Destruction Age Vinyl

You're three tabs deep at 4am, half-loved by a screen that glows back but never warms up. akiaura and LONOWN slide a beat under the static — narcotic, gorgeous, a little rotten at the edges — and suddenly the paranoia feels like company.

Nine tracks of internet-age dread dressed as dreampunk: witch-house murk, Angel Dust haze, and STM and Olya Holiday drifting through like signals you half-remember. Destruction Age treats digital loneliness like a lullaby — there's no deception here, only the pretty static of everything quietly falling apart.