While building Violet Vinyl from the ground up— our founder Farah Amir hit the road with nothing but a battered iphone and one obsessive question: "What tangible products do you actually need to promote your music?" Farah put in the miles and the research, sleeping on couches from Nashville’s neon honky-tonks to East London pirate-radio flats, interviewing musicians in smoky back rooms, tour-bus bunks, and one legendary Waffle House at dawn: pedal-steel lifers, grime MCs, hyperpop prodigies, velvet-voiced neo-soul poets, noise terrorists, even a 70-year-old Tejano accordion master who answered half in Spanglish proverbs and half in bourbon.

The answers were filthy, brilliant, and often illegal in six states. Every rant, every half-baked fantasy, every tear-soaked confession got logged, transcribed, and lived in. That research became the spine of everything we’ve built since.

Hidden in plain sight is our website archive of the becoming—an endlessly scrolling digital bunker that still smells (if you close your eyes) of Blueberry redbull, clove cigarettes and Chanel Le Lion. It’s Andy Warhol’s Factory after it grew up, got sober for ten minutes, then relapsed into something more fabulous: raw interview tapes, grainy tour-bus videos, Polaroids that curl at the edges, voice memos from 2019 that still make us flinch, and notebooks swollen with Nashville bar napkin notes and Paris bar receipts. We call it “getting our feet dirty.” It’s where ideas go to misbehave, and now everyone gets a key.

Now we’re relaunching Spacing Out: Think Vice Magazine’s middle finger fused with The Cults' impossible glow, but forged in actual research instead of boardroom vibes. For people who measure wellness in decibels and late-night revelations. Less kale, more chaos. Less guru, more group chat at 4 a.m.

We did the miles. We did the homework. We paid in sleepless nights and listening until our ears bled. We’re back—louder, weirder, and still passing the aux cord like it’s a shot of tequila.

Spacing Out