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.
Virtual mixtape radio for the sonically adventurous. 20 artists. Drops about three times a week. No schedule, just a passion for independent music.
Good evening, or morning, or whatever sliver of the clock you’ve drifted into. This is Trev’s Virtual Cassette Library, episode one hundred and seventy-three. I’m Trevor, turning the reels in the quiet hours.
We approach this one as always—with the old cassette in mind. Side A first, then the satisfying clunk of the flip midway through. Twenty artists tonight, drawn from the shelves where the quieter signals live. Expect drifts of drone and deep ambient, patches of electroacoustic haze, touches of field-recorded exotica, slow-unfolding modular pulses, and the occasional submerged melody that surfaces like something half-remembered from another room. Places flicker through too: underwater trenches, Los Angeles highways at off-hours, Mediterranean dream coasts, vast starry processions, the interior of mechanical bird boxes, and the soft geometries of winter rooms.
No rush. No hooks to grab you. Only the slow uncoiling of sound.
Side A – 00:00
We begin with Nelson, British Columbia based Codedekay and out of place, from Vol. 9 – The Struggle on (We Are The New Underground) Weatnu Records. A patient unfolding of displaced tones, edges softened by time and repetition.
Then an old pseudonym of the artist Time Rival is Supply Fi who brings Unruly Cascade, taken from Unruly Predation on Triplicate Records who I believe Michael Southard, Time Rivals, Supply Fi’s real name, helped create. Cross-genre currents here—ambient electronics that fold and fracture without ever quite settling. Grab this, it’s a name your price release.
I know we’re all over the Christmas vibe already. But at least here in Sweden the snow lies thick. So here’s Omni Gardens with Winter Wonderland, from the Christmas release on Moon Glyph. Familiar seasonal shapes viewed through gauze, Moog warmth and mellotron drift turning the usual into something hushed and interior.
Now one of the channels favourites with some 90s vibe Lounge. I get a hint of Lemon Jelly wafting through this one. THE GAYE DEVICE offers Argent Echo from Routes. Silvered reflections in electronic form, routes that loop back on themselves with deliberate calm.
This next one is the opening track on my second compilation release. This is Ursula’s Cartridges who submerges us in Mighty Underwater Adventure (UC’s Challenger Deep Remix), from Resonances from the Depths. Dubbed echoes refracted through deep pressure, bubbles rising slow.
Things fall apart now with Dissolved who arrives with Alveolate Minds, Exposure Fields on Mahorka. Grainy, fragmented atmospheres—drone and broken beats meeting in alveolar spaces, porous and breathing.
Belgian artist MICADO gives us An Afternoon Reflection from Mindscapes on Argentinian label Cyclical Dreams. Gentle modular lines catching light, a pause where the day leans back.
Now to help us into the zone is Dormance who closes the first side with Dormance 14, from II on Mahorka. Pure dormancy—Squeaky toys, dub tones, and a spoon in a tumble dryer do half the work.
Flip the tape. Listen for the mechanism.
Opening the B side is channel champion brain, melting, Stephen James Buckley aka, Polypores opens the reverse with The Body Is The Spaceship, Hungry Vortex. The longest track of the episode clocking in at 11:30. Organic electronics as vessel, pulsing inward and outward in equal measure. Get everything Stephen releases and thank me later.
Now a haunting melody of the free by Kilmarth feat. Silly Shadow with A Paradox So Cruel from Cherophobia on Adventurous Music. Paradox held lightly—shadows and light in tender opposition.
Next the shortest track of the episode at 1:36 Elijah Fox drifts through Her Palace from Ambient Works for the Highways of Los Angeles. Highway-side reveries, palace built from exhaust and sunset haze.
Now into the darkness with Autonomаton who present Endless stars procession from Collected Not Lost 2015-2025 Vol. 1 on Mahorka. Dub Drones tracing constellations in slow parade.
Next up Michal Turtle & HOVE with Only Sawdust Remains from Sawdust Dreams. Sawdust as memory material, fragile and aromatic. A pumping beat over tribal vibes.
Friend of the show now and a short one. Not the artist but the track. I have no idea what Dave Clarkson’s height is. Here he conjures Mechanical Bird Box Exotica from The Ghosts of Christmas Past and the Effects on Mental Health on Mortality Tables. Clockwork birds singing through antique mechanisms, exotica tuned to melancholy.
Here’s an adventurous outing by Edward Givens with Rapid Eye Movement (a Dance) from the album, Terra. Dream-state pagan motion, eyes flicking beneath lids.
Here an offering of my own. This is Trevlad with EXPANSIVE WAVES 20 (Airtime Text Reacting) from TVCL-08. Airtime caught in reactive loops—waves folding back on their own transmission.
Now French synth miestro Alex Ringess with the final track And Now Let’s Play This New Game from Asynchronicity. Asynchronous invitation, rules written in delay and overlap.
Next an odd one by Catharæ with In my world from Dreams of the Mediterranéant on Adventurous Music. Mediterranean shores remade as interior landscape, trails tracing the mind.
And now the penultimate piece some deep bass tones from Christian Kleine who brings Slow from the 2025 Label Compilation mixed by Todos on A Strangely Isolated Place. Deliberate tempo, everything given room to breathe.
And now, as the tape nears the end, a few words before the leader. Thanks for staying with it. These programmes aren’t built for playlists or quick consumption, and neither are the ears that find them. Support the artists when you can—buy the music, name their work in quiet corners. It matters more than algorithms admit. This episode streams free for a week on Mixcloud, links and credits at trevor.se and in the comments. Say something if the mood takes you. Or let the silence hold. Both are welcome. I leave you with the wonderful Sussex Telecom who signs off with Kendophaz from the 2022 release Creator Warehouse on channel sponsoring Third Kind Records. Phased signals from some coastal telecom exchange, wires humming in the wind. Until the next wind or the next run-out groove—stay resonant, stay expansive. Let the frequencies find their own way back to you. Cheerio…
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‑one of the Virtual Cassette Library—which also happens to be my 900th mix show. I’m not entirely sure how that happened, but here we are. Today’s theme is Obey Beams Starting—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. Early on you’ll hear Night Birds by The Inventors of Aircraft—an exclusive from the upcoming Whitelabrecs compilation sleeplaboratory6.0. Always a pleasure to be able to share something before it officially takes flight. 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 winter light, spectral electronics, Casio memories, kosmische detours, festive oddities, and the occasional unexpected left‑turn. 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.”
Welcome, sonic wanderers. You’ve arrived at Episode 135 of The Virtual Cassette Library. Evoked Slide Clear 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 the time for their piece and as it ends the next act takes over rotating into view. Styles for this episode include cinematic soundscapes, space music, vaporwave, free jazz, dungeon synth and many more. The musical keys in focus are G and E minor. Today’s outing contains an exclusive track from Italian artist M. Beckmann a.k.a. The Volume Settings Folder with a track from upcoming album Corporate Shamanism dropping on the 22nd of November via the unsurpassed whitelabrecs label. 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. Subscribe and unlock 864 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.
🎙️ Welcome to Trevor’s Virtual Cassette Library, Episode 116 Titled: Awoken Fancied Powers. Which is also the What3Words geographical location for the episode video on YouTube.
These shows are crafted for walking meditations, mental wanderings, or quiet communion with the universe. No commentary between tracks—just pure sonic immersion. You’re invited join the channels wizard of words, Panagiotis on the Mixcloud timeline. Don’t be shy. Shout out to our new subscriber Soundasleep. It not only helps support the upkeep of the channel which 95% of still comes out of my own pocket. But it means the next album release gets an extra track. 🎶 Support the Signal by Pre-ordering the 6th Trevor’s Virtual Cassette Library album on Bandcamp to help keep the channel alive. It drops once we hit 17 tracks. Subscription gets you unlimited access to the previous 842 shows for just $3/month or your local equivalent. 🎨 Want to be part of future transmissions? Send your art to trevlad@gmail.com. Purchase paths are always illuminated at trevor.se and marked in the timeline of each episode. Now—secure those headphones. Let time dissolve, and let the frequencies claim you. 🚀✨
📼 Trevor’s Virtual Cassette Library Free to stream for 7 days—then it joins 830+ shows in the archive. 🎧 $2.99/month. Support the underground. Unlock the sound. 🔗 https://www.mixcloud.com/djsofabed/subscribe/
🎙️ Welcome to Trevor’s Virtual Cassette Library, Episode 108 Titled: Project Admire Spreads. This transmission is a radiant sprawl of imagination, randomness, and reverence. —woven into two uninterrupted 45-minute cassette sides, with a metaphysical flip halfway through. A lovingly warped journey through ambient techno, psychedelic soul, acousmatic textures, and field recordings that whisper of distant cities and forgotten rituals. These shows are crafted for walking meditations, mental wanderings, or quiet communion with the universe. No commentary between tracks—just pure sonic immersion. You’re invited to follow along with Nanogods’ poetic visualizations on the timeline. Don’t be shy. 🎶 Support the Signal Pre-order the 5th Trevor’s Virtual Cassette Library album on Bandcamp to help keep the channel alive. It drops once we hit 16 tracks corresponding with the 16 Mixcloud subscribers. If you subscribe, you’ll not only unlock an exclusive bonus track you’ll also gain access to previous releases plus the 830+ previous shows for just $3/month or your local equivalent. 🎨 Want to be part of future transmissions? Send your art to trevlad@gmail.com. Purchase paths are always illuminated at trevor.se and marked in each episode. Now—secure those headphones. Let time dissolve, and let the frequencies claim you. 🚀✨
📼 Trevor’s Virtual Cassette Library Free to stream for 7 days—then it joins 830+ shows in the archive. 🎧 $2.99/month. Support the underground. Unlock the sound. 🔗 https://www.mixcloud.com/djsofabed/subscribe/
Welcome to the thirteenth outing of Expansive Waves. A space and a place for long form music. Each episode contains 8 pieces that must be over the 12 minute mark. I’m your host, Trevor, and for the next two and a bit hours I’ll be guiding you through these 8 unhurried gems.
A 90-minute journey with a metaphysical flip at the halfway mark—perfect for a long walk, a mental wander, or a quiet moment alone with the universe. 💌 Want to be part of the transmission? Send your vibrations to: trevlad@gmail.com Purchase paths are always illuminated at trevor.se and marked at the top of each show.