Sonic Playground - darkwave

David Lynch, Karen O - Pinky's Dream (Trentemøller Remix Instrumental)

2026-11-12T00:00:00+00:00

Genre and Mood

David Lynch wrote Pinky’s Dream with his engineer Dean Hurley as a nocturnal rock song with Karen O on vocals, and in this Trentemøller remix instrumental the voice is gone and only the nightmare remains. Electronic production, darkwave atmosphere and an industrial edge meet in a mood that is haunting, dark and eerie, pure Lynch even without a single word.

Song Summary

The original, which FACT called a fraught piece of psychotic melodrama, is a feverish, nocturnal song; the remix turns it into what Stereogum heard as an even more sinister synth throb. Without Karen O’s vocal, the instrumental lays bare Trentemøller’s work: pulsing bass, tense, distorted textures and layers of ominous synths, all moving forward like headlights on an empty highway. The memorable detail is how cinematic it feels. Every passage seems to be scoring a scene you cannot quite see.

Musical Breakdown

Intro

A low, pulsing synth emerges from the dark, steady and menacing, setting a pace that feels like an engine idling before a long drive.

Build-up

Drums and bass lock together and the tension climbs, distorted textures creeping in around the edges like shapes in the rear-view mirror.

Main Section

The full groove takes hold, driving and relentless, with brooding melodic lines in the space where the vocal used to be. The absence of a voice makes it even more unsettling.

Climax

The arrangement swells into its most intense passage, noise and melody tangled together with a raw, industrial force, the drive at full speed.

Outro

The layers drop away until only the pulse is left, fading into the dark like a car disappearing over a hill.

Concepts in Focus

A remix rebuilds a recording from its parts, and an instrumental remix shows exactly which parts the remixer chose to keep. Here almost nothing of the original’s band sound survives; what remains is the song’s melodic shape and mood, reconstructed by Trentemøller with his own palette. Hearing the instrumental is like seeing the set of a film with the actors gone.

That palette is the synthesizer: a pulsing low synth for the engine, layered pads and lines for the menace. FACT noted that the Visionquest remix of the same song sounded a fair bit like Trentemøller, a sign of how recognisable his dark, analogue-leaning synth style had become by 2012. Hear it alongside his Danish peers in Lulu Rouge – Lulu’s Theme (feat. Trentemøller).

What pushes the remix toward industrial music is distortion. Overdriven textures give the sound grit and aggression, and in the climax they blur noise and melody together, the ruptured anguish of industrial rock that FACT heard in it.

Artistic Context

The film director David Lynch released his debut album Crazy Clown Time in November 2011, on Sunday Best in Europe and PIAS in the US, recorded at his Asymmetrical Studio in Hollywood and co-composed with Dean Hurley. “Pinky’s Dream”, sung by Karen O of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, opened it. In summer 2012 the Danish producer Anders Trentemøller remixed the track for the Pinky’s Dream remix EP, alongside remixes by Visionquest and Tythe, released digitally and then on 12-inch vinyl in August, the same season as an expanded reissue of the album. The embedded video is the official upload of the vocal version of this remix.

Impact and Reception

Stereogum described Trentemøller’s remix as turning the original into an even more sinister synth throb, Hypebeast heard a darker edge, and FACT the ruptured anguish of industrial rock, harsher than Lynch’s own track. The instrumental version is for anyone who wants that mood without words, and it works as a soundtrack to whatever film is playing in your own head. Turn the lights off and listen.

Mount Sims - Ashes

2026-11-12T00:00:00+00:00

Genre and Mood

Mount Sims shapes Ashes from electronic, synth-pop and darkwave textures. The mood is melancholic and introspective, an atmospheric piece that feels like walking through a city at four in the morning with something heavy on your mind.

Song Summary

“Ashes” deals in aftermath. Its title suggests something burned down and gone cold, and the music follows that idea: steady machine drums, cool synth layers and a weary, low vocal that sounds resigned rather than angry. Where much electroclash went for confrontation, this track turns inward, trading provocation for brooding reflection while still keeping a pulse you could dance to slowly. The production is cool and uncluttered, letting each synth line hang in the air long enough to cast a shadow. The result sounds less like a club track than a late-night soundtrack, music for the walk home after the party has ended and the thoughts you were avoiding catch up with you.

Musical Breakdown

The track moves at a measured pace, letting its atmosphere build gradually.

Intro

Muted synths and a simple rhythmic pattern open the track, cold and slightly hazy.

Verse 1

Sims’ voice enters, restrained and close, the lyric delivered like a private thought spoken aloud.

Chorus

The melody opens up a little, with the synths lifting and the vocal gaining a touch more urgency, though the sadness never lifts.

Bridge

The arrangement thins out, leaving space for the textures to drift and for the mood to sink in.

Outro

The song gradually winds down, its last synth tones dissolving like smoke over embers.

Concepts in Focus

Ashes shows the influence of post-punk and dark wave on Mount Sims’ second album. Wikipedia describes Wild Light as much darker than his debut, with death and information as its themes and dark wave and post-punk as its main influences; David J of Bauhaus even played bass on some of its songs. The low, weary vocal and the refusal to resolve into euphoria come from that lineage rather than from the dance floor.

The colour of the track is the synthesizer used for atmosphere rather than for hooks. The synth lines are cool and uncluttered, each left hanging long enough to cast a shadow, and they carry more of the song’s sadness than the lyric does.

Underneath, a drum machine keeps a measured, unhurried pulse. It is the same kind of machine that powered electroclash, but here it marks time rather than pushing a crowd, which is part of why the song sounds like the walk home after the party. Compare the longer, more hypnotic use of the same tools on Mount Sims – Restless.

Artistic Context

Matthew Sims, a Milwaukee native who played in the alternative rock band Citizen King before moving to Los Angeles and later Berlin, records as Mount Sims or Mt. Sims. He is almost solely responsible for his music, providing vocals, instruments and production. His debut album UltraSex on International DeeJay Gigolo Records helped define the early-2000s electroclash sound, and Ashes opens his second album, Wild Light, released on the same label in 2004 (with a further release in February 2005). Roger Joseph Manning Jr. contributed some of the album’s synth production. The darker moods heard here run on into his later album Happily Ever After, which dealt openly with obsession, isolation and horror.

Impact and Reception

Ashes lives in the underground rather than in the charts, cherished by listeners who followed the Berlin scene after the electroclash wave broke. It shows a softer, more vulnerable side of an artist often associated with confrontation and spectacle, and as the first track of Wild Light it announces the album’s change of mood at once. It is here because its melancholy is so honest and so well judged. Play it late, alone, and let the cold synths keep you company.

Mount Sims - Grave

2026-11-12T00:00:00+00:00

Genre and Mood

Mount Sims steers Grave into the cold end of electronic music, where darkwave and electroclash meet. The mood is dark and haunting, but it is also hypnotic: the track moves slowly and deliberately, pulling you along rather than pushing you away.

Song Summary

“Grave” lives up to its title. It is a five-minute descent built from patient rhythms, brooding synth lines and a low, deadpan vocal that sounds more like a confession at a graveside than a performance. The production favours space and repetition over spectacle, so every new layer feels like a step deeper into the dark. The album credits list André Lang on drums, Randy Twigg on additional vocals and Jackson & His Computer Band as additional producer, and the recording has the weight of a band rather than a lone laptop.

Musical Breakdown

The track unfolds like a slow procession, each section adding a little more shadow.

Intro

A sparse pulse and a murky synth tone set the scene, cold and unhurried, like fog settling over stone.

Verse 1

Sims’ voice arrives low in the mix, calm and unsettling, delivering the lyric with a detached, almost ritual flatness.

Build-up

Drums and bass lock together more tightly, and the synths begin to thicken, raising the tension without ever breaking the tempo.

Main Section

The full groove takes hold: a hypnotic loop that feels both danceable and funereal, the voices circling above it.

Outro

The layers recede one by one, leaving a lingering hum that fades out like footsteps leaving a cemetery.

Concepts in Focus

Mount Sims came out of electroclash: his debut UltraSex appeared in 2002 on DJ Hell’s International DeeJay Gigolo Records, the Munich label at the heart of that movement. By Happily Ever After he had moved on, and Wikipedia describes his later work as shaped by post-punk, new wave and darkwave. Grave shows what he kept, the deadpan voice and the machine pulse, and what he changed: a slower tempo, live drums and a horror-film darkness where the irony used to be. Compare his earlier club single Mount Sims – How We Do.

The synthesizer sets the temperature. Cold, murky tones that change slowly make the track feel nocturnal; there is no bright lead line to lift it. Against them, André Lang’s played drums add weight and a human push that a drum machine would not.

Artistic Context

Matthew Sims, who records as Mount Sims or Mt. Sims, was born in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and is based in Berlin. Happily Ever After, released by Hungry Eye Records in October 2008, was produced and mixed by Thomas Stern of Crime & the City Solution and explores obsession, isolation, horror and madness; Grave is its second track, written, performed and produced by Sims, and it also appeared on A Grave E.P. and on the 2010 reissue Happily Ever After… Again on the Italian label Punch Records. Sims has also worked with The Knife and Planningtorock on the opera Tomorrow, In a Year.

Impact and Reception

“Grave” is not a hit in any chart sense; it is a cult track from a cult artist, the kind of record passed between friends who love the darker corners of electronic music. Its appearance on three releases in two years shows how central Sims considered it. It belongs here for its atmosphere and restraint, proof that a slow tempo and a cold palette can grip as hard as any peak-time banger. Turn the lights down and listen to it all the way through.

Mount Sims - New Authority Volunteers

2026-11-12T00:00:00+00:00

Genre and Mood

Mount Sims spent the early 2000s as one of electroclash’s sleekest provocateurs, but New Authority Volunteers belongs to his darker, guitar-driven turn. It sits in post-punk and darkwave territory, alternative in spirit, and the mood is dark, rebellious and gritty, a short burst of unease rather than a dancefloor tease.

Song Summary

The title alone reads like a poster for some sinister militia, and the song leans into that atmosphere of control and resistance. Instead of the glossy synths of his early records, the sound is built from tense guitars, insistent rhythm and a vocal that sits somewhere between croon and command. It is compact, just over three minutes, and wastes none of them. The memorable quality is its tension: it never fully releases.

Musical Breakdown

The track is direct and economical, in the tradition of the post-punk singles it draws from.

Intro

Guitars and drums start up with a cold, driving momentum, setting a mood that is closer to a rehearsal room than a club.

Verse 1

The vocal enters with a detached, slightly menacing calm, delivering lines over a beat that never loosens its grip.

Chorus

The hook tightens the screws rather than releasing them, the title chanted like a slogan.

Outro

The song cuts off with the same abruptness it began with, leaving the unease hanging in the air.

Concepts in Focus

New Authority Volunteers is late-period post-punk, the tradition that followed punk with colder, more experimental music: prominent rhythm, tense guitars, detached vocals and dark themes. Mount Sims arrived there gradually; his 2005 album Wild Light already drew on dark wave and post-punk, with David J of Bauhaus playing bass on some songs, and the records that followed went further.

What makes the song interesting is what it is not. Mount Sims made his name in electroclash, the scene that revived 1980s electro with a cool, ironic edge, and his debut UltraSex on International DeeJay Gigolo was one of its records. Here the cool voice is the same, but the gloss is gone; listen to how a delivery that sounded playful over synths sounds threatening over guitars.

Artistic Context

Mount Sims is the project of Matthew Sims, an American musician from Milwaukee who first sang in the alternative rock band Citizen King, whose 1999 hit “Better Days (And the Bottom Drops Out)” reached number 25 in the US, then moved to Los Angeles and later Berlin. Sims handles almost every aspect of his music himself, vocals, instruments and production. His third album, Happily Ever After, released on Hungry Eye Records, was produced by Thomas Stern of Crime & the City Solution and featured Jessie Evans, Toby Dammit of Swans and Bryan Black of Motor, with themes of obsession, isolation, horror and madness. “New Authority Volunteers” comes from Happily Ever After… Again, its 2010 companion release.

Impact and Reception

That darker phase was a world away from the club hits of his electroclash years, and in 2010 he also worked with The Knife and Planningtorock on the electronic opera Tomorrow, In a Year. “New Authority Volunteers” is on this playground because it shows the other side of a familiar name: the same cool detachment, now aimed at something more ominous. Put it next to the electroclash of UltraSex and you can hear an artist deliberately trading polish for grit. Play it loud on a grey afternoon and let it rattle you.

Louisahhh - Like A Vice

2024-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

About the Artist

“A Trap I’ve Built is an intentionally brutal body of work. Wading through murky themes of rape culture, addiction, masochism, and deprivation, whatever isn’t explicitly lyricized bleeds through in a sonic ambush. It is my intention that listening to these songs, or DJing them, should be an experience that leaves the audience a little shaken up—something they can feel in their teeth. I hope that A Trap I’ve Built is delighted in because (not in spite) of the fact that it is upsetting.”

– Louisahhh

Louisahhh (Louisa Pillot), a New York-bred, Paris-based producer, DJ and vocalist, has carved a niche in the underground techno scene with her signature blend of raw intensity and poetic depth. She moved to Los Angeles in 2006, then found her way to Paris through Brodinski’s Bromance label, where she became the go-to voice of its records.

Known for her collaborations with techno heavyweights and for RAAR, the label she runs with the techno and electro producer Maelstrom, Louisahhh’s music is unapologetically visceral, addressing themes of empowerment, rebellion, and vulnerability. Like A Vice exemplifies her ability to merge gritty, industrial production with deeply emotional storytelling.

Listen on Spotify: the track · the EP

About the Song

Like A Vice unfolds like a living, breathing cathedral of sound, where minimalist rhythms evolve into towering walls of industrial techno. It begins with a sparse, almost cacophonic line of minimalist sounds—fractured, distant percussions that leave an unsettling silence in their wake. This intentionally disorienting introduction lingers, building a sense of tension that feels like something is about to break. Then, after what feels like an eternity, the voice emerges, its first words cutting through the chaos:

“Feels dangerous?”

This question is both an invitation and a declaration, a relief after the discomfort of the intro. It signals that the song is no longer a fragmented puzzle but a cohesive whole—its jagged edges now fitting together. The listener, once unsure, now feels grounded, as the track smoothly flows into its full form. What seemed like an erratic, disjointed beginning reveals itself as an integral part of the song’s larger plan, an intentional buildup to the moment of realization.

From this point on, Louisahhh’s haunting vocal delivery leads the listener through a journey of industrial energy and lyrical introspection. With pounding basslines, distorted textures, and a powerful sense of urgency, the track paints a sonic landscape that is at once foreboding and liberating. It captures the push and pull between control and surrender, reflecting an emotional journey that is both deeply personal and universally resonant.

As the song progresses, its architecture becomes deliberately claustrophobic, enveloping the listener in a maze of sound that is both suffocating and freeing. The industrial walls of techno press inward, heightening the tension, yet paradoxically expand outward, offering fleeting glimpses of freedom within confinement. This interplay of constriction and release mirrors the emotional depth and intensity that defines the track. Each moment builds upon the last, creating a dynamic tension that propels the listener forward, as if there’s no turning back now. The song is not just heard; it is felt in the body, in the pulse, in the space between control and surrender.

As Like A Vice fades out, the song leaves the listener suspended, as if they’ve just crossed a threshold but are unsure whether they’ve emerged unscathed or transformed. The abruptness of the ending echoes the song’s themes, creating an unresolved tension that lingers long after the music stops.

By the end, the listener is left suspended, utterly alone in the void. The abrupt conclusion—where pounding basslines and haunting vocals vanish in an instant—leaves the listener feeling exposed and introspective, as if the song has stripped away all pretense. It’s a confrontation with vulnerability, creating an unresolved tension that lingers long after the music stops.

About the Album: A Trap I’ve Built

The track Like A Vice closes Louisahhh’s five-track EP A Trap I’ve Built, released on RAAR on 1 December 2017, which Mixmag called her most visceral, unnerving and powerful release to date. Its tracks are Hey Trouble, To Me Right Now, Trap, Line and Like A Vice, and XLR8R described it as a bridge between her dancefloor work and a more live-sounding, post-alternative industrial pop. Available as a set on SoundCloud.

The EP moves through the shadowy edges of techno and industrial music. It is an exploration of extremes: raw, brutal and unflinchingly honest.

The EP’s voice-as-vice brutality becomes its defining characteristic, with Louisahhh’s vocals dominating, piercing, and commanding rather than merely complementing the instrumentation. Her voice carries raw yet deliberate power, echoing the struggle and triumph central to the record.

Brutality as an Art Form

“A Trap I’ve Built” isn’t just an EP—it’s an assault, both sonically and emotionally. The relentless pounding basslines, distorted synth layers, and frenetic percussive elements work in tandem with Louisahhh’s vocal grit to create a soundscape that feels like a constant push-and-pull between chaos and catharsis.

This collection is an exploration of extremes: raw, brutal, and unflinchingly honest. Each track channels intense emotion into carefully built sound. Hey Trouble, streamed with the announcement, sets the tone, and Trap, previewed by Dancing Astronaut, brings a fervent, punk-rock energy, before Like A Vice closes the record at its darkest.

The SoundCloud set highlights the raw, unfiltered nature of the tracks. Listening to the EP in this form enhances its brutality, as the absence of studio polish underscores the primal energy that Louisahhh brings to her craft. The SoundCloud version feels like a performance at its most vulnerable—a direct confrontation with the listener, daring them to engage with its unrelenting intensity.

The brutality of the EP lies not just in its raw production but in the way it demands introspection from its listeners. Louisahhh’s voice often teeters on the edge of breaking, carrying the weight of her lyrical themes—power, addiction, rebellion, and the struggle to find freedom within self-imposed limitations. In tracks like Like A Vice, her voice twists like a blade, making you question whether the resolution will be liberation or surrender.

Voice and Techno: A Dual Storytelling Mechanism

One of the most remarkable aspects of “Like A Vice” is how Louisahhh’s voice and the techno lines interplay to tell a story that feels alive and unpredictable. Her voice isn’t just a vessel for the lyrics; it’s a character in its own right, whispering, pleading, commanding, and at times, defying the relentless pulse of the music. The techno backdrop serves as an emotional mirror, evolving with the vocal performance, weaving an atmosphere that reflects the emotional stakes of the narrative.

The opening verse introduces the central metaphor of the song—a vice—representing something that is both alluring and suffocating. Louisahhh’s breathy, restrained delivery is matched by minimal percussion and a repetitive synth loop, creating a sense of quiet desperation. The subdued arrangement mirrors the internal struggle hinted at in the lyrics.

The Voice: Telling a Story

Louisahhh’s vocal performance carries raw emotion, drawing listeners into a world of tension and desire. In the early lines her restrained delivery feels like a confession, quietly powerful. As the song builds, her voice transforms, embodying defiance and empowerment, and by the final moments her tone is triumphant, yet layered with complexity.

The Techno Lines: A Living Atmosphere

The techno production mirrors and amplifies the emotional story. From the ominous, suffocating synths of the opening to the chaotic yet cathartic intensity of the chorus, the music evolves in step with the narrative. Its unpredictability—teetering between hope and despair—keeps listeners on edge. Will the music resolve in light or descend further into darkness? It’s a question the track refuses to answer clearly, keeping its emotional tension alive.

The Ending: A Sudden Disappearance

As the track reaches its final moments, the relentless intensity gives way to an unexpected quiet. The pounding basslines and haunting vocals vanish almost suddenly, leaving the listener in a state of suspended reflection. The ending isn’t gradual—it’s abrupt, like stepping off a cliff into silence. This deliberate choice feels like a final commentary on the themes of the song: just as the story of control and surrender culminates, it dissipates, leaving an unresolved tension.

“Like A Vice” is a song that defies easy categorization. It’s intense, raw, and deeply emotional, yet it leaves its ultimate message open to interpretation. Is the ending triumphant or tragic? Does the sudden silence symbolize liberation or a descent into nothingness?

The song’s unpredictability and emotional depth invite listeners to bring their own experiences to the narrative. It’s not just music—it’s an emotional mirror, asking you to reflect on your own relationship with control, desire, and surrender.

“Like A Vice” emerges as a living, breathing cathedral of sound—a masterpiece where minimalist heartbeats evolve into towering walls of industrial techno. The foundation is laid with subtle percussion, a rhythmic heartbeat that grows progressively intricate and intense. Each new layer of sound adds to the tension, creating an atmosphere that feels alive and ever-shifting.

What are your feelings as the music fades? Did it resolve positively or leave you questioning? Should the story continue, or is its abrupt conclusion part of its power?

Concepts in Focus

Louisahhh’s voice works like spoken word as much as song. Mixmag has called hers one of the most instantly recognisable voices in dance music, built on emotion-laced spoken words that dominate the tracks they appear on. On Like A Vice she whispers, pleads and commands more than she sings melodies, so the voice behaves like a character in a story rather than a hook laid over a beat.

The track is a lesson in the long build-up. Its opening is sparse and fractured, percussion scattered across silence, and it withholds a settled groove for a long time. When the voice arrives and the parts lock together, the relief is the payoff; tension built by absence rather than by the snare rolls of a festival track.

Its industrial weight comes from distortion. Overdriven bass and textures add harmonics and grit, which makes the sound feel close and physical, the quality Louisahhh had in mind when she said the EP should be something listeners can feel in their teeth. For her voice in a brighter, more punk-driven club setting, compare Louisahhh – Love Is a Punk (Vitalic Remix).

The Ending’s Echo

The track’s conclusion is abrupt—pounding basslines and haunting vocals vanish suddenly, leaving listeners suspended in reflection. This deliberate choice serves as a final commentary on themes of control and surrender, creating an unresolved tension that lingers long after the music stops.

Overall Vibe

“Like A Vice” is a visceral experience, blending the raw energy of industrial techno with the emotional depth of Louisahhh’s lyricism. Its intense, empowering, and raw aesthetic captures the essence of human vulnerability and strength, making it a standout track in her discography. Perfect for late-night introspection or an underground club setting, the song exemplifies Louisahhh’s ability to connect deeply with her audience while pushing the boundaries of techno.

What Does the Song Leave You With?

“Like A Vice” defies easy categorization. It’s intense, raw, and deeply emotional, yet leaves its ultimate message open to interpretation. The sudden silence might symbolize liberation or descent, triumph or surrender—each listener must find their own truth in its wake.

What do you feel at the end?
Liberation, loss, or something entirely different?

Let the silence after the final beat linger—it might hold the answer.

The Dual Narrative

Voice as Instrument

Louisahhh’s vocal performance charts an emotional journey:

Opening whispers emerge as quiet confessions
Rising intensity transforms into embodied defiance
The final lines arrive as a triumphant yet complex declaration

Techno as Emotional Landscape

The production mirrors and amplifies this journey:

Ominous, suffocating synths establish tension
Chaotic yet cathartic intensity builds through the chorus
Unpredictability keeps listeners suspended between hope and despair