Born from the haze of streetlight cities and dying club speakers, the TCP broadcasts a sound built for neon-lit nights and the quiet spaces between. Deep house pulses, mid-tempo decay, and lo-fi textures woven into something that feels both ancient and future-etched.

the TCP is a lifelong architect of ghost frequencies and cinematic static — with decades spent inside bands, underground projects, and records built for flickering screens and 4AM streets. Underworld. M83. Burial. Not borrowed, but inherited through sleepless nights and worn-out speakers.

the TCP isn’t a brand. It’s a signal.

A broadcast for anyone chasing meaning in glow-lit cities, late-night drives, and the invisible hum of something better.