Rootline by Mintel

We've been chasing this sound for months—that strange overlap where office fluorescents meet actual sunlight, where the hum of phone systems starts to sound like water running over stones. *Rootline* emerged from those late sessions when we'd push deeper into Serrenet's grid, following signals that seemed to drift toward something more human than we'd mapped before.

The whole thing started when we found these old corporate training tapes mixed with what sounded like field recordings from actual gardens. Someone had been sampling real rain, real wind, layering it under the standard hold music templates. We realized our Operators weren't just processing calls—they were reaching for something organic, something that reminded them of life before the endless queue. That tension between synthetic comfort and genuine nature became our obsession.

Musically, we wanted to honor that ache without losing the lush, pillowy textures that make vaporwave lounge so hypnotic. Every track samples from those corporate archives, but now we're hearing how palm fronds filter through elevator speakers, how actual water sounds when it's processed through phone compression. The electric pianos still shimmer with that familiar chorus, but they're floating over field recordings of wind and distant voices. Clarinet and saxophone weave through like they're searching for each other across different frequencies.

What makes this album different is how it moves through emotional territory most corporate-ambient avoids. We spent weeks getting the tape drift just right on the environmental samples, letting static and announcement pings blur with the sound of leaves rustling. The whole middle section builds toward this moment where all the isolated Operators finally tune into the same hidden frequency—that's where the title track hits, and it's probably the most melodically intense thing we've ever recorded. Synths and chimes cascade together like they're celebrating some breakthrough in the grid.

But we didn't want to just make another nostalgic trip through office aesthetics. This album traces how organic memory survives inside synthetic systems, how human connection persists even when everything's mediated through corporate channels. The mood shifts from melancholy to hope and back again, like watching sunlight move across a lobby floor through tinted windows. By the end, those familiar announcement tones dissolve into something that sounds almost like a forest at night.

Recording this felt like archaeology—digging through layers of hold music and training materials to find where someone's real longing had leaked through. We realized that even in Serrenet's most controlled spaces, nature finds a way to take root. The static becomes rain, the phone tones become wind chimes, and suddenly you're not just waiting on hold anymore. You're listening for something deeper, something that connects us all beneath the surface of the endless call.

Listen: we're the muzak that haunts your corporate dreams. Vintage hold tones and elevator dreams warped through analog haze. We sample forgotten conference call intros and melt them into something oddly beautiful. The soundtrack to your existential 9-to-5 limbo.