Radio Archive

Bleeding in the StudioAlice Longyu Gao

Trapped in a recording studio filled to the brim with industry bros, Alice Longyu Gao bathes in her own blood. Her smile lets loose a steady stream of sanguine fluid that flows over black shoe polish and falls on deaf ears. She spits out the last few drops and lays down another bass line. Through cigarette smoke, she could almost pass for one of them — just another industry shell sipping rich bitch juice by the console — but popped blood vessels and open wounds say otherwise. Each drop of blood bubbles up into the synth until she's chanting, "Bleed, bleed, bleed," offering up every ounce of her being to the men who push the industry's buttons. But all they see is a little girl who couldn't possibly make it. So she puffs on a white boy's cigarette and chops off her head. She's bleeding in the studio, but what's the point of a pop star without a pretty face? The room empties of execs and Alice's essence is left to spill across a thousand knobs and dials, now controlled by painted nails and blood-stained hands.

the fractal songgabby start

Coming of age with a tongue full of acid, gabby start’s identity fractures in two. He is both the imaginative child and the scolding parent, watching in joyful horror as psychedelic demons are absorbed into his bloodstream. Time passes at irregular intervals until life feels wasted even in moments of stark sobriety. “Acid ruined your life,” he confirms again and again and again, his voice level and sure, until the final refrain cracks open his vocal chords and buries him under the snare. He’s caught within a fractal that’s ever-expanding, like the final letter of LSD-D-D-D. And at the fractal’s end sits luca, vaguely human shaped and growing farther away with each wasted moment. A tab in one hand and time in another.

cellophaneFKA twigs

You can’t sink into the carpet listening to “cellophane” forever. One day, the algorithm will cease its calculated shuffle and the gel tablet melting behind your tongue will enter and exit your bloodstream. The ceiling will stop shifting and the faces made from exposed wood grain and old, sickly knots will lose their features. You’ll exit the ark, and the air will sit hot and heavy on your shoulders until you’re buried under the mountains... Read more in our FKA twigs-inspired piece, here!

from paris, with loveosquinn

Soon, the world will end; signaled not by the sound of trumpets, but by a fat EDM drop. With each electronic tremor, the earth's crust gives way. Seas boil, forests burn, and humanity retreats farther from the sun, looking inward as their walls close in. On the edge of rapture sits osquinn in her ergonomic gaming chair, alone save for the hundreds of thousands of disciples breathing down her neck… Read more in our creative analysis of osquinn’s debut LP, drive-by lullabies, here!


In "2ppl," aldn tells the story of would-be lovers in the age of the internet. Burdened by miscommunication and misconception, these "2ppl" run circles around each other without every crossing paths for more than a moment. "She's got a crush, he doesn't know her, but he's all she wants," aldn sings of their longing. Liked tweets and empty DMs dictate this modern romance with aldn acting as the narrator. His smooth voice jumps octaves and reverbs at the end of each sentiment, drawing attention to the desire for human affection that can't seem to be met online. This is the song of two people who "walk the same road, but they'll never walk the same street"; two people who are serenaded by sweet guitars but can't help getting lost when the bass drops and the synths march forward.