Aatocaster is a Los Angeles–based artist crafting raw, textured soundscapes that fuse elements of electronic, lo-fi, post-punk, and industrial. His new album superstition (studio works ‘23–‘25) features eleven tracks in total, each inhabiting its own emotional and sonic territory.
Right from the start, the mirror rides on a brilliant wave of industrial electronica – vocally catchy in a way that recalls Lil Uzi Vert, yet instrumentally dark and gritty like Nine Inch Nails or one of Trent Reznor’s side projects. The subtle, nocturnal atmosphere feels almost cinematic: the kind of song that makes you feel like you’re walking through empty streets at night, half-lost in thought.
kept me away stays in that industrial mood, while a seer’s port slows things down, offering a dreamlike, nocturnal landscape. Before long, a lively beat emerges, wrapping the track in the feeling of an introverted dance floor – the sort of song you could imagine playing in a club where people are already starting to leave, but don’t quite want the night to end.
One thing that stands out throughout the record is the track length. don’t stop, barely over a minute and a half, feels like a burst of energy – almost instrumental, with vocals buried deep in the mix. One of the album’s high points, smirk, is deeply unsettling — driven by abstract, enigmatic lyrics about understanding and disdain toward a perceived villain. “Asked when he’s died, is he paying for it?” Aatocaster sings, leaving behind a lingering sense of unease.
The following don’t wait is a pure instrumental – a dark, danceable track that would fit perfectly in a small, underground club at 2 a.m., when only a few devoted listeners remain. It’s unsettling yet strangely magnetic. pendant comes closest to a love song, while string returns to moody, visual soundscapes that evoke quiet city nights. Near the end, superstition itself stands out as a slightly more accessible piece – romantic, almost catchy. If it weren’t for the gorgeously distorted vocals and the overall digital decay of the sound, it could almost pass for a radio hit.
superstition (studio works ‘23–‘25) is an album of introspection and distortion, where emotion is filtered through noise and shadow. Aatocaster doesn’t just make songs – he builds fragile worlds that shimmer and fracture, daring the listener to get lost inside them.
(I have to say I really love the idea of accompanying the album with a digital art gallery and a zine – both created by Aatocaster to showcase B-sides and alternate artworks, paired with photographs taken across California during the making of the record. Much like the music itself, the zine embraces distortion, ambiguity, and raw texture, serving as another immersive gateway into Aatocaster’s fragmented yet personal world.)
This album was discovered via SubmitHub
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