She makes music for the hours when clarity doesn’t arrive on time. Her songs sit between late-night electronic culture and everyday emotional friction, carried by a vocal that avoids performance and leans into presence. There’s no melodrama here, no oversized hooks. Instead, she works with restraint, letting repetition, silence, and subtle shifts do the heavy lifting, capturing the tension of modern relationships and the quiet pressure of daily life.

Sonically, her work draws from melancholic drum and bass and deep electronic traditions, but filters them through a distinctly current lens. Beats roll rather than hit, bass appears just long enough to leave a trace, and arrangements resist obvious peaks. Her voice is treated as part of the architecture, close, controlled, and emotionally distant, floating above the rhythm instead of chasing it. It’s music built for movement and reflection at the same time.

Her releases live within the carefully curated worlds of Filodyo and NOT FM, platforms that prioritise context over noise and long-form listening over instant impact. In that sense, her music isn’t chasing trends, it’s designed to exist alongside them, quietly confident, emotionally precise, and very much of its moment.

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Say 'Hallå' to Amanda Lear, the queen of dance beats hailing from Stockholm, Sweden. With her infectiously happy tunes and unapologetic love for the dance genre, she's made Swedes pause their ABBA records to tune in to her vibe.

Now, some musicians find their inspiration in love, others in heartbreak, but for Amanda, it's all in the meatballs. Yes, that's right, she swears by a hearty bowl of traditional Swedish meatballs before any recording session. She credits this peculiar routine for the untamed joy that bubbles up in songs like her renowned hit, "Unbreakable Rhythm".

As you listen to the exhuberant rhythms of Amanda's music, brace yourself. It's not just the catchy hooks that will make you tap your feet and bob your head, it's the incredibly positive energy that leaves you smiling, no matter what kind of day you've had. So, whether you're kick-starting a boujee house party or enduring a soul-draining commute, Amanda Lear has the tunes to keep your spirits up, your feet moving, and - for lack of a better word - the 'rytm' unbreakable.

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Mark Martian is one of the most elusive figures in the music world, and his mysterious persona has left many fans wondering—could he really be from Mars?

Known for using the alias Martian Mark during his collaborations, this enigmatic producer has somehow managed to evade the spotlight completely. No interviews, no photos, no videos—Mark is practically a ghost. Some say it’s part of his brand, while others speculate wildly. Who knows?

Maybe while Elon Musk dreams of building colonies on Mars, Mark’s already here, quietly making beats after hitching a ride from the Red Planet’s first neighborhood.

Despite the secrecy surrounding him, one thing’s clear: Mark’s music speaks volumes. His deep house tracks pulse with interstellar vibes, his pop productions are out-of-this-world catchy, and his funk grooves are, well, otherworldly.

Whether he’s blending cosmic synths with soulful beats or dropping funk-infused rhythms, his style keeps listeners hooked and guessing. You can hear his work across platforms, but his music truly shines on Filodyo, where you might catch the next great Martian anthem—if he doesn’t beam it up first.

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The Absents are a four-piece synth-pop and modern disco-pop band hailing from Brighton, on the south coast of the United Kingdom. The lineup consists of Elliot Kane (vocals), Ryan Whitford (keyboards & production), Callum Price (bass guitar & synth bass), and Jamie Harlow (guitar & backing vocals). The four met in 2018 at a local music festival, where a late-night jam session revealed a shared passion for blending the melodic elegance of 80s synth-pop with the energy and polish of modern pop production.

Deeply influenced by the infectious hooks and emotive energy of Erasure, The Absents quickly began writing together, crafting songs that pair bright synth textures with tight bass grooves and subtle funk undertones. Their early rehearsals took place in a modest studio near Brighton’s seafront, a space that soon became their creative sanctuary and the birthplace of their signature sound.

In 2019, the band released their debut single, which found its way onto local radio playlists and began circulating through London’s club scene. Known for their vivid light shows, charismatic stage presence, and danceable, high-energy sets, The Absents built a reputation as one of the most exciting new acts in the UK’s pop landscape.

Today, The Absents continue to bridge nostalgia and modernity, reaching audiences far beyond the British Isles. Elliot’s commanding yet soulful vocals, Ryan’s shimmering synth arrangements, Callum’s deep, driving grooves, and Jamie’s melodic guitar lines come together to create a live experience that is as unforgettable as it is electrifying.

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Nate Kessler was born in 2003 in Billings, Montana, a place where the highways stretch for miles and the nights feel too quiet. He grew up in a rundown house on the edge of town, where his father worked as a mechanic and his mother sang old folk songs at a roadside bar. Music was always around—not in studios or lessons, but in the hum of car engines, the crackle of old radio stations, and the late-night melodies his mother would hum when she thought no one was listening.

As a kid, Nate spent hours in his father’s garage, picking up discarded metal and turning them into makeshift instruments, fascinated by the way sound traveled through objects. He taught himself to play guitar on a beat-up acoustic he found at a flea market, learning songs by ear and scribbling lyrics in a tattered notebook.

By the time he was 16, he was playing small gigs at diners and bars, earning just enough for gas money and late-night coffee. At 18, he packed his life into a backpack and left Montana, hitchhiking from state to state, crashing on strangers' couches, and performing anywhere that would let him. Cities blurred together—Seattle, Portland, Denver—until he found himself in a tiny basement studio in Chicago, recording a song with borrowed time and borrowed gear.

That song, Run Gone Call Stil, wasn’t perfect—it was rough, restless, and raw. But it caught fire. People connected to its unpolished honesty, its sense of movement with no clear destination. Now, Nate’s music carries that same energy—a mix of wanderlust, late-night reflections, and the quiet weight of leaving things behind. He’s not chasing fame. He’s chasing the next song, the next road, the next moment that feels real.

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Aris Veyton is an electronic music producer whose sound blends modern club energy with subtle emotional depth. Rooted in electronic and dance-driven structures, his productions balance clean rhythms, textured synth layers and restrained melodic elements.

Rather than chasing trends, Aris focuses on atmosphere and flow. His tracks are designed to work both on the dancefloor and in personal listening environments, creating a sense of continuity rather than sudden impact. Minimal arrangements, controlled dynamics and carefully crafted sound design are central to his approach.

Working primarily in the studio, Aris Veyton treats music as a long-form experience rather than a single moment. His style reflects a contemporary electronic mindset: precise, understated and immersive. Each release is a step in an evolving sonic identity that prioritizes mood, space and consistency.

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"Romeo Vane: at the ripe age of 25, this American pop-rock comet is shooting across the Alternative universe, spreading hope with doses of edgy authenticity. Born and bred in the sonic heartland of the Windy City, he’s a Chicagoan with an unapologetic knack for compelling narratives and an obsession for truth.

Whether it's life's sharp corners or the soft bruises of love, Romeo Vane's got a knack for rolling them into tunes that blend breezy alt-rock melodies with the raw, gritty flavor of pop. His stage name isn't for show; Romeo comes with a romantic bravado that'd make Shakespeare blush, and the barbed tongue of a true Windy City native. Just tune into "Kiss Me When I'm Lying" - it's less of a song, more a rollercoaster ride through hope, heartbreak, and hilariously serious self-deprecation.

Despite his youth, he's seen more than enough of life's ups and downs, packaging the human experience into easily digestible nuggets of melodic wisdom. Romeo Vane’s music is the kind that makes you call your ex at 2 a.m., cry a little, laugh a lot, and still believe in the dream of a better dawn. Now, how's that for a self-made, alternative songwriter from the city that never sleeps?"

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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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Meet Harper Quinn, the embodiment of a Chinatown fairytale with a beats-filled twist. Born and raised amidst the flurry of noodle houses and dim sum joints in NYC's throbbing heartbeat, Harper is every bit a child of the Big Apple and the city’s ceaseless rhythm pulses through her music.

Harper is the oldest daughter of a Chinese immigrant family, her father a wizard of culinary arts in one of the busiest kitchens in Manhattan. Her music is a distinct fusion of her rich cultural heritage and the neon grit of New York - think Peking duck served with a side of just-spun electro. With catchy tracks like "Summer Romance", she’s setting the dance genre ablaze and, inadvertently, becoming the sovereign of store playlists nationwide, thanks to a serendipitous contract with Filodyo.

Infused with radiating positivity, Harper’s tunes have the power to transform even the dreariest grocery aisles into club-worthy catwalks. Expect a dose of her irreplaceable mirth in every single beat – the Harper Quinn experience is a joyride on a candy-colored dragon, soaring through the summer's neon haze!

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Emerging from the gritty depths of Detroit’s dance scene, brimming with talent and charisma, Dara Montel is the nervy answer to the city's hardcore techno thirst. Known best for her dance-devoted, melancholic twister "Plastic Crown," Dara's name has spun in the underground circles like a rogue vinyl tossed into a cyberspace jukebox.

Our Motor City minx entered the scene somewhat cagily, her piercing blue eyes full of stories almost as deep as the bass lines she commands. She distils raw emotions into dance-ready soundscapes, affirming that tears are permitted even on the most electrified dance floors. Like the mysterious femme fatale prowling through the ruins of a John Carpenter flick, Montel's music envelops you in its brooding embrace.

Dara's playful wit is just as intoxicating as her infectious grooves. With a knack for turning pain into art, she continues to defy Detroit's icy weather, radiating heat one tear-stained synth at a time. Her “Plastic Crown,” fittingly, feels neither plastic nor regal—it's pure, cathartic Dara Montel. You’d better get on this vibe train, 'cos it ain't stopping anytime soon.

The Dara Montel revolution won't be televised, it'll be danced. So go on, put on that Plastic Crown, let the sadness seep into your soul and boogie like it’s the end of the world. Detroit’s dark dance queen reigns supreme.

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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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