Buscar:nudge

2023 Repress

Kercha’s debut album ‘Open The Door’ arrives this April via DNO Records. The Black Sea artist’s mystical, disorienting style has set the tone for the label since he dropped the inaugural release six years ago. Now, across 16 tracks — including collabs with Mystic State, Congi, NST, Khromi and Finnoh — his smoky sampledelic dubstep is tighter, heavier, and more curious than ever, with a new sense of danger and bubbling rage that feels fit for our chaotic times.

Themes of movement and change course through the LP. On the opening gambit ‘A Path Into The Unknown’, twinkling arpeggios emerge from the gloom like stars lighting the way. Tracks like the eponymous ‘Open The Door’ and ‘Mind Extraction’ deliver that classic Kercha sound, where left-field samples dart in at right angles. ‘Dangerous Road’ weaves between the call and response action of grotty stabs and devilish subs. ‘Take A Break’, featuring Mystic State, goes on the attack with searing acid. ‘Can’t Wait For Today’, though lethargic in its pace, sees San Francisco-based rapper Finnoh deliver stream-of-consciousness bars that skewer our present and nudge us to revolution.

Work took place over the course of several years, during which Kercha relocated with his family from Russia to Georgia, where he now resides in the capital, Tbilisi. “Sometimes I wrote music while travelling on a bus, sometimes late at night while my family was asleep, sometimes just sitting on the grass in a park, and of course in my home studio as well,” he says. “By the time the album was finished, it included music from different periods, and it may vary in sound and concept.”

Any major upheaval in life will result in moments of hardship, but also hope. Both can be found throughout ‘Open The Door’. There’s times when the darkness threatens to envelope everything: during the cold, crackling ‘Disclosed’ and the eerie, dystopian ‘Infection Of Lies’; on ‘Trigger Activation’, with its grunting lows and broken glass hook, and ‘Ballistics’, where a wall of sub-bass is pierced by shrapnel stabs.

The balancing light comes on ‘4 AM’, featuring Nottingham duo Congi, when clashing swords and cinematic strings, meet a soft Rhodes piano — the juxtaposition between heavy low-end and floaty keys and vox reflecting those moments of transcendence often found in the early hours. From the injection of garage energy on ‘Bubs’, with Edinburgh’s Khromi. And on with ‘My Feeling’, featuring South Russian vocalist NST, which closes the album on a deep but expansive note, bookending the experience with more starlight synth tones.

“It’s a reflection of my life journey and the changes connected with emigration and overcoming various difficulties,” explains Kercha. “This period means a lot to me, which is why the album includes tracks from the time of preparing to leave up to adapting to a new country.”

Still, he wants listeners to be able to derive their own understanding. “I think the essence lies in the ability to contemplate, not in any predetermined meaning,” he says. “I can only say one thing: thank you for appreciating what I do and for your support. I hope it inspires you to make the same firm decisions to change for the better as it did for me.”

Out via 4 x 12” vinyl, ‘Open The Door’ is a captivating artistic statement, showcasing the journey of an artist with a truly original signature sound — a rarity that should be treasured and celebrated.

Rhythms of postmodern realism at the very bottom of the DNO.

ICONYC steps into new territory with Traffk, a spellbinding EP from UVITA, Twiins, and Motip White. Built around two deeply immersive compositions, Traffik operates as a threshold rather than a destination — a carefully measured passage into unfamiliar territory where tension is curated, expectations are subverted, and every detail feels deliberately withheld until the right moment.

At the center lies the title track, “Traffik,” a commanding convergence of three distinct creative voices distilled into a singular, unsettling vision. Suspended between austere minimalism and intricate design, the piece unfolds with a forceful rhythmic backbone that plunges into subterranean depths. Twisting brass motifs flicker and bend like fractured light across polished surfaces, creating an atmosphere that is both tactile and elusive. As the groove locks into a hypnotic oscillation, a spectral vocal presence emerges, injecting a sense of weight and foreboding before the track fractures inward, collapsing into a violent release that ejects us from its vortex with uncompromising intensity.

On our B-side, UVITA and Twiins reconvene for “Lucy Tried For It,” a continuation that trades overt drama for a slow-burning psychological pull. Anchored by a prowling low-frequency current and a relentless percussive drive, the track draws us deeper through carefully placed sonic detonations that expand its spatial dimension. Gradually, malfunctioning mechanical textures and distant, almost feral cries seep into the framework, setting the stage for an introspective spoken-word moment that nudges the piece further into the subconscious. As fragmented melodic elements begin to surface, “Lucy Tried For It” reaches a moment of suspended reflection before surging forward once more, closing the EP on an emotionally charged and resolute note.

Silicon Scally and Fleck E.S.C. need no introduction at this stage. Both artists are veterans not just of Sheffield's Central Processing Unit label but of modern electro as a whole, with the pair having decades of skin in the game at this point. Their new release, a four-track EP entitledSlipwhere Silicon Scally handles the first half and Fleck E.S.C. the second, carries itself with the adventurous confidence of a record made by masters of their craft.

Slipopener 'Phased Array' is exactly the kind of top quality machine-funk tackle you'd expect from this meeting of minds. The beat programming is deliciously tactile from the off, hissing and clanking like machinery in an old Detroit factory. The feel of 'Phased Array' is altered, though, when the chords come in, a series of alternating floating sounds which give the track an altogether eerier feel. When all of this is coupled with the otherworldly synth blurts that periodically force their way to the front of the track, the overall effect is a piece of real depth assembled by an expert practitioner.

'Phased Array' is followed up by 'Stax', another brilliantly propulsive number. Here we find the drum beat - one which is a little reminiscent of that Kraftwerk tune about the numbers, no less - once more offset by some decidedly more shadowy synth work, all while arpeggiated keyboard licks work against an intricate web of basslines, chords and unidentifiable flying synth tones.

Fleck E.S.C. opens theSlipB-side with 'Good Ride', a number where the nudge-wink title is borne out by a track built around looped snippets of sighing vocals. That said, with a bassline that sounds like a blurting old landline telephone, a ghoulish synth lead and all manner of motion-sick breakdowns, the 'ride' in question could just as well be aWipeout-style whizz through hyperspace as anything more suggestive. 'Good Ride' also sets itself apart from the other joints here by showing off a swaying halftime breakdown.

'Intox Remedy',Slip's closer, wraps the EP in a manner which continues some of the trends of the record's earlier tracks - richly tuneful chords, precision-engineered broken beat drum programming and a wide palette of delightfully unusual synth tones are all present and correct. However, there is also something about the chords here which pares back the eeriness of previous joints for a bit more of a wide-eyed, stargazing feel, and as such 'Intox Remedy' sees the record out by placing the listener firmly back in the cosmos.

Tough enough for the dancefloor and intricate enough for home listening, theSlipEP is a fabulous collaboration from two of the most respected voices in the electro game.

2026 Repress

Lars Huismann returns to Mutual Rytm as he delivers the second instalment of his "Sounds From The Past" trilogy on the label.

As SHDW & Obscure Shape's Mutual Rytm imprint continues to grow, it's clear that the DJ and producer pairing have a strong vision for the label and are building an equally impressive roster of artists to form the imprint's core family members. One of the early standouts is Lars Huismann, who arrived to deliver a selection of impactful offerings influenced by the "golden years" of techno in his own unique style crafted by various production techniques. Having featured on the label's opening VA and delivered the first EP for MR002, racking up a wealth of global support in the process, mid-November welcomes a return for the Berlin-based talent as he serves up six fresh cuts in his signature sound for "Sounds From The Past II".

Opener "Sounds From The Past II" is an action-packed title cut fusing typically slick rolling grooves with hazy melodies and atmospheric releases of tension, while "Propulsion" takes cues from its title and sees precise drum shots, echoed background vocals and a tunnelling groove taking the track right into the thick of the action.

On the flip, B1 "Loucura" brings a percussive workout as frantic organic drums and resonant brass melodies bring a party
to proceedings, with "Stroke" and "Nudge" both armed with tough kicks, zipping synths and more subtle vocal work.

Digital buyers get an extra exclusive in the form of "Dub Division", welcoming a slightly more subdued but equally as impactful track guided by dubby chords and peppy hi-hats to close the show.

Repress!

Research Records indicate their inclination for cosmic instrumentation and kraut pervaded polyrhythms once again with an introduction to newcomer Glass Beams. Recorded at the beginning of 2020, Mirage is the first release from the artist, issuing four compositions that lend from a profusion of sounds and influences.

The album's opener and title Mirage arrives with a coiling vocal mantra that conspires with a sliding bassline and transcendent synthwork, reminiscent of early 70's prog jams yet inverted and futuristic. Taurus is a brisk arrangement, steeped with spaghetti-western elements and space-jazz to pave the way for the agile Kong. Rife with psych-fusion guitar phrases and instrumentation, Kong unfolds like a forecast lysergic voyage. The finale Rattlesnake nudges the serpent with intergalactic scales and spellbinding riffs. We may not know much about the enigmatic Glass Beams but Mirage is one epic inauguration, leaving the listener with more questions than answers.

This fantastic debut from MshCode on the Guidance label. Full on dark edges jungle mayhem, perfectly produced with clean drums and atmospheric pads, but a sense of deep menace and a claustrophobic toughness to the tearing amens and broken beats.

‘Nothing Iz Sacred’ is a statement, a collection of tracks that resist the pull of the fleeting, throwaway nature of today’s music scene. In an age where everything is often stripped down, consumed, and discarded, this 8-track LP stands as both a nudge and a reminder—a poke at the culture that surrounds it - it isn’t here to blend quietly into the background, nor to satisfy the urge for quick hits and shallow thrills.

Each track on the LP is woven with the sounds and textures Workforce has become known for, yet there’s a rawness here—a willingness to push boundaries, to blur the edges of genre and style. The LP is a blend of the familiar and the experimental, where thoughtful moments meet jagged beats, and where soulful undertones collide with darker layers. It’s a space that resists easy categorization, daring listeners to explore without expectation, to find meaning in the spaces between the sounds. This isn’t a record designed for the disposable playlists of tomorrow; it’s for those who know that music can mean more, and who understand that it is meant to live with us, to grow, and to shape the communities around it. This record isn’t about the chase for the next hit or the endless scroll; it’s for the ones who value artistry, who find culture in the smallest details, who want something real to hold onto.

‘Nothing Iz Sacred’ is brought to life with the voices and musicality of some incredible collaborators. Tyler Daley’s unmistakable warmth, Bobbie Johnson’s sharp lyricism, Tamara Blessa’s haunting soul, Leroy Horns’ textured brass, and Ed Zuccollo’s nuanced piano work all carve their own paths through the record. Together, they amplify the album's heartbeat, adding layers of richness and depth.

Schlammpeiziger, who had previously only been known to us for his top hits and T-shirts, burst upon us like a wild boar in search of affection in the middle of the coronavirus lockdown. He nested in our fully vaccinated home, drank our Eversbusch, ate from our plates, slept in our bed (wait - wrong fairy tale) and repeatedly urged us to organise egg runs with his testicles (after some contortions, we gave up trying). Childish faecal humour, far-fetched obs(t)enities, juicing, a desire to dissolve, composting of thoughts. In excesses of lack of concentration, the chains of associations curled and meandered like Jo's famous curlicue drawings. Every evening, after we had forcibly levered him out of our flat, he would ‘walk’ home to put together very unique , dreamy pieces. In the blissful brainfog of those days, for example, ‘Handicapfalter’ was created, for which the congenial °Bär° made our flat into the corresponding video. Among other quirks of the little gut-breather, we were fascinated to observe his phobia of literature and books. Just hold a printed page in front of his face for a few seconds and he writhes on the floor crying. A level of phobia that only my own laughable disgust and fear of writing myself can compete with. Jo shudders at the thought of reading sentences that build on each other in a meaningful way, and I shudder at the thought of having to write them down because I have something ‘to say’. A certain affinity cannot be denied. We are much, much more pleased by snatched-up, misunderstood or misheard snippets, hollow but unforgettable phrases, the diamond stoner humour of our ancestors. ‘From one turn/ I stop/ to walk on/ in all directions’ (as it murmurs in “Selten Gesehenes”), describes the process quite nicely. After all, Jo is ahead of me in that he can simply break off every tedious sentence and let it fade into music. Back to the essentials. It's five to 12 for the Schlammpeitzger (scientifically Misgurnus). The shy goby is under threat from climate change, so perhaps this vinyl is the last expression of life of the specimen that we have been allowed to look after sporadically since the lockdown phase of the corona epidemic. And it's turned out pretty. Even the aesthetically gutted like me and my beloved husband can THINK about sex when they see these sublime, silvery fart bubbles! It's tender as a fart. Make love!!!!!

Schamlose Dubtöse: Do you have words. Do you have sounds. Impertinently harmless piano tinkling turns into tugging zounds of increasing severity. It is not dubbed (would be unethical) but dubbed. Sounds dubby, as you can imagine. (Instrumental)

Loch ohne Licht: Possibly vaguely misogynistic. Could also be that there was simply no light in the hole. The sparse snippet of lyrics (‘du biss mir och esu e Loch ohne Licht’) sounds like one of those stroppy Cologne replicas whose anti-charm is hard to resist. Buzzing and grooving.

Selten Gesehenes: Casual. Confident. Soft. Fragrant. Thoughtful but lively.

The Arabian Vietmanese (instrumental) is probably the food we trust in the case of the munchies we get when we watch other people smoking weed. Transcendental and psychedelic states casually permeate the humdrum of everyday life. Klar Knuspermarsch: Marches and floats at the same time. Klebt Runner: Soundtrack to the cult film of the same name. Tyrrell Corporation loosens up. Ungenutzte Sätze: Stinks somehow, because there is dangerous proximity to comprehensible and then also critical statements here. Instead, the sinister electronic cheapness of Carpenter soundtracks can be heard. Parzipan: Actually, the time of origin was not so roaringly funny and simple, but for Jo it was also a gruelling, slow letting go of his brother. Here he sends him off with a gentle nudge into the vastness of a hopefully happy beyond.

Clara Drechsler

Schlammpeiziger, der uns bislang nur durch seine Top-Hits und seine T-Shirts bekannt gewesen war, brach mitten im Corona-Lockdown über uns herein wie ein wilder Eber auf der Suche nach Zuwendung. Er nistete sich in unserem durchgeimpften Zuhause ein, trank unseren Eversbusch, aß von unseren Tellerchen, schlief in unserem Bettchen (Moment - falsches Märchen) drängte uns wiederholt dazu, mit seinen Hoden Eierlauf zu veranstalten (nach Verrenkungen gaben wir den Versuch auf). Kindischer Fäkalhumor, weit hergeholte Obs(t)zönitäten, Entsaftung, Auflösungswunsch, Gedankenkompostierung. In Exzessen der Konzentrationsschwäche ringelten, kringelten und schlängelten sich die Assoziationsketten wie bei Jos berühmten Kringel-Schlängel-Zeichnungen. Jeden Abend, nachdem wir ihn gewaltsam aus unserer Wohnung gehebelt hatten, „ging“ er dann heim, um dort sehr eigene, verträumte Stücke zusammenzubasteln. Im seligen Brainfog dieser Tage entstand z.B. „Handicapfalter“, für das der kongeniale °Bär° aus unserer Wohnung das entsprechende Video machte. Neben anderen Marotten des kleinen Darmatmers beobachteten wir fasziniert seine Literatur- bzw. Bücherphobie. Halt ihm nur sekundenlang eine bedruckte Seite vors Gesicht, und er windet sich weinend am Boden. Ein Grad an Phobizität, mit dem sich nur meine eigene lachhafte Abscheu und Angst vor dem Selberschreiben messen kann. Jo schaudert beim Gedanken, sinnvoll aufeinander aufbauende Sätze lesen, mir wiederum beim Gedanken, sie hinschreiben zu müssen, weil ich irgendetwas „zu sagen“ habe. Eine gewisse Verwandtschaft ist nicht zu leugnen. Viel, viel mehr freuen uns aufgeschnappte, falsch verstandene oder misshörte Fetzen, hohle, aber unvergessliche Phrasen, der diamantene Kifferhumor unserer Vorfahren. „Aus einer Drehung/bleibe ich stehen/ um in alle Richtungen/weiter zu gehen“ (wie es in „Selten Gesehenes“ raunt), beschreibt den Prozess schon ganz schön. Immerhin hat Jo mir voraus, dass er jeden leidigen Satz einfach abbrechen und in Musik ausplempern lassen darf. Zurück zum Wesentlichen. Es ist fünf vor 12 für den Schlammpeitziger (wissenschaftlich Misgurnus). Die scheue Grundel ist von Klimawandel bedroht, vielleicht haltet ihr mit diesem Vinyl also die letzte Lebensäußerung des Exemplars in Händen, das wir seit der Lockdownphase der Corona-Epidemie sporadisch betreuen durften. Und die ist hübsch geworden. Selbst aus ästhetischer Erwägungen Entdarmte wie ich und mein geliebter Mann, können bei diesen sublimen, silberhellen Pupsbläschen DENNOCH an Sex denken! It´s zart as a fart. Make love!!!!!

Schamlose Dubtöse: Hast du Worte. Hast du Töne. Impertinent harmloses Klavierplätschern geht über in ziepende Zounds von zunehmender Strenge. Es wird nicht domptiert (wäre unethisch) sondern dubtiert. Klingt dubtig, wie ihr euch vorstellen könnt. (Instrumental)

Loch ohne Licht. Möglicherweise vage misogyn. Könnte auch sein, dass im Loch einfach kein Licht war. Das sparsame Textfetzchen („du biss mir och esu e Loch ohne Licht“) klingt nach einer jener pampigen kölschen Repliken, deren Anticharme man sich schwer entziehen kann. Schwirrt und groovt.

Selten Gesehenes: Lässig. Souverän. Softig. Duftig. Nachdenklich aber beschwingt.

Beim Arabischen Vietmanesen (Instrumental) gibt es wahrscheinlich die Speise unseres Vertrauens im Falle der Munchies, die wir kriegen, wenn wir anderen Leuten beim Kiffen zusehen. Transzendentale und psychedelische Zustände durchziehen beiläufig den schnöden Alltag. Klar Knuspermarsch: Marschiert und schwebt zugleich.

Klebt Runner: Soundtrack zum gleichnamigen Kultfilm. Tyrrell Corporation macht sich locker. Ungenutzte Sätze: Stinks irgendwie, weil hier gefährliche Nähe zu nachvollziehbarer und dann auch noch kritischer Aussage gegeben ist. Dafür klingt die sinistre elektronische Billigkeit von Carpenter-Soundtracks an.

Parzipan: Eigentlich war die Entstehungszeit gar nicht so brüllend lustig und einfach, sondern für Jo auch ein zermürbendes, langsames Loslassen des Bruders. Hier schickt er ihn mit sanftem Schubs hinaus in die Weiten eines hoffentlich schönen Jenseits.

Clara Drechsler
Downloads

Winnies Welt war nicht immer einfach. Manche sagen, er hätte berühmt werden können, aber es gab Probleme. Er hatte kurz Erfolg, aber das Leben kam ihm dazwischen. ,Manche Leute kümmern sich zu sehr. Ich glaube, das nennt man Liebe." Also lag es an Winston Hightower, die Chance zu ergreifen, sie festzuhalten und sich Gehör zu verschaffen. Ein Mann, der den Sound des amerikanischen Lofi liebt. Was befindet sich im Aschenbecher von Winston Hightowers "Day in the Life"? 14 Songs, die einem wehmütigen Herzen eine unbeschwerte Tarnung verleihen - es strahlt durch und durch. 33 RPM. Ein Pianist, der kein Klavier spielen kann und seine Melodien auf der Gitarre transponiert. Angenehme Klänge, überlagert von Gesprächen mit sich selbst. Was sieht dieser Ohio Player, wenn er in den Spiegel schaut? Nudge Squidfish? Daniel Johnson? Studio One Oldies Comps? Nach über 126 Songs auf Band sind wir immer noch dabei, das herauszufinden.

Three years after the release of Volume 1, Innershades returns to home turf with a second entry in his Heritage series. The New Beat territory that its predecessor tackled serves as the starting point for the A-side of Volume 2 as well. The glistening arpeggios and choir patches on "Mind State", alongside the unyielding kicks, alarm-like synth lines and plodding tempo of "System Breakdown," reaffirm how the genre's hallmarks smoothly align with the artist's own inclinations. The B-side draws from the broad spectrum of styles that emerged a bit later, in the beginning of the nineties, when it seemed the dance floor would move unimpeded between and bridge genres, its boundaries often not as firmly established. "Fuse Memory" nudges the pace forward, driven by the 909 and a staple hypnotic lead. When the drums come to a halt, a 303 emerges to flesh out the break. "Rhythm Composer" continues in a similar early techno vein, but pulls the track into outer space via its formant-heavy leads and Detroit-tinged sci-fi sweeps. On ALT023 Innershades appears in fine fettle, providing another batch of up-front club tracks that approach history as motion rather than memory, translating the past into forward momentum.

This 2026 reissue of Isolée’s 'Beau Mot Plage' revisits one of the most quietly influential tracks of early-2000s minimal techno and deep house.

Presenting a trio of reworks that stretch its sun-bleached elegance in different directions. Built around Isolée’s signature warm chords, skittering rhythms, and hypnotic restraint, 'Beau Mot Plage' remains a masterclass in subtle groove and emotional economy.

The A-side opens with the Heaven & Earth Re-Edit, Luke Solomon and Rob Mello's extended take that amplifies the track’s balearic glow while preserving its intimate pulse. This is followed by the Freeform Five vs Idjut Boys Beats version, which nudges the original toward a looser, club-ready feel, adding bounce and attitude without sacrificing its understated charm. On the B-side, Freeform Reform Parts I & II delivers a deeper, more exploratory reconstruction.

With their third album, Inanimate Objects of the 21st Century, Newcastle’s The Pale White prove once again that there’s no slowing them down. Following the success of their introspective sophomore album The Big Sad, brothers Adam (vocals/guitar) and Jack Hope (drums) return louder, sharper, and more defiant than ever. This third full-length is their most expansive yet: a record that blends the anthemic punch of classic rock with the urgency and edge of modern alternative.The title, Inanimate Objects of the 21st Century, is a nudge to the uncomfortable irony of our time – as technology accelerates, humanity feels increasingly frozen in place. Lead singer Adam Hope says: “Technology is moving, but we are not. Human civilization entered the 21st century wide-eyed and naive with mobile phones that would barely fit in our pockets. Fast forward a few decades and we’re so far from where we were that it almost looks like a bad 80’s sci-fi movie. Back then, that film would be watched in packed-out cinemas after an eagerly anticipated release, but now they stand emptier than they once were, attended mainly as a nostalgic experience in the age of Netflix and doomscrolling.

The birth of AI, algorithms, cryptocurrency, drones, holographic concerts, autonomous cars… we’re living in a strange transitional period which is both fascinating and terrifying in equal measure. We humans have now in fact become the inanimate objects - mannequins.After our softer, melancholic second album ‘The Big Sad’, we felt it was only right to move as fast as our world is moving and release our next within the year. ‘Inanimate Objects of the 21st Century’ is the evil twin, the Yin to The Big Sad’s Yang.”

Released in 2000, Alan Braxe and Fred Falke's “Intro” is five minutes of faultlessly melancholy, perfectly elegant, dance music that nudged French House into the future.
“Intro” is now being re-released for its 25th birthday, using the remastered version of the song from the 2023 re-issue of Alan Braxe, Fred Falke & Friends - The Upper Cuts album, with Braxe and Falke also making new remixes of their golden child. Given that “Intro” was pretty much perfect the first time around, the results are astoundingly strong.
Falke’s remix takes “Intro” into new dimensions, cosmic and suspiciously dubby, a newly-recorded bass line sending the mix on its psychedelic way. Braxe’s remix is raw and dirty, a “hotel room edit” as he calls it, that nods to the history of French House as it sparkles up the spine.
Both tunes are evidence that - actually - you can remix the un-remixable, so long as it is done with infinite love and incredible skill.

2026 Repress

In our era of post-truth & questioned realities, tin foil hatted folk project their insecurities onto the puppet masters, those holding the strings to us all, the endless psy-op at play. For those opting for psychedelic enlightenment over psychological terror, we find solace in the dance, especially when the music is from heads such as Jeku.

‘Peyote Trance’ follows the Helsinki based artists journey into the “trip”, where mother nature instead pulls the strings. A sound of trance often not followed, continuing the work of forebearers such as eXquisite CORpsE; where the zap of the synapses in the brain connect with the bubble & squeak of electronics. Creating a sound advanced by nature, yet resonating within the concrete walls us ravers know and love. All 4 tracks harness a kinetic energy that nudges you to ascendance, not desperately reaching for it like the heavy handed aesthetics of the genre can. Instead, the heads down motion of the music can take you there, and well, a little bit of Peyote might just help, as mother nature intended.

In between the folds of ceremony and commonality lies a perennial spring of musical expression.

A statement along the time continuum, or a testament to the resilient resourcefulness embedded in that truth, forms the philosophical approach of this album – the first outing of Dídac.
Studying an extensive archive of instruments, artifacts, and field recordings at the Musée d’ethnographie de Genève—a space steeped in folkloric gesture – Dídac encountered a cosmos of liturgical music and folk song. Anchored in reverance for tradition and transformation alike, this album navigates the old-world Mediterranean lore through a post-modern ambient lens, threading drone, gentle rhythm, electroacoustic textures and the crude tactility of archival material into one woven tapestry.

Under the guidance of Dr. Madeleine Leclair, Dídac was invited to work within one of the world’s most extensive ethno- musicological archives—L’AIMP. In the saturated basements and tape-lined backrooms of the museum, he submerged himself in the sounds of ritual and rural life: wax cylinders from the Eastern Mediterranean, tapes of liturgical hymn, the worn edges of communal song.
In a makeshift studio on the fourth floor of the museum, he sifted through the hours of material he collected, gradually discovering that the archive was no static source – It did not dictate; rather, it served as a companion—offering not answers, but questions. Not a beaten track, but a cluster of sonic clues and riddles. Samples do appear occasionally, tenderly interwoven into the dialogue of the songs. In Dídac’s self-titled debut, the past is not worn as ornament or kitsch; it is listened to and responded to. The museum, its archives, and the visit to Geneva became a foundational culisse of sorts, igniting a myriad of rough cuts and improvisational outtakes.
Dídac, or Diego Ocejo Muñoz, was born in Madrid in 1994 to a family of both Catalan and Castilian origin.

Brought up in a religious household, the influence of the Catholic Church innately shaped the social fabric, schooling and daily life. This lingering dominance led the adolescent Diego into a path of rejection of everything sacramental, promptly resorting to subversion in the shape of grafitti, skateboarding and underground music. Only later in life, after a rigorous venture as an acid and electro producer, the Church re-emerged before him in new light, invoking a deep fascination for its mysticism, iconography and choral tradition.

Spain in general and Catalonia in particular, has long served as a crossroads of the eastern–western Mediterranean continuum, with many of its cultures sharing aspects of way of life and ceremony. At the MEG, Diego found himself puzzled with this realization, resulting in a sonic amalgamation that reaches farther away from the rugged mountains of Catalonia than you might perceive at first encounter.

The deeply embedded memory of rite and public ceremony, religious hymn and landscape—sieved through the undercurrent of personal re-emergence, forms the emotional topography of this album. The record does not trace this landscape; it inhabits it. Its repetitive mysticism and ambient, wide-eyed gaze could possibly evoke (perhaps redundant) comparisons to artists such as Dimitris Petsetakis, or Popol Vuh’s late 70’s cinema scores.
The delicate lines between the sacred and the secular – between memory and re-invention – serve as a cipher to understanding this album in its entirety. Titles like Malpàs Mines or Pantocrator’s Portal Outro nudge toward a folkloric and devotional bedrock—places where labor and spirituality coexist, where names preserve both dust and veneration.

Nevertheless, this is far from mere nostalgia. It is a reclamation — singing alongside the spirits of the past, nurturing what still hums beneath the soil. It is an intimate reflection on tradition, rebellion, adolescence, ceremony and fantasy – a pastoral contemplation on what once was and what is to be.