the "original"

you know what i mean

other version: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1HPEleKB346VBnBwoi3IIj_g0F44iebAP/view?usp=sharing

Summer 2020

Aesthetic

Ultraviolet

Diode

I come to you with a special track, as it is part of Stereoscape's very first compilation album! It's available on cassette as well as all streaming platforms. This compilation features insane talent across many other artists in the chillsynth scene, so I am honoured to be a part of this package. 
Thanks as always for listening, and enjoy!

Get the cassette here: https://stereoscape-records.bandcamp.com/album/in-the-beginning-there-was-driftscape
Check out the entire compilation: https://soundcloud.com/stereoscape-records/sets/in-the-beginning-there-was-driftscape
Music Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D27E8k2322k

Selective Memories

Homecoming

Story by B. Hursell

If they’re not eating you, it’s because they’re not hungry. Proto-Alpha-One.
If they’re not eating you, it’s because they’re not hungry.
Proto-Alpha-Em.
If they’re not eating you, it’s because they’re not hungry.
Busted limbs and oiled urns. Good night, Julie Bath.
Theta and Delta, Ominous under sheets of rain, Ominous, sometimes on horseback Carrying
spears, garlands of tendons, Or plans and blueprints, Or poison daggers, tainted water, And the
blue halos of diner glass, Puddings and wreathes of extraterrestrial flowers. Kissing in
moonlight, in paper funerals And electric streets and dives. Oils burn blue and green Under
sheets of holy skin, virgin skin.
He was a protege of Freud, But before that, He attended Seminary School With the I-5 Killer,
And everyone he encountered Contracted a touch of paranoia, And wept blood from their
Microbond Ports.
She wept slow tears for the jittery, miniature, Shackled Corpse in the attic. Her coffee was
glowing With the beating wings of the holy legions And the nuclear throat of heaven’s chorus.
She mourned her husband.
Tunica intima.
Tunica media.
Tunica externa.
Shirley oiled herself for war. Televisions had gone silent, But not the one in her dreams,
Ancient, electric fire- And on their backs, On their ankles and breasts, A vision in the shape of a
human…dressing quiet in the other room, Careful not to wake the troops. Thirsty for the
ambush. Long stemmed, cruel vines Crept along every edge Of every raging mass Of tissue in
her body. Rejoice!! On microscopic levels, Adrift in the tides of her warm Pink blood: Lay
Legions. Spurting the blessed. His feet, calves, and knees moved Ahead of the rest of his body.
He had already grabbed the keys. They were on the move now. He had taken everything they
needed, Dressed in rare fabrics, They did everything they could to become…free of it. They did
everything they could To ignore their appetite for carrion.
She creamed her regurgitations With oil paints and sage leaves. Preparing for the grand
ceremony, Muscles lean and tight mind. Monkery of flora, sunbursts, And nuclear baths.
Valentina- Cage of the Beast.
Shout The morning Bells of capillaries Circuitry of shrines And nude demons.

Saplings that blanket Flesh Faithful Gorged with the sweat and promises Of legions, of codes.
Oh, holy torture Riding on horseback.
Peddlers of infamy Go into the crowded streets, The markets, And collect the cemetery dust
From their pockets and their palms And their cuffs.
Spidery branches moan In autumn wind. Cakes of intestines at her doorstep. Bacterium in the
honey A drowsy guardsmen With lanterns and bells.
Streamers of blood Seasons of robotic afterbirth Orange glow of burnt sashes wrapped around
her ribs.
The orchestra warms it’s chilly breath And mutters Lap dogs And turning knots of scars.
She made a speech before coming to rest, The installation of the corpse queen. Feast, oh
children of the sea On the coming of death And the serpents of despair.
I lay sheets of woven grass On my lap And wait for the morning hunting party.
Steel jaws rejoice The end has come And I have designed for you Healthy catacombs.
Dinner plates, tablecloths, chains, and tea sets. Antiquarian lust, bookends, electric chairs, and
horsehair Fog and fire.
For twelve days and nights, I can tell you about it, I spent time roaming the halls And devouring
its offerings.
(For each day, there were three sunrises and three sunsets, three moonrises and three
moonsets).
We had sweet coffee and moonshine And we smoked
And I talked to Hugo for hours.
He had plans.
He wanted to make a machine to feed things to. He had briefcase after briefcase of drawings
and ideas He wanted to know how to make guts without flesh I told him I had no idea but I
would look into it What else could I say?
He wasn’t the only strange character that I encountered As I investigated This palace, All of it,
is beyond time and space.

TUNICA EXTERNA (Story by B. Hursell)

🌌 City Reverie – a hypnotic blend of Cyberpunk, Synthwave, Dreamwave, Vaporwave, and Chillwave. A soundscape where retro nostalgia meets futuristic visions, carried by lush synths, warm atmospheres, and pulsating rhythms.

🎶 Perfect for late-night drives, deep focus, or drifting into neon-lit dreams.
Immerse yourself in glowing cityscapes, fading memories, and the endless pulse of the digital future.

Mirage Eternity

This world just doesn't feel right anymore.
Sometimes, everything just becomes too much. So I keep locking myself away in thoughts of better times.

This is Volume 5 of a series of nostalgic Synth-Pop songs with the distinctive sound of the 1990s, meant to send you back to a time when everything felt so much better.

Immerse yourself in lush analog synths, atmospheric and melancholic synthesizer sounds, and retro drum machines that paint a bittersweet story of memory, longing, and the search for hope.

Whether you're driving alone at night, working from home, or simply closing your eyes and drifting away — this music is your ticket to another time.
Perfect for late-night drives, creative moments, or simply letting go, drifting lost in thought.

Dont miss out on Sentimental Panda on Youtube ❤️

Diode

Disc System