Sleep paralysis and high school insomnia inform the lo-fi beat of Francis Bleu’s “REM90”. Conceived between 2016 and 2017, combines experimental hip-hop, indie rock, and lo-fi electronics into a patient, atmospheric structure. In 2024, he discarded forced rapper bravado in favor of a restrained, dreamlike vocal melody.
The arrangement mirrors the sensation of subconscious symbols bleeding into conscious reality. Layered vocals drift across understated electronic textures, converting the panic of sleep paralysis into a controlled, abstract composition. Bleu strings together quiet thoughts and vocal restraint to build tension within open instrumental spaces.
The production relies on patience and structural space rather than quick melodic payoffs. Lo-fi electronics and subtle vocal layers hold the beat in place before the track thins out its primary motifs. The song terminates on a muted synth decay, leaving the atmosphere unresolved.
For those who might not know you yet, how would you introduce yourself?
I’m Francis Bleu, I started as a producer when I lived in between Bensalem, PA and Northeast Philly in 2015. I now live in between Newark, Delaware and Elkton, Maryland. Over the years, I’ve grown dependent on using music to express any feelings of in betweenness. I also rely on it to express specific things I still can’t fully describe. Somewhere along the line I got pretty comfortable with blending abstract hip hop and psych indie with my voice.
If you had to bottle up your sound into just three words, which ones would you choose?
Ambiguous, psychological, and restrained.
Which artists (not only music-related) or moments have left the biggest mark on your music?
Finding Mac Demarco’s Chamber of Reflection on YouTube really sparked something in me. I was 15 and never had my Odd Future edge lord era challenged before. That song expanded my views of what you could blend within a song. I kinda been chasing recreating the same feeling it gave me ever since.
The pandemic had the biggest impact on how I currently create also. Along with the world changing, a lot of personal changes left me disillusioned. For the first time, I was learning how to navigate insecurity without covering it up. Twin Peaks became my comfort show back then. David Lynch’s work inspired me to take a more slow burn approach creatively.
When you hit play on your songs, what kind of feeling takes over?
I usually ping pong between critique and optimism. I’m still learning a lot about how to balance good musical technicalities with my creative intent. It’s hard shutting off my critical ears when they align with the desire to constantly improve. When they are off, I’m able to listen as a fan. I can’t help but root for what I’m trying to build.
If you could team up with anyone in the world—no limits—who would be that dream collaborator?
I’d love to produce something for Thom Yorke.
And finally, what are you working on now, and what are your plans for the future? Anything exciting you can tell us about?
I really want to keep up with the bar I’ve set for myself lyrically, so I’m constantly refining my writing process. I plan on finishing up a 5-8 song project before I get back on stage.
Can you walk us through the story or emotion behind “REM90 ”?
REM90 was the first beat that made me want to keep going. It comes from a batch of 2016-2017 beats I made when I was too naive to overthink the process. My sleep was wrecked all throughout high school. It basically wasn’t a normal night if I didn’t have sleep paralysis. I was sitting on the hook and title for a while. I kept trying to write the verses in this rapper bravado I just didn’t have. I picked the song back up in 2024 to find a better approach and melody. I wanted it to reverse the process of subconscious symbols crossing over into reality when having a sleep paralysis episode. I ended up consciously stringing together moments/thoughts into an abstracted symbol of a song.
