Orion Franklin Perspective on Nightmare Therapy

I am Orion Franklin, a producer and DJ crafting soundtracks for sinners and dreamers. My music blends dark electronic grooves with cinematic emotion. It is made for late nights, neon horizons, and the quiet moments when your thoughts get loud.

It happened slowly. Making music was first an escape, then a habit, and eventually a necessity. Every melody felt like a way to translate emotions I could not express otherwise. Over time, it became clear that this was the world I belonged to.

Sitting in the back seat during late-night drives, watching passing lights while synth-heavy songs made everything feel cinematic. I did not know it then, but that feeling would later become the foundation of my sound.

My sound has become deeper and more atmospheric. I focus more on emotional texture, tension, and storytelling. I try to make music that feels like a world people can step into, especially the ones who live between dreaming and remembering.

Duality, desire, loneliness, obsession, and the beauty found in darker emotions. I try to write music that sits between comfort and danger, between nightmare and fantasy, in the space where sinners and dreamers meet.

To build a world, not a catalog. A place where the sinners, the dreamers, and the over - feelers can hear themselves reflected back without judgment.

Success is resonance. If someone finds a piece of themselves inside a song I wrote, I've done my job.

It means seeing the world in textures, not categories - noticing the beauty in shadows and the stories inside silence. An artistic outlook is living twice: once in the moment and again when you turn that moment into art.

James Blake for his vulnerability, Depeche Mode for their emotional weight, and Nine Inch Nails for their atmosphere and edge.

Music and film - sound shapes the emotion, and film gives it a face. My songs often start as scenes in my head before they ever become melodies.

Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross - masters of emotional atmosphere. Collaborating with them would feel like painting storms: raw, cinematic, and alive.

I'd tour with Bob Moses or ODESZA. Their shows blend emotion with atmosphere, turning live music into something cinematic and physical. That kind of world-building is the space I want my music to live in.

Jeff Buckley. Nobody has ever blended fragility and power the way he did. Hearing him live would feel like witnessing lightning apologize for striking.

I have spent years working night shifts, watching human emotion in its rawest form: longing, fear, desire, tension. That atmosphere shaped the tone of Nightmare Therapy. Growing up between mountain silence and nightlife chaos taught me to write for the people who live in both worlds: the sinners who feel too much and the dreamers who cannot let go.

Dark Electronic
Alternative Electronic
Cinematic House
Emotional Dance Music
Vampirewave / Aesthetic Vampire Pop

Understood. My music is for people who live in the margins - the sinners who feel too much and the dreamers who carry their own quiet worlds.

Dark electronic music with a cinematic pulse - soundtracks for sinners and dreamers. My songs live in the space between longing and escape, built for late nights, neon reflections, and quiet rooms where your thoughts get loud.

Releasing vulnerable songs. Darkness is easy - honesty is terrifying.

Trying to record a vocal take at 4 a.m. and forgetting the mic wasn't plugged in. Rookie mistake, eternal shame.

A message from someone who said one of my songs helped them through a panic attack. That's when music becomes more than sound, it becomes shelter.

I’d shift the industry toward slow art - music that's meant to be lived with, not just scrolled past. Algorithms shouldn’t decide what people feel.

By blending cinematic storytelling with club-ready emotion, and by making electronic music feel intimate - like a confession whispered through speakers.

Driving home after a graveyard shift, half-asleep on a mountain road. Inspiration hits hardest when the world feels like it's dissolving.

Nightmare Therapy.
It is the song that started the entire Twice Shy album. One dream became a melody, and that melody became a world I needed to create.

Artists reveal what people try to hide. We say the quiet parts out loud and turn them into soundtracks people can heal or break to.

Massive Attack for the shadows. Depeche Mode for the soul. James Blake for the vulnerability.
Every emotional wavelength I work from.

Working nights taught me how to listen emotionally, not just sonically. My passions for psychology, film, and nightlife culture help me translate atmosphere into melody. Everything I do feeds the world I build in my music

Yes. To give people soundtracks for their deepest nights - the ones that hurt, the ones that heal, and the ones where you finally feel understood.

You can't outrun your emotions - but you can reshape them into something that helps someone else survive theirs.

Caravaggio's "The Calling of St. Matthew." The power of one beam of light cutting through the dark says more than a thousand colors could.

Loneliness is part of the craft. I don't run from it; I turn it into sound. Music gives the isolation purpose, and connecting with people who feel the same way through my songs keeps that loneliness from becoming a cage.

I've worked on graveyard shifts, security inside nightclubs, and a mix of jobs that kept me close to people during their rawest moments. Watching real emotion unfold in the dark shaped how I write - tension, longing, fear, desire. It all found its way into my sound.

I used to chase perfection. Now I chase truth. My practice became less about technique and more about emotion - capturing the moment instead of controlling it.

In headphones, alone at night. That's where the real version of my music lives.

A midnight outdoor show - fog, cold air, lasers cutting through the dark. No phones, no distractions. Just bodies, breath, and bass. A ritual instead of a concert.

Cinematic emotion wrapped in electronic pulses - music you don’t just hear, but fall into. The kind of sound that feels like breathing underwater and waking up in the same moment.

"Teardrop" by Massive Attack - not because it’s perfect, but because it created its own emotional universe. That’s the goal.

Vulnerable. Honest. Haunting.