A slow-burning indie electronic piece built on soft synth pulses, low-light atmospheres and that late-night, city-after-rain feeling. Minimal beats, dusky textures, and a touch of 80s melancholy give it that quiet ache I keep chasing.

Featuring Juno Wilde, whose vocal tone sits somewhere between a whisper and a warning, the track drifts into dream-pop shadows without slipping into pop polish. Moody, intimate, cinematic.

File under: midnight walks, queer longing, and everything you don’t say out loud until the lights are low

(I know) I don't

Born in 1992 and reborn in shadowed synths, Johannesburg traces the hush before upheaval. A city holding its breath. The scent of injustice rising like heat from the sand.

Minimal beats, wide night skies, and Juno Wilde’s low ember of a voice carry the story forward, not as history, but as a wound that still glows under the skin.

A memory. A warning. A place that refuses to stay silent.

Johannesburg

Can You…? wanders through the feverish edge of desire, all velvet bruises and questions no one wants to answer. The synths simmer, the rhythm stalks, and Juno Wilde slips through it with a voice that feels half prayer, half provocation.

It circles the old hunger for love, the kind that tastes like danger and hope at the same time. A quixotic little storm. Sharp, tender, and beautifully unwell.

Can you....?_

A quiet storm of a song. “Blame” drifts through velvet synths and shadowed strings, letting the voice confess what politeness usually smothers. It lingers on the moment a soul finally stops rescuing another and chooses truth instead. Each line circles the wound with a kind of decadent honesty, the sort that hurts because it is beautiful. The pulse stays low, the mood stays dark, and the song moves like a midnight letter never meant to be sent. A study in betrayal, clarity, and the strange relief that arrives when you return the blame to its rightful owner.

Blame

Kaelib

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