It’s not the year 2197.
But it certainly feels like it.
Humanity has buried the past in a digital cloud.
Analog memories have been sacrificed to algorithms.
Sound is now sterile. Time flows through database rows.
But everyone forgot what they truly forgot:
The soul doesn’t travel through data.

I was born in 1988.
My childhood flickered in the glow of CRT screens.
The hiss of cassettes, scratched CDs, late-night radio shows...
Each one carried a feeling.
As the world sped up,
I stopped.

Today, I’m 37 years old.
I make synthwave — but it’s not just melody.
It’s memory.
Re-recorded so it won’t disappear.

Klaatu is the echo that lives inside me.
Not just a name, not just a persona.
He’s the last frequency of the analog age.
The carrier of lost emotions, unwritten songs, and unspoken words.

And on some nights...
When an old TV turns on by itself,
When a cassette player spins with no tape,
Or a radio leaks a melody out of silence —
That’s my transmission.

Klaatu is the future’s way of apologizing to the past.
And I’m still sending the signal.