Intersections, an introduction to the Tale Teller Club

Introducing Tale Teller Club: A Journey of Music, Art, and Healing







Welcome to the world of the Tale Teller Club, a unique musical experience that goes beyond the ordinary and reaches into the realms of art, wellness, and intellectual exploration. Since its inception in 2020, this innovative band has been part of Sarnia de la Mare Enterprises, a multifaceted creative project that brings together music, video production, and fashion under one artistic umbrella. With support from the Future's Venture Foundation through an arts grant, the Tale Teller Club was born to explore new ways of achieving enlightenment through music.

Tale Teller Club isn’t just your typical band—it’s an ever-evolving experiment. Our work blends jazz and classical traditions with cutting-edge technology, constantly pushing the boundaries of sound. We don’t shy away from marrying genres and techniques, whether it’s low-tech experimentation with found sounds or high-tech manipulation through vocoders, samples, and digital processing. Our music is often featured in the Book of Immersion series, a project that delves into immersive experiences through audio-visual storytelling, as well as in all video content produced by Sarnia de la Mare Enterprises, from short films to full-length productions.

But that’s not all—we believe music has the power to heal. That’s why we developed our Rife Vibes Collection, a sonic exploration of Cerebral Dance Music (CDM), binaural beats, vagal stimulation, and Rife Vibrations. These tracks aren’t just for the dancefloor; they’re designed to stimulate the brain, soothe the nervous system, and promote wellness. Our work in this area is a fusion of music therapy and cutting-edge sound science, aiming to provide listeners with an immersive and healing auditory experience.

At the Tale Teller Club, we embrace the unconventional. Our music is a celebration of contrasts—old meets new, high meets low, electronic meets organic. We take pride in experimenting with spoken word, integrating vocals in unexpected ways, and transforming everyday sounds into something magical. Whether it's a jazz-inspired melody, a classical composition, or an avant-garde soundscape, we’re constantly evolving, exploring new directions, and creating music that’s more than just a background beat.

So, whether you’re listening to a track from the Book of Immersion, vibing with one of our Rife Vibes pieces, or enjoying the score of a Tale Teller Club video, you’re stepping into a world where sound is more than music—it’s a journey of discovery, creativity, and healing.

Join us as we continue to explore, innovate, and enlighten through music.





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Simplicity, a Cat's Tale by Sarnia de la Maré

The alarm went off with its usual gusto and Mary trundled, heavy-footed, across the room. She hurdled with athletic ease, straight over the large sleeping cat making her way to the loo. Then, true to form, popped the kettle on and shoved two pieces of toast into the toaster still half asleep.


The rescue, who was called Simon due to a previous owner, was a cat with a catalogue of neurosis and allergies whom she adored. He lay sprawled across the shaggy rug over the underfloor heating and, just as he did every morning, miraculously avoided being trodden on by his busy owner. He was used to her now. He trusted her, finally, after the early teething problems where her strange behaviour had put into question all they had learned about cat ladies. He had assumed cat ladies were either virgins or frigid, many were broken-hearted even and, quite often, bookish. Simon loved their books. They were so warm and comfortable to sit on.


Unbeknown to his new owner, Simon had had a lot of other owners in the past and had moved around a lot. The last rescue hostel was unsure of his history, which was actually much harsher than they had guessed. Simon had known fear, death and abuse in his eight years on earth. He had seen ‘stuff’ and it had affected his view on the world. But now things were going well and he couldn’t believe his luck. He was in a great neighbourhood and there were no hooligans in these parts. He had heard about other cats being used for dog fighting bait and it was a worry for everyone at the shelter. Simon had not been able to eat and had experienced dramatic weight loss until that pivotal moment when he had purposefully locked onto Mary’s eyes and tried to look sad. It had worked, of course, and he was rehomed with her within a week.


Mary was nothing like her holy namesake. There were gentlemen callers from many cultures who spoke to Mary through her laptop. That laptop would get very warm and it made Simon quite envious but Mary would rarely let him lay on it for long. He would keep trying because eventually, Mary would cave in. They had an arrangement about things. If she ever wanted to take a photograph of him on her mobile phone, he would allow it if he was on the laptop, otherwise, he would clean his nether regions whenever she tried.


Simon had had to do a lot of things to get rid of male guests from his new home. Usually peeing on their heads in the night was the best way not to see them again. Once he had had to pass a motion inside a denim jacket but it had not deterred the male who kept coming back. Seemingly, the dirty protest had failed. Simon had had to use something he had not relied on before, violence. The man ended up having a tetanus injection but he never returned. It was a near miss, Simon thought, but he had never really got over it. Now, when people came to his flat, he would watch them with an internal panic, fretting over his future.


Mary had finally left for work after a stressful fight against time.


Simon looked at sun. It was Tuesday, Sandra’s day off, he’d best get himself off post-haste.


Sandra was a more traditional cat lady but was currently unable to have her own cat due to a harsh boyfriend ruling. Simon considered it his social duty to visit and eat the treats. Sandra went all out, no expense spared. But these meetings had to be in secret for obvious reasons and Simon would always be slightly on edge in case they got caught. It could mean the end of things. Life was so precarious, it always had been and it occasionally made Simon depressed, though the treats were a great distraction from these heavy thoughts.


Simon stayed for an hour which was more than he wanted really. Sandra was very intense and he didn’t want to miss Julie, three doors down.


Julie had felt sorry for Simon as soon as he moved into the area but already had four cats so couldn’t take him on permanently. (Simon had a colleague who had two permanent owners and he had heard of a cat who juggled three! Of course, that may be an urban myth because juggling that level of commitment could mean, horror of horrors for a free spirit, being locked in for long periods of time.)


Simon flew into Julie’s conservatory panting. He tried to find his bowl, a white ceramic affair with paw prints, standard-issue as one would expect from someone like Julie who didn’t seem to break any moulds. But the bowl was nowhere. He searched around the outer perimeter with no joy and he began to stress, scratching the areas on his body that were most affected by his stress allergy. He lifted his nose up high, sniffing in the mixed aroma of several resident cats and some food matter. If it didn’t come soon, he would need to leave. Jack and the new kitten would be expecting him.


Finally, after some calling and pained meowing, which generally worked well on cat ladies and even cat men, brunch arrived. Simon managed the whole bowl before running off in case Julie came back expecting cuddles. Cuddles were tempting but so were other things, and the time was getting on.


Crossing over the big road that cut through the village, being in a hurry and not concentrating after an excellent bowlful of the best cat food and gravy money could buy, Simon mistimed his leap to a wall. The car which had almost run him over pranged into a wall by the post office.


Simon did stop briefly to watch the mayhem as it was exciting to have this sort of thing happening. Besides, there was a dog going crazy and he loved to watch the crazies.


Annoyingly, it began to rain. Simon was not likely to make the next bit of the trip for a while so he took shelter under a bin outside a Chinese restaurant. Sometimes, there was a stray bit of chicken or some prawns lying about so he would check it out. No such luck today as the bin men arrived just as Simon was settling in for a quick nap. He really needed a clean too and began the slow process of getting into all the nooks and crannies. Simon was very particular about his appearance and grooming put him at ease if anyone was causing his anxiety levels to rise.


Suddenly, the bin started to move and Simon had to dart between black hobnail boots and a pile of maggots. The boots were successfully navigated despite some humans shouting and the maggots demanded a second look. Simon checked them out but didn't much fancy them so he darted off. The sun was straight above him now and the cloud had cleared. Time to get to the caravan.


Then something took his eye, a swift movement to his right, and there it was again. Ah, now this temptation was far too great. Simon caught a whiff of mouse and went straight in for the kill. It took longer than usual as the mouse was stealth and crafty. The chase extended around a large courtyard with a great deal of cover that was inaccessible for a cat of Simon’s girth. He worried about his weight and had noticed that some of his ladies were now feeding him less tasty foods with lower fat content. Others though seemed to enjoy his roly-poly-ness and cuddles came fast and frequent. Perhaps there were two types of cat ladies, those that liked him fat and those that liked him lean. Simon tried not to worry about his looks, it was shallow and he preferred to use his mind than his body to attract humans.


There had only been one incident where his tummy had impacted negatively on his life. A silly and somewhat embarrassing cat flap episode. But the flap had removed and Simon never saw the resident again, a very attractive white Persian female. Life goes on, he had philosophised. Their relationship was simply not meant to be.


The mouse was now scared and made a run for it across open terrane. It was poor judgment as Simon, although fat, was a nimble tiger in open terrain. The kill made Simon feel his inner worth and he wanted to show it to Mary. But there was still a lot to get done before home time so after nearly an hour of showing off to no-one, Simon hid it behind a plant pot for another day. Then he shook some muck from his thick coat and gave a quick lick of his paws. Deep cleaning would have to wait.


Time to get to Jack’s which was across the troll bridge where the house with the barking dogs imposed its reign over the smaller houses. Simon had to limber up for a tease. The dogs were unable to escape so Simon particularly loved to walk slowly across the top of the double gates pretending to be scared. If you pretended to be scared the dogs were even 'more mad'. It was highly amusing and today he fancied being even more provocative by stalling on the gate and spitting at them. It was thrilling. It was stressful too of course and Simon wondered if he was some kind of dangerous adrenalin junky.


At Jack’s, the reception was warm and convivial. The caravan was a great playground and Simon and the kitten (called midnight due to its colouring) was a great partner for tag, hide and seek, and Simon’s favourite, chase the chicken feather.


This level of physical exhaustion, however, took its toll and by mid-afternoon Simon was feeling his age. He should get back. Mary went to bed early and once or twice he’d been locked out. He also liked the underfloor heating at Mary’s and, if he was honest, he had had some feelings for her that he could not explain. Of course, Simon was damaged by previous loves and found open shows of affection difficult. The fear of losing Mary often woke him in the night and he had had some bad dreams. He felt now that he wanted Mary to be his forever human but he feared completely letting go.


The journey home was a short cut Simon ordinarily avoided. He was rudely interrupted whilst minding his own business and keeping his head down, by a stray cat from the Tunnels. The Tunnels were where the feral cats hung out and had access to old pipelines and sewage networks. The Tunnels were dangerous and the feral gangs were hard as nails. This cat answered to the name ‘Tyler’ and was huge, in the muscular sense. Simon had heard that a run in with him on his turf would lead to problems.


Tyler wasted no time and with only a few moans and spits went straight for Simon’s head with both paws at once forcing it to the ground. Simon had never come across such dexterous cat boxing.


Simon screamed hysterically calling Tyler a big fat bully and used his weight as his only weapon against the violent onslaught. Fortunately, he managed to escape Tyler’s grip running for his life. It was a close call and Simon’s anxiety shot through the roof and made him itch for a good five minutes.


Simon stopped in Mary’s garden to check himself for any visual injuries. He really did not want Mary to know about the fight or to stress about things, so he cleaned himself up hoping that the small cut on his lip would not lead to infection. The vet had pretty much abused Simon on several occasions already and he really didn’t need that in his life at the moment. Simon took a few moments to breathe and to think of calm things before his anxiety brought up his allergy again.


At home Mary got under the duvet and patted it a few times, demonstrating, without any shadow of doubt, that it was definitely cuddle-time.


This really was Simon’s favourite part of the day.


‘Oh Simon, what a terrible day I had, so stressful....’


Mary continued sharing the many dramas she had experienced at work. But Simon wasn’t listening. Besides, his purring had become so loud that he could no longer hear her voice. He felt her warmth though, and after some preparation of the duvet and several circular movements to establish the likelihood of maximum comfort, Simon settled into his bed. Of course, he would have to leave later when Mary would suddenly become a sauna and toss the duvet off unceremoniously with him on it. It was worth the disruption and Simon felt sure that Mary would grow out of these hot flashes in the night.


Mary leaned over,


‘Oh Simon, if only my life was like yours, a life of simplicity,’ she said.


Then she kissed Simon goodnight on his warm forehead and leaned over to put the light out.






© 2019 Sarnia de la Mare

Strata 1 : The Beginning (Purpose) (The Book of Immersion)

Sarnia de la Mare

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Strata 2: The Maybe Line (Friendship) (The Book of Immersion)

Sarnia de la Mare

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Strata 3: Flex and the Robo-Dog (Making Decisions) (The Book of Immersion)

Sarnia de la Mare

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Strata 4: The Zoners (Meeting Strangers) (The Book of Immersion)

Sarnia de la Mare

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Strata 5: Renyke Goes to The Bank (Memories and Experiences) (The Book of Immersion)

Sarnia de la Mare

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Strata 6: Trouble at the Bank (Animal Instincts) (The Book of Immersion)

Sarnia de la Mare

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Butterfly DJ

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Walk the Beast

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Girl Band

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Tribe

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We Got This

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Cry Baby

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Shazambam

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Hormone Rush

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Street Walkers

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Little Runners Strata 4

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The Dandy from Immersion Strata 4

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Her Eyes Immersion Strata 4

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Strata 13, The Book of Immersion, Renyke Takes Action, (Hormones)

 Welcome to Immersion, you have reached Strata 13

When a human is put under stress from within their environment, there is an increase in anxiety and stress hormone, epinephrine, also known as Adrenaline. This hormone 'rush' can feel like anxiousness, nervousness, or excitement. Human soldiers, for example, have been seen to find extreme violence euphoric, ecstatic, and even addictive.

Feelings of 'amped up' anxiety are necessary for survival. Often the hormone rushes in such extreme situations will lead to a human's increased ability to concentrate, feelings of immortality, and a distraction from pain. Blood vessels contract to direct more blood to major muscle groups increasing strength for up to an hour after any such stressful event.

The power of a machine, an android, an artificial intelligence program, etc., is not linked to hormone releases. The ability to increase strength could be programmed into robots as an extra storage source, when needs must, but such resources are prescriptive and controlled through innate programming. Most humans are unaware of their own strengths and may be rarely tested to call upon them, unlike a machine whose reserve banks are permanently at the ready. 

Humans under the influence of long term stress, in situations of domestic abuse for example, will not function correctly and may die prematurely.

Renyke opens the window with lightening speed.

'What you doing man? Ya *fucksyfool,' shouted flex. 

At the same time Shabra opened her window, smiling innocently at the robber.

Flex, realising that he better act fast or risk being an onlooker, opened the window hatch on the roof.

Renyke's extension arm had engaged adding a foot or more to his normal reach.
In the blink of Flex's eye, Renyke grabbed the threatening assailant by the throat and with one squeeze of his Adam's apple, the victim fell to the ground with an instantly broken neck. 

His bulging eyes popped from his skull as he hit the floor, rolling into the gutter.

Simultaneously, Shabra, still smiling, held up one hand in surrender. The assailant lapsed his concentration, focusing on his friend who has disappeared from the other side of the vehicle. The man with the AK47 at the front did the same.

Almost in unison Shabra and Flex regained control taking on one robber each.
Shabra, barely flinching and with great dexterity, cut the robber's throat like the wild animal she hunted for lunch. Renyke sees only the glinting blade as it shards through the darkness.

Flex, now atop the vehicle with his torso, had engaged his mental autopilot and retrieved his favourite hand pistol from one of the many pockets in his long coat.
He fired six bullets for good measure, penetrating the man in front of the car who dropped the AK47 before he fell to the ground in a bloody mess.

The hail of bullets caused screaming, shouting and general mayhem as people ducked and scrambled for cover.

'Dum arse men, a poorly manned ambush indeedy! Speedy but Greedy,' said Shabra as she wiped the blade on her trousers grimacing at the assailants blood then smiling at her rhyming skills.
She wasted no time, immediately engaging the car and running over one of the muggers.

Other people moved aside, frightened and not willing to take on the potentially life threatening vehicle.

Flex was hooting and screaming. 
'Yes, man. Woa, they didn't see that coming. You guys are good!

Erm, but what's with the weird arm, Renyke man?'

Shabra looks at Flex in the mirror and says, 'Well, we've only seen a few of his skills so far. He's a droid after all.'

'Of course, said Flex. I do forget. He seems so, you know........

'Hmmmmm, he really does,' agrees Shabra




to be continued.....

© 2024 Sarnia de la Maré FRSA

Other Episodes of the Book of Immersion by Sarnia de la Maré FRSA

Strata 1
Strata 2
Strata 3
Strata 4
Strata 5
Strata 6
Strata 7
Strata 8
Strata 9
Strata 10
Strata 11
Strata 12
Strata 13
Strata 14
Strata 15
Strata 16
Strata17
Strata 18

GLOSSARY

Strata 12: Shabra and the Basement People (Emotions)

Strata 12: Shabra and the Basement People (Emotions)

The Book of Immersion, Volume 1

In a dystopian future where androids imitate humanity and tribes fight for survival, Shabra leads a small group on a perilous journey through the chaotic underworld of Strata 12. Here, survival depends on knowing the right people, staying hidden, and moving fast. Shabra, confident and streetwise, guides Renyke, a conflicted android struggling with the discomfort of newfound emotions, through a labyrinth of gang territories, black-market dealings, and existential threats.

At the heart of this chapter lies an exploration of human emotions and their role in decision-making, relationships, and survival. Renyke, built with mimicked empathy, is increasingly aware of his dissonance with the raw emotions that surround him. Meanwhile, Shabra’s instinct-driven survival tactics clash with the cold logic of Renyke’s POS (Programmed Operating System), leaving him caught between trust and fear.

The group's journey into the dangerous underworld takes them to a smoke-filled basement bar, where alliances are forged through poetry, liquor, and hidden motives. The local inhabitants, known as the Urchs, live by a belief system that intertwines life, death, and the fate of future generations, embracing mind-altering substances to commune with ghostly entities from the future. Renyke’s growing discomfort with these shadowy practices contrasts with Shabra’s fearless navigation of this unpredictable world.

As tensions rise and gang warfare looms, the group faces an imminent ambush, their path violently disrupted by the brutal murder of a child, leaving them trapped in a terrifying standoff. Shabra, Renyke, and their companions must now confront the chilling reality that, in Strata 12, survival may come at the cost of their very humanity.

This chapter continues the Immersion series' rich exploration of the line between humanity and machinery, freedom and fate, in a world where emotions are both the key to survival and the source of destruction.

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Illustrations by iServalan Homotech 23  

Music by Tale Teller Club