The Eski.Sub draws inspiration from the visual language of Brutalist architecture and the cultural atmosphere of UK grime music scene. The project examines the relationship between design, urban context, and emotional listening experiences, positioning the loudspeaker as both an audio device and a spatial object.
Detroit techno, austere and futuristic, grew out of Black/queer culture, sci-fi escapism, and the repetitive language of automobile factories. San Francisco's techno, on the other hand, fused an outdoor hippie aesthetic with ecstatic, UK-derived beats that had crowds mass-hallucinating UFOs on Ocean Beach at dawn. Both shared a deep funkiness, however—remember when people of all shapes and colors once danced wildly?
R&B in the 21st century has been in a constant state of flux, tugged between safe traditionalism and blurry attempts at progression. For the last decade-plus that "progression" has seen R&B music become more indebted to trap records and the moody atmospherics of alternative bands like Radiohead, Coldplay, or My Bloody Valentine.
Metropolis -the tale of an exploited caste of workers breaking free from their oligarchic oppressors by joining together with them to build a new world, as well as an Orpheus-like love story-has famously been in a state of restoration for almost a century, thanks to studio mangling and the ravages of time.
This release is about connection. Not in a strategic sense, but in terms of feeling part of a scene rather than orbiting around it. There's a lot of really strong music coming out of Australia right now, especially in the underground, and this felt like the right moment to place something there.
DJ-Kicks is a series that shaped how I think about DJing and listening. I played the DJ Koze mix an unhealthy number of times, to the point where it basically lives in my DNA now. Those mixes taught me that the best ones aren't about showing off; they're about taking people on a journey. They move, twist and surprise you. They give you goosebumps when you least expect it.
OKO DJ's music is best measured not in decibels but in candle watts. Sunlight, one suspects, would reduce it to ashes. Her debut album, As Above, So Below, is a seance of a record, a journey into the darkest corners of the night. The Athens-based musician, aka Marine Tordjemann, is host of an NTS Radio show called Twisted Dream Diary, and As Above, So Below, is similarly steeped in dream logic and surrealistic visions. In its collision of bleak sounds and cosmic mysticism, it often feels like a gothic take on new-age spirituality. It might be the post-post-punk equivalent of a European art-house film shot in grainy black and white, framing monologues muttered in French and Greek in dramatically austere trappings. It's a mood piece par excellence.
Each stage is designed with a clear purpose, allowing different parts of the electronic spectrum to exist without compromise, from peak-time headline techno to foundational house, from high-pressure intensity to emerging local voices. Together, the stages form a complete ecosystem where every sound has room to exist properly, and the whole site is steeped in the famously high spec production, light and sound that makes this one of Europe's leading events.