The most striking thing about Weirdcore’s visuals is not how they look — it’s how they feel. Less music video, more neurological side-effect, the London-based digital artist has spent the last decade shaping the visual language of artists who exist on the outer edges of pop consciousness: Aphex Twin, Radiohead / The Smile, Charli XCX, Oneohtrix Point Never. Now, that language is being expanded into a new format: a rolling series of bespoke artist visualizers, each one designed as a psychological environment rather than a backdrop.

Commissioned by Native Instruments, the project pairs Weirdcore with a hand-picked group of producers whose work resists easy categorisation. The first transmission arrives via HAAi, whose improvised new track becomes the raw material for a drifting, destabilised digital world — a place where degraded urban textures bleed into ghostly machine logic, and familiar structures quietly unravel.

HAAi’s visualizer draws on the emotional terrain she explored on HUMANiSE — euphoric calm, collective release, the sense of connection found inside chaos — but reframes it through a lens of estrangement. You don’t watch the piece so much as drift through it, absorbing fragments of meaning that never quite settle.

The HAAi collaboration marks the first in a forthcoming sequence of Weirdcore-built environments for artists including Manni Dee, Manuka Honey, HEZEN, LUXE, LCN, ex.sess, AM SIN, Wordcolour and Ikava Pii — a global cast chosen for their uncompromising approaches to sound. Each release will debut across Native Instruments’ Instagram and YouTube, but the format feels closer to digital installation art than social content.

“Absynth has always been about altered perception,” says Nadine Raihani, Director of Product Design at Native Instruments, “and Weirdcore’s visuals give that world a form that’s uncanny, immersive, and emotionally charged. These pieces aren’t illustrating music — they’re opening a door into it.”

In an era saturated with algorithmic aesthetics and disposable clips, Weirdcore’s artist visualizers feel defiantly unresolved. They don’t explain the music. They distort it, inhabit it, and let it breathe in strange new dimensions — reminding us that the most powerful visual language is still the one that refuses to behave.

‍