I’m Andrew Flynn, an independent electronic and synth-pop artist from the North-East of the UK. I write, record and release my music from a small home studio, without a label, management, PR team or marketing machine behind me. Everything I do is self-built: the songwriting, the artwork, the decisions, the mistakes, the releases, the slow progress. It’s not the fast path, but it’s the honest one.
I spent years believing I couldn’t share music unless it was perfect, polished, industry-ready, approved by someone with more authority. That belief kept me quiet. Now I’m doing the opposite. I release the music when it’s true, not when it fits a strategy. I don’t chase algorithms, virality or hype cycles. If the work connects, it travels. If it doesn’t, I keep creating anyway. The only goal is to make something real and leave something behind that mattered while I was here.
The sound sits somewhere between synth-pop, electronic alt-pop and cinematic production: 80s-leaning textures, emotional vocals, melodies that feel bigger than the room they were made in. I write about change, clarity, heartbreak, self-discovery, grief, recovery and the quiet moments where life forces a choice. The songs aren’t mascots for a brand. They’re snapshots of real turning points.
My music has reached listeners in different parts of the world through playlists, blogs, word-of-mouth and people sharing it privately, not through paid campaigns or industry connections. I’m proof that music can still travel without a gatekeeper — slowly, quietly, but with longevity instead of noise.
Outside of music I work in mental health, which is probably why songwriting feels less like entertainment and more like documentation. Every track is a timestamp of who I was when it was written, what I understood, and what I was trying to break free from. I’m not here to perform an image. I’m here to keep creating work that feels human in a world that keeps getting louder and less honest.
If you’ve listened, shared, supported, messaged or even just stopped long enough to hear one track all the way through — thank you. Independent music only survives because someone decides it’s worth listening to. I don’t take that lightly.