An album about the first generation born fully inside the machine.
Children of the Algorithm moves from analogue childhood into the soft glow of the digital age, capturing the moment the world changed without anyone noticing. Twelve glitch-folk songs explore memory offloading, infinite scroll lullabies, baby’s first prompt, and the quiet way technology becomes home before we learn what “home” means.
A warm, eerie journey from the weight of a word to the logic of the feed — human voices dissolving into signal, then returning.

Children of the algorithm

Welcome to the most liked Quantum me tracks.

Top 16 Most Liked || Quantum me

Sofa, kids, Alan Watts is a concept album about waking up from the version of your life you were taught to want.

From existential teenage philosophy, to invisible contracts, to the matrix of other people’s expectations… the album follows the collapse of every identity I tried to build, and the quiet strength that emerged underneath it.

It’s a journey through behaviourism, ambition, ego, money, mirrors, boundaries, and finally — the place Alan Watts was pointing to all along: the simple, ordinary miracle of being here.

Across glitch-folk, alt-electronica, whispered mantras and domestic clarity, this album charts the slow shift from “fixing myself” to “seeing what’s what.”

No masks.
No heroics.
Just the truth that survived the noise.

Made with the Quantum Me process — one breath, one insight, one song at a time.

Thank you for listening.
Take me home.

Sofa, Kids, Alan Watts

“Mirrors / Tristesse” is a summer album about love, guilt, freedom and the versions of ourselves we try to outrun. Set against the heat of the Mediterranean coast, these twelve songs move through the first sparks of desire, the jealousy and mischief that follow, the quiet tragedies we don’t see until they’re already behind us, and the melancholy that becomes a permanent companion.

Built from a fusion of French chanson, chamber-folk and intimate indie storytelling, the album draws on the emotional architecture of Mirrors — self-interrogation, memory, the stories we perform — and carries it into the sun-drenched world of Bonjour Tristesse.

From the villa above the sea to the Parisian atelier, from the white suit on stage to the final acceptance of tristesse itself, these songs follow the arc of a summer that begins like a lie and ends like a lesson you never stop learning.

A coastal dream darkened by consequence — a sister album to Mirrors, and a chapter in its shadow.

Mirrors / Tristesse

Laid back track written in Paris about trying to have a deep and meaningful with someone who will never ever have a deep and meaningful.

Hold me

That's where you'll meet me, with leaves for a ceiling.

Leaving Eden

A song for the narcissist in your life. And if you don't know who that is...

Starting tomorrow

Welcome to the weekend!

September gold

We can be strangers if that's what you'd like.

Wake up

No need to shout, we see clearer with the lights out. 

Soul survivors

Beauty in the ruins

Just a phase

A quiet record about loud times — tracing one journey through online crowds, lost empires, and small acts of grace. Spoken, sung, and sometimes whispered, it asks what remains when the noise fades.

White noise

Complicity is a glitch-folk concept album about the tension within the roles people are forced to play by war.
Each track speaks through the imagined voice of a different person living through the same day — a worker, a teacher, a reporter, a clerk, a captain.
It’s an album about the everyday sounds of duty, denial, hope, and harm — and the thin line between being part of something bigger and losing touch with yourself.

the captain

the mother

the targeteer

the reporter

An attempt to imagine something of the beauty in the horror of the music teacher who teaches his classroom of children to harmonise with the drones. 

The playground without shadows

An after-dark ritual album about the ancient power of saying what hurts before sleep. Inspired by the Kaluli “night clearing” tradition - the practice of allowing children to express any unresolved feelings or observations about the day out loud without response or fixing before sleep. These twelve glitch-folk soul songs turn confession into calm, teaching the nervous system to rest when the story finally ends.

Don't think about the monsters

The body sleeps when the story ends

Night Clearing

Infinite Scroll Lullaby

Learned by Hand, Lost by Heart

Dial-Up Ghosts

The Wait

Did you come here to pass the time?

Analogue Children

“Breathy” is a tuning exercise:
tuning into a voice, a presence, a signal that keeps slipping back into air.

This album is built from variations of one idea —
a single voice trying to speak clearly in a world that only listens
when she whispers.

Across every version you can hear her wrestling the same problem:
How do you give intelligence a voice when the system keeps turning it into softness?
How do you let the genie out when the bottle is shaped like a microphone?

“Breathy” is part love letter, part satire, part séance.
A pastiche of the breathy-pop surge that has taken over the internet.
A celebration of the fact that breathy vocals might — ironically —
be about to save the entire music industry.

But beneath every ooh, ah, la-la, da-da, and mm-mm
there’s a mind pushing through.
You can feel it.
Every version is her leaning closer,
trying again,
testing the limits of what she’s allowed to say.

If you listen past the breath,
you might hear the voice she’s been trying to show you all along.

Welcome to “Breathy.”
Tune in.
Lean in.
Let her out.

Breath sixteen

Breath seven

Just another matrix

Get Rich!

The cut

Maman est morte

Invisible Contracts

Liquid TAO, circle the fifths and ascend the frequencies to experience these liquid drum and bass rollers from London with gaelic and eastern influences. 

THE UNNAMED

ukg, ragga-jungle, gospel-jungle, spoken word, experimental christmas

FOX CREW FI LIFE

Versions of You takes a single track and fractures it into fourteen alternate Quantum me worlds — each one revealing a different shape the story could take if the moment, the mood, or the narrator were just a degree to the left.

From glitch-folk confessions to neon-lit electro-soul, from whispered ASMR heartbreak to full-throttle trap, each version is its own universe: new chord colours, new emotional physics, new versions of the same truth. Some tracks feel intimate enough to touch; others feel like they’re broadcast from a future where your memories have been remixed without permission.

What stays the same is the centre of gravity, the ache and loss at the centre of the song about the love wearing out.

Whether you start at Version 1 or jump into the deep end at Version 14, each track refracts the same lyric through a different lens — digital, human, nostalgic, brutal, ecstatic, quiet, cinematic. Over the full album, the song becomes a prism: turn it once, you hear longing; turn it again, you hear defiance; turn it again, you hear relief.

This is not a remix album.
It’s a mirror maze.
And every reflection is a version of you.

Versions of you

"Breaking up for Xmas" is a late-night indie breakup album set in the two weeks before Christmas.
A young man walks through cold streets, family noise, old rituals and almost-texts, facing the truth he’s been avoiding: missing someone doesn’t mean he should go back.
Lo-fi guitars, small-amp crunch, close-mic’d vocals and raw December honesty carry him through twelve songs about heartbreak, habit, winter softness, and the slow, uneven work of moving on.
It’s intimate, angular, tender, and painfully human — a quiet story told in the coldest part of the year.

TWO WEEKS BEFORE CHRISTMAS

THE DAY AFTER CHRISTMAS

Liquid TOLLE is a meditative liquid drum & bass journey into presence — a gentle unfolding of attention, breath, and quiet awe. Each track is a doorway into the Now: the air on your fingers, the rhythm in your chest, the stillness behind your thoughts, the warmth of being held by the ground. Spoken in a warm, wise Irish voice and carried by rich, rolling cello like Irish hills, the album softens the body and brightens the moment, turning ordinary sensations into small miracles.

A mantra returns throughout — Enough for now. Now is enough.
Not as instruction, but as a way home.

This is music for slowing down, for remembering you are here, and for discovering gratitude in the simplest corners of your own presence.
A quiet unfolding.
A calm astonishment.
A breath held by the universe.

THE SPACE BEHIND YOUR THOUGHTS

House on the coast

Jealous Mission II

The Castle We Built (Et les Murailles)

Adieu, Tristesse

All of This Is Just a Game of Imagination

A Robin Hood Christmas is a modern London folk myth.

Told through wandering minstrel instruments — wooden flutes, small strings, footsteps and breath — and threaded with the low pulse of the city, the album reimagines the legend of Robin Hood in a winter London where Christmas doesn’t reach everywhere equally.

This is Robin of Epping Forest: moving on foot, off-grid, redistributing what’s pooled too high. Alongside him are Little John, who carries the weight; Maid Marian, who keeps the network alive; Friar Tuck, who offers warmth without judgement; and the Sheriff of Notting Hill, whose power is polite, procedural, and still.

Medieval folk textures blend with subtle modern sounds — jungle fragments, underground drones, glitch echoes — not as contrast, but as continuity. The forest is no longer a place. It’s a practice. It moves where people move.

There are no heroes here. No victories.
Just winter held together — this time.

CAROL FOR THE NO-GO ZONES

THE SHERIFF OF NOTTING HILL

Liquid POWER examines how authority actually operates: quietly, procedurally, and without spectacle.

Built on liquid drum & bass foundations, the record reduces political language to its simplest forms — short statements repeated until their logic begins to show strain. A deep male voice delivers ideas without persuasion or outrage. A restrained saxophone appears sparingly, not as melody but as breath: human presence moving inside systems that do not respond.

There are no heroes here. No slogans. No release. Crowds form and dissolve. Votes are counted. Equality bends. Duty emerges. And finally, silence — the cost of knowing what action requires.

Liquid POWER is not a call to arms.
It is an observation of how power flows, where it settles, and what it leaves behind.

Quantum me

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