DJ-03:33
现在不用继续。
线上首页还是那条蓝色夜路。这里不抢它的主角,只在你按下「今晚进站」之后, 递来一张值班纸条。
现在不用继续。
soft fade-in
荒谬赞助、假听众来信、不存在的歌,以及一点不讲道理的救援, 正在 02:17 的空气里排队进声。
写下你想临时退订的生活项目,窗口会打印一张没有法律效力、 但很适合今晚的回执,并由 TITI 读给你听。
进入事务所 →从 Perri 的真实音乐库里开一个房间:一首歌、七分钟、一次换房机会。 不做无限下一首,听完就关灯。
进入俱乐部 →TITI Radio can keep the albums as the main room, and let late-night spoken episodes become the side door: not another record, but a small broadcast that opens when the feeling needs a voice.
Liner notes are a love language. The album you press is the surface; the letter behind it is where the story actually lives — the room it was made in, the songs that gave me trouble, the person or animal it's for.
You were small and you were the whole room. Eleven months. Eleven tracks. I wrote them in the same chair you used to sit on, the one by the window where the radiator clicks at 2am.
Track 03 is the lap-nap. Track 06 is the biscuits on my keyboard. Track 11 is the goodnight I never got to say properly.
我把你放在这里,让你继续做我生活里那个小小的电台。