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The track titles on Post Dub Cities – the new album by Adriano Zanni, photographer, sound artist, and field recordist – evoke the aftermath, that moment when a place continues to exist and live on, but no longer serves anyone. The human element has vanished, whether it happened overnight or through a slow abandonment that lasted for years. The perspective shifts: buildings, homes and palaces reveal a dimension of reality all their own, in which even the ruins give shape to this landscape that endures, transforming into pure presence.

This, after all, is our fate. The fate of us human beings, of our civilisation, of every civilisation: to pass away, to be forgotten, to erect monuments whose significance no one will remember once we are gone.

The opening track Crisopoli transforms the sonic dimension of a city into an echo chamber: a dark, urban dub built from delays and resonances, holding the imprint of what is no longer there — like a bassline that keeps vibrating even after its source has gone silent. What we see is not the presence, but its reverb.

Available from September 11, second excerpt Warosha gives us a minimalist, enveloping, solemn beat, like the symbols on a map that no one can read anymore. Warosha was the district of luxury hotels overlooking the sea in the city of Famagusta. After the island of Cyprus was invaded by the Turkish army, the entire area, emptied of its inhabitants, who had fled south, was fenced off and surrounded by barbed wire. No one has been allowed to enter it since 1974. Now, on these unspoilt beaches, sea turtles have found the perfect place to breed.

Fordlândia, on the other hand, is the symbol of Henry Ford’s failed dream of conquest. An industrial settlement built deep within the Amazon rainforest, several hours’ boat journey from the nearest towns, to gain access to natural rubber for the tyres of his mass-produced cars in Michigan. An extremely costly project, it quickly became a ruinous pipe dream: a town that has been uninhabited for almost a century and has since been reclaimed by nature.

For a long time now, Adriano Zanni has been exploring, through music and photography, the landscape that unfolds before our eyes, as attentive yet silent observers. As if we were absent, a civilisation that has long since vanished: human presence has dissolved, preparing to fade into oblivion. The precise depiction of places through field recordings, and the black-and-white imagery, give rise to apparitions, hallucinations, and memories. The less present we are, the more we seek meaning. We resist abandonment and the indifference of time.

In the ten tracks (plus three bonus tracks) of Post Dub Cities the echoes and reverberations of dub grant us access to an unknown future, as yet untold – in which we are nothing more than a vague memory. The deep sound guides us through a landscape that is familiar yet unknown, unrecognisable. The cold, distant, industrial rhythm resonates within us as if we were the last, all too aware, inhabitant of a now-deserted village.

Every place – be it an abandoned mining settlement on an island in Svalbard, or a ghost town in Pennsylvania evacuated following an underground fire that has been burning for sixty years at a depth of one hundred metres – leaves questions unanswered, shrouds itself in mystery, and makes us wonder, ceaselessly: what happened here?

In the end, we realise that we don’t really care that much about knowing the details of the disappearance. We can guess them, we’ve seen it happen a thousand times before. Just like in the photos accompanying the album, portraits of ghostly, deserted cities: Belgrade, like Venice, Dublin, Sarajevo, Lisbon, Kraków, Sofia, Naples, Hanoi, Lampedusa, Tehran. Unexpectedly, pleasantly emptied of people, and of their obsessions, struggles, illusions.

Then, suddenly, the crowd returns. Busy, feverish, hardworking. The record ends, the spell is broken. We feel a sense of longing for a future that has not yet come to pass, for a place we were only able to observe because we were not there.

Swimming Paul’s music has always lived in the push-and-pull between euphoria and melancholy; the rare kind of electronic music that can make you cry while your body keeps moving.



On Smiling Through the Pain 2 (out October 24 via Headroom Records), the French-born, London-based producer doubles down on that emotional duality, delivering an album that feels as much like a diary as it does a DJ set.

Over the course of 15 tracks, Paul stitches together late-night catharsis, suburban nostalgia, and the jagged tenderness of early adulthood. The record is sequenced like an unbroken night out: the giddy anticipation, the sudden moments of reflection, the quiet comedown as the sun edges in. It’s an album that refuses to treat joy and sadness as opposites, they coexist here, often in the same chord progression.



“I don’t want to escape the feelings, I want to bring them with me” Paul says. “If you can’t stop thinking about something, you might as well dance with it.”

That philosophy runs through the singles: the emotional release of Holly (with Junior Simba), the aching nostalgia of Different Time, the hypnotic haze of Hard 2 Sleep, and the house-driven Drinking to Get Drunk, a bittersweet ode to nights spent outrunning your own thoughts. Elsewhere, Liza M1 folds heartbreak into an almost triumphant piano hook, while Shine a Light urges listeners to take risks and live without hesitation—as if youth’s boldness could be bottled.



Since debuting in 2023, Swimming Paul has quietly built an empire on emotional resonance: 150 million streams across platforms, 1.9 million monthly listeners on Spotify and more than 50 editorial placements (including Dance Party, Crying on the Dancefloor, Electronic Rising….), 10,000+ radio spins worldwide, and sold-out tours across Europe and North America. His sound has earned co-signs from BBC Radio 1, Triple J, KCRW, Sirius XM and a wave of DJs who value melody as much as momentum.

But Smiling Through the Pain 2 isn’t chasing charts, it’s chasing connections. Paul’s global fanbase, nurtured through a lively Discord community and nights on the road, has become a two-way conversation, with fans’ stories feeding back into the music’s emotional core.
This autumn, Paul takes the album to stages that match its ambition, from London to a string of US club dates, festivals and intimate pop ups designed for shared release.



Smiling Through the Pain 2 is an invitation to feel everything at once. To sweat through the sadness. To let your guard down under strobe lights. To realise that the best nights out don’t make you forget; they help you remember.

Eine unveröffentlichte, feurige Latin-Session des unvergessenen, 2018 verstorbenen Trompeters!
Kaum ein anderer Jazzmusiker beherrschte in den 1990er Jahren so sehr die Schlagzeilen wie der Trompeter
Roy Hargrove. Die New York Times bezeichnete ihn einmal als “einflussreichsten Trompeter seiner Generation”. Seine stilistische Vielfalt beeinflusste Musiker wie Kamasi Washington, Robert Glasper, D’Angelo,
Erykah Badu und andere.
1997 gründete er das Ensemble Roy Hargrove’s Crisol, das für sein Debütalbum “Habana” mit einem
Grammy ausgezeichnet wurde. Nur zwei Monate später ging Hargrove mit Crisol erneut in ein Studio auf
der Karibikinsel Guadeloupe, um ein Nachfolgealbum aufzunehmen, das dann aber nicht das Licht der Welt
erblickte.
Erst jetzt, sechs Jahre nach dem überraschenden Tod des Trompeters und zwei Tage nach seinem 55.
Geburtstag, erscheinen diese Aufnahmen bei Hargroves altem Label Verve unter dem Titel “Grande-Terre”.
Das Album zeigt Hargrove - der damals noch keine 30 Jahre alt war - im Zenit seines Könnens. Mal explodiert er auf seiner Trompete förmlich vor Energie und Feuer, dann wieder intoniert er auf dem Flügelhorn
schmachtende Boleros und Rumbas.