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It's not much here, so gather around. Artist/Music or Beats Maker

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🎧Electronic producer.🎹Online musician 2005🎶psychedelic tunes.🕶nostalgic influences.⚗Reason & Cubase Technician🖥PC builder 1991♠house♣rave♥electro♦techno🎐synthwave🎭remixes🎞free promo support🎟Synthfam🧥World Influencer🧲music collector🔮1982📻

Voltaroxx is the sound of forgotten futures, midnight circuits, and dust-covered dreams rendered in rhythm and noise. Born from the flicker of CRT screens and raised on a steady infusion of cyberpunk cinema, glitchy game consoles, and VHS fuzz, he builds music that’s less about genre and more about atmosphere—audio collages from the back alleys of the imagination.

Growing up, Voltaroxx was glued to the glow of Blade Runner, Akira, Ghost in the Shell, and obscure sci-fi anime taped over Saturday morning cartoons. The worlds were bleak but beautiful, eerie but electric. At the same time, he was living inside the soundchips of machines like the ZX Spectrum, NES, and Mega Drive—systems that hummed, beeped, and crackled with strange life. Those early sounds never left; they just evolved.

His music doesn’t follow rules or trends. One moment it's dusty lo-fi techno, the next it’s eerie ambient, then suddenly it's chaotic 160 BPM jungle with warped pads and broken memories. Tracks like VizzerLine show just how deep the time capsule goes—an atmospheric 90s jungle homage that blends ghosted-out pads with rolling breaks and a dreamlike energy..

Voltaroxx doesn’t believe in “sticking to one style.” He follows moods, fragments, old files, and the static of ideas half-remembered from forgotten arcade cabinets or the background hum of a tube TV. Some days it’s electro with a sci-fi edge. Other days, it’s decayed ambient or synth-heavy jams with melodies that loop like a corrupted memory card.

He never really thought anyone would listen. These tracks were, and still are, made mostly for himself—just an outlet, a way to exorcise digital ghosts. So when people started listening, following, commenting—it was surreal. It still is. Every play, every follow means a lot. No PR machine. No hype. Just raw sound from a bedroom somewhere, echoing into the void and somehow landing in your headphones.

Thank you for tuning in. Really.
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FMP is ''DARKFALXX'' Dj & Music Producer from Brazil.
All songs for ''free Download''

(New album “Schema” available for purchase on bandcamp! Moving forward I won’t be posting as much on here, reached the ol’ limit)

In the year 1991 The Institute released a miasma of chemicals into the atmosphere.  Some say it was an accidental explosion. Some say it was all part of some grand conspiracy. What is known is that this miasma hovered for weeks and grew, covering the land and plunging it into chaos. This event came to be known as “The Release.”

Most of those who came in contact with it died, the ones who didn’t were scattered abroad and they struggled to survive.  That which was unleashed during the release, caused the dead to come back, yet they were different. They were ravenous and murderous. They would bite, claw, wail and moan.  They could not be reasoned with. This forced the survivors into hiding, many could not find their families and lost friends in the confusion.

Time seemed to come to a standstill, the 90’s never progressed. Art was unable to flourish. Yet, where others had tried to survive, one particular man stumbled upon a sanctuary, or at least it was unto him. It had a generator, food production, and clean water. Inside was a man, a musician, whom lay dead upon the floor.  He must have been preparing for something like this but something had gotten to him. The man buried the musician and took up residence.

    With time, the place remained unaffected. The man who had found it had finally begun to flourish. He had time to ponder now, he decided that the only good work he could do now was record the stories of those he knew and loved, some whom he did not know and hated. The tale of what The Institute had done and how it affected everything. With nothing but the instruments left there, he began to record it all. He scrawled on the front of each recording... 

The Institute 91’

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The Institute 91'