2025 Synthwave

Aerodnmx

Cruiser

I made this track back in 2001, 20 years ago with one of my friends. I was under a huge 'Matrix influence' that time, as the first and the one and only Matrix movie was one of my favourites (and still is). Obviously that time without social media and any other promoting channels the track was undiscovered and was available only for my friends.

But when I realized that they will do another sequel to the Matrix trilogy, I decided to go back to this track and will do a 2021 version, a more synthwave/cyberpunkish version and a much better mix. So basically I've recreated every tracks and instruments from scratch and only used the old original speeches of Morpheus and Neo from the movie.

And finally here we go, here is my new track from my upcoming 2022 LP album.

FREE DOWNLOAD

The Neon Droid - Anything is Possible

Purchase the single here: https://russellnashmusic.bandcamp.com/track/midnight-city

Midnight City

Determined

Converge - Carré Sinistre Synthwave Remix

YOUR HEART DIES [WHEN YOU GROW UP]

Silhouette

Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/track/48HrETKtOJzM7KHFBV4k6I
YouTube: https://youtu.be/4cBIVh1R1MY

Sigma

Найтград 2

Взлом ЭВМ

Night Dream

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)

80's horror-inspired "City Of The Dead" - a synthwave odyssey through a post-apocalypse. From the haunting synths and dark rhythms to the electric guitar riffs, each track represents the stillness of sorrow, the fragility of hope in the wake of death, and the ever-present danger of the living dead in a city that has fallen to the infection. For those who enjoy a bit of dystopia in their atmospheres and goosebumps-inducing sonics.

City Of The Dead

Escape

Dane Whisper - Tribute

Night Rider

Here is an original that I would like to call Blood Moon. My remix of Reanimate by Ferry Corsten will be up soon and I hop you like this new one here.

Blood Moon

Cramoisie

I am an original 80s new waver in search of today's music influenced by that era.

Determined

Modallias

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