cømpiler makes his Deep Within debut delivering a halftime beat with stomping basses and catchy vocals! Go grab yourself a copy, it´s free!

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Pigeonhole

cømpiler - Pigeonhole (Free Download)

The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel.            “It’s not like I’m using,” Case heard someone say, as he shouldered his way through the crowd around the door of the Chat. “It’s like my body’s developed this massive drug deficiency.” It was a Sprawl voice and a Sprawl joke. The Chatsubo was a bar for professional expatriates; you could drink there for a week and never hear two words in Japanese.            Ratz was tending bar, h is prosthetic arm jerking monotonously as he filled a tray of glasses with draft Kirin. He saw Case and smiled, his teeth a webwork of East European steel and brown decay. Case found a place at the bar, between the unlikely tan on one of Lonny Zone’s whores and the crisp naval uniform of a tall African whose cheekbones were ridged with precise rows of tribal scars. “Wage was in her early, with two joeboys,” Ratz said, shoving a draft across the bar with his good hand. “Maybe some business with you, Case?”            Case shrugged. The girl to his right giggled and nudged him.            The bartender’s smile widened. His ugliness was the stuff of legend. In an age of affordable beauty, there was something heraldic about his lack of it. The antique arm whined as he reached for another mug. It was a Russian military prosthesis, a seven-function force-feedback manipulator, cased in grubby pink plastic. “You are too much the artiste, Herr Case.” Ratz grunted; the sound served him as laughter. He scratched his overhang of white-shirted belly with the pink claw. “You are the artiste of the slightly funny deal.”            “Sure,” Case said, and sipped his beer. “Somebody’s gotta be funny around here. Sure the fuck isn’t you.”            The whore’s giggle went up an octave.            “Isn’t you either, sister. So you vanish, okay? Zone, he’s a close personal friend of mine.”            She looked Case in the eye and made the softest possible spitting sound, her lips barely moving. But she left.            “Jesus,” Case said, “what kinda creepjoint you running here? Man can’t have a drink?”            “Ha,” Ratz said, swabbing the scarred wood with a rag, “Zone shows a percentage. You I let work here for entertainment value.”            As Case was picking up his beer, one of those strange instants of silence descended, as though a hundred unrelated conversations had simultaneously arrived at the same pause. Then the whore’s giggle rang out, tinged with certain hysteria.            Ratz grunted. “An angel has passed.”            “The Chinese,” bellowed a drunken Australian, “Chinese bloody invented nerve-splicing. Give me the mainland for a nerve job any day. Fix you right, mate…;”            “Now that,” Case said to his glass, all his bitterness suddenly rising in him like bile, “that is so much bullshit.”             The Japanese had already forgotten more neurosurgery than the Chinese had ever known. The black clinics of Chiba were the cutting edge, whole bodies of technique supplanted monthly, and still they couldn’t repair the damage he’d suffered in that Memphis hotel.            A year here and he still dreamed of cyberspace, hope fading nightly. All the speed he took, all the turns he’d taken and the corners he’d cut in Night City, and still he’d see the matrix in his sleep, bright lattices of logic unfolding across that colorless void…;The Sprawl was a long strange way home over the Pacific now, and he was no console man, no cyberspace cowboy. Just another hustler, trying to make it through. But the dreams came on in the Japanese night like livewire voodoo, and he’d cry for it, cry in his sleep, and wake alone in the dark, curled in his capsule in some coffin hotel, his hands clawed into the bedslab, temperfoam bunched between his fingers, trying to reach the console that wasn’t there.             “I saw your girl last night,” Ratz said, passing Case his second Kirin.            “I don’t have one,” he said, and drank.            “Miss Linda Lee.”            Case shook his head.            “No girl? Nothing? Only biz, friend artiste? Dedication to commerce?” The bartender’s small brown eyes were nested deep in wrinkled flesh. “I think I liked you better, with her. You laughed more. Now, some night, you get maybe too artistic; you wind up in the clinic tanks, spare parts.”            “You’re breaking my heart, Ratz.” He finished his beer, paid and left, high narrow shoulders hunched beneath the rainstained khaki nylon of his windbreaker. Threading his way through the Ninsei crowds, he could smell his own stale sweat.             Case was twenty-four. At twenty-two, he’d been a cowboy, a rustler, one of the best in the Sprawl. He’d been trained by the best, by McCoy Pauley and Bobby Quine, legends in the biz. He’d operated on an almost permanent adrenaline high, a byproduct of youth and proficiency, jacked into a custom cyberspace deck hat projected his disembodied consciousness into the consensual hallucination that was the matrix. A their, he’d worked for other, wealthier thieves, employers who provided the exotic software required to penetrate the bright walls of corporate systems, opening windows into rich fields of data.            He’s made the classic mistake, the one he’s sworn he’d never make. He stole from his employers. He kept something for himself and tried to move it through a fence in Amsterdam. He still wasn’t sure how he’d been discovered, not that it mattered now. He’d expected to die, then but they only smiled. Of course he was welcome, they told him, welcome to the money. And he was going to need it. Because––still smiling––they were going to make sure he never worked again.            They damaged his nervous system with a wartime Russian mycotoxin.            Strapped to a bed in a Memphis hotel, his talent burning out micron by micron, he hallucinated for thirty hours.            The damage was minute, subtle, and utterly effective.            For Case, who’d lived for the bodiless exultation of cyberspace, it was the Fall. In the bars he’d frequented as a cowboy hotshot, the elite stance involved a certain relaxed contempt for the flesh. The body was meat. Case fell into the prison of his own flesh.             His total assets were quickly converted to New Yen, a fat sheaf of the old paper currency that circulated endlessly through the closed circuit of the world’s black markets like the seashells of the Trobriand islanders. It was difficult to transact legitimate business with cash in the Sprawl; in Japan, it was already illegal.            In Japan, he’d known with a clenched and absolute certainty, he’d find his cure. In Chiba. Either in a registered clinic or in the shadowland of black medicine. Synonymous with implants, nerve-splicing, and microbionics, Chiba was a magnet for the Sprawl’s techno-criminal subcultures.            In Chiba, he’d watched his New Yen vanish in a two-month round of examinations and consultations. The men in the black clinics, his last hope, had admired the expertise with which he’d been maimed, and then slowly shaken their heads.            Now he slept in the cheapest coffins, the ones nearest the port, beneath the quartz-halogen floods that lit the docks all night like vast stages; where you couldn’t see the lights of Tokyo for the glare of the television sky, not even the towering hologram logo of the Fuji Electric Company, and the Tokyo Bay was a black expanse where gulls wheeled above drifting shoals of white styrofoam. Behind the port lay the city, factory domes dominated by the vast cubes of corporate arcologies. Port and city were divided by a narrow borderland of older streets, an area with no official name. Night City, with Ninsei its heart. By day, the bars down Ninsei were shuttered and featureless, the neon dead, the holograms inert, waiting, under the poisoned silver sky. --Reprinted from Neuromancer by William Gibson by permission of Berkley, a member of Penguin Putnam Inc. Copyright © 1984, William Gibson. All rights reserved. This excerpt, or any parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. 
Hooked on the rush from each time i play in front of magical people.
Deep minimalist.

booking : jakubxbooking@gmail.com

IG : https://www.instagram.com/jakubpaksi/

member of Organic Beatz crew 

IG : https://www.instagram.com/organic.beatz/

"Niemand ist mehr Sklave, als der sich für frei hält, ohne es zu sein."

J.W. Goethe

Gentleman Dread – Drum & Bass DJ / Producer & Founder of Pirate Rave Productions

Gentleman Dread, originally from Portsmouth, UK, is a Drum & Bass DJ and producer whose dynamic sets, cosmic basslines, and jungle rollers have earned him a well-deserved reputation on both sides of the Atlantic. After spending four transformative years in Whistler, Canada, he gained prominence for championing emerging talent and supporting established acts. Now back in Portsmouth, he continues to ignite dancefloors with his raw energy and deep-rooted passion for the scene.

As the founder and driving force behind Pirate Rave Productions, Gentleman Dread oversees a bold and immersive approach to Drum & Bass events. Based in Portsmouth, this brand-new music production company delivers “Drum and Bass from the cannons with the flag raised high,” promising unforgettable, bass-charged nights for the South Coast’s rave community 

Pirate Rave Productions “creates unique DnB experiences that will live on in the memories of the rave cultures on the South Coast of the UK,” setting sail from Portsmouth with high-voltage events 

.

Notable Performances & Support:

2022 – Whistler Junglist (Kytami & Phonik Ops), Midnight Circus Squamish (Perkulator)

2023 – Whistler Junglist (Born on Road & Bad Company UK), Solaris 3, Synesthesia BC, Brukout (Whistler)

2024 – Synesthesia Vancouver, Deep Resonance Vancouver (w/ Brukout), Whistler Junglist (Matrix & FutureBound, Circadian / Phibes, Refracta), Après 360 Vol. 8 (Closing Set), MRMR Festival, Lost in Neon Jungle, Electric Love Festival, Altitude Festival, Agro & Jmulla (TMM), Eternity (Sub Zero, DJ SS, Ray Keith, Ragga Twins, MC Tempo, Gen Z, Azpect)

2025 – Outlaw (TMM)

Pirate Rave Productions Highlights:

Upcoming takeover event: Pirate Rave Productions & The Kraken presents Deekline, set for 5 September 2025 at The Barn (Milton Arms), Portsmouth—featuring a stacked lineup including Gentleman Dread (B2B L-iam), Just Jackson (B2B Bobbie T), DJ Sammy C (B2B Lees), Rank F (B2B DJ V), and sound by Broadside Sound 


With fresh DnB releases anticipated later in 2025, Gentleman Dread is elevating both his artistry and Pirate Rave Productions to new heights. Expect immersive experiences, heavy grooves, and a relentless commitment to the culture. Catch him live—on deck or behind the event helm—to feel the energy firsthand.

Buy Indukt - Sinners EP here: https://cygnusmusic.link/a46rkym

///

Founded in 2020 by @division-official, Deep Within Recordings has swiftly emerged as a driving force within the underground music scene. With an impressive discography boasting over 10 releases, including notable placements in the prestigious Beatport Top 10, the label has solidified its position as a tastemaker in the electronic music industry.

In 2022, Deep Within Recordings was honored with a nomination for the Best Newcomer Label at the renowned Drum and Bass Arena Awards, further affirming their rising prominence. The label serves as a magnet for well-known names from the scene, attracting established artists who recognize the label's commitment to quality and innovation.

Deep Within Recordings has garnered a reputation as a talent factory, consistently unearthing and nurturing emerging artists who possess a unique artistic vision. By providing a platform for these talented individuals, the label fuels the evolution of electronic music, pushing boundaries and shaping the future of the genre.

- New Zealand Based -
- DJ - Producer - 
-Enquires: -
-highrise.official.mgmt@gmail.com -


Ear plugs for safe ears at music events anywhere loud :) 
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10% Off at checkout if you use the code HIGHRISE 

- Social accounts - 
- HIGHRISE.OFFICIAL.NZ
-Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/highrise.official.nz/ 

- @A53-RECORDS  -
- https://www.instagram.com/a53_records

- HIGHRISE Links: -
- https://linktr.ee/highrise.official -



- HIGHRISE.OFFICIAL NFT COLLECTABLES - 
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- BLACK MARBLE VYNL NFT -  

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- https://app.manifold.xyz/c/highrise-official-mint -

- Medium - https://medium.com/@highrise.official.mgmt/highrise-official-818fdb3c9d44 -

- OPENSEA LINK -
- https://opensea.io/collection/highrise-official -


Highrise is an emerging electronic music artist from New Zealand, known for his atmospheric and experimental approach to sound. His underground style music tends to explore various genres, such as ambient, downtempo, and electronic, bass with a focus on creating immersive and emotive listening experiences. Highrise’s style often incorporates smooth, textured beats, soothing synths, and layered melodies, which transport listeners to a calm, introspective space taking you on a journey with each set.

Though his music may evoke a sense of tranquility, it often carries an underlying complexity, with intricate sound design and evolving compositions. His approach reflects a deeper exploration of sound and emotion, making his work appealing to listeners who enjoy music that resonates on a personal, reflective level.

The music he creates is tuned specifically to heal others listening made from certain frequencies known to heal the human body, mind & spirit

In addition to his music, Highrise is involved in the music industry through his new own record label, A53 Records. The label appears to be a platform where he can release his work and foster new talent in the experimental electronic space globally. However, more specific details on the label's overall direction are still yet to be established to the world as its new and starting out.

While Highrise may still be building his presence in the global music scene from the age of 13, his style and the growth of A53 Records could place him in a prominent position within the independent and underground music circles in the coming years. If you're into chill, not so chill, thought-provoking beats, Highrise’s work is worth checking out.

Re:gen Records

Bookings & enquiries  - shippdnb@outlook.com 

