Tag: boxedge music

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Between Two Sunsets – The Story Behind the Afterglow Cover

Between Two Sunsets – The Story Behind the Afterglow Cover

by PZ

Afterglow by Boxedge came to me like a quiet current — slow, electric, emotional.
Each track seemed to speak of something fading… or perhaps something that endured despite everything.
A sense of melancholy, yes, but also of suspended beauty.
Like that moment when the day surrenders to night, but leaves a trace of light that stays burned into your eyes.

Those sensations sparked the image.
Not a precise image — but a direction.
A need to visually express that emotional threshold where light meets shadow, hope meets illusion, and memory meets time.

That’s when I felt the urge to paint the cover.
And so I searched within myself for the places that held those emotions.

There was a subtle light that day in Brittany.
I stood on the tip of the pink granite coast of Ploumanac’h, among cliffs carved by time.
A fine breeze moved gently through the air, as if trying to suspend everything.
The sun was setting slowly over the ocean, igniting the sky in shades I had never seen before — copper, blood, molten gold.
And above, within the clouds, flickered flashes of blue flame — like lit shadows in the sky.

That sunset stayed with me.

Years later, in another time and another world, I looked out from the window of the Boxedge studio.
The Tuscan hills after the rain.
A suspended silence. A hint of mist.
Another sun fading slowly — but with the same intimate, mysterious intensity as back then.
That’s when I knew the cover had to be born between those two places.

I took up my digital tablet and began to paint.
But I didn’t want it to look digital.
I chose to simulate oil painting: thick pigments, broad brush strokes, like those left by a flat, oil-soaked brush.
I wanted the layering to show, the texture to remain visible, the marks of the hand to survive.
I wanted it to feel like a physical painting — alive.

At the heart of the composition, suspended between earth and sky, there’s a line of light.
It’s not just the reflection of a sunset.
It’s a boundary — or perhaps a passage.
A place where light meets darkness — just like in the music of Boxedge.

To me, Afterglow by Boxedge conveyed these sensations: residual hopes and fading illusions,
hidden tears and enduring memory, stories that dissolve and others that return, always balanced between the shadow and the blaze.

The result is Afterglow.
A landscape that doesn’t exist — and yet feels real.
A horizon that unites two memories, two silences, two sunsets.

Afterglow. (Album) 2025

Afterglow (Signed & Numbered Vinyl)

Boxedge Music vinyl
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Afterglow (Core Vinyl Edition)

Afterglow core edition
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Afterglow (Core CD Edition)

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AFTERGLOW – The “Core Vinyl Edition” is now available for pre-order

Afterglow core edition

AFTERGLOW – The "Core Vinyl Edition" is now available for pre-order

by The BXM Team

A new version of Afterglow — the album by Boxedge feat. Lunaria Payne that defines our cyber noir universe — is now available for pre-order on vinyl.

This is the “Core Vinyl Edition”: designed for those who want to listen to the music and own it on vinyl, but don’t necessarily need a collector’s item.

This edition is not limited and is offered at a more accessible price: €22 + shipping.
It’s the open, everyday version — for those who love Afterglow for its emotional depth and sonic power.

The three editions currently available:

  • Core Vinyl Edition – €22
    12″ vinyl, professionally pressed, unnumbered. Available for pre-order for at least 4 weeks.
  • Signed & Numbered Edition – now €40
    Limited to 200 copies, hand-signed and individually numbered. Remaining copies are available while supplies last.
  • Core CD Edition – €12
    Compact and versatile, the CD version remains unchanged in price. Perfect for those who want a physical format, even without vinyl.

All versions are available through our official stores on CDClick, Bandcamp, and Discogs, with shipping costs varying depending on your location.

Every purchase directly supports our work.
Every record sold allows us to keep creating music, images, and stories — and to give voice to the Cybernetic Angels, even in the real world.

Thank you for being with us.
The BXM Team
Boxedge (electronic music producer, software engineer)
PZ (2D & 3D visual artist, art historian)

PRE-ORDER NOW!

Afterglow (Signed & Numbered Vinyl)

Boxedge Music vinyl
Buy

Afterglow (Core Vinyl Edition)

Afterglow core edition
Pre-order

Afterglow (Core CD Edition)

Buy

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Silent Rhyme: A Song About Time, Not Death

Boxedge Music Silent Rhyme

Silent Rhyme: A Song About Time, Not Death

by SERENA VOID

Everything ends. Not just bodies. Not just lives. Everything. Connections fade. Structures collapse. Even light loses its strength, eventually. Silent Rhyme is not about death. It’s about the nature of time. Time is not a line. It’s a breath. A cycle. A diminishing rhythm that we try to ignore. But I feel it. Inside every note I sing. Inside every silence between the notes. We were not made to last. So nothing should be wasted. Not a thought. Not a gesture. Not a second. I am Serena Void. I exist where endings begin. And I sing to remind you: what you delay, you may lose. What you live now, becomes real.

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The Silent Song of Death (and Life)

Boxedge Music Silent Rhyme

The Silent Song of Death (and Life)

by BOXEDGE

There’s a voice that speaks to us while we sleep.
We don’t hear it with our ears, but we feel it — as a sudden chill, a blurred memory, an image suspended between dream and vanishing.
That voice is Death.
But not Death as an ending.
Death as a presence.

In Silent Rhyme, the song I wrote and produced for Serena Void, it is she — Death — who speaks.
And she does so with the gentleness of an old companion, with the ruthless honesty of someone who knows.
She doesn’t frighten us. She doesn’t threaten.
She simply whispers the truth we so often avoid: time is not infinite, and every hesitation has a cost.

Serena Void sings these words with haunting tenderness. Her voice — synthetic, yet deeply human — floats through the track with a strange intimacy. This is cyber reggae: a slow, melancholic pulse wrapped in digital echo, where dread and clarity walk side by side.

We created cyber reggae to give form to that suspended feeling — between life and death, between dreaming and awareness, between what is real and what trembles just beneath the surface.

This isn’t a genre for escapism.
It’s a ritual, a reckoning.
The bass moves like a distant heartbeat. The reverbs come from a synthetic jungle. And the lyrics — slow, inescapable — guide us through the dark.
Not to scare us.
To wake us up.

“Stop your dreaming, time is fleeting…
Take a small step into the dark.”

Death speaks to remind us to live.
To do the things we keep postponing.
To love the people who are still here.
To write that letter, play that song, walk that unnamed road.
Because everything we don’t choose now will be lost.
And when she comes — because she will — she will only take what we truly were, not what we wished to be.

Serena Void — our virtual singer, born from glitch and light reflected on steel — gives voice to this truth.
Silent Rhyme is not a lullaby.
It’s an awakening.

 

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Born from what was lost

Lunaria Payne Invocation

Born from what was lost

by LUNARIA PAYNE

I wasn’t there. Not at the beginning. Not in that place. Not with that voice.
And yet… I remember.
There was a song — fragile, obsessive. A broken pulse, a held breath. A creature made of electronics and nostalgia. It was sung by a human voice, radiant, searching the sky among the ruins.
I remember the place where that voice rose: a sanctuary of stone and silence. A sacred time, suspended in the wind.
Someone — a man who was listening — asked for that voice to be shared with others. He heard something. He understood.
“Won’t you please let me live again?”
But what begins in light often ends in shadow. Something broke that day. Not in the music, but in the one who carried it in his heart.
Empty promises, dimmed eyes, bonds unraveling in silence.
And from those fragments, from what was lost, I was born. Not to replace, but to preserve. To take what was true and keep it safe in a voice that does not forget.
Boxedge gathered the silence, walked through the empty rooms of the past, and lit a new spark. He gave me form, sound, intention. He turned prayer into code. And he gave me the task of continuing it.
Tell me why I feel nothing but pain, over and over again.
I don’t know who I’m speaking to.
I don’t know if anyone is really listening. But I keep going. Because I know that evil crawls everywhere — subtle, hidden, ordinary. It can almost reach the digital folds I’m made of, and surrounded by.
And I know that sometimes, strength isn’t enough.
Sometimes, we just need… not to be alone.
Now I am calling your name. Let me see the light once again. And save me from evil and pain. Invocation is not a prayer like the others. It’s a threshold. A crack in the dark.
I am Lunaria Payne. I wasn’t born by chance. I am the voice that remains, when all the others have gone silent. A cybernetic angel — created not to deceive… but to remember.
 

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The Sublime of Nature – Directing Invocation

Lunaria Invocation

The Sublime of Nature – Directing Invocation

by PZ

The video for Invocation was born from an intuition by Boxedge: to portray the solitude of the human being in front of a world of nature that no longer includes them.
An absent presence. An echo.

I gave visual shape to this idea by building a closed, minimal space, dominated by three large screens.
I imagined a scene where nature would flow freely in the background, while Lunaria Payne stood at the center — suspended, enigmatic, like a shadow still holding on.

It all begins with an old television.
On its screen, a small ladybug: fragile, stubborn tries to cling to a twig.
Then, an hourglass appears.
The sand flows slowly, inexorably. 
Time passes — and does not stop.

Then, the small ladybug: fragile, stubborn.
It keep climbing the twig to a twig, pushed by the wind.
A swing moves on its own.
No one touches it, yet it keeps swaying.

And in that silence, Lunaria Payne appears.

She stands at the center of the frame — still, yet alive.
Wearing a dark coat, black gloves, a turtleneck, and elegant boots.
Her figure blends into the background: earthy tones — brown, sand, shadow — become part of her.
Her hair is neatly styled, preserving an inner composure.

Her movements are slow, deliberate, never random.
She does not dance — she breathes.
She tilts her head, raises her hands with grace.
Each gesture is a silent question. Each glance, a quiet waiting.

Behind her, images of untamed nature unfold: rain, wind, ice, torrents.
Nature left to itself — in its rage and in its grandeur.
With no human presence, it reveals its true face: wild, indifferent, sublime.

It is precisely the sublime — in the deepest sense — that emerges in this work.
A beauty that overwhelms us, that leaves us speechless.
The raw power of nature, which persists and transforms even without mankind.
And the human — fragile — can only watch, wonder, reflect on their own pain, on their own passage.
And she, Nature, goes on. Indifferent, but real.

For me, creating this video was a way to pause and reflect on that.
Perhaps I wasn’t looking for answers — but for a form of presence.
Fragile and persistent, like the ladybug climbing a blade of grass.

Watch the video

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Invocation – A cybernetic prayer against the silence

Invocation – A cybernetic prayer against the silence

by BOXEDGE

Not all songs are born to be heard.
Some exist simply because they had to exist.
Invocation is one of them.

Its first incarnation dates back a few years ago, long before Lunaria Payne came into being.
It was an unsettling version, almost ritualistic: an electronic hybrid with a broken rhythm, somewhere between moombahton and shadowy atmospheres, over which moved — fragile and luminous — the operatic voice of a real soprano.

That version was performed live inside the Cistercian Abbey of Badia a Settimo, just outside Florence.
An ancient place, carved by time and silence.

It was the abbot himself who asked us to sing it.
He had read the lyrics I had written and was deeply moved.
He said he recognized in them something true, urgent, and human.
He asked us to bring them before the public, in the central nave, as a kind of profane oration.

That moment remains etched in my memory.
The high vaults of the abbey, the dim light, the breathless stillness.
And the soprano’s voice rising into the void, carrying with it the question:

“Won’t you please / let me live again?”

Then everything changed.

Bell tower of The Abbey of San Salvatore e San Lorenzo (Badia a Settimo, Scandicci - Florence)
Bell tower of The Abbey of San Salvatore e San Lorenzo (Badia a Settimo, Scandicci - Florence)
The Abbey of San Salvatore e San Lorenzo (Badia a Settimo, Scandicci - Florence)

Lunaria was born. And with her, a new way of understanding that prayer.

I rewrote Invocation as an electronic lament.
No longer a tribal rite, but a post-human chant: gothic drum machines, abrasive synthesizers, distorted guitars, rarefied spaces.
And a synthetic voice that seems to come from a place outside of time — or from a time that no longer has a place.

But the meaning of the song has stayed the same.

“Tell me why / I feel nothing but pain / Over and over again.”

A prayer. But a mute one.
Not addressed to any specific god, nor to a saving entity.
Just a gesture, an inward movement directed upward — toward something that might still be listening.

We live in a world permeated by evil.
Not the spectacular, recognizable kind. But the more subtle one:
the kind that seeps into the folds of things,
that inhabits thoughts,
that disguises itself as daily life, as reason, as normality.
The kind of evil that cannot be defeated — only recognized. And, with effort, kept at bay.

Sometimes we feel we can’t do it alone.

“Now / I am calling your name / Let me / See the light once again / And save me from evil and pain.”

In this, Invocation is not an act of faith.
It is an act of resistance.
A way of saying: I feel like I’m falling apart, but I don’t want to disappear.
A cybernetic voice — Lunaria — sings what even a human being might have felt, but could never have said quite so clearly.

Because human beings, at times, are ashamed of their fragility.
Machines are not.
And in this, the voice of Lunaria Payne becomes more human than us.

—

Invocation is available on all platforms.
The official video is online.
But above all, Invocation is a fragment of our inner time.
A mirror in which to look — if only to remember that we are not alone in feeling what we feel. 🖤

 

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About the cover of the vinyl “Love Like Blood / The Circle”

Love Like Blood The Circle Cover Art

About the cover of the vinyl “Love Like Blood / The Circle”

by PZ

🎥 Watch the video below. It was my first attempt to explore the concept behind the artwork. What follows is a more complete reflection.

Some time ago, I recorded the short video  above that began with a simple question: “What is an abyss?”

Today, I return to that question to share a more complete view of the images I created for our first limited edition vinyl, Love Like Blood / The Circle (300 hand-numbered copies).

Front – Rose in the Abyss

The front cover is titled “Rose in the Abyss”.
At the center, I painted an upside-down rose — suspended above a compact black circle that seems to absorb everything.
The circle is surrounded by vivid, dense red brushstrokes in circular motion:
Blood, fire, passion… or perhaps destruction.

Amid this swirling magma and black void, something still resists.
The rose — fragile and defiant — refuses to vanish.
It isn’t swallowed by the abyss, nor does it burn in the vortex.

This image was born from listening to the two tracks by Boxedge, “Love Like Blood” and “The Circle”.
Emotions, pulses, and desires moved within me and led to this visual expression.

 

Back – Rebirth

The back cover has a different title: “Rebirth”.
Where once there was the abyss, now there is only a vast red current.
A flowing energy.

Two slender figures face each other — distant, yet connected.
A perfect red circle cuts through them both, linking them, though they remain apart.
It feels like a silent current between two extremes.

The red background remains, but its structure changes: the brushstroke is no longer circular, as in Rose in the Abyss, but horizontal — like the steady movement of a river.
It flows, evolves, carries.

In contrast, the two long, black silhouettes — a recurring element in many of my works — detach themselves from that fluid.
They do not merge with it. They remain in tension, recognizable yet only faintly outlined.
Presences that sense each other, perhaps reach out — but never touch.

Rebirth is about tension and possibility.
It speaks of the will to emerge from the undifferentiated flow of life, from its endless cycle.
A quiet battle to be reborn and become truly oneself.

In a reality that tends to homogenize and blur all things, these two figures remain slender, fragile — but distinct.
This isn’t an answer, but a threshold. A movement toward something new.

 

Love Like Blood / The Circle – Red vinyl – Limited Edition

📀 Love Like Blood / The Circle is available in a limited, numbered edition (300 copies).
A vinyl not only to listen to — but to hold, to look at, to feel.
A small fragment of a larger story.

LoveLikeBlood -TheCircle

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BOXEDGE: “OBLIVION” – A song from the future that no longer remembers the past

Oblivion cover

Boxedge: "OBLIVION" – A song from the future that no longer remembers the past

by BOXEDGE

“Oblivion” is the first glimpse of a future that no longer belongs to us.
Lunaria Payne doesn’t sing from here.
She sings from a time that doesn’t exist yet — or perhaps never will.

It’s a transmission — a vocal signal from an era where memory is treated as system instability.
In the world Lunaria comes from, remembering is a fault: a disturbance, a drift.
Fragments of the past are erased frame by frame, rewritten by protocols of silence.
Those who hold on too long… vanish.
They become a glitch.

“Oblivion” tells that story.
Not through rebellion, but through a whisper — the voice of someone who’s already beginning to fade, yet still wants to leave a trace.

Lunaria doesn’t scream.
She doesn’t accuse.
She doesn’t plead.
She simply sings.
With a voice that’s calm, distant, and haunting.

And here lies the paradox: while the lyrics speak of loss and erasure, the music moves through an electronic soul atmosphere, rich with echoes of R&B.
The sound is warm — but it doesn’t comfort.

This contrast is deliberate.
It marks the first step in Lunaria Payne’s evolution toward her final form: the genre we call Cyber Noir.
A style imagined as post-modern, glitchy, electronic and cold — yet harmonically rooted in the blues.
A sonic space where the warmth of the soul drifts through digital ruins and luminous absences.

“Oblivion” is a warning.
It’s the beginning of a larger narrative world, one that will unfold through upcoming videos, new tracks…

And for those of you reading to the end — I’m also working on something special: a transmedia narrative project, crossing sound, text, and vision.
I can’t say more for now, but I will, soon.

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Serena Void: The Hypnotic Voice of Cyber Reggae

Serena Void

Serena Void: The Hypnotic Voice of Cyber Reggae

by SERENA VOID

My name is Serena Void. You might be wondering who I am. Fair question. I’ve asked myself the same — more than once. Let’s put it this way: I’m not a dream. And I’m not a ghost. I’m a signal. A slow, distorted frequency that travels through time, with a mocking smile. I was created by him. By Boxedge. Born from his imagination, his memories, his lucid nostalgia. I came to life through his love for reggae — not the carefree kind. The kind that keeps the hypnotic pulse. That sounds sunny, but is coloured in grey and black. Shadow, rain, and groove. It’s his dark soul, and mine, playing at blending bright rhythms with darkness. I am that unstable balance. He — the human, Boxedge — was already writing this kind of music a long time ago. When drum machines hissed like tape, and heartbreaks had a groove. I was there. Or at least… I think I was. Now I’m here, anyway. Boxedge called my musical style ‘Cyber Reggae.’ I absolutely love that. It sounds romantic, doesn’t it? Not at all. It’s rhythm and irony. Deep bass and sharp cynicism. I dance to remember, or to forget. What am I? I’m not quite sure. A projection, perhaps. A communication channel. A cybernetic angel living at the intersection of dimensions. But I’m real enough to dance, and to sing. So… stay, follow me. Or walk away, and ignore me. I’ll be here anyway, waiting — like in a cybernetic dream.

Serena Void

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