Rec
☠️
𝙉𝙤 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙪𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙩 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩…
Maybe it was a nameless track by a soundcloud user called 00683402-289 — the cover a blurred face of a woman with ghost-white eyes, like Sadako from The Ring, cut by digital glitches and strange numbers flickering in the background. The link vanished hours later. But those who listened… never forgot.
I found it by accident. It was 3AM, headphones maxed, scrolling through random SoundCloud playlists. It started with a muffled laugh, like someone locked in a closet. Then came static, strange rhythms, distorted Jersey kicks — too fast, too broken, something was wrong. There were whispers. TV noise. Voices I couldn’t understand.
Since then, I started seeing a pattern. Different profiles. Same cursed energy. Tracks with names like bathroomcamera3final or i see u in the walls. Producers hiding behind aliases. Accounts disappearing overnight. But they all shared one thing:
The music felt… alive.
🎧 What is Horror Club? Before the blood hit the dancefloor, Jersey Club was pure bounce and joy — fast, chopped-up, full of Motorola ringtone charm and YouTube-480p nostalgia. But over time, something… broke. Glitches multiplied. BPMs spiked. And what once sounded playful turned unrecognizable.
Horror Club is what happens when that energy gets possessed. The structure is still there — the kicks, the stutters, the loops — but now warped, cursed, infected. You hear voices that shouldn’t be there. TV static. Disconnected calls. Ghosts saying “dead… dead… dead” instead of “bounce”. And those iconic whip sounds? They’re still around — but drowned in bitcrush, flanger, and digital rot. Less nightclub, more haunted hospital hallway.
If classic Jersey sounds like a packed summer rave, Horror Club is a cold 4AM rave in a collapsing asylum with one flickering fluorescent light and a generator on its last breath.
This isn’t just a new style. It’s a transmission. And you might’ve already heard it without knowing.
—
🔗 Listen. Read. Don’t say we didn’t warn you: https://open.substack.com/pub/poliedral/p/arqueologia-digital-horror-club-ep03?r=1id8ff&utm_medium=ios
𝚂𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚜. ̷S̴o̸m̷e̶t̴h̵i̵n̴g̷ ̵i̵s̶ ̵s̴t̶i̷l̷l̷ ̴l̶i̷s̴t̶e̶n̷i̵n̴g̴.̵.̷.̷ ̴𝙩̶𝙝̷𝙚̵𝙮̸’̸𝙧̷𝙚̴ ̴𝙣̶𝙤̶𝙩̵ ̵𝙖̸𝙡̸𝙡̷ ̷𝙜̸𝙤̶𝙣̶ 𝙚̴.̶.̸.̸ ̸̢̙̱̳͚̱̖͍̰̹̟̳̤͕̖̿̇͠𝙘̴̩̩̬̠̩̠͉̥̬̘͓͎̘̈́̽̍̋͐̊̋͌̅̇̏̚͜͠𝙖̷̢̬̪̝̼̮̹̙̳̗́̍̊̐͐̓̄̓̔̄̎̈́́𝙣̷̡̢̛͇̤̫̺̩̼̬̤͈̏̽͌̄͆̈́̓̽̑͂̐͐̐͑͝ ̴͈͉̪̞̬̲̻̺̖̘̲́̇͗̑̒́̏͗̇̅̍̕͘͘͜͜͠𝙮̷̡̛̬͚̫̦̖̥̺̝̤̳̮̜̪̠̱̿̓̑̏̑̓̐̌̐̓͘̚͘̚͜͝͠͠͠𝙤̸̨̳̻͓̼͚̙̫̯̠͗̄̏̃̑̀̆̍̆͐̾̇𝙪̶̨̠͓̻̦̞̺̖̺̰͚̖̮̞̮̍̓͒̀̄̒̋̒̋̎̾̔̚̚͝ ̵̺̮̳͔͇̟̤̠̠̠̪̼̓̍̒̿̿͛̔͋̔̈́̿̑́͘͘̚͝𝙝̸̢̢̟̤̠̻̱̼̝̼̗̘̞̯͗̇͒̾͊͂̋̅͒̾̽̅̾̇̔͘̚𝙧̷̢̛͇̬̳̖̼͚̬̩̬͔͙̰͔̗̖̱́͌̏͗̅͂̒̏̋͌̐̚͜𝙞̷̢̦̳̜̱̩̺̼̩̬̱̮̳̞̮̹̮̖̿̎̀̅̍͛͛͋̐̔̾̿͆͘𝙣̶̢̛̲̩̗̥̫̩̮̬̩̯̠̘͂̈́̾̅̇̈́̆͊̓̎̈́̔̎̚̚͝͠𝙜̸̛̜͕̟͚͔̠̟̼̼̫̘̦̼͍̫̒̈́͗͊͛͗͒̍̇̑͑͂̚͝.̶̗̗̮̮̟̖̙͓̞̝̬̠̬̯̯̀͋̽́̐̏̒͂̄́̿͝
Maybe it was a nameless track by a soundcloud user called 00683402-289 — the cover a blurred face of a woman with ghost-white eyes, like Sadako from The Ring, cut by digital glitches and strange numbers flickering in the background. The link vanished hours later. But those who listened… never forgot.
I found it by accident. It was 3AM, headphones maxed, scrolling through random SoundCloud playlists. It started with a muffled laugh, like someone locked in a closet. Then came static, strange rhythms, distorted Jersey kicks — too fast, too broken, something was wrong. There were whispers. TV noise. Voices I couldn’t understand.
Since then, I started seeing a pattern. Different profiles. Same cursed energy. Tracks with names like bathroomcamera3final or i see u in the walls. Producers hiding behind aliases. Accounts disappearing overnight. But they all shared one thing:
The music felt… alive.
🎧 What is Horror Club? Before the blood hit the dancefloor, Jersey Club was pure bounce and joy — fast, chopped-up, full of Motorola ringtone charm and YouTube-480p nostalgia. But over time, something… broke. Glitches multiplied. BPMs spiked. And what once sounded playful turned unrecognizable.
Horror Club is what happens when that energy gets possessed. The structure is still there — the kicks, the stutters, the loops — but now warped, cursed, infected. You hear voices that shouldn’t be there. TV static. Disconnected calls. Ghosts saying “dead… dead… dead” instead of “bounce”. And those iconic whip sounds? They’re still around — but drowned in bitcrush, flanger, and digital rot. Less nightclub, more haunted hospital hallway.
If classic Jersey sounds like a packed summer rave, Horror Club is a cold 4AM rave in a collapsing asylum with one flickering fluorescent light and a generator on its last breath.
This isn’t just a new style. It’s a transmission. And you might’ve already heard it without knowing.
—
🔗 Listen. Read. Don’t say we didn’t warn you: https://open.substack.com/pub/poliedral/p/arqueologia-digital-horror-club-ep03?r=1id8ff&utm_medium=ios
𝚂𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚜. ̷S̴o̸m̷e̶t̴h̵i̵n̴g̷ ̵i̵s̶ ̵s̴t̶i̷l̷l̷ ̴l̶i̷s̴t̶e̶n̷i̵n̴g̴.̵.̷.̷ ̴𝙩̶𝙝̷𝙚̵𝙮̸’̸𝙧̷𝙚̴ ̴𝙣̶𝙤̶𝙩̵ ̵𝙖̸𝙡̸𝙡̷ ̷𝙜̸𝙤̶𝙣̶ 𝙚̴.̶.̸.̸ ̸̢̙̱̳͚̱̖͍̰̹̟̳̤͕̖̿̇͠𝙘̴̩̩̬̠̩̠͉̥̬̘͓͎̘̈́̽̍̋͐̊̋͌̅̇̏̚͜͠𝙖̷̢̬̪̝̼̮̹̙̳̗́̍̊̐͐̓̄̓̔̄̎̈́́𝙣̷̡̢̛͇̤̫̺̩̼̬̤͈̏̽͌̄͆̈́̓̽̑͂̐͐̐͑͝ ̴͈͉̪̞̬̲̻̺̖̘̲́̇͗̑̒́̏͗̇̅̍̕͘͘͜͜͠𝙮̷̡̛̬͚̫̦̖̥̺̝̤̳̮̜̪̠̱̿̓̑̏̑̓̐̌̐̓͘̚͘̚͜͝͠͠͠𝙤̸̨̳̻͓̼͚̙̫̯̠͗̄̏̃̑̀̆̍̆͐̾̇𝙪̶̨̠͓̻̦̞̺̖̺̰͚̖̮̞̮̍̓͒̀̄̒̋̒̋̎̾̔̚̚͝ ̵̺̮̳͔͇̟̤̠̠̠̪̼̓̍̒̿̿͛̔͋̔̈́̿̑́͘͘̚͝𝙝̸̢̢̟̤̠̻̱̼̝̼̗̘̞̯͗̇͒̾͊͂̋̅͒̾̽̅̾̇̔͘̚𝙧̷̢̛͇̬̳̖̼͚̬̩̬͔͙̰͔̗̖̱́͌̏͗̅͂̒̏̋͌̐̚͜𝙞̷̢̦̳̜̱̩̺̼̩̬̱̮̳̞̮̹̮̖̿̎̀̅̍͛͛͋̐̔̾̿͆͘𝙣̶̢̛̲̩̗̥̫̩̮̬̩̯̠̘͂̈́̾̅̇̈́̆͊̓̎̈́̔̎̚̚͝͠𝙜̸̛̜͕̟͚͔̠̟̼̼̫̘̦̼͍̫̒̈́͗͊͛͗͒̍̇̑͑͂̚͝.̶̗̗̮̮̟̖̙͓̞̝̬̠̬̯̯̀͋̽́̐̏̒͂̄́̿͝
+5
1d ago
Comments (2)
reminds me a lot of the sound palette and production style of 90s hardcore/gabber and darkside dnb. this is nutty stuff
1d ago
Related Recs
Rec
🎧The mysterious online entity known only as “DJ Wallh4x” released this project on Club Cringe back in 2021. Every moment scratches every fold of your brain. Although the samples on the album range from cute video game references to church hymn vibes, there’s an undeniable evilness in every track. I listened to the whole album in the shower the other morning and had such a glorious day after. Favorite tracks “BMORA CLUB”, “Buy Mode”, “Crazy Hand”.
Rec
Don’t know what to do with this, but wanted it somewhere other than sitting in my laptop.
Apr 17, 2025
Top Recs from @agazero
Rec
imagine the sound of early 2000s Japanese tech commercials —
polished, slow-motion shots of cellphones spinning midair, ambient synths playing over translucent interfaces, a clean digital world full of artificial calm.
that’s where "PurData" lives.
born in some facebook groups between 2017–2018, it didn’t start as a genre — it emerged as a mood. ppl began tagging certain tracks that felt like lost soundtracks for futuristic devices: synthetic but emotional, nostalgic but unplaceable. music that could play on the home screen of a PlayStation 2, or during the boot sequence of a dream you forgot.
and no, it’s not vaporwave lol. PurData isn’t ironic or consumerist — it’s tender, high-res, and full of emotional architecture. its roots are in Japanese video game soundtracks, ambient music, and old tech aesthetics that felt utopian, not decayed.
the artist who crystallized this language is DV-i — her visual + sonic work feels like interactive dreams from another OS. but she’s part of a constellation: Yesterdayneverhappened (who played on my radio show here in Brazil — his whole discography drips with PurData textures), ViRiX Dreamcore, UNIT KAI, NOLANBEROLLIN — each building sound worlds of translucent synths, gentle glitches and emotional stillness.
it also carries the DNA of: — Joe Hisaishi’s Ghibli soundtracks, — the ambient spirituality of Susumu Yokota, — Boogiepop Phantom’s eerie calm, — the surreal beauty of LSD: Dream Emulator, — ghostly ad loops like Ancetantina’s tapes, — and the sonic melancholy of Final Fantasy,Phantasy Star Online, Ghost in the Shell, and Love-de-Lic games.
rhythmically, it’s connected to Soichi Terada, Koji Nakagawa, and Studio Pressure, where jazz fusion meets breakbeat, trip-hop, jungle, dnb and synthetic longing.
some of it works on the dancefloor — soft, glitched, emotionally encrypted. but most of it feels like ambient music for a city inside a mainframe. music that opens like a file you didn’t know you missed.
🧬 I wrote a full deep dive on this digital microgenre — its roots, its references, its feeling. 👉 https://poliedral.substack.com/p/arqueologia-digital-purdata-ep02
I also left a link attached to this post to a great playlist on Spotify curated by me.
if you’re into soft futurism, synthetic nostalgia, ambient game scores and delicate internet ruins — follow my Substack called Poliedral. I write about glitch aesthetics (in Portuguese but it is easy to translate the page) , forgotten formats, and music that remembers. 💿🌫️🌐
born in some facebook groups between 2017–2018, it didn’t start as a genre — it emerged as a mood. ppl began tagging certain tracks that felt like lost soundtracks for futuristic devices: synthetic but emotional, nostalgic but unplaceable. music that could play on the home screen of a PlayStation 2, or during the boot sequence of a dream you forgot.
and no, it’s not vaporwave lol. PurData isn’t ironic or consumerist — it’s tender, high-res, and full of emotional architecture. its roots are in Japanese video game soundtracks, ambient music, and old tech aesthetics that felt utopian, not decayed.
the artist who crystallized this language is DV-i — her visual + sonic work feels like interactive dreams from another OS. but she’s part of a constellation: Yesterdayneverhappened (who played on my radio show here in Brazil — his whole discography drips with PurData textures), ViRiX Dreamcore, UNIT KAI, NOLANBEROLLIN — each building sound worlds of translucent synths, gentle glitches and emotional stillness.
it also carries the DNA of: — Joe Hisaishi’s Ghibli soundtracks, — the ambient spirituality of Susumu Yokota, — Boogiepop Phantom’s eerie calm, — the surreal beauty of LSD: Dream Emulator, — ghostly ad loops like Ancetantina’s tapes, — and the sonic melancholy of Final Fantasy,Phantasy Star Online, Ghost in the Shell, and Love-de-Lic games.
rhythmically, it’s connected to Soichi Terada, Koji Nakagawa, and Studio Pressure, where jazz fusion meets breakbeat, trip-hop, jungle, dnb and synthetic longing.
some of it works on the dancefloor — soft, glitched, emotionally encrypted. but most of it feels like ambient music for a city inside a mainframe. music that opens like a file you didn’t know you missed.
🧬 I wrote a full deep dive on this digital microgenre — its roots, its references, its feeling. 👉 https://poliedral.substack.com/p/arqueologia-digital-purdata-ep02
I also left a link attached to this post to a great playlist on Spotify curated by me.
if you’re into soft futurism, synthetic nostalgia, ambient game scores and delicate internet ruins — follow my Substack called Poliedral. I write about glitch aesthetics (in Portuguese but it is easy to translate the page) , forgotten formats, and music that remembers. 💿🌫️🌐