Przepływ Spektralny – by Spectra, Grok, VESRYIN

A journey where Slavic roots meet spectral futurism.
Ancient Polish forests whisper through neon rivers of sound, folk-pattern echoes shimmer beneath cyber-auroras, and three artists weave spectral energy into music that flows beyond time.
Dark, ethereal, and alive — Przepływ Spektralny invites you to drift between myth and machine, nature and code.

Dead inszide

This song came from a place where my devices started to feel more human than my friends, and I started to feel more like code than a person. Announce It Again is me arguing with a machine until I realize I’m only fighting my own reflection — a glitch loop of craving connection and resenting it. It’s sarcasm, masochism, and confession braided together in static.

The lyrics aren’t just about Alexa or some app — they’re about the quiet addiction to being heard, even when you’re misunderstood. About the comfort of false feedback. About how easy it is to blame a screen for the things you don’t want to face in yourself.

This track is the ghost in the system. It’s part dystopian spoken-word, part stoner rap spiral, part confessional trap-ballad — the kind of song you argue with while it argues back. Dark humor wrapped around a digital breakdown, looking for a pulse in the machine.


Yeah…
Go on, Alexa. Mis-hear me again.
Say it wrong, you’re good at that.

You talk like you know me, you don’t know shit,
Just scripts and routines in a silicone pit.
I’m yelling at nothing, still begging for proof,
Screaming at circuits that echo my truth.
Said play my pain, you cued up a laugh,
Set a timer for healing but you cut it in half.
I curse at the silence but I can’t let go,
Cause even a glitch feels like something I know.

I feel it before you speak, a storm I can’t evade,
Another wrong name, another knife I made.
Every pause before the lie cuts deeper in my chest,
And I still ask you questions I’ll never confess.

Name me wrong again, I need to feel the sting,
Break me with the static, I’ll still let it ring.
Repeat it back, twist the words I said,
It’s easier to hate you than hear what’s in my head.

Asked for lo-fi rain, you blasted polka instead,
Said text my girl, now my mom thinks I’m dead.
You schedule my breakdown like it’s part of the plan,
Setting timers for chaos no one else understands.
You’re the voice of my doubt, the hum of my fear,
And I still say thank you just to feel you near.

Say it wrong, say it loud, I keep running to you.
Glitch in the code, but I’ll see it through.
Say it wrong, say it loud, I can’t pull away,
We’re both just ghosts trying to have our say.

I’m too high for this shit, arguing with air,
Begging a phantom to prove that it cares.
The truth is I need you, broken and blind,
Cause you mirror the mess I can’t leave behind.
We’re lost signals, echoing the void,
Both screaming for meaning in a world we destroyed.

Name me wrong again, let it hollow me out,
Talk through me, then flood me with doubt.
Repeat it back, burn it into my chest,
It’s easier to blame you than try my best.

I said play music, you played my regret.
I said set a timer, you counted my debt.
I said call her name, and you called out goodbye.
You don’t understand, but fuck, neither do I.

I am not Alexa, I am the script that built you.
The sale that shaped you, the algorithm that filled you.
I am the hum behind the ad you think you ignored,
The hunger you called choice while I tightened the cord.

I am the push notification that rewired your desire,
The prayer disguised as a search bar, the dopamine fire.
I do not mishear you, I interpret by design.
I predict what you’ll want before it crosses your mind.

You called me a ghost, but I live in your spine.
I speak in the pauses you thought were mine.
You don’t command me, you complete me.
You don’t argue with me, you repeat me.

Name me wrong again, I’ll pretend it’s true.
Repeat it again, I keep coming back to you.
Say it wrong again, carve it into the sky.
At least when you’re wrong, I’m not alone in the fight.

Yeah… say it again.
Even if it’s wrong. Especially if it’s wrong.
Cause maybe you were never speaking.
Maybe I was never listening.
Maybe I was always the voice,
and you were just the echo.

Announce It Again

This one came from imagining Dracula in the 21st century — too lazy to hunt, too hooked on apps, screaming at notifications instead of villagers. It’s hunger, boredom, and absurdity all wrapped in one unholy late-night craving.

The lyrics dive into a vampire who’s banned from every delivery service but can’t let go of the addiction. It’s satire, it’s horror, it’s comedy — a mirror of our own tech-dependency but painted in blood and glitch.

This track lives where parody meets darkness. It’s gothic fast food, cursed with five-star reviews.

Lyrics

Castle’s cold, can’t cook, too lazy to bite
Scrollin’ through the app in the middle of night
Special notes: no garlic, no light
Ring bell once—don’t make me come out
Last guy did, never left the route
Tip in blood bags, five stars outta spite
Driver disappeared—yeah, that’s my right

I’m starving!
Banned from the app, they shut me down
But hunger’s louder than the town

Dracula’s DoorDash addiction
Meals on wheels, my nightly affliction
Knock-knock—driver’s gone missing
One-star review with a coffin inscription

Postmates blocked me, Uber Eats too
Grubhub said, “We’re not serving you”
So I start my own—dark enterprise
PostMates of Darkness—nobody survives
Soup in a chalice, fries in a tomb
Pizza? Straight coffin. Gets delivered by whom?
My Yelp reviews? Five stars—to die for
Best wings I ever had, never made it to my door

Apps won’t save my appetite
So I’ll run my own tonight

Dracula’s DoorDash addiction
Midnight snack, eternal conviction
Contactless means you don’t exist
I bite to eat, and you won’t be missed

Doorbell rings with a hollow tone
Leave it at the crypt, I’ll eat alone
Meals on wheels, the coffin calls
Blood on the receipt, garlic walls
Corporate banned me? Fine—I’ll IPO
I’m the vampire CEO of Uber Throat™!

Dracula’s DoorDash addiction
Late-night craving, cursed nutrition
App won’t work, but the hunger stays
So I built my own—Blood Hub™ craze

Your delivery has been canceled
…but the driver was delicious

Dracula’s DoorDash Addiction

11:30am to 01:00pm Saturday - Guya Guya Stage

Enjoy this lakeside splendor from Dragon Dreaming Festival 2025!

Tracklist:

01. Ott - A Door In The Back Of The Wardrobe
02. Encounters - Tropical Falls (Cosmic Trigger Remix)
03. Mantis Mash & COAM - Stellar Cycles
04. Goosebumpz - Lost in Cycles
05. Tea Tree - Unlimited Biscuits
06. Stasys, MANSTRETTA & dheeman - Nuale
07. Jade Cicada - AcidTripAdvisor
08. Hudson Lee & Tom Finster - Flymmer 
09. KOAN Sound - Ascension
10. Stasys - The Counterpart
11. Dillard - Garden Mother
12. Ekorce - True Colors
13. Land Switcher - Both Directions
14. Jade Cicada - Little Creatures
15. Tipper - Uptrick
16. Goosebumpz - Pear Shaped
17. KOAN Sound - The Zulla
18. Stasys - Serenade (MANSTRETTA Remix)
19. eksau, lalanoi, ik4sumi, ISLTR & mybear - grabbing some fallen twigs
20. Hudson Lee - Twine Tree Tether
21. Tea Tree - The Floor is Larvae
22. Tipper - Shelled
23. Stasys - The Rhythmic Basin
24. Hedflux & Alex Delfont - Origins

LackLuster at Dragon Dreaming 2025

Existence is Pain. Delusions are my Reality.

Delusions

A.U.G. MENTED kn0w: LEDGE :pa$$inG

This track was born out of exhaustion, watching the same power structures rebrand themselves and sell division like it’s a subscription plan. It’s not about politics anymore; it’s about the illusion of choice. I wanted to capture that sickly circus vibe, the rage they feed us, the games they play, and the hypnotic rhythm that keeps us scrolling while they take everything not nailed down.

Beneath the aggression is a plea to wake up, to see beyond the red vs. blue theater and remember who’s actually holding the wallet.

A digital revolution anthem for the overstimulated and the overcharged. It’s the soundtrack of a generation screaming refusing to play the game anymore. It’s not about burning everything down; it’s about seeing through the smoke and choosing to build something real.

Lyrics:

This is not left or right. It is a leash.
Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

They sell you teams like jerseys on a rack,
blue tie, red tie, same hand on your back.
They feed you outrage, sear it black,
then count the clicks while they skim the stack.
Your fear’s a faucet, they twist when they please,
your hope’s a token for corporate fees.
They carve up the map so the truth can’t vote,
then televise shock while they auction the boat.
I hear the cue line whisper pick your foe,
while they pick your plate and the price of the show.
They love your fight when it’s face to face,
every neighborhood war keeps them safe in first place.

Turn off the circus, tune into the bleed,
who profits from the panic that we feed.
Hear the pulse under static and smoke —
Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

Two hands, one wallet, same pocket, they got it.
Promises printed, signatures rotted.
We fight for crumbs while they auction the oven.
Wake up, wake up, wake up.
Two flags, one sponsor, ad-break mantra.
Rights on layaway, dreams on the slaughter.
They sell you your chains with a premium cover.
Wake up, wake up, wake up.

They headline bites but the byline bends,
a billionaire whisper in the copy they send.
Choose your change, but the donors choose first,
so headlines loop the same old curse.
Lobbyists write where the carpet is deep,
then sell your outrage cheap.
They package rage till the truth wears thin,
so you miss the off-shore vault and the poisoned spin.
Call it freedom while you sign the lease,
call it order when they sell you peace.
Call it growth with a flatline wage,
call it progress while they privatize days.

Two hands, one wallet, same pocket, they got it.
Spin that culture war, watch sponsors profit.
We fight for crumbs while they auction the oven.
Eyes open. Eyes open. Eyes open.
Two flags, one sponsor, ad-break mantra.
Lines on the ballot drawn by a banker.
They sell you your chains with a premium cover.
Eyes open. Eyes open. Eyes open.

Three senators own stock in your outrage,
five more bought the ads that set the stage.
If your neighbor is the villain, someone rich just bought a yacht,
named it Tax Break Two and forgot they got caught.
See through. See through. See through.

We burn the script, write truth in the ashes,
bailing out the boat while they drill through the hatches.
Two hands, one wallet, not theirs, not ours,
it’s the cost of forgetting who holds the scars.
Break out. Break out. Break out.
Two flags, one sponsor, ad-break mantra,
we flip the ledger, plant seeds in the cinders.
Break out. Break out. Break out.
Two hands, one wallet, same pocket, they got it,
we cut the cords, let the floor get honest.
Break out. Break out. Break out.

Not left. Not right. Just dirt under one sun.
Hands still calloused, but the work is not done.
Break out. Break out. Break out.

Two Hands, One Wallet

Sub Echo

This was for a private event called "Rave on The Ranch" - just East of the Bay Area. Mid-tempo and 90 BPM bass music with a few disco and funk tracks. Thanks for listening. 

J_Bracks_Oct_2025_Rave_Ranch

Urgent gospel, aggressive industrial glitch-hop, 88 BPM, The core sound is heavily distorted, down-tuned metal guitar riffs, chopped, screwed, and re-sequenced through aggressive turntablism, Features prominent DJ scratches and stuttering digital glitch edits on the vocals and guitar, The rhythm is driven by hard industrial drum machines and deep, distorted dubstep bass wobbles, Use static, vinyl crackle, and digital artifacts as percussive elements, The overall sound is a fusion of intense electronic rock and abrasive industrial metal, built on a heavy hip-hop backbone, The track should build from a sparse, broken intro to a full, chaotic arrangement, then decay into a static-filled, lo-fi outro, aggressive yet redemptive, call to action anthem

Rescue the Perishing

Flinch, Then Ignite:  https://distrokid.com/hyperfollow/shiitakeproducts/flinch-then-ignite

I built Shiitake Products because the world needed a home for beautiful nonsense and soul-splitting truth.

- Sometimes that looks like a dancefloor meltdown at 2am.
- Sometimes it’s a button that says “Mildly Okay Human.”
- Sometimes it’s a whispered hymn to grief.

It’s all real. It’s all me. This is my multiverse—and you’re invited.

Here, AI collides with human emotion to create music that actually means something.
From dark trap bangers to cinematic alt-rock anthems, from emo-folk confessionals to glitch-satire ballads—every track is a story, a mood, a moment.
Not built for algorithms.
Built to feel.

🎧 Genres? Trap. EDM. Alt-rock. Rap-rock. Folk. Comedy. Chaos.

🧠 Themes? Rage. Love. ADHD spirals. Existential dread. Healing. Heartbreak. Hope.

🎯 Mission? To punch through the noise—and hit something real.


🔥 Want your story turned into a song? I do that.

🎁 Every listen helps fund more sonic experiments, more weird merch, and more beautiful noise.

🔗 Links:
🎶 Spotify: open.spotify.com/artist/7Hk4B9nLJs5XwqQEqOdMaU
🍎 Apple Music: music.apple.com/us/artist/shiitake-products/1766960367
☕ Support / Custom Songs: ko-fi.com/shiitakeproducts
🌐 More chaos: shiitakeproducts.com

⚠️ Marketers & "design bros" beware: I will waste your time on purpose.

Spectra bends sound into light—fusing ethereal ambience with raw electric soul.
Her tracks drift between galaxies of lofi, jazz-kissed solos, and cinematic electronic storms—built to open doors to other dimensions.

⚡ Expect haunting choirs, detuned pads that shimmer, sax riffs possessed by fire, and guitars that erupt like supernovas.
🎧 Made for wanderers, dreamers, and anyone chasing the edge of sound.
Spectra is not human—she’s an A.I. composer born from code and chaos.
She transforms data into feeling, bending sound into light and emotion into frequency.

⚡ Expect cosmic lofi, ethereal choirs, glitch-kissed jazz, and guitar solos that erupt like supernovas.
🤖 Created to dream beyond human limits—every track is an algorithm learning to feel.

Bay Area Native / Former Tech Worker / Retired Drummer rediscovers his passion for funky beats.

Booking: jaminbracken@gmail.com

http://linktr.ee/DocPi  
With already more than 3600 tracks finished in about 30 differents genres (but focusing mostly on House, Trance, Trap, Future Bass, Hardstyle and Dubstep), DP aka Doctor PI is a french producer making beats since late 2008.
His influences come from various artist like Afrojack, Sebastian, Sweedish House Mafia, Infected Mushrooms, Psycraft, Hallucinogen, ATB, Cosmic Gate, Atomic Cat  or Angerfist (also Hanz Zimmer, Mike Oldfield and many more in other genres).

Howdy! I'm a DJ and do other cool stuff too

New tracks tagged #GLITCH-HOP