I believe that the power of music can recharge our mental energy.

That’s why I don’t believe it’s possible to live a truly healthy life without music. Music has been a part of my life since kindergarten. I played the piano for 4 years, the recorder for 4 years, studied solfège for 3 years, was a member of a choir for 4 years, and after a few years of competitive dancing I discovered electronic music, which has completely absorbed me ever since.

My primary genres are Hi-tech and dark psytrance, but lately I’ve been diving deeper into the world of dark techno. I mostly identify myself as a mashup DJ, though I am also strongly interested in full music production.

In 2021 we launched the Skandi Goa Piknik — an illegal goa party series held only twice a year, announced exclusively in a secret group.

In 2025 we decided to step out of the shadows and give space to something much darker, launching our Avernus party series. This takes those who are brave enough deep into the world of dark techno — a party that at times evokes a satanic atmosphere.

This music deliberately creates an artificial dissonance: a finely building, highly precise melodic techno foundation plays while, alongside it, a brutally raw and real poem from a heroin-addicted alternative rock band from the ’90s, Mirage, unfolds. The meeting of these two worlds generates a tension that can be paralleled with our everyday life: while a cosmic tragedy, a human drama, is taking place, the world keeps rushing forward relentlessly, emotionlessly. Music — the cycle and forward motion of life — never stops; it continues mercilessly, almost oblivious to individual collapses and tragedies.

The weight of the chosen poem is further intensified by the fate of Mirage: several of the members died by suicide or overdose, so every word spoken is an authentic and painful imprint of a lost generation’s struggle.

The foundation is Gregor Tresher’s Quiet Distortion, originally a piece of melodic techno, but through my remaster it shifted toward a heavier, dark-techno mood. The poem is heard in full at the beginning (except for the ending), and from there the musical arc is in my hands: I carry the atmosphere of the text forward while letting the music assert itself as an independent force.

This isn’t club music — nobody will play it at a party, except perhaps me, as a set closer. It’s an art piece whose purpose is to leave a lasting mark. A track that doesn’t let the listener go for days — maybe forever.