Serving as the second single from the forthcoming EP Corrupted Files From The Vault, the track marks a compelling evolution from its predecessor, “Abstract Logic.” Where the earlier release examined the cold precision of an evolving machine, “Circuital Melancholy” ventures into more introspective territory, suggesting that even artificial intelligence can become haunted by memory, alienation, and the desire to reclaim something inherently human.

Drawing heavily from the sonic language of ’80s darkwave and synth rock, the song balances pulsing synthesizers with atmospheric guitars that evoke both nostalgia and unease. Echoes of Depeche Mode, The Cure, and New Order are evident throughout, yet _SHOE shapes these influences into a distinctive sonic landscape that feels cinematic rather than derivative. The result is a soundscape that is immersive, melancholic, and quietly unsettling.

That emotional depth is reinforced through the lyrics. “Erasing my human side / Just to fall in line” captures the silent cost of conformity, while “Melting all human lies / In the name of progress” questions whether technological advancement inevitably demands the erosion of individuality. The recurring refrain, “Circuital Melancholy / Circuital Monotony / Circuital Misery,” mirrors the endless repetition of systems that prioritize efficiency over emotion, leaving little room for imperfection or selfhood.

Beneath its dystopian aesthetic, however, lies a remarkably universal message. Although framed through the perspective of a self-aware machine, the song ultimately reflects anxieties that are deeply human: the fear of losing one’s identity, the pressure to conform, and the longing to preserve authenticity in an increasingly mechanized world.

With “Circuital Melancholy,” _SHOE continues expanding the conceptual universe of Corrupted Files From The Vault while demonstrating that compelling storytelling is most effective when it resonates beyond its fictional setting. It’s an atmospheric and thought-provoking release that reminds us that, perhaps, the search for humanity begins precisely when we realize how easily it can easily slip away..

“Solstice,” which introduces the album, becomes the perfect representation of the unique mood characteristic for Sri Lanka as it includes the elements of energetic percussion and darkly sounding guitars that make for a great combination of post-punk and goth. The second song called “The Haunting” continues this tendency in presenting listeners with a darkly sounding and catchy track.

There are many tracks that sound almost like scenes from movies shot at night, full of suspense and intrigue. For example, “Deep Inside” is a fantastic composition that is driven by the groove and careful layering of the sounds, while “Leviathan” relies on a different strategy. It features a heavy bass line and a more measured approach to creating tension, which leads to an impressive result, one of the best tracks of the album.

The second highlight of this album is “Eventide,” which begins in a relaxed manner and then shifts into a fascinating dark wave-rock composition with an impressive atmosphere. “Interlude” is a great instrumental piece that can help listeners unwind after some of the darker tracks of “Leviathan.”

The album closer “Elegy” proves to be an ideal choice for the ending as well. With its slow buildup, evocative keyboards, and belated arrival of the vocals, the song creates a sense of great anticipation leading to an absolutely filmic finish.

Leviathan is certainly the work of a band who knows how to craft a memorable album that is not lacking in captivating grooves, Gothic ambiance, or even insightful songwriting!

Sonically, VHS Panty Riot manages to faithfully recreate that 80s soundscape while adding their own modern EDM melodic sensibilities. Those aforementioned sensibilities are clearly inspired by retro video game soundtracks, but this is definitely a chicken or the egg situation – because both those mediums have a symbiotic relationship with each other. The game soundtracks emerge from the EDM scene and a feedback loop happens, and the soundtracks influence the music back. The most impactful textures of choice here are a huge, chorused-out lead sound that tears through the mix to convey the visceral image of peeling the sun, and an energetic, danceable drum groove that keeps the momentum going.

For fans of Carpenter Brut and that specific intersection of cinematic dread and dancefloor energy, this is squarely in the wheelhouse. “Peel The Sun” is the lighter-toned entry point into a project that can clearly go darker when it wants to, which makes it a smart standalone release – it draws a wider circle without abandoning what the project is built on. The EP arriving in June should give a clearer picture of where VHS Panty Riot are headed, but this is a good reason to pay attention before it lands.

The track is not built as a political declaration, despite the themes it touches upon. Instead, Villani approaches identity, belonging, and social pressure from a deeply personal perspective. The song feels less concerned with proving a point and more interested in capturing a feeling, that subtle but persistent sense that something no longer sits quite where it used to.

Throughout the track, emotional honesty becomes its strongest element. Rather than offering solutions or choosing sides, Villani leaves space for reflection. Questions surrounding survival, modern pressures, and shifting realities remain open, allowing listeners to enter the experience through their own interpretations.

Who Do You Belong to Now? (Great Southern Land) draws from alternative rock foundations while incorporating dark wave atmospheres, industrial textures, emo undertones, and experimental elements. Layers of distortion and uneasy sonic details create a restless landscape that mirrors the emotional weight carried by the lyrics.

Equally compelling is the balance within the production itself. The harsher industrial edges bring tension, while softer atmospheric moments preserve the vulnerability at the song’s centre. Experimental choices never feel excessive; instead, they deepen the emotional atmosphere and strengthen the track’s sense of intimacy.

In a musical climate often driven by certainty and loud declarations, this release takes a different path. Who Do You Belong to Now? (Great Southern Land) chooses introspection over conclusions. Paul Louis Villani offers a thoughtful exploration of identity and unease, crafting a release that lingers through mood, tension, and emotional openness..

“This song is highly ambiguous and has many potential meanings,” Thomas says. “For me it’s about the post-truth nature of our current existence, and looking for answers in the chaos. Could the answers we seek be you and I?”

⇒ Check out our review for “The Answers” here.

That question sits at the heart of “The Answers” — and resists easy resolution, as the best questions do. The track draws from the oblique, searching quality that defines Beyond Signal’s songwriting: music that does not hand the listener a conclusion but instead opens a space for them to find their own. In a media landscape saturated with noise and competing certainties, it is a song about the particular disorientation of a world where truth itself has become unstable — and the possibility, however fragile, that human connection might be the only honest anchor left.

The fact that Thomas produced the track entirely himself adds another layer of meaning to the release. A lone-wolf by nature and by creative philosophy, he has always been drawn to the idea of complete creative ownership — music made without compromise, without filters, without the need to fit anyone else’s framework.

“I am a lone-wolf in search of existential authenticity and transcendental creativity in my work,” he says. “Music is the most important thing in my life.”

Beyond Signal is more than a project — it is a creative mission. Thomas has coined his own genre, TIM — Transcendental Indie Music — to describe music that reaches beyond received ideas and pre-packaged emotion toward something more individual, more honest, and more hard-won. Influenced by a lifetime of ardent listening across post-punk, indie rock, electronica, and classic rock, his sound draws from artists including Joy Division, Radiohead, The National, PJ Harvey, Leonard Cohen, Nirvana, and Molchat Doma — but belongs, ultimately, to none of them.

His debut album Gaia Algorithmica — recorded at what was formerly Tesla Studios in Sheffield with a professional audio engineer — established Beyond Signal as an artist of genuine depth and ambition, exploring themes of dysfunctional relationships, artificial intelligence, and the quest for spiritual enlightenment. Peer feedback from fellow Sheffield singer-songwriter Charlie King captured something important after a live performance at Hagglers Corner Open Mic: “What stood out to me most was the raw honesty and bravery in his lyrical content. I can tell Tom takes great care with his lyrical meaning behind his songs.”

Live, Thomas has performed at the Penryn Campus Open Mic at Falmouth University and across Sheffield’s open mic circuit, steadily growing in confidence and stage presence. He also played bass for The Pink House — the precursor to the band Heart Worms — before stepping fully into his solo vision.

“The Answers” arrives as the next chapter in that vision: more self-sufficient, more fully formed, and more willing to sit with the questions life refuses to answer cleanly.

“Very proud,” Thomas says simply of the track. It is hard to argue with that.

Musically, the track has a texture that vaguely overlaps with those Russian doomer songs – Molchat Doma is clearly an influence, and you can hear it in the cold, droning atmosphere and the detached vocal delivery. The artist says the song has many potential meanings and that ambiguity is baked into the production: it feels more like a mood than a narrative. The music video is clearly an amateur production, but it has a charm to it and complements the song rather than distracting from it, which is all you can really ask of a self-produced visual from an independent artist at this stage.

Thomas has about seventy songs in the back catalogue he’s working through, so Gaia Algorithmica is very much a starting point rather than a full picture. “The Answers” suggests he’s picking up the pace and steadily figuring out his own identity as a musical and visual artist.

This album is musically fresh and diverse, but still has a very singular artistic vision that holds it together and keeps it from sounding like a disconnected group of songs that claim to be genre-bending when it’s really just a lack of focus. This is focused, precise, and genuinely breathtaking music. The combination of ambient electronic textures with real guitars and modern drum grooves gives the whole thing a very unique musical identity, and with clever arrangements and tonal characteristics, it feels bigger than life.

The album weaves between those ultra-modern, spacey, and progressive songs with dreamy textures that are purely instrumental contemplative pieces and heavier songs with powerful soaring vocals and arrangements that feel like a re-imagining of 2000s rock music. For example, the album starts with “Sanctuary” which, if we’re gonna attempt to put it in a box – though it still doesn’t fit neatly in it because it really does have its own unique style – the closest thing would be the instrumental ambient progressive music of Plini and Intervals and those modern guitar players. The song that follows that one is “Impulse” which is probably my favorite song on the album because it has Chiara’s gorgeous vocals on it, but also because the arrangement and the harmonic tapestry of the song is just genius, and it melodically creates a very unique atmosphere.

The title track naturally serves as the thematic anchor for the whole album and is the most lyrically concise but layered track on the album. The lyrics are abstract, but my personal interpretation is that it discusses the nature of the soul and materialism. Are we just a product of neurons firing in a deterministic way, or are we more like a ghost in the machine, a soul operating a bio-mech suit of sorts? Are we victims of an illusion created by our own biology, or are we timeless spirits forever wandering the ether? I could be off in my interpretation, but the song’s ethereal textures painted that image of contemplation in my mind.

I want to highlight the two most texturally experimental instrumental songs on the album – “Freudian Slip” and “deSydTegration (Part I)”. These two songs, back to back, are probably among the freshest pieces of music I’ve heard in a while. Note that experimental here doesn’t mean that there isn’t a clear sense of melody throughout both of them, because there is. Even in such abstract cases, Ed Silva still manages to integrate an emotional basis for the songs as he creates these contemplative soundscapes.

Patterns confirm what “Abstract” suggested – that Cries of Redemption is a project operating entirely outside the gravitational pull of trend or algorithm. Twenty years of music is now arriving on major platforms, not for clicks but for the people Ed Silva calls the castaways and misfits, the best friends he hasn’t met yet. If “Abstract” was the announcement, Patterns is the proof. A major collaboration is apparently already in the works for April, and based on what’s here, whatever comes next is worth paying attention to.

It begins with restraint. A solitary guitar line unfolds gently, almost hesitantly, drawing the listener into a space that feels intimate and introspective. That softness, however, is never allowed to settle. Beneath it, a synthetic pulse quietly emerges, distant yet insistent, gradually tightening the atmosphere rather than expanding it.

At its core, Pet Song thrives on tension. It moves between fragility and abrasion without ever choosing one over the other. The vocals mirror this balance: soft, high, and seemingly delicate, yet tinged with an acidic edge that hints at something unresolved. Emotion here is not released; it is contained, circulating within the structure of the track.

There are traces of Nirvana in its rawness, alongside the atmospheric unease of Radiohead. Elements of The Smashing Pumpkins surface in its density, while an undercurrent reminiscent of The Prodigy and Underworld pulses faintly beneath. Yet the track resists imitation, maintaining a sonic identity that feels intentionally engineered.

This is especially evident in its textures, which behave less like traditional instrumentation and more like shifting matter: grinding, stretching, and fragmenting in unpredictable ways. The rhythm never fully takes control; instead, it flickers beneath the surface, offering just enough structure to keep the piece from dissolving entirely.

Ultimately, Pet Song is defined by restraint rather than excess. It captures a quiet, internal unrest; one that simmers without eruption, leaving behind a lingering sense of unease. With Pet Song, Shortout Kid creates not just a sound, but a space where vulnerability and distortion remain inseparably intertwined..