humans — machines
— nature.

The first sound that mattered was the inside of a piano. At seven years old, visiting a children's museum in New Hampshire, there was an upright with the front panel removed. Strings exposed and hammers visible. You could reach in, touch the strings directly, and hear the instrument resonate in a way that playing it conventionally never allowed. Seeing the guts of a machine and realizing the sound lived inside it never really left.

That curiosity has been the constant for Martin Meyer, the artist behind Analogue Ghost. Guitar and bass as a teenager, then anything else that made an interesting noise, from borrowed drum machines, cheap Goodwill keyboards, to samplers and weird effect pedals. Eventually, the project of a band ambitious enough to matter fell apart at the same time the world did. That became the reason to relocate, reset, learn a second language, and stop making music for anyone else.

Analogue Ghost in its current iteration is what came out of that impulse.

The music sits somewhere between experimental electronics, rhythmic abstraction, and noise, shaped less by any single genre and more by anyone who tinkers genuinely and without apology. Analogue Ghost's music draws from the same instinct that makes macro photography turn ordinary objects alien, or that makes a horror film force you to question your own humanity. The result is something surprising. Something where harmony emerges from texture rather than templates. Something that intends to leave the listener aware that they felt something.

The framework of humans, machines, and nature keeps proving useful as a lens more than a concept. Almost every idea, tool, or experience falls somewhere inside that triangle. The categories only exist because a human decided they should, which makes the whole framework pleasantly self-referencing.

Based in Medellín, Colombia. Available for live performance, collaboration, and installation.