Lovehearts is a cinematic coming-of-age album set on a park bench by the Thames in the year 2000, where one rare Love Heart sweet accidentally predicts the end of a first love. Each track imagines a different future branching from that single moment — the versions where they stay, leave, try, fail, grow up, or grow apart.

Told through alternating voices, soft folk, glitchy pop, and warm London ambience, this album is about timing, almosts, and the small choices that shape an entire life. A nostalgic, modern multiverse of love, loss, and the sweetness of letting go.

LOVEHEARTS -  THE FEELING RETURNS

REAL LOVE

A smoky Paris jazz-noir novella told across one impossible night. A low-voiced crooner follows a mysterious woman through backstreets, whisky bars, and moments where time seems to stop breathing. Clarinet shadows, brushed drums, and wordless sighs guide him as desire turns to revelation and revelation to dawn. By morning at Montparnasse, the night has unravelled—leaving only what the heart dares keep.

Her Name in the Window Fog

Liquid SAGAN is a cosmic liquid drum & bass meditation—ten weightless tracks built from rolling breaks, warm sub-bass, and whispered Sagan-inspired mantras. Minimal words, maximum space. Each song is a small lens onto the universe: atoms drifting, stars humming, signals rising and falling in the quiet between galaxies.
Designed for deep focus, soft awe, and late-night motion, the album blends emotional liquid DnB with contemplative science—an ambient journey through scale, stillness, and the fragile beauty of a pale blue world seen from far, far away.

Liquid TOLLE
https://soundcloud.com/quantumme/sets/liquid-tolle-focus
Liquid TAO
https://soundcloud.com/quantumme/sets/liquid-tao-dnb-170bpm
Liquid ZEN
https://soundcloud.com/quantumme/sets/liquid-zen

HUMAN AGAIN

“Oxford Revisited” is a chamber-folk narrative told across eight hours of a 20-year reunion at New College, Oxford. It’s the sound of returning to the architecture of your youth and discovering the internal rooms you’ve locked or forgotten. Over fingerpicked guitar, warm cello, and soft glitch textures, the album follows a 40-year-old protagonist as he retraces the pathways of his first independence—old staircases, renovated bars, candlelit halls—meeting the ghosts of who he was.

Across the evening he reconnects with Anna, a woman whose life was transformed by a book he wrote in his twenties. Her gratitude destabilises him at first; he barely recognises the idealistic version of himself she quotes back. But as the night deepens—from laughter with first-year neighbours to the humbling sobriety of an alumni football match—he begins to warm to the idea that the artist he used to be isn’t gone, just quiet.

By midnight, standing on the Mound beneath the warm lamps and cool air, he accepts a truth he’s avoided: growing up didn’t erase the creative self—it only buried it under routine. Anna didn’t come to remind him of the past; she came to return him to himself.

This is an album about memory, drift, courage, and the dignity of beginning again. Not nostalgia—recognition.

The Artist Who Grew Up

Anna’s Version of Me

The Reckoning is an album about the moment the world divides.

Not the slow decline.
Not the recovery.
But the instant where something arrives — a letter, a call, a sentence — and everything quietly reorganises itself around it.

These are not dramatic moments. They don’t announce themselves. The street looks the same. The room stays quiet. The day continues. And yet life has split into before and after.

The album stays inside that transition. It circles it from different angles: the administrative calm, the bodily reflex, the procedural aftermath, the strange resilience that lets us keep going without permission or understanding. There is no attempt to resolve or explain these moments. No lesson extracted. No catharsis offered.

Instead, The Reckoning observes how humans absorb impact: how quickly we adapt, how efficiently we file the damage, how often we accept that some things simply are.

It’s a record about bracing.
About continuity after rupture.
About learning to live with facts that don’t argue back.

Brace Position

The Reckoning

A return to watch the grass grow out the cracks of the beauty in the ruins. 

Cello and nostalgia: https://soundcloud.com/quantumme/sets/what-if-i-wont
Is it love songs: https://soundcloud.com/quantumme/sets/love-songs
Oxford Revisited: https://soundcloud.com/quantumme/sets/oxford-revisited
to have & to hold: https://soundcloud.com/quantumme/sets/to-have-to-hold

Beauty in the Ruins XI

Xmas Alone is a late-night Christmas album for people who aren’t performing the season.

Set in half-empty jazz bars, winter streets and quiet rooms after midnight, these songs follow a woman moving through Christmas on her own — not in grief, not in protest, but with clarity. Love has happened. Love has ended. What remains is attention, warmth, and the choice not to rush the night.

There are no festive choruses here, no forced cheer. Christmas appears only at a distance: lights seen through glass, trees admired from the street, couples skating past. The arrangements stay minimal and intimate — breathy vocals, brushed drums, upright bass, soft piano — leaving space for observation, humour and calm.

This is an album about adulthood, solitude, and the relief of no longer needing to explain yourself. About choosing quiet over noise, presence over performance. About discovering that joy, when it finally arrives, is often very small — and very still.

Xmas Alone isn’t anti-Christmas.
It’s just honest about where you’re standing.

Xmas (jungle special) - BIG SANTZ and fam
https://soundcloud.com/quantumme/sets/big-santz-xmas-jungle-special-edition
Xmas (Gospel) traditional-ish gospel style Christmas vibes
https://soundcloud.com/quantumme/sets/qhristmas-christmas-playlist
Tristesse (beautiful old school summer songs)
https://soundcloud.com/quantumme/sets/tristesse 

The Lights Are Still On Somewhere

Xmas Alone

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

The Lights Are Still On Somewhere

Quantum me