It’s 2 at night, the highway is empty, and you are driving an old Alfa Romeo Spider along a road that probably deserves a better driver. The air smells of salt and gasoline, and a track of mine is playing from your car speakers.

I am Vincenzo Salvia, producer and sound engineer from Italy. I got into synthwave in 2012, but I also enjoy writing Italo disco, horrorsynth, and eurodance and all those 80s-inspired sounds that still sound alive in 2026.

Twenty two albums later I understood that I don’t give a damn about streams, algorithm, or what Spotify thinks. The real goal is writing music for those nights when you need to disappear for a while, windows down, no destination, just the road pulling you somewhere you haven’t decided yet.
Escapism, guys… escapism. So 80s.

People sometimes tell me “Hey, your track Italian Gigolo ended up in Stranger Things. Netflix, …”.
Cool. I am grateful, of course. But what really matters to me are the messages on my Instagram saying “Vincenzo, I drove back from my ex with your track on repeat and I did not feel alone”.
This is why I do this: those three-four minutes in which a warm pad and a stupid melody hold your hand when nobody is watching. I do not want my music to be mainstream. Maybe I’m stupid.

Imperfection is perfection.

My favorite drives are never in the perfect car on the perfect road. I love those cars with the doors that don’t close well, the left speaker slightly distorted and the engine warning light constantly on (This is literally my Volkswagen New Beetle). And this applies to pretty much everything, not just cars.
If everything is too polished, it stops being a companion. And I go further than companions.
I make ghosts for your rearview mirror.

I think of my music like that Alfa on the Amalfi Coast. Beautiful, romantic.
But you know that if you push it too hard uphill it will protest, it will sweat, it will smell like clutch and summer.

Mamma mia, so good.

A song has to be like this. It has to risk breaking when you play it on loop for the 10th time between Salerno and Sorrento. If it survives, if it still gives you that stomach pull on the 20th tunnel, then it deserves to be part of your private rituals.

So why do I label my music as “Take-away music”? Because I make tracks that you steal from the world and keep for yourself, then you put your memories inside, your mistakes, your exes, that message you did not send, and I am just the driver that gives you the keys and says: “Let’s go to the bar tabacchi to drink a cheap Aperol Spritz”.

Grazie mille.