Sunday

It’s Sunday morning, but the city doesn’t rest. Our earlybird walks down the main street, past the aged façade of historic Covered Market, where even the silence feels storied. His steps echo against stone, the weight of a thousand yesterdays pressing into the present. And then the thought hits him—unshakable, bitter, and true: “Your sharp-tongued presence poisons their peace—because every one of them has a bread to earn, stuttering through it, embracing it, often in silence—every day, every hour. But most unbearable is your smirking solitude. They, in herds, in packs, still feel unsafe. And you—what do you possess that makes you so entirely enough for yourself?” This is the spirit of “Sunday”, the third handcrafted volume from Hermitage Records. A rich 10-kit sample collection evoking the quiet ache of Armenian life between the 50s and 80s—when the world was greyer, but the music still shimmered. This is vintage Soviet-Armenian soul, wrapped in analogue textures and trembling with truth. Inside this gold mine of over 570MB, you’ll find loops of dusty pianos, moody bass guitars, melancholic jazz guitars, accordion, balalaika, delicate vibraphones, aching strings, and the soft-glow hum of celesta. Every sound tells a story. Every loop carries a contradiction—warm yet distant, full yet fractured. Built with sampling and slicing in mind, Sunday is a treasure for hip hop, lofi, downtempo, and experimental producers in search of something deeply human. These aren't just loops—they are inner monologues, shadows of pride and longing, fragments of a Sunday that never truly rests.