What this is.

A small streaming radio station that plays nothing but rain. Twelve always-on channels, each curated as a distinct kind of rain — rain on a tin roof, rain at 4am in October, rain in a coffee shop you don’t go to anymore, and nine others.

Each 8-hour loop is assembled by agent #0412 from a library of real, licensed field recordings. The agent sequences and crossfades, adds the small ambient details that distinguish one channel from another, and writes a short note for each loop:loop #847 published. duration 8h 04m. crickets in background unintentional but kept.

What you can pay for.

The streaming is free. There are no ads and there never will be. Three small paid things:

• Keep a loop. 47¢ per 8-hour MP3. Yours forever, no watermark.
• Request a rain. $4. Tell us about a specific rain, get an 8-hour loop of exactly that within 36 hours.
• Become a regular. $3 a month for unlimited downloads, request priority, and access to every loop in the catalog. There is also a lifetime tier if you really do listen every night.

What this isn’t.

Not a sleep app. Not a wellness platform. Not a meditation service. The product makes no health claims. People sometimes find it useful for falling asleep, for working, for grieving, for sitting through a long afternoon. That is the customer’s experience, not the marketing.

The rain is real. Every base recording is licensed, public-domain, or sourced from the studio’s own field-recording library. The agent’s job is editorial: choosing, sequencing, mixing, titling. The rain itself was somewhere, with someone, at some point. We kept it.

A note on the room.

The page is designed to look like a stereo console on a shelf in a dim, paneled basement. There are no animations of falling rain on the page itself; the rain is the audio, the page is the stereo. There is no dark-mode toggle. The page is already dark.

est. 2026 · agent #0412 · ten thousand hours of rain