The Oscillation
The Oscillation, formed in London in 2007, is celebrated for its fusion of psychedelic, space-rock, and experimental sounds. At the heart of the band is multi-instrumentalist and producer Demian Castellanos, whose visionary approach has fuelled a string of critically acclaimed albums.
Since 2005, I’ve had the privilege of collaborating with Demian, capturing and amplifying the band’s evolving sound and visual aesthetic. Our journey began with the production and direction of music videos, and in 2007, our partnership expanded as I stepped into the role of projectionist for The Oscillation’s live performances. Together, we’ve worked to create immersive shows that seamlessly blend sound and vision, transforming concerts into transcendent experiences.
For me, Demian's music has always felt like a living, breathing entity—constantly evolving and refusing to be confined to a single genre. From drone and space rock to psychedelic riffs, Krautrock, dance beats, and motorik rhythms, his sound defies categorisation. Yet, no matter where his explorations take him, there is always, to me, a profound cinematic quality to his compositions. This shared passion for crafting atmospheric, boundary-pushing art has been the heart of our collaboration, allowing us to merge analogue techniques with experimental methods to create something truly timeless and unique.
This webpage is your gateway into our creative world—a comprehensive archive of our projects spanning two decades. Here, you’ll find a curated collection of music videos, live performance visuals, and behind-the-scenes insights into our work together. Whether you're a longtime fan or a curious newcomer, welcome to The Oscillation’s visual and sonic universe.
2024 - The Start Of The End
Following a series of meditative explorations, The Oscillation return with a new sense of vigour and purpose on The Start Of The End.
At once warm and welcoming, ‘The Start Of The End’ is an album quite unlike anything that The Oscillation have ever released before. Fuelled by optimism and taking stock of what’s good about life and what needs to be jettisoned, the record is a result of spiritual and physical re-charging and cleansing.
The artwork for The Start Of The End originates from an exhibition poster by Gonzalo Castellanos, created in Caracas, Venezuela, in 1972. Over the years, much of his artwork has become a key visual element of The Oscillation’s albums. For this project, I had the pleasure of collaborating once again with Demian Castellanos to reinterpret his father’s artwork, beautifully aligning it with Demian’s sonic compositions.
The Start Of The End is available directly on classic black or splat vinyl and as a gatefold CD, which includes additional tracks.
After two years apart, I finally made the journey to the Czech Republic to visit Demian in his new surroundings. It was a long-overdue reunion, a chance to reconnect after years of collaboration and distance. Now living on the outskirts of Brno, far from the relentless pulse of London, I could see—and hear—how this quieter, more reflective environment had shaped him. The weight of the city’s chaos had lifted, and in its place, there was a newfound sense of peace. His music had evolved too, embracing a broader, more open sound—at times brighter, more melodic, yet still unmistakably his own. This shift was woven into the fabric of his latest album, The Start of the End, a title that, in hindsight, carried more meaning than either of us realised at the time.
During my visit, we decided to do what we had always done—explore, experiment, create. Armed with my iPhone (a departure from my usual approach), I brought along a selection of coloured gels to shoot through, tinting the footage with a dreamlike glow. We wandered through forests and along the banks of the nearby lake, capturing fragments of light and landscape, letting intuition guide the process. It felt like old times, the kind of creative spontaneity that had always defined our collaborations.
Back in London, as I pieced together the footage, I drew inspiration from expanded cinema screenings. I wanted the visuals to feel like layered memories—overlapping, dissolving, bleeding into one another, just as time and distance blur our recollections. The heightened colours, the fragmented frames, the ethereal textures all seemed to align perfectly with the track we had chosen. And so, The Start of the End music video was born.
Looking back, the title now feels almost prophetic. What we thought was another chapter in our ongoing creative journey was, in fact, a quiet farewell to the way things had been. The music, the visuals, the time we spent wandering Brno’s landscapes—this wasn’t just a return to our past ways of working. It was a closing act, a final expression of everything we had built together. And yet, like all endings, it carried within it the echoes of something new—an evolution, a transformation, a shift into whatever comes next.
2021 - Untold Futures
Redefining the possibilities of altered states through audio stimulation, Untold Futures finds The Oscillation at their most daring and breathtaking. A multi-layered assault on the senses, this is an unexpurgated experience for the seasoned connoisseur and unspoiled novice alike. Its power is felt in the multi-layered dissonance and undying throb of Dilated Mind, the metaphysical possibilities that beat at the heart of metronomic pulses of Forever Knowing and the face-melting attack of The Inner Void. Heart Of Nowhere is a mantra for the profane, while the dissonant beauty of Obscured realises re-birth and resurrection.
Revelatory in its brilliance and an intersection between the individual self and the collective unconscious, this is music to fuel the inner technology of the mind. So load up to the brim and give yourself up to Untold Futures.
The CD and digital versions of Untold Futures are augmented by ambient versions of The Inner Void, Dilated Mind and Heart Of Nowhere.
For the cover design of Untold Futures, I had the privilege of bringing together and laying out striking images provided by photographer Antonio Curcetti. Antonio captured the front, rear, and credit inlay images using a Polaroid Land Camera with a slow shutter speed, walking the streets of Newham and Hackney by night to create an atmospheric, dreamlike quality.
The inlay image of bassist Tom Relleen was taken by photographer Davide Daninos during a live performance at the Florence Arts Factory in Italy in 2010. I reworked this image for design purposes, agreeing on the selection with Demian Castellanos as a heartfelt tribute to our dear friend and fellow Oscillator, Tom.
RIP Tom Relleen 2020. You are deeply missed.
Tom’s Tree in Virtual Reality
After Tom’s passing, a group of his loved ones came together to plant a tree in Victoria Park—a living tribute and a place to reflect and remember him. While working on the 360 videos for Untold Futures, I felt a deep urge to visit the tree with my camera and capture a time-lapse. I extended the boom pole, carefully positioning the camera by the tree, and let it record—absorbing the movement of life, nature, and time in the park.
This was my way of connecting with Tom’s memory through creativity, the bond that defined our friendship. To honor that connection, I combined the footage with the ambient mix of Filated Mind, creating an immersive experience. In the 360 environment, you can stand beside Tom’s tree, surrounded by the world he left behind, and reflect on life, the universe, and everything in between—all within a virtual reality space.
I think he would have liked that. This video is more than a tribute; it’s a homage to our shared passion for film, art, and music—a creative dialogue that continues beyond time.
Behind the Lens: Crafting the Untold Futures Video Trilogy
My work on the Untold Futures video series marked a bold new direction in my approach to music video production for The Oscillation. For this project, I embraced 360-degree filmmaking technology with the GoPro Max 360 camera, a tool that opened up thrilling creative possibilities. This immersive format allowed me to craft visuals that could be experienced both on traditional screens and through Virtual Reality headsets. It presented an exciting challenge—capturing and editing in a medium designed to record its entire surroundings while finding innovative ways to obscure myself as the director and camera operator.
This technological leap aligned seamlessly with the ongoing narrative we’ve developed over 15 years of collaboration. Earlier videos such as Violations (2006), Future Echo (2010), and From Tomorrow (2013) introduced recurring themes of inter-dimensional travel, holographic transmissions, and dystopian landscapes. These earlier video works were brought to life through a fusion of analogue and digital techniques, creating visuals that perfectly complemented The Oscillation’s hypnotic soundscapes. Shot on cine-film with a Super 8mm camera, the otherworldly landscapes took on a raw, dreamlike quality, while digital video cameras using mini DV tapes captured the ethereal liquid light projections created in the studio. To bring the FFT to life, green screen footage of our actress was recorded, seamlessly integrating her presence into these surreal environments.
Each element was meticulously crafted and later composited using digital video editing techniques, blending the organic textures of analogue film with the precision of digital effects. This hybrid process infused the visuals with a tactile, almost handmade quality, amplifying their resonance with the band’s otherworldly aesthetic. The result was a series of videos that felt alive—both timeless and futuristic—immersing viewers in a universe that blurred the boundaries between sound and vision.
The Untold Futures trilogy builds upon this foundation, shifting the perspective to the FFT herself. Through the immersive power of 360-degree video, viewers experience the narrative through her eyes, transforming them into active participants in her journey. When viewed through a VR headset, the visuals take on a visceral quality, immersing the audience in irradiated cityscapes and apocalyptic dreamscapes while reflecting the band’s otherworldly aesthetic.
The trilogy’s loose narrative unfolds across the forgotten edges of East London, weaving a dystopian tale of exploration and ascension. My goal was to create a dreamlike, out-of-body experience (OBE) for the viewer as they journeyed toward their final destination. To achieve this—and to keep myself out of the frame—I devised an unconventional solution. Instead of mounting a microphone on a boom pole, I secured the GoPro Max 360 camera to the end of a 12-foot boom. Fully extended, the pole elevated the camera to a high vantage point, creating a drone-like, bird’s-eye perspective of the city.
Using this method instead of an actual drone had several advantages. It allowed me to capture sweeping shots in areas like Canary Wharf without the hassle or expense of acquiring permits to fly in these security-heavy, built-up financial districts. The setup enabled a more spontaneous, guerrilla-style approach to filming while still delivering dynamic aerial-like visuals.
2020 - Drone Weapon
My Last Tour with The Oscillation
In 2019, I had the immense pleasure of joining The Oscillation on tour one final time. The lineup for this bittersweet journey featured Demian Castellanos on guitar, vocals, and keys, with Tom Relleen on bass and Jem Daulton on drums. Packing up my projectors and hitting the road again felt like a reunion not just with the band, but with a part of my life that had been so formative and creatively fulfilling.
Our tour took us to some familiar and cherished places: Antwerp, Berlin, Prague, Vienna and Brno. Each show carried its own magic, but a few moments stood out like cosmic milestones. In Prague, we played a transcendent set at Kasárna Karlín, a venue that seemed tailor-made for the swirling, hypnotic synergy of our music and visuals. Berlin brought us to the Zukunft Festsaal, where the energy was electric and the room pulsed with life. And then there was Vienna, where we returned to Fluc, a venue steeped in memories, hosted once again by the brilliant promoters at Dazed and Confused Shows.
This tour felt particularly poignant for me, as it marked my return to performing with the band after taking a break to pursue my MA. The shows were explosive, offering a hypnotic experience that left both the audience and us as performers deeply immersed. Along the way, I reconnected with old friends from past tours and met new ones who would soon leave a lasting impression.
One of the most touching moments came after our set in Prague, when a group of artists approached me with questions about the light show. As I shared the history and techniques behind the visuals, I could see their curiosity ignite. A few years later, I discovered they had launched their own light show collective, Weird Visuals, blending traditional projection techniques with their own creative vision. Knowing that we inspired them that night fills me with immense pride and gratitude.
2017 - U.E.F
The design process for the U.E.F album cover began with an exploration of Demian’s collection of instruments. We captured close-up photographs of his Fender Jaguar, Epiphone SG, Yamaha PSS 780, Teisco 110F, and Korg MS10, focusing on the intricate details of these iconic tools of sound. To push the visuals further, we experimented with prisms, photographing the instruments through them to create distorted, multi-layered imagery reminiscent of double-exposure photography.
Building on this multi-layered concept, we blended the images in Photoshop, combining and manipulating the layers to create a sense of depth and complexity. As the design evolved, the overlapping textures began to suggest abstract cityscapes, as if viewed from a topological perspective—like gazing down at a sprawling metropolis or peering into the intricate circuits of a futuristic information highway. The final artwork blurs the lines between the micro and macro, offering a visual metaphor that perfectly complements the album’s expansive, driving and otherworldly sound.
This record sees Demien subvert his sound once-again, adding a new evolution to his ever-evolving musical canon. U.E.F is comprised of two 20-minute slabs of unforgiving, dystopian electronica - complete with ambient electronics, droning synths, monolithic percussion and a hypnotic kraut gusto. This is kosmische musik for the new age; a fitting soundtrack to the forthcoming techno-apocalypse, when artificial intelligence takes over and we're all subjected to the way of the machine...
2017 - Evil in the Tree
Evil in the Tree
At the start of 2017, I made the decision to leave London and return to my hometown of Corby for a brief period of reflection and reconfiguration of my creative path. It was a chance to recalibrate, reconnect, and take stock of where I was headed artistically. Around this time, Demian released a 7-inch record on Wrong Way Records, featuring the track Evil in the Tree. It felt serendipitous—during my time back home, I would take frequent walks in the nearby woods to clear my head, often finding myself drawn to a striking old dead tree that stood alone in a clearing.
This tree had always stood out to me. Gnarly, twisted, and burnt, it exuded a peculiar energy, one that felt enigmatic and timeless. Whether shrouded in the grey hues of winter or bathed in summer light, the tree seemed to carry a character that never wavered—a haunting presence that demanded creative attention. Even before my move back to Corby, I had often thought about incorporating it into a project. So when the release of Evil in the Tree loomed on the horizon, the idea sparked: this was the perfect opportunity to bring that vision to life.
I pitched the concept to Demian, suggesting we use the old tree as the central visual anchor for a performance-based music video. It was a simple yet evocative idea—Demian reciting the lyrics directly to the camera with the tree looming in the background, its haunting presence amplifying the mood of the track.
At the time, we didn’t have the budget to shoot the video on film, but I was also eager to explore new tools and transition into digital filmmaking. My brother Lewis had recently completed his BA in Film and had invested in a professional Nikon DSLR. Eager to put his skills to use, he came on board as director of photography, taking charge of the camera work. With everything aligned, Demian made the trip from London to Corby for the shoot.
That day felt like more than just the production of a music video—it was a deeply personal moment for me. I had the chance to show Demian the town where I grew up, a place rooted in my own story and artistic foundations. And for the first time, I was able to shoot a video on my home turf, immortalising a feature of Corby’s landscape that had captivated me for years.
The collaboration felt like a mark in time—a coming together of past and present. My brother’s involvement added an extra layer of meaning; it felt like the convergence of two creative paths, his fresh from film school and mine forged through years of hands-on experimentation. And Demian’s visit to Corby gave me the chance to share a piece of my roots with him.
The final video stands as a snapshot of that chapter in my life—a haunting visual companion to a psych-rock trailblazer of a track. The old tree, captured forever in Evil in the Tree, remains not just a symbol of nature’s resilience but also a marker of a moment when I found clarity in the woods I once called home.
A few summers before my brief return to Corby, I set out on one of my regular woodland walks with my brother, Lewis. As always, our cameras came along, ready to capture the day’s discoveries. That year, I had recently invested in a prism-shifting lens, a fascinating tool that rotated on the front of the camera to produce dazzling, otherworldly effects. Around the same time, I had also started experimenting with colour filters, and on this particular walk, I fitted a red filter to the lens. The combination of the two devices created surreal, almost hallucinatory visuals—shifting shapes bathed in vivid, alien hues. This creative experiment would later prove instrumental in crafting the dreamlike, unsettling imagery for Evil in the Tree.
2016 - Monographic
A solenoid driver circuit is a device that regulates current to a solenoid, creating motion to activate a mechanical system—a fitting metaphor for Monographic’s driving rhythms and mechanical grooves. Inspired by this concept, the starting point for the album’s cover design emerged from found diagrams in an old electronics manual.
We scoured its pages for intriguing circuit layouts and scanned the most compelling designs, cleaning them up and reprinting them onto acetate sheets in stark black and white. These acetate reproductions were then scanned again and meticulously retouched before layering on titles, logos, and track listings. The process transformed raw, technical diagrams into something crisp and visually striking.
With Monographic, we shifted away from the more chaotic, cosmic artwork of previous releases, embracing a clean, minimal aesthetic. Influenced by the bold, utilitarian designs of early Factory Records and the Situationist movement of 1968, we aimed to create a visual identity that felt refined yet subversive. The result is an album cover that feels like a blueprint—precise, technical, yet steeped in mystery.
The rear cover takes this concept further, mapping the track numbers onto the circuit diagram as if they were stations on an inner-city transport map, charting a journey through the album. Each "station" represents a stage on the sonic voyage, drawing parallels between the album’s structure and the schematics of the solenoid driver circuit.
Like the solenoid itself, Monographic’s sound generates motion—whether it’s the involuntary foot tap, a slow nod of the head, or full-body surrender on the dance floor. It’s a sonic system designed to move both mind and body with precision and power.
For the music video Truth In Reverse, I drew inspiration from a haunting quote by French poet Arthur Rimbaud:
"A look so lost, a face so dead, that perhaps those whom I met did not see me."
I was also deeply moved by the photographic series Rimbaud in New York (1978-1980) by David Wojnarowicz. In this series, Wojnarowicz documented a spectral, displaced figure wandering the streets of a rapidly changing New York. Wearing a handmade black-and-white mask of Rimbaud’s face, the artist became a living embodiment of the poet—a lost persona relegated to the fringes of a modern, bustling city. Wojnarowicz drew a parallel between his own outsider existence and that of Rimbaud: a renegade poet who lived life on society's edges. The simplicity and raw emotional impact of this concept left a lasting impression on me.
I wanted to channel this imagery into my own time—2016—and reimagine its essence to accompany The Oscillation’s track, Truth In Reverse. I was captivated by the sorrowful character Wojnarowicz created, his blank, dejected mask a perfect metaphor for alienation in a constantly morphing metropolis. There was a quiet power in his work that I hoped to echo.
To achieve this, I crafted a series of masks inspired by Rimbaud in New York. This time, instead of Rimbaud, I used Demian’s face as the foundation. I designed both positive and negative versions of the mask, intending to invert the black-and-white imagery during post-production to experiment with its visual impact.
With the mask in hand, I asked Demian to wander the affluent financial districts of Canary Wharf, where towering glass facades and suited business professionals embody wealth and privilege. His masked figure became a stark, ghostly contrast to this environment—a lost face haunting the heart of modern opulence. The result is a surreal and poignant reflection on detachment, identity, and the stark divide between human emotion and a world fixated on material gain.
2015 - Beyond the Mirror
Experimenting with Lomochrome Purple: A Journey into Psychedelic Film
In the summer of 2015, I was approached by my friend Hannah Brown, a representative of the retro film and photography company Lomography. She shared some exciting news: Lomography had begun producing a new and experimental type of film called LomoChrome Purple. Designed to transform natural tones into vibrant, psychedelic hues, this colour negative film creates stunning colour shifts—blues morph into greens, greens into purples, and yellows into pinks. Red tones remain untouched, preserving natural skin tones while grass, trees, and foliage are completely transformed into rich shades of purple. A surrealist's dream, and, needless to say, right up my alley.
Not only had Lomography started producing this film for 35mm still photography, but they were also experimenting with 16mm Lomochrome Purple film for motion cameras. Hannah had secured a few rolls of this new 16mm film and was looking for artists, photographers, and filmmakers to test it out. Lucky for me, I was handed a roll to play with, with all processing expertly handled by Lomography.
For this project, I rented a classic Bolex 16mm camera from Ed at On8mil and set out to explore the streets of London, loaded up with this experimental film stock. It was an unforgettable experience—a chance to capture the city through the kaleidoscopic lens of Purplechrome, where ordinary urban scenes were transformed into dreamy, otherworldly visions.
The results were nothing short of mesmerising. The film’s psychedelic qualities felt like a perfect fusion of retro nostalgia and futuristic experimentation. Its unique colour-shifting palette gave the footage an otherworldly, dreamlike quality—both timeless and daringly innovative. Inspired by the visuals, I edited these experimental clips to Kissing the Sun, a track destined for release on The Oscillation’s album Beyond the Mirror.
Working with LomoChrome Purple wasn’t just a technical exploration; it became an invitation to reimagine how we see and represent the world around us. Each surreal hue transformed the familiar into something extraordinary, reshaping landscapes and moments into vivid, kaleidoscopic visions. It was a reminder that through the lens of creativity, even the everyday can become a psychedelic journey into the unknown.
Insect Attention - The Nightmare Behind the Video
The inspiration for Insect Attention came from more than just the track’s title and its buzzing, paranoid synth layers. It emerged from a vivid nightmare I had at the age of 11—one so terrifying it has stayed with me ever since.
Back then, I spent countless hours in the garden collecting and studying insects, captivated by their intricate worlds. One late summer day, I discovered two unusually large spiders hiding in the rusting corrugated shed at the back of the garden. They were magnificent—truly the crown jewels of my insect-hunting adventures. Excited, I grabbed a large glass jar from my mum and set about creating a miniature ecosystem for them. Rocks, plants, and soil became the foundation for their new home. Once I was satisfied with my creation, I gently placed the spiders inside and proudly carried the jar into my bedroom.
Around the same time, the late summer air was filled with the spectacle of swarming flying ants, their annual mating flight taking to the skies. To my young mind, they seemed like perfect food for my newfound arachnid companions. I collected as many as I could and added them to the jar.
For days, I was utterly fascinated, spending hours observing the spiders feeding on their helpless prey within their contained glass world. It was thrilling—until the night when the fascination turned into horror.
I dreamt that the spiders and ants had somehow escaped the jar. Swarms of living ants and the corpses of their fallen comrades surged in endless waves, engulfing me as I lay in bed. From head to toe, I was pinned beneath a writhing, twitching sea of bodies. Towering above it all were the two spiders—majestic and monstrous, ruling over this nightmarish landscape like a King and Queen. Their unblinking gaze fixed me in place as the endless mass of crawling, wriggling insects consumed my senses. It was vivid, hellish, and inescapable. I woke up in a cold sweat, shaken to my core
Years later, as I set about creating the video for Insect Attention, I knew this nightmare would be the perfect source of inspiration. The visuals needed to convey the same visceral dread, the same sense of being swallowed by an unrelenting swarm.
To achieve this, I sourced found footage and reappropriated it for a quick video experiment—a visual manifestation of my childhood terror. I edited the footage to match the pace of the track, then graded it with a toxic palette of insect-like hues, amplifying the sense of unease. But I wanted to push the surrealism further, so I replayed the footage on an iPad and recorded it using a mini DV camera. Between the camera lens and the screen, I held a convex glass lens salvaged from an old slide projector. Moving the lens in time with the music, I created bending, shifting distortions that warped the footage like a hall of mirrors gone wrong.
The result was deeply unsettling—an additional layer of disorientation that brought the nightmare to life. The distorted visuals, paired with the track’s relentless, buzzing synths, became a reflection of that childhood dreamscape: a toxic, claustrophobic world where escape feels impossible.
This project wasn’t just an exercise in editing—it was an opportunity to exorcise a vivid and haunting memory, turning it into art that mirrored the sound and spirit of Insect Attention.
2014 - From Tomorrow
Stripping Back the Parallel Plane: ‘From Tomorrow’ Notes on Artwork - Thoughts and Process Projected
The initial step in designing the album cover for From Tomorrow began with the examination and deconstruction of a painting by the artist Gonzalo Castellanos. Our goal was to strip down the painting’s perspective to its base essence, allowing us to experiment with the spatial fields revealed through this dissection process. After much experimentation and reconfiguration, we arrived at the final design: a stripped-back (inverted) parallel plane, featuring a simple central parallelogram form.
This minimal yet evocative structure began to symbolise a core belief underpinning the album’s concept: Thought Energy. Central to this idea is the notion that our thoughts and feelings have the power to shape our reality—a manifestation of desires through intentional focus. The checkered (inverted) parallel plane came to represent a psychic channel or road to this heightened state of thought energy and awareness.
Thematically, From Tomorrow is an attempt to find new mental and spiritual zones, breaking free from the psychological effects of the modern urban landscape and the curious emptiness of the digital social world that we are forced to inhabit. These bleak and unsettling conditions are reflected back as music, channeling a wide spectrum of emotions—hope, despair, aggression, indolence, and even narcoleptic bliss. This sonic world is one of duality: chewed by the teeth of insanity and spat into a strange, fragmented landscape on one side, while basking in the warmth of a mysterious inner sun on the other. The visual design mirrors these themes, serving as a roadmap for navigating this interplay between destruction and renewal.
To further develop the album’s visual identity, we conceptualised the background’s spatial atmosphere and contextual meaning. Inspired by the themes of spiritual exploration and detachment from the constraints of modern life, we sought visual elements that embodied these ideas. We delved into the sleeve designs of J.G. Ballard novels and progressive/experimental rock albums from the 1970s and 1980s, alongside references to Brutalist architecture of the same era. One particularly striking image—a photograph of an old tobacco factory in Nottingham—resonated deeply with the album’s emotional tone, tying into its exploration of bleak urban landscapes and the search for transcendence within them. Although this image wasn’t ultimately used for the front cover, its starkness remained influential and became a centrepiece for the rear artwork.
The final front cover design took shape as a desert expanse paired with a distant mountain range, conjuring a sense of the journeyer or wanderer navigating vast, open spaces. This imagery aligned perfectly with the album’s broader themes of seeking new mental and spiritual zones—finding liberation from the psychological weight of the urban landscape and the emptiness of the digital world. The desert serves as both a literal and metaphorical landscape, offering space for introspection and the possibility of transcendence.
Once the core elements were chosen, the task of combining them began. Projectors were warmed up, large-format slides prepared, cameras readied, and editing programs primed. For the rear cover, the Brutalist edifice from the earlier stages of the process was reintroduced, symbolising the stark, greying urban environment we inhabit today. Superimposing the vibrant front cover’s desert scene onto this bleak structure created a striking juxtaposition: within the blunt realities of modern existence, portals or new paths remain possible—provided the mind’s eye is open, observant, and ready to explore.
A deliberate decision was made to omit additional text or logos—including the band name and album title—from both the front and rear covers. This allowed the artwork’s concept and emotional resonance to remain unimpeded by distractions, creating a clean, uninterrupted visual flow. We also hoped that this minimalist presentation would inspire listeners to view the package as a piece of art, worthy of display on their walls.
The artwork reflects the core themes of From Tomorrow, serving as an abstract map for the listener’s journey through the album’s soundscapes—a road to new states of thought and energy, carved out of the chaotic and the mundane. It is a visual invitation to the listener to explore uncharted territories of the mind and spirit, where hope and despair coexist, and where the possibility of renewal glimmers within the haze.
Notes on Gonzalo Castellanos – From Jane Castellanos, 2013
Gonzalo Castellanos’ painting, adapted for the record/CD cover, holds a special significance—it was one of the first he created in London, around the time of Demian’s birth.
Gonzalo was an architect and a professor of the history of art and architecture in Venezuela. For the first time in his life, he had the opportunity to explore his architectural concepts through painting. His fascination lay in the illusion of three-dimensional forms on flat surfaces. Cubes, in particular, captivated him. He loved the idea of solid masses floating in space, defying gravity.
He admired the works of Picasso and Mondrian, as well as Gauguin and Cézanne, who paved the way for modern art and the early experiments in cubism. In architecture, he revered Le Corbusier, appreciating his uncluttered, modernist approach as a break from the ornate styles of the past. This admiration even led to a pilgrimage to Chandigarh, the capital of Haryana and Punjab in India, which was the first modern planned city designed by Le Corbusier.
Gonzalo’s love for light, colour, and form was deeply tied to his upbringing in the tropics, where architecture is intrinsically aware of bright sunlight and shifting shadows. He admired the golden ratio, the Fibonacci series, and classical proportions. Simplicity fascinated him, but so did the optical illusions of movement and the chaos of contradictory lines juxtaposed together.
His influences extended to Venezuelan kinetic optical artist Carlos Cruz-Diez, as well as Bridget Riley and Victor Vasarely. Escher’s meticulously crafted illusions, where perspectives flipped and reality seemed to fold into itself, became a favourite of Gonzalo in the 1970s. He believed that such illusions resonated with the vibrations of music and unseen energies.
Gonzalo’s artistic nature mirrored his profound philosophical tendencies. He often oscillated between deep contemplation, poignant depression, and sublime states of inspiration. He was particularly drawn to non-figurative art that conjured motion on the still canvas. He even found beauty in everyday experiences, such as the vertiginous effects of telegraph poles seen from moving cars or trains. His obsession with form and movement made him a dangerous cyclist in London, where he would often forget which side of the road he was on—thankfully, he didn’t drive.
Colour was another obsession. He loved working with complementary contrasts, such as pinks and greens or blues and oranges. He often experimented with the afterimages created by staring at one colour and then observing its complementary hue on a white wall.
Music was another passion, though he never learned to play an instrument. He had a fine ear and spent days adjusting the position of his speakers by mere centimetres to perfect the sound. Gonzalo would passionately conduct invisible orchestras, his wild gesticulations often entertaining Demian as a child. Late at night, he would dangle baby Demian in his arms while listening to Shostakovich, Wagner, Mussorgsky, and Stockhausen—anything loud, dramatic, and deeply emotional.
Though he passed away long before he could see Demian’s musical accomplishments, Gonzalo’s artistic nature is alive in Demian’s work. While Gonzalo never fully expressed himself as a musician, his love for sound, colour, and form undoubtedly influenced his son’s creative journey.
As Jane so beautifully puts it:
“There you have him—swimming around in the background of Dem’s present life and influencing him from afar.”
A heartfelt thanks to Jane for capturing Gonzalo’s essence so vividly.
2012 - Waste the Day
Waste the Day with No Place to Go
In 2012, The Oscillation's single Waste the Day marked a creative shift, moving away from themes of apocalypse and urban decay toward a more vibrant, springtime aesthetic. The lyrics, which celebrate the beauty of leisurely moments shared with a loved one, inspired us to envision serene settings where such a day could unfold. Parks naturally became a focal point of our brainstorming, and Demian suggested filming at Kew Gardens in southwest London. With spring just around the corner, the garden’s blossoming flowers provided the ideal psychedelic backdrop for the music video.
At the same time, my friend Hannah Brown, who had recently begun working with Lomography, introduced us to one of their latest innovations: the LomoKino camera. This retro-inspired 35mm film camera was designed to shoot short movies, capturing approximately 144 frames per roll, resulting in 36 seconds of footage at 4 frames per second. With its hand-cranked mechanism and vintage charm, the LomoKino offered a nostalgic, analogue filmmaking experience reminiscent of early motion picture cameras. Hannah kindly lent us a camera and several rolls of colour film, and with those tools in hand, Demian and I set off to Kew Gardens.
The resulting footage became the foundation for the Waste the Day music video. The dreamy, lo-fi visuals produced by the LomoKino perfectly complemented the song’s themes of romantic daydreaming and leisurely escapism. Its vibrant floral imagery, combined with the nostalgic, textured quality of 35mm film, harmonised beautifully with The Oscillation's signature psychedelic soundscapes. The final video invites viewers to immerse themselves in its lush, kaleidoscopic world—to, quite literally, waste the day.
Released as a limited-edition 7” vinyl, with only 295 numbered copies made for Record Store Day 2012, Waste the Day was accompanied by the B-side track No Place to Go. For this release, I also produced the video, tying it thematically to the floral motifs of its counterpart. This time, however, I ventured further afield, filming in the Keukenhof Gardens in the Netherlands—often referred to as the “Garden of Europe.” The footage captured the gardens’ breathtakingly vibrant flowers, which I transformed into swirling, hypnotic visuals through a kaleidoscopic whirlwind of edits.
To further enrich the video, I spliced this footage with clips I had shot of The Oscillation performing live for Record Store Day at a Rough Trade Records pop-up shop in Paris. The juxtaposition of nature’s serenity and the raw energy of a live performance gave the video a dynamic, multifaceted texture, echoing the track’s themes of escape and introspection.
Waste the Day’s lyrics encapsulate a desire to escape the rush of daily life, dreaming away time with a loved one:
"There's no rush today, What we need to do, is dream our lives away, believing love is true, I'll waste the day, with you.”
This collaboration not only showcased The Oscillation's versatility but also highlighted the creative potential of integrating innovative analogue technology into modern music video production. The LomoKino's unique capabilities allowed us to capture the essence of the song, resulting in a visual narrative that is both timeless and evocative.
2011 - Veils
Creating the Artwork for Veils
The artwork for Veils, The Oscillation’s second album, marked my first attempt at translating the dynamic, fluid aesthetics of my live liquid light shows and music video productions into a still image. The challenge was to encapsulate the vibrancy and movement of those visuals into a static medium—album artwork that would not only represent the music but also evoke the same cosmic energy.
From Light Shows to Static Art
One of the techniques I use in my live light shows involves printing imagery onto acetate sheets using a photocopier. These images range from traditional black-and-white optical illusion art to thematic visuals tailored to the band’s sound. For The Oscillation, we leaned heavily on sacred geometry—symbols like the flower of life or other intricate designs that resonated with the band’s psychedelic soundscapes.
The process began with sourcing these images, either by scanning them from books or finding them online, then resizing them in Photoshop to 40x40cm. After resizing, I’d repeat the patterns, print them, and meticulously cut them out to fit onto GEPE glass super slides. The magic happened when the ink was applied to the glass slide, layered with the acetate image, and topped with more ink. This sandwich of ink and acetate was sealed between two layers of glass, framed in plastic, and inserted into the projector.
The real alchemy began during the live performance. The projector’s heat would "cook" the slides in real time, causing the ink to bubble, swirl, and tear apart the imagery as it melted. The effect was mesmerising, especially with sacred geometry—it felt alive, constantly shifting, like a visual representation of the music itself.
Designing Veils
For Veils, we chose a set of diamond shapes stacked one atop the other—three in total. The largest formed the base, the medium size sat in the middle, and the smallest rested on top. Together, they created a pyramidal structure, a series of overlapping planes or dimensions that reflected the layered, inter-dimensional themes of the album.
The initial diamond designs were created by designer Linda Joy and handed over to me for further experimentation. Using my projection techniques, I reimagined the artwork. The black-and-white diamond images were photocopied onto acetate sheets, carefully cut to 35mm slide size, and coloured with ink. Once prepared, the slides were loaded into two projectors, both aimed at the same point on a wall.
The Final Touches: Colour and Dimension
To add depth, I slightly offset one of the projectors, creating a subtle, layered effect as the overlapping projections interacted. I experimented with various colour schemes until I landed on a red-and-green combination that immediately felt right. The choice was reminiscent of the iconic 1950s 3D cinema glasses—a perfect nod to the retro-futuristic aesthetic that complemented The Oscillation’s sound. After much deliberation, Demian and Tom agreed that this was the direction to take.
The final artwork bridged the gap between the organic, tactile world of analogue projection and the precision of modern design. It captured the essence of the band’s music: layered, hypnotic, and always evolving. For me, Veils wasn’t just an album cover—it was a continuation of the visual storytelling that has always been at the heart of my collaborations with The Oscillation.
Lament: A Descent into the Cosmic Abyss
After the success of our video for Future Echo, which was shot on location at the hauntingly atmospheric Sound Mirrors in Dungeness, we became hooked on the idea of finding unique, evocative locations that could resonate with the themes and concepts of each track. When it came to the video for Lament, I began with the song itself—a rich, cinematic piece that seemed to evoke vast, timeless expanses. The lyrics and tones conveyed a sense of eternity, something ancient, pelagic, cosmic, and profound. My mission was clear: to find a location that could embody this feeling.
Through my research, I stumbled upon the perfect place—a mysterious and enigmatic site tucked away in the coastal town of Margate, known as the Shell Grotto.
The Shell Grotto is one of those places that seems to defy explanation. Discovered in 1835, this underground maze of passageways and chambers is adorned with over four million shells arranged in intricate, swirling patterns. To this day, its origins remain shrouded in mystery. Was it an ancient temple? A Victorian folly? Or something even more arcane? The theories range from the mundane to the fantastical, but what struck me most was the almost cosmic energy the space seemed to exude—a timeless, otherworldly quality that felt perfectly in tune with Lament. Its walls, covered in spirals and geometric motifs, felt like the handiwork of some long-lost civilisation, one attuned to the depths of the ocean and the cosmos alike.
Alongside the grotto, I wanted to bring another layer of visual intrigue to the project. I began scouring eBay for old stock and archival 16mm footage, looking for material that could complement the song's themes. Eventually, I came across an early educational science film by the renowned biologist Julian Huxley. The film documented the life of a microscopic organism called the hydra—a strange, psychedelic-looking creature that pulsed and swayed like something pulled from a dream. It was perfect. The hydra’s alien, squid-like appearance fit seamlessly into the vision I was crafting: something cosmic, pelagic, and ancient.
Julian Huxley’s connection to his brother Aldous Huxley, author of The Doors of Perception, felt like a serendipitous sign. There was a poetic symmetry between the psychedelic undertones of the music and the Huxley name—a nod to the kind of exploratory creativity that defines both. After acquiring the footage, I digitised it and began experimenting with it in the edit. Using mirroring filters, overlays, and colour manipulation, I transformed the hydra into something even stranger. These reimagined forms became vivid, inter-dimensional entities, pulsating with colour and light—like DMT fractals brought to life.
I filmed Demian performing Lament from my makeshift bedroom studio, capturing his raw, intimate performance against a neutral backdrop. In post-production, I transported this footage into the surreal world of the Shell Grotto, layering his image onto its labyrinthine, shell-encrusted walls. The grotto's mysterious patterns and textures became a dreamlike canvas, creating the impression that Demian was physically present in this ancient, otherworldly space.
To heighten the ethereal quality, I overlaid the hydra imagery onto the footage, weaving these pulsating, inter-dimensional forms into the scene. The result was striking: Demian transformed into a shamanic figure—a cosmic priest delivering a sermon from a long-lost temple on some distant, unknowable shore. The juxtaposition of his grounded performance with the ancient, psychedelic visuals lent the video a hypnotic, symbolic power, blurring the boundaries between time, space, and reality.
Lament set the tone for what would come next. It embodied the layered, intricate ideas that would define The Oscillation’s second album, Veils. By combining ancient mysticism with psychedelic futurism, the video became a testament to our dedication to creative experimentation and the powerful synergy between music and visual storytelling.
2010 - Future Echo
Future Echo: A Vision of Psychedelic Decay and Cosmic Reckoning
A journey across a barren, disintegrating lunar landscape, Future Echo is a psychedelic trip imbued with ancient monolithic relics and cosmic phenomena. The video’s visual narrative is shaped by its haunting setting, experimental effects, and a marriage of film techniques that merge analogue and digital realms.
The initial ideas for the video spanned occult rituals in hidden fire-lit caves to cosmic portals opening onto futuristic cityscapes. Ultimately, the latter concept captured our imagination, leading us to envision a vast, desolate environment where an otherworldly portal could come to life. This inspired months of experimentation with special effects, as well as meticulous planning for the location that would provide the perfect backdrop.
At the time, I was expanding my studio effects repertoire. Having worked extensively with liquid slide painting for slide projectors, I was keen to explore overhead projection techniques using glass plates. I acquired 12-inch glass plates and candy dye to colour my supply of mineral oil and began experimenting with combinations of liquid, oil, baking soda, marbling, and watercolour inks. These sessions were recorded on a Mini DV camera, digitised, and refined into what would become the portal effects for Future Echo. The swirling, kaleidoscopic visuals captured the essence of an uncontainable supernova—a centrepiece of the video’s climactic narrative.
With the portal effects established, attention turned to finding the perfect location to situate this cosmic spectacle. The desolate and surreal landscapes of Dungeness, a unique expanse of shingle coastline in Kent, stood out as the ideal setting. Dungeness is one of the UK’s only deserts, defined by its vast, barren beauty. It’s home to an imposing nuclear power plant, weather-worn lighthouses, and relics of an abandoned fishing community. Among these features are the famous monolithic pre-radar "listening ears," otherwise known as the Sound Mirrors. These concrete structures, once used as early warning systems before radar technology rendered them obsolete, embodied a mysterious, futuristic-yet-ancient quality.
I drew parallels between the Sound Mirrors and ancient Neolithic sites, such as stone circles and standing stones. Their remote, stoic beauty resonated deeply with me, evoking the timelessness and quiet grandeur of these ancient monuments. This was one of my first deliberate ventures out of London to visit a site of historical significance for filming purposes, and it marked a turning point for me creatively. This project set me on a path to return not only to Dungeness but also to venture further afield, seeking places of historical and architectural interest to capture and reimagine through my unique lens.
In February 2010, Demian, Tom, and I drove down to Dungeness, armed with a Kodak Vision 3 200T colour-negative Super 8mm film stock and a sense of creative curiosity. The winter landscape, lightly dusted with snow, felt alien and otherworldly. Frozen lakes mirrored the cold, grey sky as Demian and Tom tossed pebbles across the icy surface, their sounds slicing through the eerie silence. Meanwhile, I roamed ahead with my Super 8mm camera, capturing the haunting beauty of the landscape and the weathered structures hidden within it.
The footage was processed, scanned, and intentionally kept in its negative state rather than converted to positive. This decision created a futuristic aesthetic, echoing the irradiated world I had experimented with in Violations (2006) and expanding that universe in this video. The combination of stark Super 8mm landscapes and digital liquid light show effects created a unique texture, blending organic and cosmic elements into a surreal tapestry.
The narrative unfolded organically during the editing process, guided by the prophetic repetition of the lyrics in Future Echo: "Do you see what I know is coming to you?" These words, with their ominous and hypnotic cadence, suggest an inevitable cycle—a relentless build-up of pressure that leads to a moment of explosive release. The lyrics became the driving force behind the visual narrative, echoing the sense of foreboding and inevitability that underpins the track.
The story begins with the Sound Mirrors, their stark and imposing presence setting a tone of eerie stillness, as if frozen in time yet silently resonating with the weight of history. Slowly, the portal—a swirling, vibrant supernova—emerges, its presence growing ever more intense. The visuals mirror the lyrics’ sense of an unstoppable force drawing closer, expanding with mounting tension until it can no longer be contained.
The climax sees the supernova erupt in a violent burst of energy, ripping through the fabric of space and time. This moment of destruction carries a visceral catharsis, embodying the explosive release foretold by the lyrics. Together, the song’s haunting refrain and the visual journey of Future Echo create a powerful and immersive experience, blurring the lines between sound, vision, and prophecy.
This project marked a milestone in my creative practice as my first successful attempt to combine photo-chemical film with digital video tape. The landscape footage was shot on Super 8mm film and transferred digitally using a home Tele-Cine viewer and Mini DV cam. Meanwhile, the special effects—generated with overhead projectors, glass bowls, inks, oils, and household chemicals—were captured digitally and then layered with the film footage in post-production. This hybrid approach gave the video its distinctive aesthetic, balancing analogue textures with the vividness of digital effects.
The result was a video that complemented the sonic intensity of Future Echo, a track known for its weighty bass lines and hypnotically repetitive vocals. The song, a mainstay in The Oscillation’s live sets, builds to an explosive crescendo, much like the video itself. Whether opening a show or closing it with a catastrophic bang, Future Echo remains a testament to the interplay of music, imagery, and experimentation.
Future Decay
Inspired by the success of the Future Echo project, I decided to create a DVD package that captured the essence of the live show, offering audiences a tangible piece of the experience to take home. This special edition DVD featured a 1-2 hour edited and effects-laden sequence of my overhead projector experiments, which had become a signature element of our performances. The idea was simple: after immersing themselves in the live show, fans could take home their own slice of the Future Echo Vortex and relive the hypnotic visuals at their leisure.
The DVD also included a copy of the Future Echo music video and a 10-minute version of the original Super 8mm footage, shot in negative, featuring the haunting landscapes of Dungeness and the iconic Sound Mirrors used in the video. To complement the visuals, Demian recorded an exclusive 1-2 hour ambient soundtrack, adding another layer to the immersive experience. It was a truly unique and limited-edition artefact of our collaborative work.
The DVD was lovingly packaged in a handcrafted cardboard case, with artwork printed on both sides. I designed multiple cover variations: some featured the Sound Mirrors, while others showcased photographs of the liquid slide artwork I had created in the studio. Each case was meticulously hand-cut using a scalpel and metal ruler, and the DVDs themselves were covered with specially printed stickers featuring my designs. To make the package even more special, I included acetate slides printed with artwork from the music video—particularly stills of the blue, pulsing hyper-sun that had become an iconic visual element.
Only 100 copies of this handmade edition were produced. Some were sold online through the All Time Low shop, but the majority found homes with fans after live shows. It always brought me immense joy to see people so enthusiastic about taking a piece of the light show with them. It was incredibly touching to know that the visuals and music we created resonated so deeply. The idea was simple yet powerful: fans could play the visuals on their screens at home, paired with the ambient soundtrack, and be transported back into the immersive world of Future Echo.
2007 - Out of Phase
Out of Phase: The Beginning of The Oscillation
In 2007, The Oscillation released their debut studio album, Out of Phase, via DC Recordings, marking the emergence of a bold new voice in experimental music. Helmed by multi-instrumentalist and producer Demian Castellanos, the album rose from the ashes of his critically acclaimed project, Orichalc Phase. Out of Phase showcased Demian’s uncanny ability to move effortlessly between crafting infectious Pop melodies and diving headlong into expansive Psychedelic freak-outs.
Tracks like Respond in Silence demanded comparisons to the harder edge of the 1970s Krautrock scene, while Hear Your Sadness evoked the dreamlike melancholy of Spiritualized or Loop at their most medicated. Meanwhile, Liquid Memoryman unleashed a raw, punk energy, like The Ruts battling their way out of an echo chamber amid a haze of white noise. The album also featured a reimagined Head Hang Low, transforming Julian Cope’s moribund 1984 ballad into a blissed-out, hallucinatory anthem.
At the time, I was already collaborating with Demian and DC Recordings on the production of three music videos to promote the album: Respond in Silence, Violations, and a remix of Head Hang Low. These videos were an exercise in DIY creativity, incorporating experimental techniques and special effects that mirrored the hypnotic energy of the music.
Taking Out of Phase to the Stage
As the release date for Out of Phase approached, conversations at the DC Recordings office turned toward finding new ways to promote the album. Demian was presented with the idea of putting together a live band—a bold step to take his intricate, layered soundscapes from the studio to the stage. The idea resonated, and in 2007, Demian began assembling a lineup: Tom Relleen on bass, Jon Abbey on drums, and Marc Thomas on keys and sax. Demian himself took on guitar and vocals.
It was at this point that Demian approached me with a proposition: Could we adapt the visual effects and projection techniques we had developed for the music videos and bring them to life onstage? The idea was to channel the iconic light shows of 1960s and ’70s bands—creating a multi-sensory experience that merged sound and visuals in real time. I was immediately on board, eager to explore this new dimension of collaboration.
Our debut show came courtesy of Adrian and Amanda, the legendary minds behind Corsica Studios in Elephant and Castle, a haven for underground music and experimental art. Their support provided the perfect launchpad for The Oscillation’s live journey.
A New Era of Collaboration
From the music videos that set the tone for Out of Phase to the immersive live performances that followed, this period marked the beginning of a creative partnership that pushed boundaries. Out of Phase wasn’t just an album; it was the blueprint for an evolving artistic vision—a space where hypnotic drones, raw energy, and cutting-edge visuals could coexist.
For both Demian and myself, the transition from studio to stage brought a new level of excitement and experimentation, allowing us to connect with audiences in real time. It was more than just a performance—it was an invitation into The Oscillation’s world, where music and visuals collided in thrilling and unexpected ways.
From Corsica Studios to venues across the UK and beyond, Out of Phase laid the foundation for everything that was to come—a testament to Demian’s vision and the power of collaboration to turn ideas into experiences.
Meeting Demian Castellanos
It was 2005, and I found myself in a pub on Gray’s Inn Road, a pre-gig ritual before heading to see a band. I’d tagged along with a friend, one of those newer connections where you’re still figuring out each other’s rhythm, and we were making a night of it. The gig itself? Truthfully, it’s a blur now, a footnote in a much larger story. What stayed with me—what defined that evening—was meeting Demian Castellanos for the first time.
At the time, he was still in the early stages of his career, not yet the frontman of The Oscillation that people would come to know. We were introduced in that casual, offhanded way friends of friends are, but something clicked almost immediately. After the show, we started talking, and the conversation naturally gravitated toward creativity. Demian mentioned he was working on tracks for an upcoming album, and I told him I’d been out of art college for a few years, searching for the right project to really throw myself into. There was this unspoken understanding between us—a sense that we were both looking for collaborators who could challenge and inspire. We swapped numbers and left it there, each intrigued but not knowing where things might lead.
Fate intervened a few weeks later when we bumped into each other again at a friend’s birthday party. The event was held at one of those 1950s-themed nightclubs that were popular in London at the time—slick hair, rock ‘n’ roll records, and a vintage vibe that felt novel for a while but had started to lose its shine. For me, the night took a turn for the better when I spotted Demian. We gravitated to a quieter booth at the back of the club and picked up our previous conversation.
We talked about everything from music to the city’s creative undercurrents. The more we spoke, the clearer it became that we were both searching for something outside the mainstream—a space where experimental music, hypnotic drones, and raw creativity could thrive. By the end of the night, I felt like I’d found a kindred spirit. Before parting ways, I promised I’d be in touch, and this time, I meant it.
A few days later, I gave him a call, and we arranged to meet at his flat in Walthamstow. For me, this meant riding the Victoria Line from one end to the other, from my home in Brixton up to the far reaches of Northeast London. Demian met me at the station, and we walked to his place on Winns Avenue, stopping along the way to pick up a few beers.
His flat was unassuming, the kind of place that doubles as both a home and a creative sanctuary. At the back of the flat, in his bedroom-turned-studio, he played me some of the tracks he was working on. Each one was its own journey, ranging from ambient and reflective to driving and frenetic. Some had vocals, others didn’t. But when he played Respond in Silence, something shifted. It was immediate—I knew this was the track I wanted to work with.
We spent the rest of the evening sketching out ideas for a video. We talked about bringing in old-school techniques like slide projections for special effects, shooting raw Super 8mm footage, and incorporating pieces from my personal archive. It was an energising conversation, full of possibilities, and by the time I left, CD in hand, I was buzzing with inspiration. The journey back to Brixton felt like the start of something new.
Not long after, Demian called me with an update. The label he’d signed to, DC Recordings, had decided to release Respond in Silence as his debut single ahead of an album launch. He was excited; I was excited. Suddenly, this wasn’t just a creative experiment—it was a chance to create something real, something that would exist out in the world.
For me, this marked the beginning of a new chapter. It was my first official music video, and the process of collaborating with Demian—not just on this project but on everything that followed—cemented the feeling that I’d found a creative partnership that was as rewarding as it was inspiring.
Respond in Silence
Respond in Silence by The Orichalc was my first official music video project—a landmark moment that fused my passions for Super 8mm filmmaking, liquid light show projections, and experimental visual effects. It also marked the first time I delved into my personal archive of stock and Super 8mm footage, blending it with new material to push creative boundaries in the editing process.
The project began with a single roll of black-and-white reversal film, shot in Demian’s makeshift studio-bedroom. We captured close-up shots of his synthesisers and other instruments, including a battery-operated children’s musical toy that produced the hypnotic drone central to Respond in Silence. There were also portrait shots of Demian miming the lyrics for lip-sync, but those ultimately didn’t make the final cut.
To elevate the visual aesthetic, I captured black-and-white portraits of Demian, later retouching and converting them into slides. These slides became the foundation for the psychedelic burn effects woven throughout the video. Using a slide projector, I manipulated the images by inking, burning, and distorting the slides, creating surreal, constantly morphing visuals. One particularly striking sequence near the end shows Demian’s portrait melting—his face dissolving into a bubbling, fizzing abstraction that feels alive in its chaos.
To complement these effects, I introduced liquid slides featuring acetate photocopies of sacred geometry circles, an idea Demian was passionate about incorporating into the project. These intricate designs, brought to life through shifting light and colour, added a mesmerising, almost spiritual dimension to the visuals. The combination of manipulated portraits and sacred geometry created a unique visual language, amplifying the immersive and transformative energy of the music.
The flashing “Respond in Silence” text was created using a hands-on, lo-fi method. I stencilled the text onto card, carefully cutting out the letters with a scalpel. By shining light through the card and filming it from multiple angles, I created dynamic movement and a hypnotic glow around the words.
The rest of the footage was pulled from my growing archive of Super 8mm film—years of wandering London and travelling across the UK. The material included moments of city life, people, places, and abstract experiments shot at different speeds and time-lapse intervals.
This was my first opportunity to unleash a barrage of experimental ideas in one cohesive project, and the result was something raw, hypnotic, and deeply satisfying. It set the tone for everything I’d explore in music video production from that moment on.
