hey. welcome back… or maybe you just crawled in through a crack in the drywall. this is Trev’s Virtual Cassette Library. episode one-eight-eight. we’re still pretending it’s a radio show for the sonically adventurous, but really it’s just me and the frequencies arguing in an empty apartment while the city outside forgets we exist.
bags.colder.inched. a great Thai restaurant, apparently. now it’s a coordinate for whatever this episode is.
twenty artists. no schedule. drops when the mood hits. labels haunting the margins: Passed Recordings, whitelabrecs, Ingrown, Audiobulb… you know the ones. braindance, idm, alternative, whatever slips between the cracks like water through broken concrete. Honolulu to Amsterdam to Prague to Saint Petersburg. the world’s shrinking but the weird pockets are still warm.
send files, confessions, whatever, to trevlad@gmail.com. send stories for Chord Confessions. that track that ruined you or saved you. i’ll read it in my sleep-voice or you record it yourself. win-win-win. I’m also doing Trev Tales now—little dreams stitched into the sets. long lucid naps you’re not sure you want to wake up from.
headphones on. let time dissolve. and let the frequencies claim you.
First out from the amazing Passed Recordings label stable Cavern Cult – Of Hope (from the album Approach) This is followed by Russian idm champ NDORFIK – Joensuu from the album NORTHERN CACHE out on Clean Error Records after that some Loneward. but first Of Hope by Offenbach based Cavern Cult.
That was Mike Carss aka Loneward – The Unknowable Realm of Wisdom from the album Paradox of Silken Stars out on Altus Music. Next up we head back to 2018 The Microgram – No Service from the album Savage Architecture which I received courtesy of Free Album Codes, cheers mate. Out on the Lansing, Michigan based Kaiseki Digital label. This is followed by another great Passed Recordings release by David Aimone – Curiosità Ajmone and the track TimeDown After that The Bird’s Companion and Neil McRoberts but first No Service by The Microgram.
You’ve just been listening to The Bird’s Companion and Neil McRoberts – Another Day from a few places, one of them being the compilation This Burnished Land a wonderful NYP release on whitelabrecs. Coming up some quality indie pop in the form of Saya Gray – LIE DOWN.. from the album SAYA out on Dirty Hit records. Followed by California beach vibes with Poolside – Looking Backwards out on Counter Records. and then some Black Country, New Road but first LIE DOWN.. by Saya Gray
That was the post-rock stylings of Black Country, New Road – Intro from the album Ants From Up There out on Ninja Tune. Next up the episodes newest release by Jics. Out on whitelabrecs today March 28th. Followed by Man as Island – Automaton from the album AN that’s out on Russian label Local Gods and was sent in by NDORFIK who I played earlier. After that the virtual B side flip but first Jics – What Brings You Here from the album New South Wales.
B SIDE
That was Prague based artist Kh3rtis – Still, for a Time from the album In the Wake of Light out on Audionautic Records. Next up Leslie Lowder aka idiiom – Solitude from the album Neural Network out on the Audiobulb label. after that Blank Embrace – The Caves from the 2018 release Ascension out on the Kaiseki Digital label. Then some odd person
You’ve just witnessed odd person – earthquake anxiety – my dismal arcadia available on the outstanding Ingrown Records label. Who is homeless at the moment so any purchases from them could be life saving. Coming up me, Trevlad – Pipe Fluid Fame which is a location from a Hotel in Dublin where I recorded the visual for the video that goes with this piece. All my track names are geolocations of places that mean something to me personally. I use them for the backgrounds in the intros and outros of the episodes Pipe Fluid Fame is from episode 165 back in January. After that Simon Holmes – Broken (South Sudan) from the compilation A Century of Sounds out on the legendary Cities and Memory label. This is followed by Tomo Katsurada & Misha Panfilov but first myself as Trevlad with Pipe Fluid Fame.
That was Tomo Katsurada & Misha Panfilov – Mostra – Eternal Almost out on the label Future Days Radio run by Tomo himself. Now the penultimate piece of episode 188 of Trev’s Virtual cassette library is by Wunderfish – Through Painted Figures (Prologue) – the third piece in the show from the Kaiseki Digital label courtesy of the amazing Free album Codes. This one’s from the compilation Bento Box, Vol. 1 We end this adventure with a stunning 8 minute outing by Ben McElroy – Surely There Are Worse Things – from the album Bird-Stone which you could purchase via whitelabrecs. that’s it for episode 188. thanks for floating here with me. if you’re still listening… you’re in the club. no meetings. no rules. just dust and frequencies. See you in the next crack in the drywall. Cheerio…
Virtual mixtape radio for the sonically adventurous. 20 artists. Drops about three times a week. No schedule, just a passion for independent music.
Welcome to Ibiza Nocturne in Real Time—your midnight-to-dawn drift through the endless Balearic pulse.
Close your eyes for a moment. Feel the warm limestone still holding the day’s heat underfoot. Hear the distant lap of waves folding into limestone coves, the soft sequencer heartbeat threading through salt air thick with jasmine and possibility. This isn’t a playlist; it’s a state of mind, a slow orbit where anything can slide in next—guitar lines sun-bleached and lazy, Rhodes chords sighing like lovers, saxophones tasting of ripe fruit, thunder rumbling low like a bass drop that never quite lands.
No rules, no hurry—just the freedom to play whatever feels right, whatever pulls us deeper into the glow.
So pour something cold, let the terrace doors stay open, and allow the island to breathe through the speakers.
Heat clings. Salt air slides across skin like liquid mercury. Waves fold in slow motion below white limestone cliffs, each crest catching moonlight then releasing it in silver fragments. Feet bare on warm tile, toes curling against the uneven surface of the terrace. Soft clicks, gentle hi-hats like distant rain on palm leaves. The body knows the rhythm before the mind catches up. Eyelids heavy, yet vision sharpens: climbing plants spilling purple over whitewashed walls, a gecko frozen mid-scurry, the faint glow of a cigarette held by someone on the next balcony.
Sky bruises suddenly violet. Wind arrives carrying wet jasmine. Palm leaves thrash like flags in surrender. Lightning veins the horizon, silent at first, then thunder rolls in low and lazy, a bassline dragged across sand. Rain starts in fat isolated drops—plop against shoulder, plop on forehead—then accelerates into white noise. Clothes stick, cool now, hair plastered in dark ropes. Laughter erupts from somewhere down the path, bodies running toward shelter yet not quite reaching it. The storm plays percussion on terracotta roofs, syncopated, teasing. Feet splash through shallow rivers forming on flagstones. Lightning again—everything bleached white for an instant: grinning faces, raised arms, open mouths catching rain.
Dawn arrives soft, apologetic. Coffee steam curls upward, mingling with sea mist. A spoon clinks against porcelain, slow circles. Yesterday’s salt still crusts at the hairline. Someone hums off-key, half-remembered melody from the night before. Sandals slap gently along the road to the bakery; the same dog waits at the same corner, tail sweeping dust. Oranges roll across a wooden table, bright against sun-bleached grain. A child pedals past on a too-big bicycle, bell ringing once, twice. The day unfolds without hurry—linen drying on a line, shadows lengthening then shortening again, voices overlapping in three languages over cold beer at noon.
Moonlight pours through open shutters, pooling silver on the tiled floor. A woman stands at the balcony rail, backlit, hair moving slightly even though the air feels still. Her silhouette curves like the bay below. Bass notes glide beneath skin, warm and low, traveling up the spine. She turns, face half in shadow, eyes reflecting distant boat lights. The room smells of amber and sea-damp cotton. Fingers trail along the edge of a glass tabletop, leaving faint streaks. Somewhere a Rhodes piano sighs, chords stretching like taffy. Time becomes elastic—minutes stretch into hours, hours collapse into seconds. She smiles at nothing in particular, at everything.
Guitar line slinks in, lazy and sunburned. Bass rides underneath like warm current pulling at your ankles. Drums tap out a rhythm that feels remembered rather than played. A dirt road curves toward the sea, dust rising in golden clouds behind the scooter. Hair whips, eyes half-closed against the glare. Radio crackles—old soul, Thai funk, something wordless and ecstatic. Hills roll past dotted with white cubes of houses, each one a tiny promise of shade. Madness here is gentle: the urge to stop the bike, kick off sandals, walk straight into turquoise water without thinking.
Waves hush against hull. Boat rocks in cradle of its own making. Stars above, are reflected below—two skies mirrored. Voice low, over soaring strings. “And then you came…” the phrase hangs. Wind carries salt spray across lips. Hand dips into black water, trailing phosphorescence. The sentence never completes; it does not need to. Night folds around the moment like warm cotton.
Vinyl crackles before the beat drops. Disco hi-hat opens a door to last summer. Memory arrives in flashes: wet footprints across marble, empty bottles glinting in morning light, a dress left draped over a chair. The groove pulls backward and forward at once. Laughter echoes in the mind’s empty rooms. Someone dances alone on a terrace, arms raised, eyes closed. The track loops inside the skull, familiar yet always slightly different.
Colors have temperature. Saxophone line tastes of ripe mango. Bass drum thump registers behind the navel. Fingers see sound—rippling outward in peach and violet waves. The body becomes an instrument: skin vibrates with congas, spine curves to the flute’s arc. Synapses fire in citrus bursts. A hand brushes another hand; contact blooms into marimba shimmer. Everything touches everything else.
Voice soft, almost speaking. Worth it. The phrase drifts across still water. Guitar figures loop like vines climbing trellis. A cigarette burns down between fingers, ash falling unnoticed. Moon path on the sea leads nowhere and everywhere. The question answers itself in the swaying of fronds, in the slow blink of harbor lights.
Curtains billow inward on salt breeze. Room empty except for the bed, the fan turning overhead, the low throb of sub-bass through floorboards. Headphones on, world reduced to stereo field. Eyes closed: pink stucco villa, infinity pool spilling into horizon, no one else present. This privacy feels devotional. Keys ripple like water disturbed by a falling frangipani blossom. Paradise requires no witnesses.
Trumpet cries once, clean and bright, then fades into reverb tail. Memory arrives wearing her perfume—jasmine, sunscreen, something metallic underneath. The feeling sits in the chest like a held chord. No words, only the shape of her laugh caught in the bell of the horn. Night air cools; gooseflesh rises along forearms. Love remains, quiet now, stored in minor key.
Voice floats, weightless. “I am the sun, you are the moon.” The line hangs between them like a silver thread. Drums brush soft across cymbals. Sunrise bleeds pink at the edge of the world. Two bodies lie tangled in white sheets, breathing in counterpoint. Light touches skin, turns it gold. The moon lingers, pale and stubborn, refusing to leave quite yet. Everything is orbit. Everything is pull. The track drifts on, carrying them both into morning.
Welcome, sonic wanderers. You’ve arrived at Episode 138 of The Virtual Cassette Library. Caravan Grew Vaccines is the episodes subtitle, as well as the track you’re hearing in the background and it’s geographical location which I’ve filmed and can be experienced on YouTube. I’m Trevor and I curate these 90-minute genre bending drifts through frequencies from around the globe. No commentary. No interruptions. Just pure sonic immersion. Two, 45 minute mixes, 15 tracks per side with a side change in the middle. Picture the listening experience like being at a music festival where the artists play on a rotating stage. Each act is allotted time for their piece and as it ends the next act takes over rotating into view. Styles for this episode range from IDM to neo classical, from ritual ambient to jazz-funk. The musical keys in focus are B major and G sharp minor, A flat minor. This episode contains some household names like Greg Foat, Jogging House and Sven Wunder. Some friends of the channel like odd person, Henrik Meierkord and The British Stereo Collective, as well as some supporting labels like oscarson, moniker eggplant, ingrown records, whitelabrecs, mahorka and Cyclical Dreams. All the artists and labels are the soul of this show. If you’d like to be included on future episodes send your art to trevlad@gmail.com. Links to all the tracks are illuminated at trevor.se and marked in each episode’s Mixcloud timeline. Pre-order the 7th TVCL album on Bandcamp. It drops when we hit 16 tracks. Also the first channel compilation with 37 tracks so far will drop on the 8th of November, pre-orders are available. Subscribe and unlock 870 archived shows. Remember, every comment, every like, every follow, subscription and, album purchase keeps the frequencies flowing. So now—secure those headphones. Let time dissolve, and let the frequencies claim you.