The first time I realized that 80s synth pop felt like Halloween had nothing to do with costumes or horror movies. It was a late October evening, and “Lullaby” by The Cure came on through my headphones, that crawling bassline, the whispery strings, the way Robert Smith’s voice sounded half-alive, half-dreaming. Outside, the sky was bruised orange and purple, the light slipping faster than usual. Something about those synths, glossy but sad, mechanical yet human, felt like the season itself. They didn’t scare me, but they unsettled me in a way I wanted to return to, like remembering a dream you can’t quite shake.