATURES, CULTURE, EVENTS, FEATURED, FESTIVALS, FINE ART, HAND MADE, INDUSTRY, INSPIRATION, JOURNALISM, MEDITATION, OUTDOOR, PHOTOGRAPHY, POETRY, RAD, TOP STORIES, TRAVEL, WEIRD

Blasting off to one hell of a show on a 1200 mile road trip through the mystics of the wild wild west. Shit gets real interesting when all credentials (press passes) fall through the cracks. A quest for transformation during this native symbiotic moment was not one to be missed. Here’s a story on manifestations, foggy memory and laying witness to that great Oregon Eclipse in full totality.

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SEE FULL STORY

NATURE, PEOPLE, HIPPIES, TRAVEL, festivals, burning man, eclipse, crazy, colorful, beautiful, acid, LSD, sculptures, oregon, desert, bend, peace, electronic, experience, bright lights, lasers, performance, live, show, camping, tent, night, parachutes, sunset, solar, totality, field, trees, 111, 1:11

music, producer, audio, mycst, memories you can swim to, license, licenses

Highway Chile – The Ride: In Through the Front Door

By | ALL CONTENT, BEST OF, COMMUNITY, CREATURES, CULTURE, EVENTS, FESTIVALS, HIGHWAY CHILE, JOURNALISM, MYCST PRODUCTIONS, OUTDOOR, PHOTOGRAPHY, SCARY, SHOWS, TOP STORIES, TRAVEL

No credentials; no worries, I don’t fucking care…

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A last minute decision based off temperatures cooling in the Portland area led me to a lovely farm town just East of Portland called Happy Valley. And boy is that name accurate.

Simultaneously to my arrival, Pickathon Music Festival was kicking things off on the nearby Pendarvis Farm. Now festivals aren’t so much my speed, but this one stood out to me because they showcase a solid lineup of performers and have been making an attempt to host a “sustainable festival” by re-using metal cups, plates and forks; which the festival goer then buys one time upon purchasing their first food dish or drink… this not only keeps waste at a minimum but allows for drinks and food to cost less, on top of all this the proceeds go to charity. SOLID SHIT PICKATHON.

But, there’s one slight technical problem. I didn’t have a press pass as planned, MYCST and I were late on submitting my request, and I wasn’t about to pay hundreds of dollars for a shiny plastic wristband. So I was left with the option of sneaking in or going home; somebody should have let them know I have no home to go to – this might as well be it, so in we go! My first route, the nearly impossible, was to trek through thick forests which contained unpredictable dark floors coated with thorny blackberry bushes within which were bountiful amounts of spider friends that you’d just rather not meet. Believe me I tried, it hurt, they bit back and I continued. But hell this was never going to work out. While cursing into the empty forest I retraced my steps and found a more suitable, wider trail toward the front of the festival. This led me straight to far end of the parking lot where I found two people sitting between cars smoking and chatting – my way in. I ripped out all my camera gear from my bag, threw it around my shoulder, utilized one strap to cover my wrist and headed for the front gate. Not one word not one question, just a brisk walk through the dark entry with my left arm extended. Past the booth, through the gate, and in. Done, easy peasy. And to think I was about to wreck myself through the unforgiving forest, but it was all a past memory at this point – I had made it to the other side.

All sorts of creatures all sorts of sounds. Pickathon was the most vast yet compacted festival I’ve ever seen. One could find the band Priests thrashing and burning the Barn Stage down with perfectly distorted yet melodic punk jams and a piercing funk you attitude that chaotically sheds light upon society’s problematic contradictions. Following which I stumbled upon remarkable acts from Alex Cameron, Wolf People, Anna & Elizabeth, Hiss Golden Messenger and. Ty Segall. And lastly Tank and the Bangas, all the way from New Orleans, metaphorically deforested a clearing to the Woods Stage allowing the masses to pour into the newfound void and enjoy the unique raw power coming from within. The extraordinarily talented seven musical geniuses at work, or perhaps play – they seemed to be having too much fun – provided by far the most lively, playful and interactive performance human eyeballs have seen in years. And they sound wonderful, like a fragrance containing plumerias and coconuts for your ears if there ever were to be such a thing… so good you can taste it!

On one side of the festival you had an array of stages consisting of: two barns, a Mt Hood Stage, Starlight Stage, Woods Stage, Tree Line Stage, food stands, beer gardens, interview rooms, car camping, parking and more. The other area consisted of camping dispersed within the surrounding woods, of which were still close enough to hear the neighboring stages emit a pulsating groove through the forest.

Attendees varied, it seemed as though the entire community just plopped down in the forest for the weekend. Everyone from mothers and fathers with 2 month old babies to youthful students just looking for a release were camping out in the woods having a blast. The kids capable of doing so, what’s age I can’t tell, seemed to set up shop alongside the walkways to camp and would partake in busking or selling various trinkets all the while their parents enjoyed the festival – I suppose that’s one way to earn back a little coin toward such a pricey ticket.

Camp Lamp and the good people within allowed me to set up hammock on their lands after I approached them late Friday night and asked to lay with them on the field in front of main stage; and so we did beneath a canopy of waving fabrics illuminated a fiery reddish orange. A sunshade rather – but much much more interesting at this time of night under these temperatures and influences. Surely I speak for everyone included. We broke open bottles of wine, passed grass, and unintentionally almost grooved straight into the sunrise hours.

The following days consisted of pacing through dusty trails and diving into oceans of incoherent people from one side of the festival to another. It was wild. So wild that somebody must have slipped something in my drink one of the nights, now I may be good looking but I’m not that pretty lady you’re about to rape anytime soon. Conscious of such changes within my physical and mental state, also with the help of Katie’s expertise as well as self awareness, we both concluded that we had been drugged. Some fucker nabbed us. Luckily our sub group of roughly six folks from Camp Lamp was heading back to base. Upon letting everyone know of our current status we relied on the good ol’ buddy system to make sure no shaky business was about to occur and remained within our personal camps supervision; we were all stuck in our safe zone rolling around in the dirt that used to be a blanket. “Just playin’ dust bunnies for the night,” a success if there could ever be one when drugged in such a way.

The next day most people packed up and shipped out. As did I, the place was just overwhelming and I no longer felt at ease in such an environment. Dust coated and dazed I gathered my belongings and made headway for the front gate, took the long way out for the hell of it. Grabbed my Harley from the fire station and boogied toward the nearest river for solitude and a bath of some sort. “Let’s put this town in my rearview mirror.” A paradise turned nightmare, lucky for me I tend to wake up just in time.

– Highway Chile

Check out more stories from the ride.

No credentials; no worries, I don’t fucking care. A last minute decision based off temperatures cooling in the Portland area led me to a lovely farm town just East of Portland called Happy Valley. And boy is that name accurate.

Simultaneously to my arrival, Pickathon Music Festival was kicking things off on the nearby Pendarvis Farm. Now festivals aren’t so much my speed, but this one stood out to me because they showcase a solid lineup of performers and have been making an attempt to host a “sustainable festival” by re-using metal cups, plates and forks; which the festival goer then buys one time upon purchasing their first food dish or drink… this not only keeps waste at a minimum but allows for drinks and food to cost less, on top of all this the proceeds go to charity. SOLID SHIT PICKATHON…

READ MORE

But, there’s one slight technical problem. I didn’t have a press pass as planned, MYCST and I were late on submitting my request, and I wasn’t about to pay hundreds of dollars for a shiny plastic wristband. So I was left with the option of sneaking in or going home; somebody should have let them know I have no home to go to – this might as well be it, so in we go! My first route, the nearly impossible, was to trek through thick forests which contained unpredictable dark floors coated with thorny blackberry bushes within which were bountiful amounts of spider friends that you’d just rather not meet. Believe me I tried, it hurt, they bit back and I continued. But hell this was never going to work out. While cursing into the empty forest I retraced my steps and found a more suitable, wider trail toward the front of the festival. This led me straight to far end of the parking lot where I found two people sitting between cars smoking and chatting – my way in. I ripped out all my camera gear from my bag, threw it around my shoulder, utilized one strap to cover my wrist and headed for the front gate. Not one word not one question, just a brisk walk through the dark entry with my left arm extended. Past the booth, through the gate, and in. Done, easy peasy. And to think I was about to wreck myself through the unforgiving forest, but it was all a past memory at this point – I had made it to the other side.

All sorts of creatures all sorts of sounds. Pickathon was the most vast yet compacted festival I’ve ever seen. One could find the band Priests thrashing and burning the Barn Stage down with perfectly distorted yet melodic punk jams and a piercing funk you attitude that chaotically sheds light upon society’s problematic contradictions. Following which I stumbled upon remarkable acts from Alex Cameron, Wolf People, Anna & Elizabeth, Hiss Golden Messenger and. Ty Segall. And lastly Tank and the Bangas, all the way from New Orleans, metaphorically deforested a clearing to the Woods Stage allowing the masses to pour into the newfound void and enjoy the unique raw power coming from within. The extraordinarily talented seven musical geniuses at work, or perhaps play – they seemed to be having too much fun – provided by far the most lively, playful and interactive performance human eyeballs have seen in years. And they sound wonderful, like a fragrance containing plumerias and coconuts for your ears if there ever were to be such a thing… so good you can taste it!

On one side of the festival you had an array of stages consisting of: two barns, a Mt Hood Stage, Starlight Stage, Woods Stage, Tree Line Stage, food stands, beer gardens, interview rooms, car camping, parking and more. The other area consisted of camping dispersed within the surrounding woods, of which were still close enough to hear the neighboring stages emit a pulsating groove through the forest.

Attendees varied, it seemed as though the entire community just plopped down in the forest for the weekend. Everyone from mothers and fathers with 2 month old babies to youthful students just looking for a release were camping out in the woods having a blast. The kids capable of doing so, what’s age I can’t tell, seemed to set up shop alongside the walkways to camp and would partake in busking or selling various trinkets all the while their parents enjoyed the festival – I suppose that’s one way to earn back a little coin toward such a pricey ticket.

Camp Lamp and the good people within allowed me to set up hammock on their lands after I approached them late Friday night and asked to lay with them on the field in front of main stage; and so we did beneath a canopy of waving fabrics illuminated a fiery reddish orange. A sunshade rather – but much much more interesting at this time of night under these temperatures and influences. Surely I speak for everyone included. We broke open bottles of wine, passed grass, and unintentionally almost grooved straight into the sunrise hours.

The following days consisted of pacing through dusty trails and diving into oceans of incoherent people from one side of the festival to another. It was wild. So wild that somebody must have slipped something in my drink one of the nights, now I may be good looking but I’m not that pretty lady you’re about to rape anytime soon. Conscious of such changes within my physical and mental state, also with the help of Katie’s expertise as well as self awareness, we both concluded that we had been drugged. Some fucker nabbed us. Luckily our sub group of roughly six folks from Camp Lamp was heading back to base. Upon letting everyone know of our current status we relied on the good ol’ buddy system to make sure no shaky business was about to occur and remained within our personal camps supervision; we were all stuck in our safe zone rolling around in the dirt that used to be a blanket. “Just playin’ dust bunnies for the night,” a success if there could ever be one when drugged in such a way.

The next day most people packed up and shipped out. As did I, the place was just overwhelming and I no longer felt at ease in such an environment. Dust coated and dazed I gathered my belongings and made headway for the front gate, took the long way out for the hell of it. Grabbed my Harley from the fire station and boogied toward the nearest river for solitude and a bath of some sort. “Let’s put this town in my rearview mirror.” A paradise turned nightmare, lucky for me I tend to wake up just in time.

– Highway Chile

Check out more stories from the ride.

highway chile, travel, motorcycle, harley-davidson, highway to hell, biker, bikes, hippies, people, nature, badass, californication, california, adventure, escapade, journey, journal, writing, photography, pickathon, oregon, music festival, portland, love, peace, fun, social, interaction, travel, guitar, singer, performance, show

music, producer, audio, mycst, memories you can swim to, license, licenses

Highway Chile – The Ride: Bambi Be Gone

By | ALL CONTENT, CREATURES, HAND MADE, HIGHWAY CHILE, JOURNALISM, MYCST PRODUCTIONS, OUTDOOR, SCARY, TOP STORIES, TRAVEL

Painfully rough night. Thanks to…

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Painfully rough night. Thanks to rotting trees in the Oregon forest and a harsh winter freeze that left everything boned, I was unable to gain access to my planned campground. Time to burn the plan and start from scratch. Having wasted an hour or more dicking around on forest roads it was getting late, myself getting weary. Down the hill into Lincoln city was the best option regarding time and location; which was a bummer because there isn’t shit for a chap like myself there. After dodging parking lots and shopping centers full of boofers and kooks alike, I found myself behind a furniture warehouse aside the loading bay.

Nobody in sight not a sound to be heard. I unraveled the wool blanket and crashed out aside the Harley utilizing the shifter and footboard as a pillow. Comfy comfy, until roughly two in the morning when Bambi decided he wanted a midnight snack and figured it’d be cool to raid my saddlebag. Not on my watch; I was up in a flash pepper spray in my left hand and knife in my right screaming and sprinting down the empty road after the thing. I had no idea what was going on but I was about to solve the problem the hard way – as ordered by the customer.

What a trip! I couldn’t figure if I scared him more or myself, as it was nearly impossible getting back to sleep with visions of a mad man sprinting into the obscene with knife in hand, madly screaming nonsense all the while delirious and confused regarding the situation as a whole. For the rest of the night I slept sitting on the bike as to show Bambi and whoever else strolled along that I was in ownership, and not playing games. Not tonight anyways.

– Highway Chile

Check out more stories from the ride.

Painfully rough night. Thanks to rotting trees in the Oregon forest and a harsh winter freeze that left everything boned, I was unable to gain access to my planned campground. Time to burn the plan and start from scratch. Having wasted an hour or more dicking around on forest roads it was getting late, myself getting weary. Down the hill into Lincoln city was the best option regarding time and location; which was a bummer because there isn’t shit for a chap like myself there. After dodging parking lots and shopping centers full of boofers and kooks alike, I found myself behind a furniture warehouse aside the loading bay.

Nobody in sight not a sound to be heard. I unraveled the wool blanket and crashed out aside the Harley utilizing the shifter and footboard as a pillow. Comfy comfy, until roughly two in the morning when Bambi decided he wanted a midnight snack and figured it’d be cool to raid my saddlebag. Not on my watch; I was up in a flash pepper spray in my left hand and knife in my right screaming and sprinting down the empty road after the thing. I had no idea what was going on but I was about to solve the problem the hard way – as ordered by the customer.

What a trip! I couldn’t figure if I scared him more or myself, as it was nearly impossible getting back to sleep with visions of a mad man sprinting into the obscene with knife in hand, madly screaming nonsense all the while delirious and confused regarding the situation as a whole. For the rest of the night I slept sitting on the bike as to show Bambi and whoever else strolled along that I was in ownership, and not playing games. Not tonight anyways.

– Highway Chile

Check out more stories from the ride.

highway chile, travel, motorcycle, harley-davidson, highway to hell, biker, bikes, hippies, people, nature, badass, californication, california, adventure, escapade, journey, journal, writing, photography

music, producer, audio, mycst, memories you can swim to, license, licenses

Bubble Tee

By | ALL CONTENT, GOODS, T-SHIRTS

– A groovy ride
– You don’t have to trip, this shirt will for you

– 100% Cotton (white and black shirts)
– 90% Cotton / 10% Polyester (heather grey shirt)
– Front print
– Unisex
– Limited quantities available. Once they’re sold out, that’s it!

Questions? – orders@MYCSTProductions.com
We ship domestic & worldwide.
Allow 10-14 days for delivery of MYCST Product & Goods.

$45.00


Choose Size
Choose Color


MORE INFO

– A groovy ride
– You don’t have to trip, this shirt will for you

– 100% Cotton (white and black shirts)
– 90% Cotton / 10% Polyester (heather grey shirt)
– Front print
– Unisex
– Limited quantities available. Once they’re sold out, that’s it!

Questions? – orders@MYCSTProductions.com
We ship domestic & worldwide.
Allow 10-14 days for delivery of MYCST Product & Goods.

$45.00


Choose Size
Choose Color


I See You All the Time

By | ACOUSTIC, ALL CONTENT, ALL SONGS, BEST OF, DRIVING, EXPERIMENTAL LANDSCAPES, FEATURED, FOLK, INDIE, MUSIC, OUTDOOR, TRAVEL, VISUAL ART, VOCAL

In our everyday lives, we hardly take into account the specific details of our surroundings; when we wake up, where we drink our coffee, our routine drive to work. When we lose someone, those details suddenly reveal themselves as if they had been waving at us the whole time.

In our everyday lives, we hardly take into account the specific details of our surroundings…

0067,electronic, experimental landscapes, acoustic, folk, single, best, important, featured, greatest hits, samples, sampled, sound design, guitar, ukulele, songwriter, vocal, singer, love song, storytelling, broken heart, breakup, divorce, break up

music, producer, audio, mycst, memories you can swim to, license, licenses

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In our everyday lives, we hardly take into account the specific details of our surroundings; when we wake up, where we drink our coffee, our routine drive to work. When we lose someone, those details suddenly reveal themselves as if they had been waving at us the whole time.

Highway Chile – The Ride: Humboldt Homies

By | ALL CONTENT, COMMUNITY, CREATURES, CULTURE, HIGHWAY CHILE, JOURNALISM, MYCST PRODUCTIONS, PHOTOGRAPHY, RAD, SKATEBOARDING, TRAVEL

Ever randomly run into a group of…

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…rad cats that are as dynamic, gnarly, and talented as the dudes you’ve seen in movies about surf skate and party subcultures? Believe me they do exist in reality, you’re just going about it all wrong. While dealing with fraudulent bank activity and waiting on mail in Humboldt County, the boys at Humboldt Skate Lab took me in and made me a creature of their own. Everything included, from sleeping on beaches next to bonfires with Tanner, consuming bountiful blunts and brews, skating a custom mobile wood skatepark in Brads backyard, mobbin to skate spot after spot, and chillen at the shop; I’d be lying if I didn’t say it was the most wicked of times. And they do this shit daily! If you’re ever in the area, skate and hate scooter kids, you’ll fit right into this family! So do yourself the biggest favor and stop by Humboldt Skate Lab for some proper gear and merch. Don’t get hassled by neighboring skate shops, trust me, these boys are IT! And fuck AMPT skate shop in Arcata, you dicks might as well be on scooters snaking people in the bowl left and right – go home and stay there!

– Highway Chile

Ever randomly run into a group of rad cats that are as dynamic, gnarly, and talented as the dudes you’ve seen in movies about surf skate and party subcultures? Believe me they do exist in reality, you’re just going about it all wrong. While dealing with fraudulent bank activity and waiting on mail in Humboldt County, the boys at Humboldt Skate Lab took me in and made me a creature of their own. Everything included, from sleeping on beaches next to bonfires with Tanner, consuming bountiful blunts and brews, skating a custom mobile wood skatepark in Brads backyard, mobbin to skate spot after spot, and chillen at the shop; I’d be lying if I didn’t say it was the most wicked of times. And they do this shit daily! If you’re ever in the area, skate and hate scooter kids, you’ll fit right into this family! So do yourself the biggest favor and stop by Humboldt Skate Lab for some proper gear and merch. Don’t get hassled by neighboring skate shops, trust me, these boys are IT! And fuck AMPT skate shop in Arcata, you dicks might as well be on scooters snaking people in the bowl left and right – go home and stay there!

– Highway Chile

highway chile, travel, motorcycle, harley-davidson, highway to hell, biker, bikes, hippies, people, nature, badass, californication, california, adventure, escapade, journey, journal, writing, photography

music, producer, audio, mycst, memories you can swim to, license, licenses

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