Virtual 90 minute mixtapes for the sonically adventurous. 30 artists, two 45 minute sets. A spoken intro followed by music only show. Drops about three times a week. No schedule, just a passion for independent music.
“Hello, I’m Trevor, and this is episode one‑six‑two of the Virtual Cassette Library. Today’s theme is Mugs Softest Owners—which, as usual, is both the track you’re hearing underneath and a location you can find on a map, if you’re the sort who enjoys chasing coordinates on What3Words. Before we begin, a very warm Happy New Year to you. Whether you’re listening on a walk, in the quiet of the early hours, or hiding from the world with a pair of headphones, I hope 2026 brings you peace, curiosity, and a few unexpected sonic discoveries. We’ve got ninety minutes ahead—two sides, fifteen tracks each. Some names you’ll know, some you won’t, and that’s half the fun. And a quick note: the tracks by Simon McCorry and Gregory Paul Mineeff in this episode are exclusives from the upcoming Whitelabrecs compilation sleeplaboratory6.0. Apologies to Harry for playing so many pieces from this wonderful release, which drops tomorrow, the 2nd of January. When something’s good, it’s hard not to share it. Now then, starting back on episode 156, there’s a little cipher game running through the series. Each episode, during the intermission, you’ll hear a number. Scribble it down. After ten episodes, you’ll have the full sequence. Put the pieces together, crack the cipher, and you’ll unlock a code that knocks ninety‑five percent off anything on my Bandcamp page. Which means you can scoop up the whole discography for about two quid. It’s not meant to be difficult—just enough to keep you awake at night wondering if you’ll get it right. The rest of the show wanders through kosmische corners, microtonal detours, lullabies, croquettes, mythology, therapy, vortexes, and the occasional snow‑dusted memory. The sort of thing you might stumble across late at night on a shortwave dial, wondering if you imagined it. So—headphones on, let time dissolve, and let the music claim you.”
Virtual 90 minute mixtapes for the sonically adventurous. 30 artists, two 45 minute sets. A spoken intro followed by music only show. Drops about three times a week. No schedule, just a passion for independent music.
“Hello, I’m Trevor, and this is episode one‑five‑nine of the Virtual Cassette Library. Today’s theme is Twist Fondest Waffle—which, as usual, is both the track you’re hearing underneath and a location you can find on a map, if you’re the sort who enjoys chasing coordinates on What3Words. We’ve got ninety minutes ahead—two sides, fifteen tracks each. Some names you’ll know, some you won’t, and that’s half the fun. We begin with Arbee & Norvik drifting through a Montréal alleyway, Bary Center disappearing into the trees, and Pocket Lint reminding us that we grow through our friends. There’s a rise‑in‑love from micca, diamond‑cracking teeth from pjpriiincess, and a new sun courtesy of GODTET. Now then, starting back on episode 156, there’s a little cipher game running through the series. Each episode, during the intermission, you’ll hear a number. Scribble it down. After ten episodes, you’ll have the full sequence. Put the pieces together, crack the cipher, and you’ll unlock a code that knocks ninety‑five percent off anything on my Bandcamp page. Which means you can scoop up the whole discography for about two quid. It’s not meant to be difficult—just enough to keep you awake at night wondering if you’ll get it right. Later on, we’ll hear winter choruses from Unruly Disturbance, a 2025 remaster from Ian Boddy & Chris Carter, and a snowy Christmas‑Eve vignette from On Idyl. Leisure Prison gives us another living space, Tim Story offers a dust bale hole, and Clearways pings us exactly once before Michael D. Tidwell closes the A side. On the flip side, Tapemoth brings entropy, Marie dissolves into a Bahrambient remix, and IKSRE gives us granite from Imaginary North. There’s cartography from Droning Cats with NRV, Italian library breaks from Modern Sound Quartet, and a fading coordinate from Grant Beasley. Roedelius appears, as he often does, like a quiet blessing. I’ve slipped in one of my own—Another Oddly Screamed—before Floating Points and Raphah carry us gently to the end. It’s ambient, kosmische, wintery, slightly haunted, and occasionally festive in a sideways sort of way. The sort of thing you might stumble across late at night on a shortwave dial, wondering if you imagined it. So—headphones on, let time dissolve, and let the music claim you. First track up: Arbee & Norvik, Dans une ruelle, suite…”