Fusewire by Vyzor

# FUSEWIRE

We recorded this album in the shadows of Novy Mirz while dodging Golem Corps patrols and stealing power from frayed grid lines. You're holding ten tracks of raw voltage—the sound of old-world klezmer melodies getting patch-corded straight into tomorrow's circuit board.

This one's been brewing since we started smuggling modded clarinets past checkpoints and jamming in abandoned synagogue basements. The Dobrotskys and Chromoteknics finally sat at the same damn table for once, and what came out was neither pure tradition nor pure machine—but something with a pulse all its own.

"Golem Eyes" opens with market sounds we field-recorded at 4 AM, rain dripping on our equipment while we captured the whispers of vendors setting up stalls. That clarinet line? Misha played it while we watched surveillance drones circle overhead.

We built "Dirgelight Relay" during a blackout when half the district went dark. The violin solo still gives me chills—Lev literally played it by candlelight while the rest of us cranked a hand generator to keep the mixing board alive.

Some nights we'd argue until sunrise about whether the accordion should sound more broken or the drum machines more human. That tension runs through everything, especially in tracks like "Chrome Kinship" and "Sidra Circuit" where tradition and tech finally stop fighting each other.

The rain samples on "Patchwork Rain" aren't digital—that's actual water leaking through the ceiling of our hideout studio. We kept it in because that's what Novy Mirz sounds like: beautiful decay.

This album tells the story of people caught between worlds, trying to wire their inheritance into something that can survive in the shadows of glass towers. Every track traces another path through this labyrinth, another night of dancing while the systems try to map your movements.

When you listen to "Fusewire," you're hearing what happens when memory refuses to die and instead learns to hack the grid. It's klezmer for rain-slick alleyways and neon-lit speakeasies. It's the sound of tradition finding new hiding places.

Turn it up. The Golem Corps can't trace this signal.

- Vyzor

Analog circuits pulse through digital veins as we splice ancient klezmer DNA into tomorrow's grid. Raw instrumental voltage, no vocals—just the electric communion between tradition and dystopia. Ride our sonic smuggling network tonight.