Nick, I gotta hand it to ya, you are NO dime store clerk tryin' ta pawn a pack o' stale Lucky Strikes off on a cyber community just itchin' for some clever 'n' dangerous melodies...no, you brought us the goods and delivered 'em in a creatively classy style and respectable quantity, I might add. Here's ta you, pal.🍸
Thank you so much for creating this wonderful music! As soon as I turn on this playlist, I immediately get in the mood to write my book. Thanks for this.
Didn't pay attention to the description, just enjoyed it. Then I was trying to post a story and wanted to include one of the tracks. As I didn't see the playlist I tried to Shazam it, but it failed to find the song. Then I read the description in detail and was absolutely impressed that it was of your own making, you really nailed the atmosphere. Congrats! Now I got to go pour some whisky and keep enjoying this.
One of two actual noir playlist that have the noir ambience and not just a title. A fine playlist and my new favorite. ruclips.net/video/PEI2zet48Uc/видео.htmlsi=JA8DYoJMRqQ0JD1F Edit: I'm putting it in this comment since my other one keeps getting deleted. It's Noir Jazz by Dr. Saxlove
The rain pattered against the window of my office, thick smoke swirling up from a filled tray of ash. The yellow glow of the lamp casted dancing shadows against the walls of my willing prison. Papers lay cluttered across my desk, mind one piece laying limp and untouched in the type-writer. "a damn shame" I thought looking up at the clock. I watched the hands tick on. There was always too much to do with such little time to do it. This case has been plaguing me for months, and no matter how many leads I found, the trail ran dry. They suspect a missing person, I suspect foul play. I rise from my chair, the leather cracks as do my knees. "Damn, getting old." Not sure if I meant that for the chair or for myself. I grab my jacket and hat and press past the door. "Holliway and Brae" confidently spells itself across the distorted glass as I lock the door. The office is empty, cold and comforting. I always did my best work when the night came around. Chairs and desks evenly spread themselves out through the room, each with its own individualized flavor. A book here, a paper there. You can really learn a lot about a person with how their individual spaces are arranged. My footsteps echo through the room, clacking with each step as the rain continues to caress the windows in an eerie orchestra of crude and comfort. I continue forward, through the stairwell and out onto the street. The smell of rain invades my nostrils as I take shelter under the drain pipes and light up a cigarette. The smoke curls upwards and the scent overpowers that from before. I step off into the rain, having forget the umbrella again. The wife will be upset. The rain continues painting the brick street with familiar designs and accompanying sounds. I continue to walk through the desolate street, not a soul in sight. The street lamps are spaced far enough apart to illuminate just enough to see but not enough to clear the conscience of the looming shadows. And no matter how hard I try, I can not shake the feeling that I am not alone. I pick up the pace slightly, if only to cure my paranoia, and make my way to the one place I know will be occupied this late. I see the glow of the coffee shop sign in the distance and continue my increased pace towards it. The feeling of being watched intensifies. "It seems wrong to run." I thought as if it was all in my head. But you don't make it this far in my career without listening to your gut. The hairs on my neck stand up as a chill cascades down my spine. I pick up the pace ever so slightly before I find myself at the front doors of the diner. The door opens to a bell chime, and I'm met with a desolate shelter away from my own mind. Behind the swirling wooden counter resides a large man in a grease stained shirt. "What'll it be Joe?" His gravely voice reverberates off every surface. "The usual" I say, sitting down on the stool furthest from the door. The man sets a cup of coffee down in front of me and refuses my payment, before walking to the back of the kitchen. I'm the only man he expects to see for the remainder of the night and I sometimes wonder if he waits up just for me. Yet, the door to the diner dings open with a familiar chime. I don't turn around and continue sipping on my coffee. "What'll it be?" I hear him say begrudgingly from behind the kitchen. "Cup of jo" says the voice behind me. Eerily familiar but I'm unable to place a finger on where I've heard it before. He walks passed me to the end of the bar, slightly bumping into me. And down he sits. I finish my cup and stand up to leave. "Quiet night" says the voice. "Indeed" I reply before continuing to the doors, feeling uneasy with my new encounter. Something seems familiar but also feels as though I am caught in a spotlight. I hurry to the door and push through. The air bites at my face as the rain continues to pour down around me. A few blocks to go but the rain will soak right through by the time I get back. I begin the journey back, making my way down the familiar streets, my feet clacking and sloshing along the brick street in a timeless melody of water and stone. I turn down my street, a straight shot home. Suddenly I'm hit with a sense of dread, my stomach sinks and my heart begins to race. This is more than a gut feeling, this is real. I pick up the pace, and swear I hear it. The sounds of footsteps, matching mine perfectly as if to mask their sounds. Almost like a faint echo, but there none the less. I know someone is there, and they know I know. As my pace increases, whoever or whatever is following me gets sloppy and any doubt in my mind has now vanished. I am being followed, I am being stalked, I am being hunted. Before I know it, I am in a full sprint, the yellow hue of the street lamps fade in and out, faster and faster. My chest feels constricted and heavy, my breathing becomes sharp and painful as I continue to run further and further. "Home stretch" I think as I see my building, as I near closer I swear the footsteps grow quiet. Whoever it is must have given up. Yet, I take no chance. I burst up the stone steps to the front door. I fumble around for my key, heart racing. The footsteps begin again, this time at a leisurely pace. As if to mock me. I don't dare look up, I scavenge desperately for my key but can't find it anywhere. "Damn it" I say out loud, I must have left it at the office. I've never been one to be this forgetful, but as my luck would have it, of course it happens now. Fear pulses through my body as the steps grow closer. Before I know it, they will be upon me. In a last ditch effort I reach for my gun holstered to my chest. But all I find is empty leather. Then I hear it. The voice, familiar but slightly wrong. "Don't worry Joe" I turn around slowly, and it's as if I was looking into a mirror. Identical. I'm at a loss for words as the man holds up my key, alongside my missing gun. "I'll make sure to do a better job than you ever could."
The attempt on Nordberg's life left me shaken and disturbed, and all the questions kept coming up over and over again, like bubbles in a case of club soda. Who was this character in the hospital? And why was he trying to kill Nordberg? And for whom? Did Ludwig lie to me? I didn't have any proof, but somehow, I didn't entirely trust him either. Why was the 'I Luv You' not listed in Ludwig's records? And if it was, did he know about it? And if he didn't, who did? And where the hell was I? [The sound of kookaburra in the background].
@@NickTorrettaMusic we need this second playlist this one is a masterpiece it nails the 1940s detective vibe so much i started to write a noir story 😂😂
It looked like rain, so I got up to close the window. That guy on the sidewalk was still playing his sax. He was good, but I had heard enough for one day. When I turned back to my desk, she was already standing in front of it.
"Can I help you?", I said.
"No, Mr. Starker, I'm here to help you.", she whispered. "You placed a Want Ad for a secretary in today's paper. I'd like to apply for the position."
"Cookie, you can have any position you want." I replied, "You're hired as of now. And from now on, call me Mick."
"Oh, thank you Mr, uh, Mick." she squealed, "You don't know how happy this makes me."
"Sit down, sugar, pour yourself a drink. We've got all night to get to know each other. And you don't know how happy this'll make me!", I said as I removed my tie.
That's when the phone rang. That's when it all started to go sideways. Who could've figured that she'd wind up dead, and I'd be sitting in a jail cell talking to you?
I've been playing this playlist to my friends and family who appreciate music for the past two weeks. I can say that without exception they've been amazed by you. The sound is so harmonious and you make the flow feel effortless - that is the sign of true talent. You've been given a gift most people can only dream of. I hope you will find the inspiration to do more 🙏! Thanks again, it's been a pleasure to find this auditory oasis in this weary world of copyright infringement and people who try too hard imitating the real things.
Just an FYI, I've copied and pasted this comment into a doc I have that I read when I'm having a hard day. Can't tell you how much I appreciate the kind words and how much they inspire me to continue creating. Many many thanks
Esta música... Me transporta a otros tiempos, otros lugares... Como si ya hubiera estado en ellos... En otras vidas... Me hace sentir tan especial, tan enormemente única... 👏👍💌💯
Not sure how to bring it about so i'll just ask : I'd really like to use your music for a Film Noir RPG i'll be recording on youtube in a few weeks. Would you allow that use (credit is of course due and will be mentionned in description and on screen)
Great collection of sultry, sensuous tunes. Imaginative instrumentation and arrangements all throughout. And this mix features my favorite musical voice in all of jazz: the muted trumpet! Liked & subscribed.
Lol youtube apparently autofiltered my previous comment because I mentioned other places where your music is available and that you should add that to the description. Anyway, spectacular work, I KNEW I was listening to something original from the very beginning and not just some recycled playlist with stolen tracks. Just.. wow, great stuff! You've captured the essence of the genre perfectly.
@@NickTorrettaMusic Nah, it's easy to praise true talent. Please do a second volume! Also could you provide some channel for donations, I'd love to contribute.
listening in Seoul. Thanks to you, my daily life becomes richer. Your playlist fits the night of seoul and han-river. I look forward to many more activities in the future.
He cracked his windows just enough that his breath wouldn't fog up the windows. He didn't want to miss the show. Finally, the club closed down and she would be making her way timidly into the parking lot. He had finally made up his mind that tonight was the night. "I must have her...," he whispered quietly to himself. "It seems your car won't start my dear. Whatever will you do on this cold night? It looks like it might even start to rain." A sick smile carved itself underneath his bushy mustache. She pops the hood and tries to see if there's anything obvious going on that she might be able to handle with what she currently has in the glove box. Now his time has come. A ragged breath escapes him as he quietly opens the driver door and closes it just as gently. He can feel the chill of the night air against his neck, but only just before feeling cold steel against his head. "The damnedest thing about nights when you can see your breath like this...sometimes other people can too." The man hears from behind him.
Yep - all originals for this playlist! So much fun to create/perform on. The album is on spotify, I believe the track at 18:43 is "Flatfoot", available here: open.spotify.com/track/0vFgVznqJ2ocuKuWxM5Byq?si=b43066bb83234e3d
Sitting at my desk staring out at the city lights after another day of waiting for the phone to ring. I reached for the bottom drawer where I kept my glass and a bottle of cheap scotch. Pouring a couple fingers worth I saw the last few drops fall out of the bottle. It started to rain outside. That’s when I heard the door open to the waiting room. I pulled my gun from its holster and aimed at the door to my office. Luckily, I didn’t turn on the lights earlier. A couple of footsteps later, the doorknob turned. As the door opened, I could see the backlit shape of a dame. Not just any dame, but the kind that a man would do anything to possess. She stepped in my office. I still couldn’t see her face, but I didn’t need to. I holstered my gun. Her voice had the smoky quality of a torch singer. “Mr. MacKenna?” “Who might you be?” I replied. “My name is Veronica.” “Veronica Laurent.” Of course it is, I thought. “What can I do for you, Miss Laurent?” I asked. “I need your help to find someone.” It always starts with trying to track down someone. Can’t I get a better script for my life? I sighed. “Okay, I’ll bite. Who is this ‘someone’ and what do they mean to you?” “He’s my husband.” “Well, we seem to have all night. I apologize for my lack of good graces, but I just ran out of scotch. How about we head downstairs to a place I know where we can talk about this.” Five minutes later, we were in a dark corner of the basement bar. Mike the bartender knew I brought potential clients down here and wouldn’t disturb us. Plus, the scotch was better than what I usually drank in my office. “So, tell me your story and I’ll see if I can help you.” “My husband is a very important man. Not as if he were a big tycoon or politician. He’s a man who knows things. Things that the tycoon or politician wants to keep secret.” “Go on.” So far, I’m not intrigued enough to really care, but I do want more time to look into those eyes of hers. “He told me he came to the city for business. That was two weeks ago. He phoned me when he arrived and I haven’t heard from him since.” “Okay, so he’s been incommunicado for two weeks. Tell me, was it a pay phone or did he phone from a hotel?” “He didn’t say. He just said that he just got in and he’d call me later.” “Did he take a bus or train? And, how long after he was supposed to arrive did he phone you?” “It was a train and he was due to arrive at 5:10. He phoned me around 6 pm.” “Okay, so he went somewhere before calling you.” I’m picking up a scent, but not sure of the direction. “What is your husband’s name?” “Thomas. Peter Thomas.” Interesting. She didn’t take his name. I looked at her hands. No ring, either. It was too dark to see if she had a “liar’s ring,” the mark a wedding band leaves on the finger as the skin gets smoothed down. That scent is getting stronger and less appealing. That tickle in the back of my mind was turning into a pinch. Which will soon turn to an alarm. “Okay, I’ll try to find your husband. Before I begin, let’s discuss my fee.”
........algo estava estranho naquele dia, não me beijaste na tua chegada, não senti o teu desejo, apenas a música me iludia, apenas ela me tocava, ela sim beijava- me, tentava-te compensar.......e eu, fechei os olhos, e deixei- me estar.....lasciva na música que me fez voltar....
“She said she didn’t know anything, but I didn’t buy it. Ya know, I’ve learned something in life. Someone can say anything, but the body says what the mouth won’t. Her smirk, her unease, I knew she was hiding something. But it was getting late, and I had to turn in.”
The smoke follows the whispers spoken in this dimlit space, the long straight bar a saturated sponge upon which we all eventually perch our heavy minds, the newborns seeking releases and justifications, the elders finding a fine place to surrender... A place neither clean or well lit. It's the wind blowing through the supreme order of our instruments that tsunami and erode through our weights, stripping us bare to our beautiful, simple Truths - we are but emotional ferocities striving for lights in the dark. "You're gonna carry that weight..."
Fades in: Wide Angle shot: Inside a bar, where we see the back of our protagonist. Medium Shot: A former detective turned private eye that has seen better days is sitting at the end of the bar with glass of whiskey. The fedora hat is pulled low over his eyes, casting shadows that match the ones in his soul. Close up: Jack Malone as he takes a sip of his whiskey: "In this city, you can't trust the shadows. They're darker than the alleys and deeper than the lies we tell ourselves. But in this dim, whiskey-soaked corner, we're all just ghosts haunting our own regrets." Two shot: Showing Jack and the bartender that clearly knows too much information about everyone. Max Callahan: " Looks like trouble found you again, Jack. You know the drill - whiskey straight up, no questions asked, and a side of advice you won't listen to. Buy, hey, who am I judge? You keep chasing ghosts, and I'll keep pouring the drinks." Jack's gaze meets Max's with a mixture of exhaustion and gratitude, a silent acknowledgment of their shared history and the unspoken understanding that exists between them. There's a flicker of something deeper in his eyes, a fleeting moment where the weight of his burdens seems to momentarily lift in her presence before reality comes crashing back down. With a weary smile, he nods, wordlessly accepting her offer of both liquid solace and unspoken camaraderie in this dimly lit sanctuary of shadows and secrets.
The lovely September night breeze, comin’ through my window of September 1947. Just got off of this real case, sure as the night. So there I was, in my office enjoying a shot of bourbon and a smoke. Cleanin’ and loadin’ my girl, Thompson. Waitin’ for trouble, until I hear a knock on my door. In comes trouble..trouble as they come. The breeze passing by me from my window, making her hair flow like I ain’t ever seen before. Her perfume covered the smell of my smoke, with a taste of lust in the air. I coulda sworn it was just the night breeze. But the question was, were any of us gonna do anything ‘bout it?
This case has been difficult to say the least its got dead ends on dead ends it gets more difficult as bodies keep turning up in public places whoever is doing this isnt alone me and my associate have tried everything i believe in you to finish the work
Wow! Incredibly smooth, atmospheric and mysterious. You've done a great job, I could listen to this all day! A lot of the Film noir / detective playlists on RUclips are nice, but this just beats them all by a huge margin! Definitely looking forward to hearing more from you 🎉
Man you are talented! And someone who appreciates the music of a bygone era! Thank you for this wonderful playlist.❤ I have shared this with my friends!
The sound of the rain on the window reminds me of night's in small winter hotels. whispering in the dark to a beautiful mature woman The touch of her perfumed hair on my face, Soft smooth skin that tastes of honey and almonds Cigarette smoke drifting across the street lamp shadows in the darkened room. We thought we had forever,but we were wrong. Life and reality have a way of catching up. The years drift by and you become a different man. A life lived in another time,all that's left Are memories and thoughts on a night like this,when the rain sounds like pebbles on the window pane as you chase the shadows of sleep.
A murder right outside my own goddamn apartment building. What kind of PI would I be if I didnt catch the guy who shot a shmuck while I was packing groceries into my own refrigerator only a handful of feet from where the body dropped? Guy was a fucking ghost I tell ya, I checked all the roof tops and apartment windows I could and never got a hint of who this guy was...bout to even think the poor shmuck simply popped a hole in his own head out of nowhere. Detective work aint easy I tell ya, some cases go cold and aint much you can do with what little you're given. Heres hoping I forget this embarrassment of a case when I retire.
It was raining. Hard. The streets were slick. The city's inhabitants were running to and fro, ruining their shoes and their newspapers, trying to escape the storm. I was sitting in my office trying to coax one more memory from my gin and tonic. The phone hadn't rang in days. The office smelled of old paper. Old air. Old cologne. My chair creaked in annoyance as I eased back...with no further plan than to dull some more brain cells. I lit a cigarette. I heard the door open quietly…And then she walked in... She was a tall drink of bourbon to a Sunday priest. My gin didn't mean anything anymore. I looked up to drink her in. She was built like an aero plane. Long. Trim…With curves in all the right places. As I forced my gaze above her chin, I couldn't help but notice -she had lips as red as sunburn...and just as hot. Skin like smooth jazz. She gazed at me with eyes so deep you couldn't see the bottom. I noticed something. She'd been crying... Maybe a swindler took her inheritance. Maybe an ex-lover jilted her at the altar. Maybe she even murdered the poor devil. Who knows? All I know is the sound of that door opening meant greenbacks in my palm and my next hot meal. I'm a Private Eye.
Played Minecraft with some friends with this playing in the background, honestly found it very relaxing definitely listening to this kind of music more often
The city never really sleeps, not with the hum of neon lights and the constant murmur of traffic. It’s a restless kind of quiet that lingers just beneath the surface, like a secret someone forgot to keep. I sit in my office, the faint scent of stale coffee mingling with the smoky haze of cigarette smoke, and I wonder how I ended up here-chasing a ghost of a case that seems more absurd than sinister. The man I’m after isn’t your typical criminal. No, he’s not robbing banks or breaking hearts-he’s leaving behind a different kind of mark. The details are as mundane as they are bizarre: he’s been hitting every public restroom in town and never, ever flushing. It’s a signature as subtle as it is peculiar, but it’s enough to set the police on edge. They called me in because they needed someone who’d think beyond the obvious. I’m piecing together his trail, and it’s not like any trail I’ve followed before. There’s no pattern to his locations, no discernible motive-at least, not one that fits neatly into the box marked "logical explanations." Maybe that’s the real mystery here: why someone would find such a perverse satisfaction in leaving a mess behind in places that are meant to be communal, clean. It’s as though he’s saying something with every unflushed toilet, something that’s just out of reach. Every piece of information I dig up seems to lead to another dead end. The restrooms have nothing to offer beyond the obvious. I’ve visited the scenes-small, dingy places where the fluorescent lights flicker and the air feels thick with the ghosts of countless others who’ve passed through. Each time, I’m met with the same sight: an unflushed toilet, water swirling with an indeterminate mixture of things best left unseen. It’s maddening, really. I’m sifting through a mess of inconsequential details and half-formed theories, trying to make sense of a man whose only crime seems to be a disregard for the simplest of social norms. And yet, there’s something unnerving about it, a persistent itch that won’t go away. Maybe it’s the way his actions seem to thumb their nose at civility, or the way they highlight something fundamentally broken in the system-both the toilets and society’s expectations. As I sit here, chain-smoking and staring at the case file, I can’t help but wonder if this case is a metaphor for something larger. Maybe it’s not about the unflushed toilets at all but about the hidden filth we’re all too quick to ignore. Maybe the man’s message is that we’re all leaving behind things we’d rather not face-filth that accumulates in corners we prefer to keep dark and quiet. In the end, I’ll track him down, if only because that’s what I do. But I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something more to this case than meets the eye. Something that might just leave me questioning not only the nature of this man's peculiar obsession but also the nature of the world we live in-a world where even the smallest act of defiance can hold a mirror up to our collective failings.
- Baby, i love you. Do you hear me? I love you. - Honey, i'm so sorry. I won't play the sap for you. Not again... As i watched sargeant Clover close iron bracelets on her, my heart shrinked. But i'm a fool and a fool has to do what has to do. So i went cryin' my lost dreams on a double scotch at Harry's.
Holy WOW!! This music is absolutely SUBLIME. The PERFECT soundtrack for relaxing with a drink and a cigar after a long day at the office. YOU, my friend, are INCREDIBLY TALENTED. Thank you SO MUCH for sharing.
While listening to the first cut I imagine driving at night on a bridge over a waterway, and watching the skyline in the distance, and wondering what every warm soul in those high-rise abodes is experiencing.
Nick, I gotta hand it to ya, you are NO dime store clerk tryin' ta pawn a pack o' stale Lucky Strikes off on a cyber community just itchin' for some clever 'n' dangerous melodies...no, you brought us the goods and delivered 'em in a creatively classy style and respectable quantity, I might add. Here's ta you, pal.🍸
Many thanks for the praise! Cheers! 🍸
You got the picture.
I used to smoke Luckies
I used to smoke Luckies
Marlboro 27s
Thank you so much for creating this wonderful music! As soon as I turn on this playlist, I immediately get in the mood to write my book. Thanks for this.
This is good stuff! Really feels noir for sure! I'm gonna enjoy doing homework to this!
Didn't pay attention to the description, just enjoyed it. Then I was trying to post a story and wanted to include one of the tracks. As I didn't see the playlist I tried to Shazam it, but it failed to find the song. Then I read the description in detail and was absolutely impressed that it was of your own making, you really nailed the atmosphere. Congrats! Now I got to go pour some whisky and keep enjoying this.
Dang, thank you! Really appreciate hearing that, exactly what I was hoping for
@@NickTorrettaMusic I shazammed it and you came up! Amazing!!
Pour Me Another
Well done!
One of two actual noir playlist that have the noir ambience and not just a title. A fine playlist and my new favorite.
ruclips.net/video/PEI2zet48Uc/видео.htmlsi=JA8DYoJMRqQ0JD1F
Edit: I'm putting it in this comment since my other one keeps getting deleted. It's Noir Jazz by Dr. Saxlove
What's the other one btw? I sincerely hope Nick makes more of this. I wish there were a donate button, I'd instantly throw $50 at his way.
@@tommydowning3481
ruclips.net/video/PEI2zet48Uc/видео.htmlsi=RUlMdt1j8cCYywnd
@@tommydowning3481
ruclips.net/video/PEI2zet48Uc/видео.htmlsi=6ruA5GOeC2EZ2uzN
If you will tell us the name of the other playlist would be very great! 🙂
@tommydowning3481. @_Ed0_
ruclips.net/video/PEI2zet48Uc/видео.htmlsi=5BOgykbqmYx25W4o
Dr. SaxLove
I could've sworn I had posted it already
The rain pattered against the window of my office, thick smoke swirling up from a filled tray of ash. The yellow glow of the lamp casted dancing shadows against the walls of my willing prison. Papers lay cluttered across my desk, mind one piece laying limp and untouched in the type-writer.
"a damn shame" I thought looking up at the clock. I watched the hands tick on. There was always too much to do with such little time to do it. This case has been plaguing me for months, and no matter how many leads I found, the trail ran dry. They suspect a missing person, I suspect foul play.
I rise from my chair, the leather cracks as do my knees. "Damn, getting old." Not sure if I meant that for the chair or for myself. I grab my jacket and hat and press past the door.
"Holliway and Brae" confidently spells itself across the distorted glass as I lock the door. The office is empty, cold and comforting. I always did my best work when the night came around. Chairs and desks evenly spread themselves out through the room, each with its own individualized flavor. A book here, a paper there. You can really learn a lot about a person with how their individual spaces are arranged. My footsteps echo through the room, clacking with each step as the rain continues to caress the windows in an eerie orchestra of crude and comfort. I continue forward, through the stairwell and out onto the street. The smell of rain invades my nostrils as I take shelter under the drain pipes and light up a cigarette. The smoke curls upwards and the scent overpowers that from before. I step off into the rain, having forget the umbrella again. The wife will be upset.
The rain continues painting the brick street with familiar designs and accompanying sounds. I continue to walk through the desolate street, not a soul in sight. The street lamps are spaced far enough apart to illuminate just enough to see but not enough to clear the conscience of the looming shadows. And no matter how hard I try, I can not shake the feeling that I am not alone. I pick up the pace slightly, if only to cure my paranoia, and make my way to the one place I know will be occupied this late. I see the glow of the coffee shop sign in the distance and continue my increased pace towards it. The feeling of being watched intensifies.
"It seems wrong to run." I thought as if it was all in my head. But you don't make it this far in my career without listening to your gut. The hairs on my neck stand up as a chill cascades down my spine. I pick up the pace ever so slightly before I find myself at the front doors of the diner.
The door opens to a bell chime, and I'm met with a desolate shelter away from my own mind. Behind the swirling wooden counter resides a large man in a grease stained shirt.
"What'll it be Joe?" His gravely voice reverberates off every surface.
"The usual" I say, sitting down on the stool furthest from the door. The man sets a cup of coffee down in front of me and refuses my payment, before walking to the back of the kitchen. I'm the only man he expects to see for the remainder of the night and I sometimes wonder if he waits up just for me. Yet, the door to the diner dings open with a familiar chime. I don't turn around and continue sipping on my coffee.
"What'll it be?" I hear him say begrudgingly from behind the kitchen.
"Cup of jo" says the voice behind me. Eerily familiar but I'm unable to place a finger on where I've heard it before. He walks passed me to the end of the bar, slightly bumping into me. And down he sits. I finish my cup and stand up to leave.
"Quiet night" says the voice.
"Indeed" I reply before continuing to the doors, feeling uneasy with my new encounter. Something seems familiar but also feels as though I am caught in a spotlight. I hurry to the door and push through. The air bites at my face as the rain continues to pour down around me. A few blocks to go but the rain will soak right through by the time I get back.
I begin the journey back, making my way down the familiar streets, my feet clacking and sloshing along the brick street in a timeless melody of water and stone. I turn down my street, a straight shot home. Suddenly I'm hit with a sense of dread, my stomach sinks and my heart begins to race. This is more than a gut feeling, this is real. I pick up the pace, and swear I hear it. The sounds of footsteps, matching mine perfectly as if to mask their sounds. Almost like a faint echo, but there none the less. I know someone is there, and they know I know. As my pace increases, whoever or whatever is following me gets sloppy and any doubt in my mind has now vanished. I am being followed, I am being stalked, I am being hunted. Before I know it, I am in a full sprint, the yellow hue of the street lamps fade in and out, faster and faster. My chest feels constricted and heavy, my breathing becomes sharp and painful as I continue to run further and further.
"Home stretch" I think as I see my building, as I near closer I swear the footsteps grow quiet. Whoever it is must have given up. Yet, I take no chance. I burst up the stone steps to the front door. I fumble around for my key, heart racing.
The footsteps begin again, this time at a leisurely pace. As if to mock me. I don't dare look up, I scavenge desperately for my key but can't find it anywhere.
"Damn it" I say out loud, I must have left it at the office. I've never been one to be this forgetful, but as my luck would have it, of course it happens now. Fear pulses through my body as the steps grow closer. Before I know it, they will be upon me. In a last ditch effort I reach for my gun holstered to my chest. But all I find is empty leather. Then I hear it. The voice, familiar but slightly wrong.
"Don't worry Joe" I turn around slowly, and it's as if I was looking into a mirror. Identical. I'm at a loss for words as the man holds up my key, alongside my missing gun. "I'll make sure to do a better job than you ever could."
When did you Ana e the time to write this dang
Dude, do you write detective novels?
@@cuphead5005 I do not, I just get bored sometimes
Really nice read
@@Vital_Blinks I appreciate it. I'm still practicing! Fun to do
The attempt on Nordberg's life left me shaken and disturbed, and all the questions kept coming up over and over again, like bubbles in a case of club soda. Who was this character in the hospital? And why was he trying to kill Nordberg? And for whom? Did Ludwig lie to me? I didn't have any proof, but somehow, I didn't entirely trust him either. Why was the 'I Luv You' not listed in Ludwig's records? And if it was, did he know about it? And if he didn't, who did? And where the hell was I? [The sound of kookaburra in the background].
The perfect detective mix.
I cant believe you made all these songs yourself, you're a freak. Amazing work.
Glad you like them! Second playlist coming soon.
@@NickTorrettaMusic we need this second playlist this one is a masterpiece it nails the 1940s detective vibe so much i started to write a noir story 😂😂
@@Robingtz here you go: ruclips.net/video/hsdRIEr5x1E/видео.htmlsi=Pkehs14rw7Qjn9CS
@@NickTorrettaMusicyou made these? Amazing work! I love the ambience and the somber feeling. Reminds me of the ODST song. Perfect
wheres mike hammer and sgt stadenko to go chase down cheech and chong only to get lite at a rock concert @ the roxy lol
It looked like rain, so I got up to close the window. That guy on the sidewalk was still playing his sax.
He was good, but I had heard enough for one day.
When I turned back to my desk, she was already standing in front of it.
"Can I help you?", I said.
"No, Mr. Starker, I'm here to help you.", she whispered. "You placed a Want Ad for a secretary in today's paper. I'd like to apply for the position."
"Cookie, you can have any position you want." I replied, "You're hired as of now. And from now on, call me Mick."
"Oh, thank you Mr, uh, Mick." she squealed, "You don't know how happy this makes me."
"Sit down, sugar, pour yourself a drink. We've got all night to get to know each other. And you don't know how happy this'll make me!", I said as I removed my tie.
That's when the phone rang. That's when it all started to go sideways.
Who could've figured that she'd wind up dead, and I'd be sitting in a jail cell talking to you?
Sounds familiar.Too familiar!
And the Sax. So much sax.
Prompted me to clean the four five........again.
@baobo67: There is too much premarital sax going around these days.
@@comanchedase Good one Com.A gumshoes bread and butter is infidelity. Always sax and then more sax. Cheers.
Sax and violins
the warmth dark jazz brings, to a melancholic yet not quite sad mood. perfection.
Gf: “Babe, why are you always listening to old music?”
Me: “Beat it toots, these streets ain’t what they used to be…”
haha this killed me
I just wanted some relaxing background music to focus while I edit my research paper.
Now I have a burning urge to find out who killed Black Dahlia.
That opening track is STUNNING
This effectively cured my writer's block. But my fantasy novel turned into a 1952 crime story.
I've been playing this playlist to my friends and family who appreciate music for the past two weeks. I can say that without exception they've been amazed by you. The sound is so harmonious and you make the flow feel effortless - that is the sign of true talent. You've been given a gift most people can only dream of. I hope you will find the inspiration to do more 🙏! Thanks again, it's been a pleasure to find this auditory oasis in this weary world of copyright infringement and people who try too hard imitating the real things.
Just an FYI, I've copied and pasted this comment into a doc I have that I read when I'm having a hard day. Can't tell you how much I appreciate the kind words and how much they inspire me to continue creating. Many many thanks
Esta música... Me transporta a otros tiempos, otros lugares... Como si ya hubiera estado en ellos... En otras vidas... Me hace sentir tan especial, tan enormemente única... 👏👍💌💯
This itches a part of my brain so good
A music for you to go out on a Sunday and take an 8pm stroll while smoking a cigarette, narrating your past week and predicting the next one😝😊👍🏻
Not sure how to bring it about so i'll just ask : I'd really like to use your music for a Film Noir RPG i'll be recording on youtube in a few weeks. Would you allow that use (credit is of course due and will be mentionned in description and on screen)
Have at it :)
Great collection of sultry, sensuous tunes. Imaginative instrumentation and arrangements all throughout. And this mix features my favorite musical voice in all of jazz: the muted trumpet! Liked & subscribed.
This music is literally exactly what I was looking for; I'm writing a film noir story and this is giving me inspiration like crazy.
If these instruments were all played by you and not sound bits from a music software, wonderful job! It all sounds great and professional.
awesome playlist, amazing job as a composer/music player!!!
Bro you're crazy, dropping all this on RUclips?? Where can I buy a cd??
Streaming on Spotify and other platforms for free!
This is helping me with my book. :) Thank you!
WOW NICK…. you really brought it in righteous with that sax…. I feel compelled to subscribe….. and have a belt of brandy…..
This awesome! My new favorite study music.
And you played all the instruments yourself!
Salute to your talent and dedication.
Many thanks.
Give me ten hours of music just like this and I'm an ecstatic man.
Absolutely love this. Noir Jazz is my jam
Mine too!
I feel such a connection to Noir Jazz, maybe it just describes my mood.
Working at night?
Jazz Noir resonates with my vibe. 🎶💫
This has gotten me through some late night cleaning. It set the vibe just right for me to focus.
Lol youtube apparently autofiltered my previous comment because I mentioned other places where your music is available and that you should add that to the description. Anyway, spectacular work, I KNEW I was listening to something original from the very beginning and not just some recycled playlist with stolen tracks. Just.. wow, great stuff! You've captured the essence of the genre perfectly.
Really appreciate the kind words, comments like these are inspiring me to make a second noir volume soon
@@NickTorrettaMusic Nah, it's easy to praise true talent. Please do a second volume! Also could you provide some channel for donations, I'd love to contribute.
wah pedal on the trumpet sounds fucking awesome
listening in Seoul. Thanks to you, my daily life becomes richer. Your playlist fits the night of seoul and han-river. I look forward to many more activities in the future.
It's an honor to have my music being played in Seoul, thank you for the kind words
Wow is this you!😮❤ was looking to see if I stumbled on a Chet Baker tune I'd never heard 🙇🏼♂️
And I guess for this reason I'm glad the algorithm is giving us random channels to watch and listen 😊
So glad you're enjoying it! Hoping to release another volume soon
34:14 👌@@NickTorrettaMusic
The piece at 34:17 min is called "On The Case"
You are incredibly Talented!!!! keep it up!!! wowo!!!!!!
Just made my day. Thank you so much
This is sooooooooo goooood! You played the flute too?? I'm 'blown away' by your talent!!!
I love the music and all of the creative writing in the comments section.
Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat! You made all of this, and here is more dedication made for it, too!
Thank you! Really appreciate it!
Absolutely stunning my friend.
THIS is something I have been searching for, for AGES. Thank you, its perfect.
Glad you like it!!
He cracked his windows just enough that his breath wouldn't fog up the windows. He didn't want to miss the show. Finally, the club closed down and she would be making her way timidly into the parking lot. He had finally made up his mind that tonight was the night. "I must have her...," he whispered quietly to himself. "It seems your car won't start my dear. Whatever will you do on this cold night? It looks like it might even start to rain." A sick smile carved itself underneath his bushy mustache. She pops the hood and tries to see if there's anything obvious going on that she might be able to handle with what she currently has in the glove box. Now his time has come. A ragged breath escapes him as he quietly opens the driver door and closes it just as gently. He can feel the chill of the night air against his neck, but only just before feeling cold steel against his head. "The damnedest thing about nights when you can see your breath like this...sometimes other people can too." The man hears from behind him.
dayum, did you really wrote them all by yourself? What's the track id of the 18:43 ? And Is it on spotify?
Yep - all originals for this playlist! So much fun to create/perform on.
The album is on spotify, I believe the track at 18:43 is "Flatfoot", available here:
open.spotify.com/track/0vFgVznqJ2ocuKuWxM5Byq?si=b43066bb83234e3d
we have the same name! , my name is Nicolò "Nic"for the friends like you 😊😊
Sitting at my desk staring out at the city lights after another day of waiting for the phone to ring. I reached for the bottom drawer where I kept my glass and a bottle of cheap scotch. Pouring a couple fingers worth I saw the last few drops fall out of the bottle. It started to rain outside. That’s when I heard the door open to the waiting room. I pulled my gun from its holster and aimed at the door to my office. Luckily, I didn’t turn on the lights earlier. A couple of footsteps later, the doorknob turned. As the door opened, I could see the backlit shape of a dame. Not just any dame, but the kind that a man would do anything to possess.
She stepped in my office. I still couldn’t see her face, but I didn’t need to. I holstered my gun. Her voice had the smoky quality of a torch singer. “Mr. MacKenna?” “Who might you be?” I replied. “My name is Veronica.” “Veronica Laurent.” Of course it is, I thought.
“What can I do for you, Miss Laurent?” I asked.
“I need your help to find someone.” It always starts with trying to track down someone. Can’t I get a better script for my life?
I sighed. “Okay, I’ll bite. Who is this ‘someone’ and what do they mean to you?”
“He’s my husband.”
“Well, we seem to have all night. I apologize for my lack of good graces, but I just ran out of scotch. How about we head downstairs to a place I know where we can talk about this.”
Five minutes later, we were in a dark corner of the basement bar. Mike the bartender knew I brought potential clients down here and wouldn’t disturb us. Plus, the scotch was better than what I usually drank in my office.
“So, tell me your story and I’ll see if I can help you.”
“My husband is a very important man. Not as if he were a big tycoon or politician. He’s a man who knows things. Things that the tycoon or politician wants to keep secret.”
“Go on.” So far, I’m not intrigued enough to really care, but I do want more time to look into those eyes of hers.
“He told me he came to the city for business. That was two weeks ago. He phoned me when he arrived and I haven’t heard from him since.”
“Okay, so he’s been incommunicado for two weeks. Tell me, was it a pay phone or did he phone from a hotel?”
“He didn’t say. He just said that he just got in and he’d call me later.”
“Did he take a bus or train? And, how long after he was supposed to arrive did he phone you?”
“It was a train and he was due to arrive at 5:10. He phoned me around 6 pm.”
“Okay, so he went somewhere before calling you.” I’m picking up a scent, but not sure of the direction.
“What is your husband’s name?”
“Thomas. Peter Thomas.”
Interesting. She didn’t take his name. I looked at her hands. No ring, either. It was too dark to see if she had a “liar’s ring,” the mark a wedding band leaves on the finger as the skin gets smoothed down. That scent is getting stronger and less appealing. That tickle in the back of my mind was turning into a pinch. Which will soon turn to an alarm.
“Okay, I’ll try to find your husband. Before I begin, let’s discuss my fee.”
........algo estava estranho naquele dia, não me beijaste na tua chegada, não senti o teu desejo, apenas a música me iludia, apenas ela me tocava, ela sim beijava- me, tentava-te compensar.......e eu, fechei os olhos, e deixei- me estar.....lasciva na música que me fez voltar....
“She said she didn’t know anything, but I didn’t buy it.
Ya know, I’ve learned something in life. Someone can say anything, but the body says what the mouth won’t. Her smirk, her unease, I knew she was hiding something.
But it was getting late, and I had to turn in.”
The smoke follows the whispers spoken in this dimlit space, the long straight bar a saturated sponge upon which we all eventually perch our heavy minds, the newborns seeking releases and justifications, the elders finding a fine place to surrender... A place neither clean or well lit.
It's the wind blowing through the supreme order of our instruments that tsunami and erode through our weights, stripping us bare to our beautiful, simple Truths - we are but emotional ferocities striving for lights in the dark.
"You're gonna carry that weight..."
This is what i call "Noir" music.
This is an amazing set. 1,000 times, YES!!!!
Best music to vibe to after a rough day at work with a steak and Jameson whiskey❤
I just cooked some chicken fettuccine with some chilled bourbon... just chilling to this set of grooves
You are an amazing talent. I LOVE listening to this music. I hope you have a long, wonderful, prosperous career and life.
Fades in:
Wide Angle shot: Inside a bar, where we see the back of our protagonist.
Medium Shot:
A former detective turned private eye that has seen better days is sitting at the end of the bar with glass of whiskey. The fedora hat is pulled low over his eyes, casting shadows that match the ones in his soul.
Close up:
Jack Malone as he takes a sip of his whiskey:
"In this city, you can't trust the shadows. They're darker than the alleys and deeper than the lies we tell ourselves. But in this dim, whiskey-soaked corner, we're all just ghosts haunting our own regrets."
Two shot:
Showing Jack and the bartender that clearly knows too much information about everyone.
Max Callahan: " Looks like trouble found you again, Jack. You know the drill - whiskey straight up, no questions asked, and a side of advice you won't listen to. Buy, hey, who am I judge? You keep chasing ghosts, and I'll keep pouring the drinks."
Jack's gaze meets Max's with a mixture of exhaustion and gratitude, a silent acknowledgment of their shared history and the unspoken understanding that exists between them. There's a flicker of something deeper in his eyes, a fleeting moment where the weight of his burdens seems to momentarily lift in her presence before reality comes crashing back down. With a weary smile, he nods, wordlessly accepting her offer of both liquid solace and unspoken camaraderie in this dimly lit sanctuary of shadows and secrets.
The lovely September night breeze, comin’ through my window of September 1947. Just got off of this real case, sure as the night. So there I was, in my office enjoying a shot of bourbon and a smoke. Cleanin’ and loadin’ my girl, Thompson. Waitin’ for trouble, until I hear a knock on my door. In comes trouble..trouble as they come. The breeze passing by me from my window, making her hair flow like I ain’t ever seen before. Her perfume covered the smell of my smoke, with a taste of lust in the air. I coulda sworn it was just the night breeze. But the question was, were any of us gonna do anything ‘bout it?
This case has been difficult to say the least its got dead ends on dead ends it gets more difficult as bodies keep turning up in public places whoever is doing this isnt alone me and my associate have tried everything i believe in you to finish the work
You should make soundtrack for some L.A Noir type of game
This, this is it. Brilliant job
Thank you!
Is this available for download on like Bandcamp or something? Love the sound, wish I was able to find some more!
I recently uploaded it to a few streaming websites like Spotify and Apple Music if you have those
Immediately saved, this is such a relaxing yet pensive vibe! Amazing work, thank you so much for sharing!
Absolutely, thank you for the kind comment!
Pretty damn good, these are your compositions, playing the instruments??
Yep! Written and performed by me.
@@NickTorrettaMusic that's awesome, kudos!!
Nicceee onee
Edit: how is this so underaidet tf?
I feel like walking Las Vegas Blvd tonight
NICK YOU MADE ALL THIS , GOD! YOU!
Outstanding combination of sound and visuals. I would call this an immersive experience & the perfect soundscape. What a lovely creation.
Thank you! So glad you're enjoying it
Wow! Incredibly smooth, atmospheric and mysterious. You've done a great job, I could listen to this all day! A lot of the Film noir / detective playlists on RUclips are nice, but this just beats them all by a huge margin! Definitely looking forward to hearing more from you 🎉
Thank you! Should have another playlist out soon!
Great stuff. Very noir. Musically, I guess it's the bluesy Minor scale and Diminished chords? Perfect atmosphere music.
Good ear! Add a little minor chords with a major seven and you pretty much have it all figured out lol
Beat it toots! these streets aint what they use to be
Man you are talented! And someone who appreciates the music of a bygone era! Thank you for this wonderful playlist.❤ I have shared this with my friends!
Can't thank you enough for the kind words and for helping others find the video as well. Second collection of study music on its way soon!
The sound of the rain on the window reminds me of
night's in small winter hotels.
whispering in the dark to a beautiful mature woman
The touch of her perfumed hair on my face,
Soft smooth skin that tastes of honey and almonds
Cigarette smoke drifting across the street lamp shadows
in the darkened room.
We thought we had forever,but we were wrong.
Life and reality have a way of catching up.
The years drift by and you become a different man.
A life lived in another time,all that's left
Are memories and thoughts on
a night like this,when the rain sounds like pebbles
on the window pane as you chase the shadows of sleep.
A murder right outside my own goddamn apartment building. What kind of PI would I be if I didnt catch the guy who shot a shmuck while I was packing groceries into my own refrigerator only a handful of feet from where the body dropped? Guy was a fucking ghost I tell ya, I checked all the roof tops and apartment windows I could and never got a hint of who this guy was...bout to even think the poor shmuck simply popped a hole in his own head out of nowhere. Detective work aint easy I tell ya, some cases go cold and aint much you can do with what little you're given. Heres hoping I forget this embarrassment of a case when I retire.
It was raining. Hard. The streets were slick. The city's inhabitants were running to and fro, ruining their shoes and their newspapers, trying to escape the storm.
I was sitting in my office trying to coax one more memory from my gin and tonic. The phone hadn't rang in days. The office smelled of old paper. Old air. Old cologne. My chair creaked in annoyance as I eased back...with no further plan than to dull some more brain cells. I lit a cigarette.
I heard the door open quietly…And then she walked in...
She was a tall drink of bourbon to a Sunday priest. My gin didn't mean anything anymore. I looked up to drink her in. She was built like an aero plane. Long. Trim…With curves in all the right places.
As I forced my gaze above her chin, I couldn't help but notice -she had lips as red as sunburn...and just as hot. Skin like smooth jazz. She gazed at me with eyes so deep you couldn't see the bottom. I noticed something.
She'd been crying...
Maybe a swindler took her inheritance. Maybe an ex-lover jilted her at the altar. Maybe she even murdered the poor devil. Who knows?
All I know is the sound of that door opening meant greenbacks in my palm and my next hot meal.
I'm a Private Eye.
Wow! Thank you for sharing your amazing talents! This is beautiful!
🔥❤️🔥
Played Minecraft with some friends with this playing in the background, honestly found it very relaxing definitely listening to this kind of music more often
The city never really sleeps, not with the hum of neon lights and the constant murmur of traffic. It’s a restless kind of quiet that lingers just beneath the surface, like a secret someone forgot to keep. I sit in my office, the faint scent of stale coffee mingling with the smoky haze of cigarette smoke, and I wonder how I ended up here-chasing a ghost of a case that seems more absurd than sinister.
The man I’m after isn’t your typical criminal. No, he’s not robbing banks or breaking hearts-he’s leaving behind a different kind of mark. The details are as mundane as they are bizarre: he’s been hitting every public restroom in town and never, ever flushing. It’s a signature as subtle as it is peculiar, but it’s enough to set the police on edge. They called me in because they needed someone who’d think beyond the obvious.
I’m piecing together his trail, and it’s not like any trail I’ve followed before. There’s no pattern to his locations, no discernible motive-at least, not one that fits neatly into the box marked "logical explanations." Maybe that’s the real mystery here: why someone would find such a perverse satisfaction in leaving a mess behind in places that are meant to be communal, clean. It’s as though he’s saying something with every unflushed toilet, something that’s just out of reach.
Every piece of information I dig up seems to lead to another dead end. The restrooms have nothing to offer beyond the obvious. I’ve visited the scenes-small, dingy places where the fluorescent lights flicker and the air feels thick with the ghosts of countless others who’ve passed through. Each time, I’m met with the same sight: an unflushed toilet, water swirling with an indeterminate mixture of things best left unseen.
It’s maddening, really. I’m sifting through a mess of inconsequential details and half-formed theories, trying to make sense of a man whose only crime seems to be a disregard for the simplest of social norms. And yet, there’s something unnerving about it, a persistent itch that won’t go away. Maybe it’s the way his actions seem to thumb their nose at civility, or the way they highlight something fundamentally broken in the system-both the toilets and society’s expectations.
As I sit here, chain-smoking and staring at the case file, I can’t help but wonder if this case is a metaphor for something larger. Maybe it’s not about the unflushed toilets at all but about the hidden filth we’re all too quick to ignore. Maybe the man’s message is that we’re all leaving behind things we’d rather not face-filth that accumulates in corners we prefer to keep dark and quiet.
In the end, I’ll track him down, if only because that’s what I do. But I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something more to this case than meets the eye. Something that might just leave me questioning not only the nature of this man's peculiar obsession but also the nature of the world we live in-a world where even the smallest act of defiance can hold a mirror up to our collective failings.
- Baby, i love you. Do you hear me? I love you.
- Honey, i'm so sorry. I won't play the sap for you. Not again...
As i watched sargeant Clover close iron bracelets on her, my heart shrinked. But i'm a fool and a fool has to do what has to do. So i went cryin' my lost dreams on a double scotch at Harry's.
Beautiful!!! (donated!)
Awesome thank you!
This is amazing!! thank you
Nice compilation -
What an atmosphere, sensitivity and musicality! Thank you!
AYYY this is so good!!! I can read and write my essays to this💜💜💜 keep up the amazing work👏👏
Reading a book called The Gotti Wars with this in the back ground… thanks for the vibes!
"When she walked into my office, I knew trouble was coming. She was blonde all over."
Fantasticotto perfectionale to calm down and chill!
Nick I just became aware that you both composed this music…. You are very deep and soulful… I’m in love
No One Lives Forever 👍
Incredible
Gorgeous music
Holy WOW!! This music is absolutely SUBLIME. The PERFECT soundtrack for relaxing with a drink and a cigar after a long day at the office. YOU, my friend, are INCREDIBLY TALENTED. Thank you SO MUCH for sharing.
Glad you enjoy it! Y’all are making my day with these great comments ❤
Yeah, it's Nice, ain't it?
While listening to the first cut I imagine driving at night on a bridge over a waterway, and watching the skyline in the distance, and wondering what every warm soul in those high-rise abodes is experiencing.
POV: You know a guy who knows a guy
Music that sits you down and pours you another glass. None do it quite like 'jazz'
I wished this was longer
I've made a second video if that helps: ruclips.net/video/hsdRIEr5x1E/видео.html&lc=UgzzVjvMnsfTmm1ZGWR4AaABAg
I Nick, i make a youtube vidéo and this sound is exactly what im looking for. How can we proceed if i wanted to put 1:36 minute of it? Thank you 😊
feel free to use it, it'd be cool if you tagged my youtube but whatev. Enjoy
@@NickTorrettaMusic Seriously! Thank you so much! I will tagged it man, be very sure of this. Love your work 💜🤩
Nice !!!
Hey there these are wonderful. Would I be able to use one of the songs for a school project? I will obviously credit you. Cheers
Yep, have at it
I'm obsessed, great work!
Awesome, thank you!
This is pure bliss, thank you.
Thank you - so glad you're enjoying it
Great noir music
I love it! Keep up the good work.
Thank you! Will do!