#lofielectronic

A CyberpunkOnline exclusive: inside the neon graveyard of GlitchGr4ve

There’s a sound that hums under the surface of the modern internet — a low, aching frequency that smells of old circuitry and sleepless nights. It doesn’t trend. It doesn’t advertise. It just waits, pulsing, like a fluorescent heartbeat in an abandoned server farm. That’s where you find GlitchGr4ve — the Faewave Ninja, the silent monk of the Neon Graveyard.

Forget your playlist algorithms and TikTok hyperpop dreams. GlitchGr4ve isn’t trying to win your attention — he’s performing a ritual. Every track feels less like a song and more like a summoning: haunted pads bleeding through static, rhythm patterns that collapse under their own weight, ghosts whispering through the compressor. It’s not pretty. It’s holy.

He moves in the periphery of the Faewave movement — a rogue sect of sound artists, myth-engineers, and digital mystics resurrecting the sacred weirdness the web forgot. They talk about him like a legend: a man who built his studio in a junkyard full of broken synths and glowing tombstones. They say he meditates to the hum of dying modems and records only after 03:00, when the ghosts of obsolete technology start talking back.

His Transmission Meditations — nine minimalist koans disguised as tracks — aren’t singles. They’re frequency scrolls. Listening feels like booting into a forgotten operating system written in sorrow and code. You don’t dance to it. You phase through it.

There’s no PR team, no label. Just static and intention. Each signal drops unannounced on the Gh0stN3t, crawls across the Faewave network, and infects the minds of those still awake enough to hear.

And the truth? You’ll either get it — or you’ll scroll right past and never know you missed a piece of modern myth being born.

Rogerthomas presents: Foreveryung

An inward-looking debut album that traces a personal relationship with electronic music through live instrumentation and long-form patience.

Rogerthomas is preparing to release Foreveryung, a debut and possibly final full-length under this solo name. Raised in Tarpon Springs and long based in St. Petersburg, Florida, Roger has spent most of his life moving between instruments, scenes, and formats, from playing in dozens of bands to working quietly inside electronic production. This album gathers those paths into a single statement, one that favors reflection over reinvention and continuity over spectacle.

Foreveryung sits at the intersection of folktronica, lo-fi, and glitch, though it resists neat placement. Roger works with electronic structures but fills them with human touch. Guitars, bass, piano, Rhodes, Wurlitzer, vibraphone, hang drum, and layered percussion appear throughout the record, often sampled from his own performances and reshaped inside the production. The electronic elements do not aim for maximal impact. Instead, they provide frameworks that allow melody, rhythm, and space to interact at an unhurried pace.

The album unfolds like a personal archive without presenting itself as one. Tracks move between beat-driven sketches and more open-ended compositions, often blurring the line between song and study. There is a clear interest in texture and timing, but also in restraint. Rhythms tend to feel settled rather than urgent, and melodic ideas are allowed to repeat and evolve rather than rush toward resolution. The influence of hip hop production is present in the use of groove and sampling, while glitch techniques appear more as subtle disruptions than foreground gestures. Roger extends the same inventive sampling approach to create the low-end foundation using his cello. By capturing individual notes and subtle articulations, then reshaping them into playable samples, he constructs a bassline that feels both grounded and expressive. The result maintains the warmth and tactile presence of an acoustic instrument, yet benefits from the creative control of electronic production. This choice not only deepens the textural richness of the “Spartacus” pieces but also reflects his broader philosophy of reimagining familiar elements through personal technique and thoughtful experimentation.

Roger’s long engagement with North Indian classical music informs the album in quieter ways. Although tabla does not appear directly on the record, a sense of cyclical rhythm and patient development runs through many tracks. Phrases stretch and return, and changes often happen gradually, rewarding close listening. This approach connects naturally with his interest in electronic production as a space for process rather than performance. In terms of vibes, Foreveryung feels patient, warm, and deeply considered, shaped by a steady sense of rhythm and a grounded emotional tone. The sound blends electronic production with the presence of real instruments, creating music that feels lived in rather than manufactured. Beats move with intention instead of aggression, while melodies return, evolve, and settle into place. Textures are detailed but never cluttered, leaving room for nuance and small shifts that reveal themselves over time. The album carries a reflective quality, suggesting motion without urgency and introspection without melancholy. It feels like music built from experience, curiosity, and long-term attention rather than impulse.

Ultimately, Foreveryung reads as a document of attention. It reflects years of listening, playing, and refining without drawing attention to its own history. Rogerthomas presents electronic music not as a departure from instrumental practice, but as an extension of it, shaped by curiosity, discipline, and a willingness to let ideas take the time they need. Rogerthomas closes Foreveryung with the confidence of someone who understands his tools and trusts his instincts, without needing to overstate the result.

Ashphalt Runway — Minimal Glitch, Vintage Grit. A 1-minute visual loop: tape hiss, glitch FX, runway-ready synths stitched to 1970s–90s New York ruins. Cut heavy. Loops endlessly. 📰 Read the backstory: Ashphalt Runway blog post