08/06/2025
Last night I was behind the decks at a wedding.
Not exactly my favorite kind of gig—too many expectations, too little freedom.
But something shifted.
Somewhere between a slowed-down edit and a forgotten deep cut, people started dancing like it wasn’t a wedding anymore.
Like they were in a warehouse in one of those cities where the music still matters, not a villa in Piacenza.
It’s strange how the right sound can cut through the noise of “what should be” and become “what feels real.”
Meanwhile, I walk into clubs in Italy and hear trap and Italian pop, like someone turned the lights on at 3am and said the party’s over.
We’re getting it backwards.
But for a moment last night, everything made sense.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
