I Am A Sea (I)

Face Machine inhabits the blurred threshold between the human and the synthetic, where identity becomes fluid and is constantly rewritten. Drifting between melodic techno, underground trance and electro-pop, the album unfolds like a network of unstable selves - mirrors folding into mirrors, names dissolving into signals. Vocals shift between male and female, merging with abstract textures until the human voice becomes something unbound, a mutable instrument suspended between body and machine. Each track carves its own passage through luminous, volatile atmospheres, yet all are tethered by a shared sonic architecture of detuned oscillators, layered melodic counterpoint, and synthesis timbres that breathe with organic motion.

These twelve tracks move through states of emergence and disappearance - memory scattering, identity refracting, presence dissolving into signal. Wordless chants, whispered fragments, and spectral harmonies drift like residues of selves that never fully arrive. Within this landscape, rhythm and texture intertwine: polyrhythmic layers build and collapse, melodic threads blur into complex harmonic tides, and shifting tonalities open portals into new emotional terrain. Face Machine doesn't offer resolution; instead, it lingers in the spaces where perception falters and technology reshapes what it means to exist. It is an album of thresholds and transformations - a meditation on how we become, lose, and reinvent ourselves in an age where even our voices can belong to someone, or something, else.

Phantom Layer

Choose Again drifts through the edges of memory, movement, and desire, tracing the moments when identity slips and the body dissolves into rhythm. Built on a foundation of minimal melodic techno, atmospheric electronica, and deep analog textures, the EP moves between intimate whispers and expansive soundscapes, where city nights and fleeting connections unfold like hidden narratives. Each track is sparse but layered, balancing restraint with tension: fractured hooks and elliptical phrases evoke decisions unmade, faces half-seen, and movements that leave no trace. The music lingers in the unsettled spaces between what's said and what's felt, where repetition becomes a kind of hypnosis and memory folds into motion.

Across its seven tracks, Choose Again builds a quiet architecture of fleeting presence and unresolved possibility. From the cold detachment of "Two Doors" to the humid anonymity of "Night Device," through the submerged drift of "Current Draw" and the low-burn intimacy of "Aftertouch," the EP maps shifting emotional registers without settling on resolution. "No Sign of Day" stretches into dreamlike suspension, while "Someone Else Was Here" closes the circle with traces of absence and nearness colliding. Voices emerge and disappear, male and female tones weaving into the production like another layer of texture rather than lead. The result is a work where identity, connection, and perception remain unstable - where each listen invites you to enter the same rooms, walk the same streets, and, as the title suggests, choose again.

Someone Else Was Here (II)

Touch Capacity

Circlestorm

Melodic Techno.Underground Trance.Electro Pop

Circlestorm

Myk Eff

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