THE CREW

Niwdog Etak Alugaoc is a professional urbex operative — an urban explorer who moves through the abandoned infrastructure of the world. Derelict factories, forgotten industrial complexes, crumbling architecture that the grid left behind. She documents everything. Her photographic catalogues are sold through her own independent operation and taken on commission from CyberPhotographic Inc, who send her to specific targets — locations they want recorded before they disappear entirely.

Between expeditions she produces music. The sound of Niwdog Etak Alugaoc is breakbeat and big-beat — heavy, rhythmic, built for the spaces she explores. The percussion hits like boots on concrete. The samples carry the echo of empty rooms. It sounds like what it is: the audio record of someone moving through places the world forgot.

She transmits through the Phonographic.LGBT underground network under the signal name PhonographicDreams. The frequencies she sends out carry the texture of her work — industrial, precise, and always moving.

Lioness of Trancetopia emerged from the worldwide CybeRave trance underground — a sprawling decentralised scene known as CyberDreamScape that exists across encrypted networks and temporary dancefloors that appear and disappear without warning. She is one of its most recognised DJs, known for sets that run deep into the late hours and don't stop until something shifts.

As a music producer she works in trance and house — melodic, driving, built for sustained movement. Her tracks are designed to carry people through the night. But she doesn't stop at the dancefloor. Under the Lioness Of Trancetopia signal she hosts the AncientXCyber podcast — a transmission that explores ancient history the mainstream refuses to touch. Subjects that the gatekeepers have decided are too controversial, too destabilising, too inconvenient. She broadcasts them anyway.

On the Phonographic.LGBT pirate radio network she holds the latenight sessions — the hours when the signal goes deepest and the audience is whoever is still awake and still listening.

Not much is known about WhiteLabel. The signal arrives. The music is there. Beyond that, almost nothing has been confirmed. There is a name — WhiteLabel — and an association with something called V3. What V3 is, or what it represents, is not currently understood. The connection to Matoins exists in the data but its nature is unclear.

Occasionally WhiteLabel talks on the radio. Brief transmissions. Not frequent. The content when it comes is spare, considered, and then it stops. There is no pattern to when the signal appears or when it goes quiet.

What is known: they practise meditation. They are deeply interested in UFO phenomena and the mysteries surrounding unidentified aerial objects — the questions the official record doesn't answer cleanly. The music they make is drum and bass, jungle — dense, fast, technically intricate. It sounds like someone who thinks carefully about what they're doing but doesn't feel the need to explain it.

Femminielli is a professional erotic dancer performing for CyberTGirls — a virtual showgirl streaming network operating inside the broader digital entertainment infrastructure. She moves between the physical and the digital with ease, treating both spaces as stages. Performance is her primary language.

As a music producer she works in experimental electronic — sound that doesn't sit still long enough to be categorised cleanly. Layered, drifting, occasionally abstract. The album Putting On My Makeup Studio Sessions Vol-01 is twelve tracks of music that sounds like the space between thoughts — not quite ambient, not quite structured, but entirely intentional.

Off stage and off record she is deep into technology. Computers, PC gaming, VirtualCyber environments, retro systems — she collects and inhabits them. She rides with the Cyber-Retro Biking Club, an old-fashioned mountain biking outfit that runs with the same aesthetic the rest of her life does: analogue methods, digital world.