The Story
Who is PSYB?
PSYB is a UK-based electronic music producer specialising in synthwave — a genre that draws from the neon-lit soundtracks of the 1980s, the warmth of analogue synthesizers, and the pulse of modern electronic production.
Rooted in a deep love for vintage hardware — and a frankly indefensible ratio of equipment to ability — each PSYB track is built around real synthesizers: the physical weight of keys, the imprecision of oscillators drifting in the heat of a studio session. That tactile quality sits at the heart of everything. So does the gear acquired faster than the skill to use it.
PSYB is one person, a UK bedroom that got promoted to “studio,” and a synth collection large enough to alarm anyone who's actually heard the results. The gear arrived first; the talent is, by all accounts, still in transit — closing that gap one track at a time, allegedly.
The Philosophy
The philosophy, if we're being honest, is: buy the synth, learn it later, hope the two meet somewhere in the mix.
Music should feel like somewhere you've never been but somehow already remember.
The Setup
The studio runs more hardware synthesizers than any one person can reasonably justify — with a particular, and frankly unhealthy, love for Roland synthesizers and drum machines — alongside digital tools: keyboards stacked, cables running, a pleasing number of them plugged into the right thing.
The Husky
The name gives it away, if you say it out loud. PSYB — a Sibe. Short for Siberian Husky, with the letters shoved about a bit until they looked suitably neon. The whole project is named after the dogs. This was not a difficult decision, and it was not, strictly speaking, mine.
The pack is two strong these days, and they are not a branding exercise — they're an accurate description of the working conditions: strong opinions, no volume control, and an unerring instinct for walking in halfway through a take. Huskies are the only breed that will argue with you about a decision you haven't made yet. They talk constantly, they talk at length, and they talk over each other. In fairness, that makes them considerably more vocal than the music — which is entirely instrumental, so the bar is admittedly on the floor, but they clear it every single day.
The logo shows one husky. Which one it is remains a diplomatic matter, and the subject is not raised in the studio.
So the tracks stay wordless and the pack does the talking. It seems the fairest division of labour. And should you ever wish to buy the rest of us a few minutes' peace, there is a button for exactly that.