If sugar, spice, and a foot-tapping bass were a person, they'd invariably shape-shift into Maelith. The indie dance sensation hails from the mythical city of her namesake – a place as enigmatic, vibrant, and pulsating as her music.

Coming from a realm where the sunrise paints the sky in a symphony of techno hues, Maelith's city of origin is as enigmatic and infectious as her tunes and just as impossible to tune out. It only makes sense then, that her celebratory dance beats make even the grumpiest of granddads do a head bob or two.

Her notable track "Butterflies" will make a surprising entrance, landing in your heart with the grace and charm of a thousand of the colourful creatures, evoking smiles usually reserved for sunbeams and unexpected tax refunds. It's like eating candy in a club - tooth-achingly sweet, and deliciously intoxicating.

Maelith's music isn't just happy—it's a spontaneous euphoria packed into dance beats. Each track, a flawless mesh of elevating melodies sure to paint a bright, neon smile on your face. It never rains in Maelith's city. So, grab an umbrella because you're about to get showered with joy bombs!

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There’s a certain stillness in Celeste Raye’s voice — the kind that turns crowded rooms quiet and late-night drives cinematic. Born and raised in South London, she grew up mimicking the elegance of old soul singers and the cool detachment of ‘90s club divas. On stage, Celeste doesn’t reach for the spotlight — it finds her.

Her latest release, Velvet Switch, is a slow-burning club anthem soaked in longing. Produced by NOT FM and available exclusively on Filodyo, the track pulses with quiet intensity — as if it’s remembering something you forgot you missed. Celeste’s voice doesn’t cry out. It hovers, suspended above the beat, tracing the shape of absence with each note.

People don’t come to her sets just to dance. They come to feel understood — in dim lights, with their eyes closed, mouthing words they’ve never said out loud. Velvet Switch captures that moment between stillness and surrender, when the music takes over and you stop pretending you’re fine.

Celeste Raye isn’t trying to be timeless. She already is — not because she sounds like someone else, but because she sounds like a feeling you’ve had before, but never named.

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Where Parisian glamour meets electro-pop dance diva, you'll find the enchanting artist, Manon Vallois. Traipsing down a yellow brick road of pulsing beats and bold impressions, Vallois' irresistible tunes are the epitome of joy and joie de vivre.

This delightful, quirky Parisienne is the lovechild of the City of Love's rich artistry and throbbing nightlife, a lass always found a hop, skip, and pirouette away from the nearest beat drop. With her signature track, "My Dreaming Life", Vallois provides the escapism we all need from time to time. She takes listeners on a whimsical journey, backed by high-energy rhythms and melodies that would make even the Eiffel Tower shake its steel self, setting hearts aflutter quicker than you can say "Croissant".

Vallois' music is the couture of the dance genre—handcrafted, energetic, and unafraid to be avant-garde. Each beat an homage to Paris, the pulsing rhythm of her home injected into pulsating electro melodies. Yet, no matter how vivacious her bass line or infectious her hook, it's the inherent optimism in her music, the joy she infuses in every track that transforms listeners into undeniably happy dancers—a task only possible by someone as enchanting as Manon Vallois.

Afterall, Vallois is not just a sonic maven, she's essentially happiness personified. The dictionary people are just slackin' by not placing her picture beside the word 'happy' by now. So, if you're feeling downhearted, just press play on a Manon Vallois track and dance like a Parisian; it's the quickest route from gloom to groove central.

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With a name synonymous with the hauntingly beautiful waters of Ohrid, North Macedonia, Elira Vayne is your go-to dance diva with a twist. Part French, part Albanian, and 100% maverick, Vayne gives dance music a refreshing Balkan edge.

Born to the lullaby of a mandolin on Ohrid's shores, Elira was raised with the zest of Albania and the charm of France running through her veins. As if algae-ridden waters and sun-lit picnic spots out of posters whispered into her ears, everyone wondered, "Does Ohrid govern the sounds she creates?" And in a quaint voice, she would almost always blush and say, "Mais oui, and a bit of Marseille jazz too."

By the time teenage took over, the rhythm of the mandolin turned to jazz in the pulsating heart of Marseille. There, in a music sklearnamediciabacked alley bistro turned vocal studio, she trained some more in the gallant art of French jazz vocals. Little did she know that her cultural potpourri would give birth to a new music sensation: the vivacious tones of French Electronica blended with raw Balkan folklore.

Never leaving her roots far behind, each album cover of Elira's embroiders a rich tapestry of Balkan texture. In contrast, her songs hum with the vibe of French electronic dance music, mostly with her biggest hit yet, "I'm The Lighter". You can feel the happy energy as potent as the Ohrid sun, making her music a cocktail of infectious melodies under the umbrella contract of Filodyo. And quite frankly, it's this sun-soaked, high spirited party in the Byzantines' backyard that sets Elira Vayne on a league above your usual dance floor DJs.

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Wade Hollis doesn’t chase the spotlight — he moves through the world like a shadow at dusk, quietly carving songs out of silence and sand. Born somewhere between the border towns of New Mexico and West Texas, he grew up surrounded by static-filled radio, motel ceilings, and the hum of distant freight trains.

His voice is weathered, like desert wood — raw, honest, and unpolished. Every lyric he writes feels like a road he’s driven a hundred times and still doesn’t fully understand. There’s no big team behind him, no hometown hero narrative. Just a guitar, a gravel road, and the ache of never quite belonging.

Hollis doesn’t stream anywhere else. His music lives exclusively on Filodyo and NOT FM, like postcards from a place most people drive past but never stop to feel. If you’ve ever stared out of a car window at 2 a.m. and felt both free and completely lost — you’ve already heard Wade Hollis, whether you knew it or not.

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Eli Varnish spent most of his life drawing straight lines for crooked cities. As an architect, he designed libraries, train stations, and far too many gray, forgettable office buildings. He was always more interested in light than concrete — the way it moved through windows, shifted on floors, or disappeared behind closed doors. But deadlines piled up, and inspiration gave way to invoices. When he retired at 62, he didn’t throw a party. He just handed in his keys, took the long way home, and listened to the silence.

That’s when the music came back.
In his youth, Eli had played piano quietly — always in private, never in public. Now, with no blueprints to chase, he returned to the keys. Slowly. Gently. A few friends joined him — a bassist who used to drive a bus, a trombonist who sold insurance, and a drummer who once taught math. They started meeting weekly above an old bookstore. No gigs, no names. Just music.

Eventually, they found their way into a small jazz bar — dim, warm, and half-forgotten. That’s where Eli plays now. No spotlight, no talk. Just a glass of red wine, a crooked hat, and a piano that creaks in all the right places. The audience doesn’t clap much. They just nod, like they recognize something they forgot they knew.

Eli doesn’t miss architecture. “Buildings are meant to last,” he says, “but songs... songs are meant to leave.” And so he plays — not to impress, but to remember. To trace old lines in the air. To build something no one can own, but everyone can feel.

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Born and raised in Ventura, California, Jett Ralston grew up in a garage that smelled like motor oil, vinyl records, and his father’s hair pomade. While other kids watched cartoons, Jett memorized the Grease soundtrack and tried to mirror Elvis's hip sway in the hallway mirror. His voice—low, smoky, and just a little rough around the edges—carries the DNA of that golden age, but never feels stuck in it.

Jett’s debut single “Through Me” (feat. Dolores Queen) is a cinematic slow-burn: part lost love, part lounge confession. Produced exclusively for Filodyo, the track fuses analog charm with subtle modern edges, pairing his velvet baritone with Dolores Queen’s haunting harmonies. He doesn’t try to be Elvis — but he sings like someone who misses that kind of honesty on stage.

With a sound caught somewhere between a flickering jukebox and a midnight highway, Jett Ralston is not here for nostalgia — he's here to make old souls feel seen again.

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Wade Hollis doesn’t chase the spotlight — he moves through the world like a shadow at dusk, quietly carving songs out of silence and sand. Born somewhere between the border towns of New Mexico and West Texas, he grew up surrounded by static-filled radio, motel ceilings, and the hum of distant freight trains.

His voice is weathered, like desert wood — raw, honest, and unpolished. Every lyric he writes feels like a road he’s driven a hundred times and still doesn’t fully understand. There’s no big team behind him, no hometown hero narrative. Just a guitar, a gravel road, and the ache of never quite belonging.

Hollis doesn’t stream anywhere else. His music lives exclusively on Filodyo and NOT FM, like postcards from a place most people drive past but never stop to feel. If you’ve ever stared out of a car window at 2 a.m. and felt both free and completely lost — you’ve already heard Wade Hollis, whether you knew it or not.

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Meet Marco Bellini, the gleaming lone star of the independent dance scene, making you forget any sorrow with his upbeat tunes. Born and raised under the swaying palm trees of Naples, Italy, Bellini crafts sonic euphoria like no other.

Our man Bellini did not find his love in the stomping grounds of Naples’ electrifying night scene. Instead, the sun-soaked streets, vibrant markets, and the rhythmic cadence of the Mediterranean waves stirred something deep. This culminated in his irresistible brainchild—"The Land of No Tomorrow"—a track so hopelessly optimistic that it made the Billboard's 'Sad Songs' list for the sheer irony.

Marco, with his deft touch, keeps it simple—'Simple is the new sexy,' he once quipped, half-twirling his pencil-thin moustache. He convinces you there's always a dance party waiting around the corner, even in a world that often sounds like a broken record. His tunes are a sonic Piña Colada—sweet, refreshing, and leaving you high on life. As Marco himself proclaims, "a tempo that resonates with the heartbeat of joy, that's my journey's end."

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Soleil Vega is the kind of artist who can turn a rainy Tuesday into a rooftop party. Born and raised in Brighton, UK, she grew up surrounded by her mother’s old soul records and the pulse of the underground dance scene. Her music lives at the intersection of deep house grooves, pop sparkle, and feel-good R&B touches, driven by radiant vocals and unapologetically joyful lyrics.

Her breakout track “My Kitchen Stage” is a celebration of everyday magic—the kind you find dancing alone at home with a spatula mic in hand. The track blends warm house rhythms with bouncy basslines and a shimmering vocal delivery that makes you want to throw open the windows and turn the volume all the way up. It’s infectious, playful, and deeply personal.

Soleil’s sound is sun-kissed but grounded. She writes about friendship, late-night cravings, heartbreak, and finding your light—in the club, in the kitchen, or in your own reflection. And when she performs, it’s not a show, it’s a shared moment. Always real, always radiant.

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Bruno Galvez was born to a working-class Spanish family in Valencia, where the scent of orange blossoms mixed with the sound of distant flamenco was part of everyday life. Raised in a modest apartment above a small tapas bar, Bruno’s earliest memories include the strum of his grandfather’s old guitar and the rhythm of heels tapping against the tiled floor. Music wasn't just tradition — it was identity.

To support himself through school, Bruno played guitar on the streets and metro stations of Madrid, his case open for coins, his eyes always scanning for inspiration. These years shaped both his sound and his soul. The rawness of performing for strangers taught him to listen deeply to people’s silence — and to fill it with something honest. His fingers spoke when words failed, and soon his name became familiar in the underground corners of the city.

He studied Anthropology at the Universidad Autónoma de Madrid, drawn to human stories, rituals, and rhythms — the same themes that echo in his music. By night he was a student of culture; by day, a transmitter of it, blending traditional flamenco with the urgency of the modern world. His academic lens gave new depth to his compositions, adding layers that resonated beyond melody.

Today, Bruno Galvez is no longer just a street performer. He’s a storyteller, a cultural bridge, and a reminder that music — especially flamenco — is not meant to be caged. It is meant to move, to cry, to celebrate, and most importantly, to survive.

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Elyra Dawn was born in Rotterdam, raised between ferry horns and late-night radio static. Music wasn’t a choice — it was everywhere. Her mother sang quietly while folding laundry, her older brother blasted trance through paper-thin walls, and Elyra? She listened. Carefully. Absorbing melodies like secondhand sunlight.

She spent her teenage years bouncing between school choirs, bedroom recordings, and weekend trips to Amsterdam’s record stores. The moment she first heard Robyn’s Dancing On My Own on a train platform at dusk, something clicked. It wasn’t just about sadness or joy — it was how you could wear both in the same voice. That duality, the push and pull between euphoria and vulnerability, would become Elyra’s signature.

After performing in local clubs and uploading small demos online, she received an unexpected email from Filodyo’s Hakan E — a message that simply said: “You sound like you’ve lived a little. Let’s talk.” What followed was a slow, careful collaboration: late-night file exchanges, voice memos from backstage, moments captured between flights. Elyra didn’t rush it. She never does.

Today, her voice balances two worlds — the sweaty rush of the dancefloor and the quiet ache of a Sunday morning alone. Her hooks stick, her delivery stings, and her presence on stage feels at once intimate and cinematic. Elyra Dawn isn’t here to be loud. She’s here to be heard.

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Feeding off the neon pulse of Las Vegas, Adam Lamo has boogie-wired our hearts to irresistible dance beats like no one else. His music is more infectious than a hangover from an all-night disco party, and just as unforgettable.

Picture this: a youthful Adam, prowling the technicolor streets of Vegas, the city's rhythm flowing through his veins like liquid gold. With "Keep Me In That", Lamo masterfully bottled that dazzling, Frank Sinatra meets Calvin Harris vibe. The beats are sunnier than a Vegas summer heatwave and guaranteed to lift any moody blackjack player off their stool and onto the dancefloor.

Mr. Lamo whips up melodies that make choosing to sit out not an option, but a crime against fun itself. His music's joy factor hits harder than a final-round knockout; it's not just dance, it's happiness in audio form. Consider yourselves officially warned: surrender to the irresistible allure of Adam Lamo's beat, or risk a lifetime of being a total party pooper. Our lad from Vegas didn't just show up; he's here to make us dance 'til sunrise and beyond.

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Straight out of the indie heartland, meet Eliza Turing, the happy-go-lucky troubadour with a knack for knitting melodies that stick to your soul. Turing, unmistakably named in honor of her Silicon Valley roots, is a dose of sunshine in melancholic indie sound, with the main weapon in her musical arsenal being her 'filodyo' in enchanting harmony with her lyrics.

Every indie artist has their quirkiest, and Turing isn’t exempt. Yes, her crafty way of turning our text messages into her songs, it's like she's reading your chatbox through her chords. And yet, she carries an uncanny ability to transcribe these frivolous life ontologies into ballads with resilience and ample generosity – the persona aside her cat-loving nature.

Her standout track "Twilight" is a testament to this, translating the day's end languor into a jovial indie anthem that sets your feet tapping and heart humming. Turing taps into the secret sauce of scoring happiness, infusing a vibrant, peppy melody into her music.

So next time the day weighs heavy, your vibe seeks the indie humming, or perhaps, your feline friend needs a den companion, you know whose Soundcloud account to check out. No autographs, please, Turing only signs on music sheets, with notes, duck!

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Ayvenn was born and raised in Clearwater Heights, a quiet hillside town in Georgia where music wasn’t just background noise — it was how people coped, celebrated, and remembered. From Sunday gospel choirs to late-night Latin radio, the sounds around him shaped a boy who rarely spoke, but always listened. In silence, he learned to interpret the world. And when he began writing lyrics, it wasn’t about performance — it was about decoding feelings he couldn’t name.

Fusing Pop and R&B with understated Latin textures, Ayvenn crafts music that feels more like film than formula. His voice is warm, restrained, and precise — a narrator of emotional undercurrents rather than explosions. Each track unfolds slowly, deliberately, like memories coming into focus. There’s clarity in his subtlety, weight in his pauses.

His breakout song, “All for One Y.” was born from an unexpected connection. Hakan E — the mind behind Filodyo, known for his instinct in spotting rare talent — reached out after hearing early demos from Ayvenn. He sent a short message and a concept: “This isn’t a love song. It’s a math problem.” That idea resonated deeply. To Ayvenn, the X’s weren’t just variables — they were past mistakes, unanswered questions, the people he couldn’t quite hold onto. And the “Y”? The reason he kept trying.

Ayvenn recorded the song in a single late-night session, layering vocals with surgical attention, pulling tension from silence, and shaping each detail until it echoed with something intimate and real. To Solve for Y isn’t just a debut — it’s an internal dialogue turned outward, crafted for anyone who’s ever tried to explain a feeling they didn’t fully understand.

Now, Ayvenn is building a sound that’s emotionally meticulous, sonically immersive, and unmistakably his own. Every track is a quiet revelation. Every heartbreak, every wrong turn — part of the formula. And somewhere, at the end of it, is the answer. Always her.

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Axel Monroe was born on the edge of Athens, Georgia, where backroads hum with cicadas and old Fords rust under the southern sun. Raised by a single mother and a turntable, he grew up tracing guitar solos in the air before he ever held a six-string. His earliest memories are soaked in the sounds of Led Zeppelin’s "Physical Graffiti" and Thin Lizzy’s "Live and Dangerous"—records that spun endlessly in his living room, turning boyhood into something raw and electric.

He didn’t go to music school. He went to basements, pawn shops, and roadside dive bars—learning tone, timing, and truth the long way. Axel’s sound fuses the swagger of '70s rock giants with the cinematic punch of '80s anthems. There’s a southern drawl in his riffs, a touch of melancholy in his choruses, and a quiet confidence that only comes from living outside the algorithm.

His breakout track “Look At Them Dance” captures it all—a bittersweet anthem for anyone who’s watched joy from the sidelines, then decided to jump in anyway.

Now signed with NOT FM and releasing exclusively through Filodyo, Axel Monroe isn’t trying to bring back the past. He’s just making damn sure it never gets forgotten.

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Turn up the volume, kids, 'cause we're about to delve into the sonic world of Junai Elen, the independent dance music artist with an unmistakably Eastern flare to her beats that'll have you both bobbing your head and searching for the meaning of life. With the name Elen bouncing off from the concrete heart of Tokyo, Japan, it's no surprise her sound is as energetically charged as the city's pulsating nightlife.

Junai exploded onto the indie dance scene like a sushi roll on a 5-alarm fire. Her tunes, a dynamite mix of insistent beats and whimsical lyrical narratives; imagine Walt Whitman having a dance-off with Avicii. The lighthearted "Wish You Well" is a prime cut of this intoxicating blend, a melodic chicane that leads you straight to Hope Avenue, her music's quintessential street.

Dont be fooled, Junai might not have the star-studded mansion or the paparazzi onslaught, yet. But she's sculpted a career from making her followers dance, dream and dare to hope through music. As unpredictable as Tokyo rush hour, and just as exhilarating, Junai Elen is the independent dance music artist who's whipping up a storm one beat at a time.

Get your smart shoes on and join Junai's journey. It's a ride interspersed with humor, your heart pounding to the beat, and at every turn, there's an insistent hopefulness that says, it's going to be okay. After all, you're in the party with Junai Elen - and she wishes you well.

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Broken Halos Club is a ghost-lit rock outfit born in the after-hours of a burned-out bar in Cincinnati. Fronted by the enigmatic Leo Ryder, whose voice cuts like broken glass wrapped in velvet, the band delivers anthems for the misfits, the dancers, and the late-night wanderers. Mira Knox commands the bass like it’s a weapon of seduction, while Ash Renner turns every drumbeat into a warning shot.

Their breakout single “She Owns the Floor” is not just a song—it’s a defiant war cry for anyone who’s ever reclaimed the night. Exclusive to Filodyo, the track pulses with swagger and sweat, a raw tribute to the power of movement, presence, and fearless self-expression.

Broken Halos Club isn’t chasing charts—they’re chasing ghosts, echoes, and the kind of truth that only comes after midnight. Loud, unapologetic, and strangely beautiful, they’re less a band and more a beautifully damaged memory you can’t shake.

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Hailing from the sultry soundscape of Miami, Ricky Daz is the coastal city's keeper of infectious dance beats & lively tunes. With his most notable track "Contando los Minutos (feat Rome K)", Daz's feel-good grooves have placed him firmly on the indie dance radar.

Born and bred under the sweat-soaked dancehalls and neon nights of Miami, Ricky embodies the very essence of the city - hot, vibrant, and indulgent. His music isn't just made for glittering nights out, but also for cool mornings where last night's adrenaline still hums in your veins. The boy's got rhythm in his blood, and Miami's heart in his tracks.

With "Contando los Minutos", Ricky has combined relatable tale-telling with hard-hitting choreography, creating an irresistible dance floor pull. Using a radiant tonal palette, Daz evokes the pulsating rhythms of his city, blending soulful Latin beats with a punchy EDM undercurrent. Each beat hits like the Florida sun - vibrant and full of life.

Our man Daz isn't just an artist; he's a soundtrack to a city that never sleeps - always moving, always dancing, and forever happy. With every new release, he continues to develop a pulsating landscape of indulgent dance music, turning fleeting moments into timeless melodies. Ricky Daz, remember the name, because he's writing the rhythm of Miami, one beat at a time.

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Born from the concrete veins of New York City’s underground, The 5th Exit is not just a band — it's a warning siren echoing through the alleys of Brooklyn. Blending the unapologetic grit of East Coast punk with the swagger of early-2000s hip-hop, their music punches through the noise like a subway train in a blackout.

The band was formed in late 2023 in a condemned warehouse turned DIY venue in Bushwick, after a street brawl-turned-jam-session between strangers. The result? Five misfits who had no plan — just noise, energy, and something to scream.

Members:
🎤 Jayno Blakk (Lead Vocals / Chaos Designer)
A former graffiti artist with a voice like broken glass in a hurricane. Born in Flatbush, Jayno spits lyrics like they’re Molotovs, laced with rage and raw truth. Known for performing barefoot and bleeding by the end of every show.

🎸 Noelle "Nox" Vega (Lead Guitar / FX Wizard)
Puerto Rican shredder with a physics degree and a pedalboard built from junkyard parts. She speaks three languages — four if you count distortion. Her solos? They don’t melt faces; they dissolve them.

🥁 Koda Rinz (Drums / Street Philosopher)
Half-poet, half-brawler. Raised by subway dancers and vinyl collectors, Koda’s beats sound like trash cans getting kicked down tenement stairwells — in perfect time. Always drumming, even in his sleep.

🎹 Echo Rowe (Synths / Scream Textures / Visuals)
The silent one. Echo doesn’t talk much, but his synth work sounds like a riot at 3AM. Also responsible for their chaotic visuals and the recurring raven motif in their shows. Rumor has it he lives in an abandoned radio tower in Queens.

🎸 Twitchy Lex (Bass / Vibe Damage Control)
Lex is the glue, or maybe the duct tape. Raised on R&B but corrupted by noise rock, he brings the groove — the dangerous kind that gets under your skin and sets off car alarms.

Their Breakout Track: "Get Out My Way"
A sonic punch to the throat, "Get Out My Way" is a war cry against complacency, gentrification, and anyone walking slow on a New York sidewalk. With a chorus that hits like a riot chant and verses that spit pure venom, it’s already being banned from small-town radio — which only makes it louder.

The 5th Exit isn’t asking for your attention. They’re taking it.
You can either move... or get run over.

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