🔊 Genre: Synthwave / Synthpop / Indie Pop /
🎧 Title: Memories That Never Happened
🎚️ Artist: The Mainside Project

Memories That Never Happened is the quiet ache of remembering something you never lived, a dream that stayed long after you woke up, a face you never met but somehow miss, a moment your heart swears was real.

Blending synthwave nostalgia, synthpop brightness, indie pop intimacy, and a soft touch of spiritual light, the track feels like a memory from another lifetime: warm, impossible, and strangely sacred.

A dreamy, cinematic journey through unreal summers, lost timelines, and feelings that don’t fit into this world.

🎵 Send this to someone who feels nostalgia for things they can’t explain.

#MemoriesThatNeverHappened #TheMainsideProject #Synthwave #Synthpop #IndiePop #AltPop #Dreamwave #EmotionalElectronic #Nostalgia #RetroFuture #AestheticMusic #LofiDream #MelancholicPop

Lyrics

I keep remembering a place I’ve never been,
A warm July that never touched my skin.
Faces I feel, but never met,
Moments I miss, but can’t forget.

There’s a quiet in my chest,
Like someone whispered my name.
A life I never lived
Still flickers all the same.

Why do I feel
These memories that never happened?
Why does my heart
Hold echoes from another life?
I see the sun on a day I never lived,
And it feels like home
Like something I once knew,
But never touched in time.

I walk through visions of a long-lost afternoon,
Shadows of laughter fading with the moon.
Footsteps I hear on a distant shore,
Belong to someone I’ve never been before.

Every dream opens a door
To a world I can’t explain.
I wake up missing people
Who never had a name.

Why do I feel
These memories that never happened?
Why does my heart
Hold echoes from another life?
I see the sun on a day I never lived,
And it feels like home
Like something I once knew,
But never touched in time.

Maybe I dreamed you
Before I ever existed.
Maybe I lost you
Before we ever began.
Maybe the universe keeps the things
That we were never meant to understand.

Why do we feel
These memories that never happened?
Why do our hearts
Remember lives we never tried?
I see your face in a place I’ve never been,
And it feels like home
Feels like a love
I’m still learning how to find.

Maybe in another life
We were real
Maybe in this one
We’re just echoes
Trying to become whole again.

Memories That Never Happened

South of the River is a tight, funny, quietly emotional London tale told across one long night and its soft morning after. Electro-acoustic guitars, late-city beats and warm, conversational vocals follow a twenty-something trying to get home for Sunday lunch after a simple drink turns into a full south-of-the-river odyssey. There’s chaos, a stray dog, a night bus standoff, a lock-in, a near ghosting, and a sprint back across the bridge — but underneath the misadventure sits a deeper story about love, luck, and growing up slowly in a city that forgives more than it forgets.
A messy night out becomes a small myth about finding your footing, keeping your promises, and returning to the people who make you try.

First Train from Clapham

Night Bus Coup

Lost in the Lido

Some days feel like clear skies, some feel like storms, and some switch without warning. Living with someone whose emotions whip around the room is its own kind of adventure, a strange mix of humor, panic, care, and hope. This track comes from trying to hold steady in a house full of unpredictable weather and doing your best even when you do not have a handbook. For anyone walking through shifting moods with patience and love.


INTRO
Vibe alert: unstable.
Kid woke up smiling.
Which is suspicious.
That is never a good omen.
And there it goes.

VERSE 1
She woke up smiling which scared me more
than any tantrum ever could.
When she is calm at sunrise
that means the boss fight loads at noon.

She started humming
then stopped mid-note
to glare at the ceiling fan
like it owed her money.

Touched the remote
apparently that was treason.
Her vibe detonated instantly
I checked my own pulse
to confirm I survived.

Her shirt felt wrong
so she shed the whole outfit
like she was molting rage feathers
preparing for battle.

I am holding coffee like a riot shield
praying to any god running a clearance sale.
And it is not even eight.

PRE-CHORUS
Why am I pacing my words like I am defusing something
that should not have a fuse at all
I am choosing syllables like they are landmines
trying not to trigger the weather in our hall

CHORUS
Mood roulette
spin again
Please do not land on red
Please do not land on red

Tiptoe steps
breaking sweat
Guess the vibe I get
Guess the vibe I get

Mood roulette
anything goes
Sunrise peace or lunchtime chaos
Place your bets

VERSE 2
House is quiet now. Too quiet.
That is the danger zone.

She looked calm for three minutes straight
which was enough for me to start praying.

Then a commercial came on with the wrong font
and suddenly I was living in a psychological haunt.

She asked for a snack
I brought the wrong brand
and discovered new emotional physics
Apparently crackers have lore now

I said good morning in the wrong tone
Spent the next hour apologizing
to air, furniture, and wallpaper respectfully

Made eye contact. Mistake.
Did not make eye contact. Bigger mistake.
Existing became the wrong life choice to make

Sock seam hit her toe wrong
and she unfriended the universe
I Googled am I the problem at seven AM
and Google said maybe

She slammed a door
then apologized
then cried
then laughed
then yelled at the door for existing
Honestly I get it

PRE-CHORUS
I am choosing every word like it is the last shard holding the bridge up
Walking on conversational eggshells wearing concrete shoes
I am living in a house where the weather has free will

BRIDGE
I joke because it hides the truth
She is hurting
and I can see it

She does not want the storm
She gets caught in it first

I feel useless
watching her fight waves she never asked for
Trying to be solid ground
when some days I am shaking too

Some days I do not know if I am helping
or just watching her drown
in feelings I cannot translate

But I stay
not because I have answers
but because leaving
would hurt worse
than not knowing what to say

She is not the chaos
The chaos just chooses her

FINAL CHORUS
Mood roulette
spin again
Please do not land on red
Please do not land on red

Tiptoe steps
breaking sweat
Guess the vibe I get
Guess the vibe I get

Mood roulette
anything goes
Thunderstorm, sunshine, or existential dread
I am still here
Holding the wrong snack
In the wrong bowl
But still here

Mood Roulette

WZD_anoscha - Wie du lachst (prod. Sculpture)
4S005 / V1 (4.66)

Lyrics coming soon or never

Beat: "Gloom" by Sculpture.

Wie du lachst (prod. Sculpture.)

THE GAZE

This one came from the part of me that keeps smiling while doing math that does not add up. The part that knows how to pretend I am steady even when the ground feels rented by the hour. I wrote this with the same energy I use to make impossible decisions look normal. There is a strange courage in that, the quiet kind that grows in people nobody checks on.

The words circle around the pressure we carry without ever calling it by its name. The cost of existing. The way you can be strong, tired, angry and hopeful at the same time. The truth is simple: ordinary people hold this country up, and the country avoids eye contact.


Another day, another deficit.
Fine. Let’s dance through it.

Rent takes the paycheck before my hand even warms it.
Boss says “be grateful,” strange sermon from someone unsworn to hunger.
Fridge light glows on nothing, a spotlight for an empty script.
I say “we’re fine” in the tone you use when you don’t believe it.

Gas gauge hits E with a knowing little smirk.
Bank app loads slow, like even it’s tired of the math.
Bills arrive early; hope arrives late.
If this is a game, someone changed the rules mid match.

Hold your breath.
This is the place where denial used to help.
Not today.

Punch in, punch out, does the world even flinch?
Clock spins heavy, loaded like a wheel we never win.
Capital shuffle, patience in the red,
Trading tomorrow for groceries on credit.

Punch in, punch out, burnout keeps the beat.
Dancing through layoffs like it’s sacred routine.
Call it a system; I call it a threat.
Still buying hope with groceries on credit.
On credit, on credit.

Kids skip the doctor, healing’s a luxury tier now.
Breakfast becomes a game, creative cooking challenge,
hiding the truth behind my best Sunday morning voice.
Some lies are mercies; some mercies are cruel.

Meanwhile they’re mining asteroids
while I’m mining couch cushions for quarters.
One car repair away from choosing heat or food.
One sick day from the edge, tell me again how this is normal.

Dental is optional, vision is debatable,
pain is something you budget for.
I’ve earned a degree in making do.
Strange how the country leans on us,
but never leans near us.

Quiet doesn’t mean safe.
Quiet means tired.
Quiet means adapting.
They call it resilience;
I call it captivity with better lighting.

Sirens sing harmony with overdue notices.
City lights flicker like nerves about to snap.
Work till you break, that’s the hymn they hum at the top.

But I’ve broken before
and rebuilt with spite and borrowed screws,
stitched myself together from scraps they wrote off.
Stronger, cheaper, harder to erase.
Their entire margin fears that.

Punch in, punch out, does the world even flinch?
Clock spins heavy, loaded like a wheel we never win.
Capital shuffle, patience in the red,
Trading tomorrow for groceries on credit.

Punch in, punch out, burnout keeps the beat.
Dancing through layoffs like it’s sacred routine.
Call it a system; I call it a threat.
Still buying hope with groceries on credit.
On credit.
On credit.
On—

Call it the economy.
I call it theft with paperwork.

Groceries On Credit

something new

Richard Cranium - Over U (Prod. Under The Maple Tree)

MUSIC PRODUCER // STREAM ALL SONGS BEFORE RELEASE ALREADY HERE ON SOUNDCLOUD 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

FOR THE GAME // WZD 

℗ WZDave & WZD_anoscha 2025

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.

Our AI project is built for music lovers, blending the power of technology with the soul of music. We craft deep, meaningful lyrics that echo your emotions, paired with beats that make you move. From intimate ballads to high-energy anthems, our mission is to inspire, connect, and musify the world, turning every moment into the soundtrack of life.

Electronic-based producer from Michigan. 

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

I follow my passions & dreams. Follow me on Instagram and subscribe to my YouTube.

New tracks tagged #alt pop