Author: Lucian Raviel Rao
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MOONRISE&SUNSET
The name came to me before the structure did. MOONRISE&SUNSET — I wrote it down without knowing what it would mean yet. But it felt right. It felt like the rhythm my emotions move in: slow, inevitable, and out of my control. When I started this project, I didn’t have a clear goal. I just…
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I want to be loud without being exposed
As a queer artist, I often feel torn between wanting to be seen and not wanting to be reduced. Especially when I make sound. Sound feels closer to the body than image ever does. A scream, a sigh, a stutter — they don’t just carry emotion, they carry vulnerability. And yet, when I put these…
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echo echo echo
When I’m in the middle of a panic attack, the world doesn’t just speed up — it loses shape. The edges blur. My body becomes too loud, and the space around me starts to fold in. I can’t tell where I end and the outside begins. That’s not something I can describe in words. But…
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Glitch feels more honest than calm
I used to think I had to make things sound smooth. Clean transitions, balanced frequencies, polished structures. But my anxiety doesn’t move like that. When I have an episode, my body doesn’t “build tension and release.” It snaps. It cuts in and out. There’s breath, then silence. Noise, then numbness. If I tried to turn…
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The sound of being watched in a city that never looks up
Living in London, I’ve realized there’s a different kind of silence here — one that’s not about quiet, but about distance. On the tube, in cafes, even in queer bars, I often feel like I’m being seen without actually being noticed. It’s a strange kind of exposure — being visible, but never really audible. What…
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I make sound when emotion can’t be translated
Sometimes I feel like I’m made of fragments. A body that moves, smiles, speaks — but the inside is scattered, formless. Especially during my anxiety episodes, it feels like someone pressed fast-forward on the world, and forgot to include me in the scene. I watch everything move, but I can’t catch it. That period, I…
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What If the Club Is the Archive?
My memories live in the club. Not as recordings, but as moments that pulse behind my ribs. One night at HERE, a DJ played this unlabelled reggaeton-hyperpop hybrid, and something broke open. Three strangers grabbed each other and screamed the chorus in sync, like it was a prayer. There’s no video, no tracklist. But I…
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When Is a Sound Too Much? (And Who Decides?)
I was editing a project and hit a wall. I had too many tracks layered — granular textures, spoken word, synth pads, a field recording from a bus stop. The session looked like a sonic traffic jam. I soloed one sound, then another, then another. I couldn’t tell what was necessary anymore. My instinct was…
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Auto-Tune Isn’t Fake, It’s a Weapon
Someone in class said, “Auto-Tune ruins music.” I didn’t argue out loud, but I wanted to. I grew up listening to Cher’s Believe on loop. That robotic shimmer? It didn’t sound fake to me. It sounded like someone crying through a machine, trying to be strong. Later that night, I went down a rabbit hole.…
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Why Was I Crying in the Club (Again)?
It was supposed to be a casual night — low expectations, midweek energy. I wasn’t even dressed to go out. But around 1:30am, the DJ dropped a bootleg of SOPHIE’s It’s Okay to Cry. The bass rolled in like fog, and everything else — bodies, strobe lights, my inner critic — disappeared. I started crying,…