May 16, 2025

Behind the Mask: The Obsessive, Obscure, and Occasionally Overclocked World of Makeup and Vanity Set

Some artists drip-feed their identity. Others blast it from neon-soaked rooftops. And then there’s Makeup and Vanity Set—the sonic moniker of Matthew Pusti, a Nashville native whose music sounds like it was beamed in from a future where humans made peace with machines, only to start an underground rave in a bomb shelter.

If you’ve ever walked through a rainy cyberpunk dreamscape in your mind—or just thrown on a pair of retro-futuristic sunglasses and imagined you were in Blade Runner—chances are you’ve heard his work without even realizing it. Pusti has been crafting immersive, darkly cinematic synthwave since before most of us knew what a Moog was (hint: it’s not a designer dog breed).

The Phantom of the Tracker Scene

Let’s rewind—because every synthwave legend deserves a good origin story.

Pusti began releasing music under Makeup and Vanity Set in 2003, back when dial-up internet was still testing everyone’s patience and YouTube was but a twinkle in Google’s eye. Emerging from the “tracker” scene (a form of music-making on old-school computers, think chiptune-meets-hacking), he wore his influences like a badge of honor: John Carpenter’s dread-laden suspense, Tangerine Dream’s cosmic wash, and Vangelis’s haunting synthscapes.

By 2004, he had already adopted the ski-mask persona for live performances. Why? According to interviews, it’s about mystery. And maybe about not having to shave before a show. Either way, it set the tone: this wasn’t your average synth kid dabbling on GarageBand. This was an artist building worlds, one distorted drone at a time.

Dystopia, But Make It Danceable

Let’s get this straight—Makeup and Vanity Set is not your "sunset over Miami with a convertible" kind of synthwave. No palm trees. No chrome bikinis. His world is darker, deeper, and a little more introspective.

His early trilogy Charles Park I-III (2006–2014) might as well be a crime saga told entirely through MIDI. It’s cinematic storytelling without a screenplay. Then came 88:88 (2012), which wasn’t just an album—it was a full sensory assault. Inspired by a glitch in VHS technology (yes, that creepy “88:88” timecode), the project blended lo-fi unease with analog beauty.

Wilderness (2015) explored solitude, surveillance, and what it means to be alone in a connected world. It’s like Black Mirror without the jump scares. And Endless Destiny (2020)? That one felt like the emotional arc of a sentient machine learning to dream.

Want music to cry in a helmet to? Check.
Want music that sounds like a laser-engraved love letter from a satellite? Also check.

This is where things get interesting—because whether it’s a vinyl drop through Telefuture, or a ghostly beat sneaking into a Netflix trailer, Pusti doesn’t just score music. He scores moods.

From Brigador to Godzilla’s Backyard

You’ve probably heard his work in ways you didn’t even realize. Scoring the game Brigador (2016), he created a soundscape that turned mechs and mayhem into poetry. A track from him, “A Glowing Light, A Promise,” even found its way into Godzilla vs. Kong—because, obviously, what else would giant kaiju want to fight to?

And then there are the podcasts. Ever listened to Atlanta Monster or Radio Rental and thought, “Why is this murder mystery suddenly giving me goosebumps?” That’s Pusti. With his synths. Lurking in the background. Like a digital ghost DJ.

A Retro Future You Can Wear

Now, if you’re the type of person vibing to Makeup and Vanity Set—which means you probably have a secret playlist called “Neon Rain Forever” and at least one opinion about Blade Runner 2049—you might want to look the part too.

That’s where Newretro.Net comes in.

We’re not saying you need to wear a leather jacket while listening to Wavefinder (his 2023 collab with Sferro), but we’re also not not saying that. At Newretro, we’ve crafted retro-inspired men’s clothing—leather and denim jackets, VHS-style sneakers, angular sunglasses, chunky watches—all with that slick 80s edge, minus the synth overload.

You don’t need to be in a dystopian side quest to dress like you belong in one. Just saying.

A Synthwave Monk with a Modular Shrine

Let’s talk gear, because Pusti is serious about his rigs. We’re not talking about flipping a few switches on a laptop—his analog-digital setup is practically sacred. Think Moog Mother-32s, Meris Mercury7s, and other synths that sound like they’re straight out of HAL 9000’s attic.

His live performances aren’t concerts, they’re rituals. Synced visuals. Storytelling interludes. Deep bass drones that rattle your bones and maybe your sense of self. He doesn’t play songs; he summons them.

And somehow, under all that analog machinery and dystopian energy, there’s a real heart beating. His sound isn’t just bleak; it’s hopeful. It’s got soul. Like the lonely arcade machine in the corner that still remembers your high score.

...Still Wired In: The Evolution, Intention, and Beautiful Isolation of Makeup and Vanity Set

Where were we?

Right—in the neon-drenched labyrinth that is Makeup and Vanity Set’s universe. We’ve already talked about Matthew Pusti’s mysterious ski-mask persona, his analog devotion, and his knack for making machines cry. But to truly appreciate his work, you’ve got to see how deeply the rabbit hole goes.

This isn’t just a guy with a synthesizer and some VHS filters. This is a world-builder. A retrofuturist philosopher. A guy who stares into the abyss of digital life—and scores it with haunting arpeggios.

Let’s plug back in.

His Music Has Lore

One of the coolest, most understated things about Pusti’s discography is how connected it all feels—without being obvious. Like an ARG that never tells you it’s a game, his albums have themes that echo each other, like whispers through a payphone in a storm.

Take the Charles Park trilogy. It's not just a collection of synth tracks—it’s a slow-burning noir. You can practically hear the trench coats swishing and the neon buzzing. Then fast forward to OI (2024), his recent album that explores our dependence on digital identity and the way we’re all becoming… well, algorithms with legs.

Is he writing music? Or a cyberpunk novel told in waveforms?

It’s a little of both.

Cyberpunk, But With a Heart

You might expect someone working in such dark sonic territory to lean into cold detachment. But here’s the twist: Pusti’s music is deeply emotional. Underneath the distortion and heavy bass, there’s melancholy. Hope. Nostalgia. He’s not just recreating the sounds of the '80s—he’s resurrecting the feelings we buried with our VCRs.

Sometimes you’ll hear a track and feel like you’re at the end of a movie where the hero dies but the city is saved. Or like you’re alone in a server room, writing love letters to someone you haven’t met yet.

Yeah. It’s that kind of music.

Even his singles—like the recent "ps1startupsound.wav" or "GONE/AWAY"—are thick with emotional weight, like memories left in old game cartridges and broken hard drives.

Collaboration Nation

Pusti doesn’t work in a vacuum. His collaboration with Sferro on Wavefinder (2023) was like two synth-powered brains linking up in a digital mindmeld. It’s lush, moody, and a little more groove-oriented than his solo work. Still cinematic, but with more head-nod moments.

That’s part of the beauty of Makeup and Vanity Set. He doesn’t need to be flashy. He just is cool. Like the friend who shows up to the party in a vintage denim jacket and never brags about how it’s from Newretro.Net (but secretly, it totally is).

Speaking of…

Quick Style Check: Are You Dressed for This Soundtrack?

You ever listen to a track and think, “Wow, I need to dress like this song sounds”?

Well, that’s basically our whole business model at Newretro.Net.

We make men’s fashion that channels the exact vibe Pusti’s music delivers—think:

Denim jackets that belong in a sci-fi biker film.
Retro sneakers that look like they kicked their way out of a 1986 arcade.
Watches and shades that say, “I just hacked into the mainframe, and now I’m going out for tacos.”

We’re not claiming our gear makes you a synth god, but wear a leather Newretro jacket while walking downtown at night with Endless Destiny in your headphones and tell us you don’t feel like a digital ronin.

Go on. We’ll wait.

Ambient Audio Activist

What really sets Pusti apart is that he cares.

He’s not just slapping together synth loops and calling it retro. He builds sonic environments—thoughtfully, deliberately. That’s why his scoring work on true-crime podcasts (Dead and Gone, Radio Rental) works so well. He knows how to frame emotion without stealing the spotlight.

Even his work on Mercedes-Benz ads or Netflix promos carries that same textured, human-coded atmosphere. Nothing ever feels commercial, even when it technically is.

And let’s not forget his film work. Scoring films like Mather, Foyer, or A Good Woman Is Hard to Find, Pusti proves he’s as comfortable scoring a slow-burn thriller as he is an apocalyptic synthwave opera.

Cult Icon Status (Without the Weird Kool-Aid)

At this point, Makeup and Vanity Set isn’t just a musician. He’s a movement. A mood. A myth.

Critics from Vehlinggo and NewRetroWave have hailed him as a pillar of the synthwave world, and they’re not wrong. His vinyl drops sell out faster than you can say “Moog oscillator.” His fanbase is loyal, but not rabid. More like a quiet cult of deep listeners who don’t need to shout because the music already speaks volumes.

And it helps that Pusti doesn’t seem to be chasing trends. He’s just doing his thing, quietly evolving the genre from inside his synth-lined lair.

Which, let’s be honest, is probably what the future of art looks like: introverted, analog-obsessed weirdos making meaningful stuff in silence while the rest of the world scrolls.

So where does Pusti go next?

He’s already got another album, DIGI-RES, scheduled for September 2024—and if history’s any indication, it’ll be another masterclass in mood and motion.

But who knows. He might also just disappear for a while, only to reemerge with a new mask, a new sound, and a single that sounds like it was found buried in a time capsule marked “DO NOT OPEN UNTIL HUMANITY IS READY.”

We’ll be waiting—headphones on, jackets zipped, sunglasses reflecting the glow of a screen we can’t look away from.

Newretro.Net: Dress like you sound.

Makeup and Vanity Set: Sound like a feeling you forgot you had.