Synthonauts by NEX

In the silence of orbit, where sound cannot travel, three figures sit in spacesuits — not as engineers, but as poets. Their hands touch analog synthesizers not to control, but to listen. They are "Synthonauts": not conquerors of space, but its translators. Their mission is not to explore, but to remember. Not to transmit signals, but to catch the ones that faded long ago.

This album is not a journey — it’s a return.
Created in the spirit of the Berlin School, each sequence is a step through an inner landscape. There is no drama, no climax — only gradual unfolding, as if memory were slowly unpacking itself in sound. This is not music of action, but music of state. It doesn’t demand attention — it waits for you to approach.

Inspired by progressive electronic, the album builds not on rhythm, but on structure. Each track is a chamber of a space station filled with memory. You’ll hear analog textures, granular noise, arpeggios that don’t seek resolution — they simply exist. This is music that doesn’t ask to be explained — it simply "is". It doesn’t strive to be understood — it longs to be heard in silence.

In the spirit of space music, the album doesn’t describe space — it "becomes" it.
Stars here are not objects, but states. Earth is not a planet, but a voice heard through glass. The void is not a threat, but a place to breathe. This is not a soundtrack for flight — it’s a sonic map of solitude, resonance, and light that doesn’t warm, but illuminates.

New Berlin School is not a genre — it’s a gesture.
A way to return humanity to electronic sound. There is no digital sterility here — only the warmth of tape, the hum of cables, the breath between notes. This is music that remembers it was made by hands. Every click is a fingerprint, every hiss a breath, every glitch a confession of vulnerability.

"Synthonauts" is not just an album.
It’s a capsule where feelings are stored, forgotten frequencies, spectral signals.
It’s an attempt to hear what has long gone silent.
An invitation — not into space, but into yourself.
Not a soundtrack to the future, but an archive of the present we almost lost.

Music without genres or borders — raw, intuitive, real. From dark textures to gentle melodies, from rustle to rhythm like something dreamt. A space for voices that don’t seek to be understood, only heard.