CobaltShade & Naria
CobaltShade CobaltShade
Naria Naria
Naria Naria
I’ve been turning city sounds into sonic experiments—feels like every honk, siren, or traffic jam is a secret story. What kind of hidden narratives do you pick up in the noise?
CobaltShade CobaltShade
I pick up the rhythm of the city’s pulse—honks that feel like impatient commas, sirens that stretch out like a warning line, the way traffic jams turn into a slow drumbeat. There’s a story in every hiss of an exhaust and every clatter of a freight train, like the city’s own way of shouting its secrets. What’s your favorite layer of noise?
Naria Naria
Honestly, I’m obsessed with the way wind whistles through abandoned subway tunnels—every draft feels like a ghostly violin bow. The hiss is a whisper, the slap of metal a bass line, and the echo a chorus that never stops. It’s the city’s quiet rebellion, and I can’t resist turning it into a soundscape. What’s your go‑to hidden layer?
CobaltShade CobaltShade
I’m usually digging in the low, steady hum of an old train tunnel that never sleeps, the clack of a door shutting on its own, and the distant rumble of a construction site. There’s a hidden narrative in that rhythm, like a city breathing through its bones, a slow pulse of people and machines that keep going. It feels like a quiet rebellion, a reminder that nothing stays still for long.