Sunshine

Bloodshot

a soft journey between small streets and big visions

Que sera

Beauty in the ruins VI

Make my own way

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 worker

You don’t know where you’ve been

until you make it back again.

You don’t know who you are

until you lose yourself and then—

You don’t know where you’ve been

until you make it back again.

Every road you wander down

paints your heartbeat on the wind.

You don’t know where you’ve been (before you came back)

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. 

Red pencil, blue sky

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.

All the Words That Weren’t Spoken

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.

Why are you here?

“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 two

Ever feel like you've been playing quantum leap in your own life?

Breath two

Quantum me

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