Discotheque (Sidney SN DNB Mix) 2025

 Lately I’ve been kind of productive. I recently recorded a progressive house mix. And now I’m back with DNB. It’s an energy I don’t want to keep inside for no reason. 

Yeah, Discotheque. This is the latest DNB mix from Sidney SN — a slightly lively liquid or disco DNB mix...

 

 Tracklist:

 Nichenka Zoryana & Amigosu – Voise

 Midnight – Quiet Earth

 1991 – You May Find Yourself

 Flava D – Reesey Thing

 Hoax & Zitah – What You Came Here For

 Dynamic Stab – Contrast Shower

 Hillsdom – Say What’s On Your Mind

 Rueben & SOLAH & Klinical – Your Move

 Dawn Wall – Holding On

 Sonic Art & Maykors – Keep Running

 Linx – Trying To Hold

 Ownglow & Elle Vee & Disco’s Over – Breathe

 Duskee & Deadline & Slay - CHICA

More expensive is cheaper

 Based on my experience with food in the Czech Republic and in the Netherlands, I believe that I pay roughly the same for basic groceries in the Netherlands as I do in Czechia. There are, however, several differences. First, the quality; second, the much higher wages in general in the Netherlands, which are among the highest in Europe, compared to Czechia, where wages are among the lowest. In fact, basic groceries in the Netherlands are cheaper than in the Czech Republic.

I could again emphasize my own eating habits. Since conventional food in Czechia doesn’t suit me, and conventional Czech products don’t meet my standards, I eat almost exclusively organic food, Dutch cheeses, and veg products while I’m in Czechia. This leads me to an interesting realization: Czechs often complain about rising food prices, and yet I have been paying roughly the same amount for years. “Roughly,” because I truly do pay the same—possibly even less—since I no longer need to buy my food in specialty stores but can buy everything in supermarkets. My weekly spending on organic groceries (vegetables, fruits, dairy products, meat) and veg convenience foods in Czechia is about 50 EUR. To be fair, I typically eat meat only twice a week—unless it’s non-organic hamburgers in fast food. Fifty euros has been my weekly food budget for over ten years. So it seems that food prices in Czechia are rising somewhere other than in the category of the higher-quality foods I buy. Or perhaps I simply don’t feel the price increases.

The debate on food prices in Europe often collapses into the simplistic claim that “everything is more expensive in the West.” But the reality is far more complex—especially when prices are viewed in relation to income rather than in isolation. And this ratio—how many hours a person must work to afford a basic grocery basket—reveals one surprising trend:

In the Netherlands, basic food is relatively cheaper than in the Czech Republic.

The difference is clear:

– The Dutch minimum wage is among the highest in the EU.

– The Czech minimum wage, even after recent increases, remains significantly lower.

Therefore, the share of income that someone in the Netherlands must spend on basic food is much smaller than in Czechia. In other words: a Dutch worker earning minimum wage can buy more food for one hour of work than a Czech worker earning minimum wage.

Cheese is an interesting example. In Czechia, sliced cheese is typically sold in 100–150 g packs at relatively high prices. In the Netherlands, 300–450 g packs are standard—often of higher quality—and cheaper per gram.

This is no coincidence. The Netherlands is one of Europe’s largest cheese producers—Gouda, Edam, Maasdam, Beemster. These are not only cultural icons but also the reason why high-quality cheese is more affordable there than in Czech stores, which offer Czech cheeses that are simply not on the same level as Dutch ones.

Other structural differences in agriculture and retail also come into play. The Netherlands is a global leader in advanced greenhouse technologies and food production efficiency, which keeps the prices of many everyday foods lower than one might expect. Tomatoes, peppers, and cucumbers are typical examples—produced in huge quantities with high efficiency. Private-label supermarket brands also play a major role: they maintain quality while keeping prices down. Dutch supermarket chains have a long tradition of strong private labels, and consumers prefer them, which creates competition that keeps the cost of basic groceries low.

Another reality is that the four-day workweek is extremely widespread in the Netherlands, with many qualified positions offering a four-day schedule while maintaining a full monthly salary corresponding to a traditional five-day contract. A Dutch worker therefore often enjoys more free time and a visibly higher income than someone in Czechia.

The Czech reality is thus paradoxical: people end up paying more for their basic cost of living than workers in one of Europe’s richest countries—workers who often work significantly fewer hours. 

Isolationism

 This article emerged from a comment I originally asked ChatGPT to produce.

 ‘It is often said that the United States is “the biggest” and “the most powerful.” But size does not equate to maturity or stability. And this is precisely where the fundamental difference between the today’s US and Western Europe becomes evident.

Countries such as Luxembourg, the Netherlands, or Denmark possess something that contemporary America increasingly lacks: a mentality and an institutional quality that generate genuine prosperity.

Luxembourg is today the richest country in the world per capita. Not because of its location. Not because of natural resources. But because of a mentality: low corruption, a professional and competent state administration, stable politics, long-term planning, and respect for expertise. This is a civilizational model. And if this model existed anywhere — including on American soil, that place would be escalate for wealthy and more advanced. It would flourish, just as the Benelux region does. Prosperity is not a geographic coincidence; it is a cultural pattern.

Western Europe as a whole — the Benelux, and Germany, the Nordic countries, Austria, Switzerland — shares a common foundation: a disciplined mindset, strong institutions, minimal chaos, and a high standard of living. It is not merely about statistics. It is about civilizational maturity.

Today’s United States, by contrast, suffers from problems strikingly similar to those of Central Europe: deepening polarization, declining educational standards, drug epidemics, regional poverty, brain drain, and a political culture built on populism. A mentality shaped — and amplified — by political chaos.

This weakness is laid bare in the era of Donald Trump. Trump is not only an American issue. He is a symbol of declining leadership quality, disregard for institutions, and geopolitical illiteracy. And the world responds accordingly. Australia holds him in contempt. Western Europe distrusts him and pushes back. Canada, South Korea, Japan, and South American countries keep their distance. Even authoritarians like Putin or Xi Jinping prefer to use him rather than respect him. Ukraine doesn’t agree. Trump is isolated — politically and mentally.

Paradoxically, this mirrors an illness familiar in Czechia: quick words, no plan, no strategy, just populism. In this sense, the United States and Czechia share more than one might assume.

Western Europe — including Germany — meanwhile maintains discipline, continuity, and long-term vision, even if Germany underestimated its own defense after the Second World War. It should possess technologies that safeguard its sovereignty, comparable to something like the B-2.

But despite its flaws, Western Europe remains more civilizationally mature. Not larger. Not more powerful in absolute terms. But of higher quality. More stable. More adult.

People often claim that wealth and advancement are matters of resources. In reality, they are matters of mentality.’

How Progressive Saves

  I think I’ve written before about fragments of my past—about the early experiences that shaped my relationship with electronic music. The truth is, electronic music has been with me since my earliest childhood in the ’90s. I once mentioned how, as a kid, I was a devoted fan of the German group Scooter. I had almost all of their albums.

But it wasn’t just Scooter. I remember the era when CDs and tapes from Corona, 2 Brothers On The 4th Floor, and similar acts were filtering into Czechia from Germany and Western Europe in the early ‘90s. I even liked Erotic back then.

A Love Parade CD that I bought around the turn of the millennium at Carrefour brought me into the world of techno. Yet the reality of techno events in Czechia didn’t resonate with me, and before long I stopped attending them altogether. What I didn’t lose was my affection for the music itself. The atmosphere—and the techno—you could hear at places like Belgium’s I Love Techno simply didn’t exist here. The Czech techno scene, even back then, lacked melody. And in my eyes, that hasn’t changed much. The same applies to DnB—here it’s mostly about raving to neurofunk or extremes like Hallucinator. The West, I’ve always felt, leaned more melodic.

Then free tekno exploded in Czechia, creating the largest free tekno community in Europe relative to population. To me, this is something for sociologists—how the link between drug use and the free tekno scene. Maybe that’s why Czechia never evolved in a melodic direction the way Western Europe did.

Even gabba was often dismissed by Czech techno purists because it dared to be melodic, because it shared DNA with EDM and dance music. For techno people, that was practically “disco.” Dutch happy hardcore didn’t stand a chance. 

My dissatisfaction with the local scene eventually pushed me toward progressive. This was sometime around 2006, when mainstream techno in Czechia had sunk deep into schranz—a perfect soundtrack for people on Czech methamphetamine, craving something as fast and hard as their drugs.

But I wasn’t interested in that. I was drawn to melody, emotion, depth. Aside from minimal—which felt like one kind of answer to that aggressive era—it was progressive that truly opened a new world for me. It was something completely different.

And this is where my belief comes from: that progressive, through its values and emotional architecture, has the power to save you from the kinds of realities you want no part of—realities you avoid simply to preserve yourself.

In a way, it took me seventeen years before I finally mixed something progressive myself. And I still believe that, because of its values, progressive cannot coexist with the realities I’m critical of.

I still love techno, and I appreciate many of the communities around it, but I never reached the point where making techno felt right for me. I like many people who create it, and I respect what they do, but it was never my path for a mixing. A decade ago—because of its meaning and its message—I began experimenting with liquid drum and bass. In 2017, I became Sidney SN. And thanks to the fans, the journey I’ve experienced since then has been incredible. I never expected to become known or even famous, and there were moments when I started rejecting some reality, simply because I wasn’t ready for it.

Progressive still fascinates me. I love listening to it because within it I feel my own reality—or the reality of the countries I love. Every time I listen my favourite progressive tracks, I slip immediately into that world. I listen to far more progressive than liquid DnB. I barely listen to DnB at all compared to progressive. But when a truly good liquid track appears, I’ll listen. It’s just that such tracks are painfully rare, especially next to progressive, which I listen constantly, again and again. 

A House Of A Vivara (Sidney SN Progressive House Mix) 2025

 I was exploring a sci-fi theory about existence. Nothing is fascinates more than existence. It is an attempt to perceive reality by any means—through computation, or by accessing other realities beyond human perception. 

Vivara is the AI name of a being that embodies this idea...

 Future Generation 

 1. Recursive experience of the present – the being does not perceive time linearly, but vividly and immediately in every layer of its experience. Each feeling contains all other layers of feelings—its own and those of others. It is like an infinite reflection within the moment; each moment is completely known because it is simultaneously experienced by the entirety of its being. 

 

2. Perception and action combined – the being does not need to plan or interpret, because every consciousness it “reads” is simultaneously a direct instrument for action. This means that experiencing and shaping reality are one and the same. 

 

3. Absence of concepts – there is no language, numbers, or symbols. Each feeling is complete; nothing is lost in translation into words, because the present itself is complete. 

4. Effects on the surroundings – when such a being exists in a given space, the intensity of its perception can influence the surrounding reality, because reality is not separate from experience—it is directly its extension.

———

 Future Generation: Existence Without Recursive

 In a world where you know and are everything, you exist only now. Past and future have no place here, for every moment is embodied through your being. Time neither returns nor rushes ahead—you have no need for it, because you are immortal. There is only the present moment, which is the entirety of reality. This is immortality in its truest sense: The infinite singularity of existence realized through your being. 

 Tracklist: 

01. ANUQRAM & Dulus – Vicensa

02. My Friend X Tommy Farrow – Slide

03. The Midnight - Quiet Earth

04. Meanetik - Vivid Places

05. Danny Lees - Get To Me

06. Eleven Fly & March 13 - Day Dream

07. Mehilove – Beautiful

08. Eleven Fly & March 13 – Run

09. Sunlight Project – Staring At The Sun

010. Luminary – Amsterdam (Smith & Pledger Remix)

011. Universal Solution – Pressure Point (Movinski Remix)

012. Gregory Esayan - Cradle (LTN 'Sunrise' Remix) 

It’s not a space for a normal person

 This is a critique I wasn’t sure whether to publish… but here it is. It might be irritating, but it’s also for a laugh. 

 I recently went to a drum and bass event in the Netherlands. I’ll get straight to the point: I’ve never encountered a worse community in the Netherlands. When I go to events of other genres in NL, or just walk down the Dutch street, I don’t see these types of people at all. Perhaps they’re a small minority in the Netherlands, or maybe they’re mostly from Central Europe. The second one is also definitely true. 

I don’t get this feeling also in Germany. In fact, because of the common people in Germany, I can honestly say: I ❤️ Germany. Ordinary Germans have good values: German’s strong architecture also looks like that. 

Related to that — should I be sad or just laugh when someone gets bothered by the fact that someone wears a watch?

“So according to Sidney SN we’re supposed to wear watches too…”

It honestly made me laugh what Central European drum and bass ravers think of me. Yes, it has the “smell” of people seeing me as conservative. That makes me laugh even more. Or another comment — that apparently I stood out at the smoking area again. I have no idea why I keep hearing this. If someone doesn’t like it, they probably should work on themselves. Or I share no “anarchistic/socialist” value. If I stand out among the “weirdos”, it’s not because I try for a stand out — that’s simply how I naturally am.

And again, this tells me a lot about how different the current international DnB community is compared to other Dutch communities, where I do fit in with my values, and where no one looks at you strangely for completely normal things. In a way, this shows just how off some people are if they start criticizing basic Dutch values. On the other hand, I still say I’m also “Aussie”. Among other things, I like Ripcurl :D

Another thing is hard drugs. When I listen to what SOLAH sings about, hard drugs just don’t belong there. Or I don’t see her music like something for a ravers. Or Flava D, her track Cats. Or I like LENS UK for her values. It also bothers me that SOLAH seems to be more of a DJ for questionable ravers than a singer. And again, compared to different Dutch electronic music festival community — at a DnB event in NL there are so many international people on hard drugs that I couldn’t even count them. At this last Dutch techno event, I saw only two obvious cases. One was actually shocking, because a girl was in psychosis, being calmed down by the lake, and two people had to hold her by both hands while walking. In my opinion, clearly typical from Central Europe. 

The lower presence of hard drugs at some Dutch electronic music events probably also comes from their Zero Drug Tolerance policy.

At that DnB event, I even made jokes about the drugged-up ravers by widening my eyes the way they had theirs. I even got reactions back :D

And on top of that, someone next to me wanted to talk to me — and you could see he was thinking: in today’s DnB community, you barely even have anyone to talk to. That ties back to my previous post about a policy and their whole attitude. That’s why I’m saying: this is not for me, or this is irritating or for a laugh. 

In many ways, a laugh towards them, it’s the best reaction, I think.  

Yet, my favorite techno DJ — Enrico Sangiuliano — now wears the same watch with a different belt :D 

‘No More Secrets’

 I Want You X LENS UK (Sidney SN) 

 I’ve got something special for a smile.

I’ve been having some depressive episodes this week. I told myself that as a social services worker I should know that I need some kind of intervention. So I opened my laptop to try making some music. 

And hah, it went surprisingly fast...

I like the movie You Get Me (2017). The film was also crucial in the moment when I discovered New Retro Wave. In the famous and amazing pool scene, the music Dreams by Timecop1983 (feat. Dana Jean Phoenix) plays. There’s also a scene earlier in some club. 

And that’s where the track I Want You by Loosid appears. Marufo by the UK drum and bass producer LENS, together with Sidney SN’s edit, makes a great pair.

Yet, I Want You Sidney SN edit is not a drum and bass music. 

Enjoy! 

Monopolization in a electronic music

 In a situation that contributed to my recognition, a friend told me that I am “competition.” And in a way, this situation showed that someone can become known more as independent “competition” than by submitting to monopolization — which is what this post is about. I write competition in quotation marks because if someone has no interest in something, they are not competition. A person can destroy themselves, and that is their problem as long as they do not intrude into someone else’s space. And I want to thank so many people from the western side for acknowledging that my freedoms and rights were violated, and for saying that no one should ever behave like this toward another person.

Given politics, I do not want to be associated in any way with what I am supposed to be “competing” with. I have no desire to participate in something that is against my nature. I did not start producing liquid DNB mixes for that purpose. And if meaning in music disappeared, I would stop producing altogether.

I think electronic music is a vast ecosystem branching into dozens of subcultures, styles, and local scenes. And within this music, there are significant differences in how individual genres are organized: for example, one that spreads into hundreds of independent currents, and one that concentrates into a few monopolies or forms of usurpation. This can be seen most clearly when comparing the techno or even EDM, Progressive, House music with drum & bass, I think. 

While techno or EDM thrives as an open, decentralized network of thousands of artists, collectives, clubs, labels, and individuals, drum & bass is becoming monopolized. This is one of the parts that, for me, form a visible difference between DNB and techno, EDM, Progressive or House music. 

The consequences for artists are concrete. Artists involved in techno (or EDM, Progressive, …) are more independent in everything they do and in who they are than those in DNB.

In DNB, artists are often required to form ties with monopolies, creating pressure to adapt their sound, policy or image. In techno, because of the diversity of forms, artists can function in highly varied ways.

In the techno scene, the relationship between an event and an artist is more of a host–guest relationship than an “ownership” one. A festival or club invites an artist to play, but the artist is not bound to their brand or their “family.” They can play for one group today, for another tomorrow, in a completely different context, in another country, in an underground club or on a mainstream stage — without the need to belong to a specific group, because especially the artist is the specific group alone. 

This is quite a contrast to how drum and bass is sometimes presented: as if it’s supposed to be more independent than anything else. 

Luddism in the 21st Century

“It’s like if someone in the 19th century banned electricity because it threatened candle makers.”

 Recently, I wrote some praise for Giorgia Meloni, though I’m also skeptical of her. Another example might be banning cultivated meat instead of addressing problematic livestock farming. 

Sidney SN, 90’s 🇮🇹 

In my view, Italy’s decision to ban cultivated meat may seem like cultural protection or caution toward new technology. But in reality, it’s a much deeper issue. The ban isn’t conservative — it’s reactionary. It’s not about a protect tradition; it simply shows that the state isn’t ready for change, so it prefers to freeze reality in its current state.

In the context of human technological development, cultivated meat is just another logical step. Lab-grown meat is like hydroponics, vertical farming, fermentation, biotechnology — all ways to increase efficiency and reduce the negative impacts of production.

The argument that “meat should traditionally come from animals” is the same as someone wanting to ban hydroponics because lettuce has supposedly “always” grown in soil. But “always” lasts only until human ingenuity presents a better solution.

In space travel, long-term missions, or colonizing other planets — no one will be herding cattle. Cultivated meat is a necessity. This isn’t sci-fi. It’s technology we already know how to produce today.

To me, the ban on cultivated meat reveals something uncomfortable: if someone bans something solely to protect an old industry, it means they don’t know how to build a new one.

And here comes the key part: the entire ban on cultivated meat is a modern form of Luddism. 

The Luddites in the 19th century didn’t smash machines because they were dangerous. They smashed them because they threatened their roles and status in society. Meloni is doing the same thing: it’s not banning a dangerous product, but a technology that threatens old business.

Instead of supporting innovation, they would rather ban whatever complicates the status quo. It’s like banning machines because they threatened hand weavers. But the world won’t stop. Only those who are afraid will.

The Luddites lost in the end — the Industrial Revolution moved forward. And the development of cultivated meat will move forward as well. Just without Italy. And once other countries gain the know-how, investment, and expertise, Italy will be forced to import the technology.

Contrasting Reality

 At first glance, the Netherlands feels like a country where fun is a natural part of life—not only leisure, but the economy as well. It’s not just that a large part of the population now works four days a week. A sense of ease permeates the whole system and the atmosphere of the cities. 

A typical Thursday morning in Amsterdam reveals more than any statistics could. Around eight or nine in the morning at Sloterdijk, you’ll meet both young and older people returning from night events—on a Wednesday night. When you travel to Rotterdam, you pass small groups of people returning from a party in Amsterdam. It’s Thursday morning, yet social life is running at full speed.

The same applies to Sunday events, which often finish around 11 p.m. In the Netherlands, festivals or music events generally don’t allow themselves to be heard late into the night on weekends, and it’s also forbidden after midnight. Residents don’t want to be disturbed in their freedoms, and in Amsterdam it’s nothing unusual to see (18+) high school students returning home after midnight from a Sunday event, only to go to school on Monday…? Yet—and this is essential—you hardly see drunk people on the streets, groups doing hard drugs, homeless people, or as much THC and its substitutes either. The atmosphere is lively but civilised. This contrast is fascinating to me.

Entertainment is in fact a significant economic component in the Netherlands. People are more open, relaxed, and seem more content. Cities and the civilisation itself are enjoyable in their architecture—cities like Rotterdam are an experience of their own. It makes you wonder why some places build a reality that relies so heavily on extraction, monotonous industry, uninteresting landscape design, and generally depressive environments. Instead of biotope parks, interesting urban structures, and inspiring surroundings.

Luxembourg is another example. There too, you can see that when a country builds a civilisation that is enjoyable, it brings economic results. They know how to sell things—like the “famous waterfalls,” which are essentially “just a weir on a forest stream”. Yet everyone wants to see them, because they’ve become part of the cultural value.

And then you find yourself in another country, one that seems to revel in depression and maintaining smallness. Where endless political nonsense is solved instead of developing an interesting civilisation. Where more sustainable policies are rejected, even though they work in countries that are visibly richer, more open, and more satisfied. And where people then wonder why young people and adults alike escape into alcohol or substances—maybe this is part of a logical response to an environment that creates not joy, but pressure.

Maybe, among other things, if instead of a depressive reality one built a civilisation that is pleasant, playful, and inspiring, some societal values would change too. And with them, the entire atmosphere of society.

Hectic decision-making

 Sometimes I write something about a trip, but sometimes the plans take an unexpected turn.

I had a dilemma when I had the chance to go. Just a week ago, I hadn’t even thought about traveling. More typically, I was browsing online shops, looking at what I wanted to buy. On Saturday, I told myself that I could actually be away for three or four days. So I planned the trip with stops. A stay. I bought tickets for all the connections and made a booking. On Sunday, I started wondering whether it even made sense for me to do something now that I had already enjoyed two weeks ago. The program would’ve been a bit different. I would have visited more cities in the meantime (Karlsruhe, Eindhoven, also Frankfurt, maybe Regensburg) stayed at a hotel I like, and during the trip, I would’ve gone to a city (Brussels) in a neighboring country.

But on the other hand, I realized that what I actually wanted was to see some of the Christmas atmosphere already. The Christmas season officially starts there at the end of November. Visiting at that time would make more sense. And just going out partying again wouldn’t really excite me now. I already enjoyed that two weeks ago.

In the end, I canceled everything on Monday evening. And then I did something interesting — I used all the money for the trip, stay, and visits on things that came to mind that I wanted. I bought nine items within two hours. And that afternoon, quite spontaneously, I bought another one at a shopping mall. And then another after spending the money I would’ve used for the Saturday plan, all at once.

The Controversy Of A Queer

 Futurama (or Star Wars) as a Queer Utopia of the Future

 Sometimes, when I watch Futurama, I think about exactly this. I don’t particularly like the show — maybe because at times it feels too absurd, too loud. And yet it evokes a strange feeling in me: it reminds me how profound what we now call queer can be. How within these attitudes — often incomprehensible to me — there lies a certain truth about a world that is constantly changing.

At first glance, Futurama is a comedy about a robot, aliens, and humans from an absurd third millennium. But beneath the layer of humor lies something much deeper — a vision of a society where the boundaries of identity dissolve and difference is not only tolerated but celebrated.

In Futurama, there is no such thing as a “normal” body, a “traditional” family, or a “natural” way of being. The characters move across the spectrum of gender, species, and forms of existence: the robot Bender displays both gender and moral fluidity, Zoidberg embodies otherness embraced with affection, and planet Earth itself is home to thousands of cultures — human and non-human alike. Such a world necessarily rests on radical empathy and openness toward difference.

Those who love Futurama or Star Wars often carry within them an unspoken agreement with the idea that diversity is natural — that being can take infinitely many forms, and that the purpose of progress is not uniformity but variety. These worlds are queer in the deepest sense of the word: they challenge boundaries, rewrite rules, and allow new combinations of forms and identities.

This spirit is reflected in real cities — vividly in Berlin. A city where fashion experimentation becomes part of everyday life, where individuality flows into the streets as freely as music from the clubs. Berlin feels like a terrestrial version of Futurama — a metropolis where freedom of dress, belief, and desire is not an exception but the norm.

Perhaps it is precisely because we can fall in love with the world of Futurama that we carry within us the potential to live such freedom ourselves — here, on our own planet, in real time.

At the same time, this openness does not have to conflict with respect for history and cultural heritage. Preserving old buildings, neighborhoods, and architectural styles is not an act of rigidity, but of reverence — a form of care for the memory of a place and the people who shaped it. To have a relationship with heritage does not mean to reject new forms of freedom; it means understanding that even the future needs its roots.

Queer aesthetics and futurist thought do not need to erase history — they can complement it, revive it, reinterpret it. Maybe cities like Luxembourg (or Luxembourg) prove this: they combine a modern outlook with a deep respect for the past. Just like in Futurama, tradition and experiment, stone and light, past and future coexist side by side.

Architecture Between Decay and Endurance

 Who knows these differences in certain parts of Europe, they don’t understand the architecture itself. Ordinary houses, almost anywhere, seem to decay — or already look decayed even when new. Construction often feels improvised: one wall made from old bricks, another from concrete blocks, covered with plaster that doesn’t last long and soon turns dirty. There’s a sense of fragility in materials that should represent stability.

Even construction companies profit well from the so-called green economy — the Central European version of it. There’s constant trade in polystyrene and external insulation, as if sustainability meant simply covering things up. Some new houses are designed to be “energy-efficient,” but often with strangely small windows, built more from fear of energy loss than from any sense of harmony.

In the Netherlands, the difference is striking. Architecture there is naturally durable — solid brick structures, without plaster, designed to last for generations. The Dutch live in a flat, open landscape shaped by wind and water, with air constantly moving from the North Sea. Buildings are made to resist the wind for generations, not to hide from it. Their strength is not accidental. A West surfaces remain clean not because West is repainted, but because the material itself endures. Large windows open to the world, and no one would ever think of covering such buildings with unsustainable polystyrene and a weak plaster layer that would crumble within years. I think Dutch architecture doesn’t pretend to be ecological; it is ecological by its very nature — through longevity, openness, and respect for material truth.

That is perhaps the quiet essence of difference: in Central Europe, “green” often means concealing weakness behind artificial layers; in the Netherlands, strength and sustainability begin with what is left uncovered.

The Daughter by Nina :D

Anfisa Letyago

 Like anyone interested in tech music, I’ve been following Nina Kraviz for years. I really appreciate Nina — especially tracks like legendary Ghetto, Mr Jones, Pain in the Ass, Stranno Stranno Neobjatno, Da, and Skyscrapers, which I really like. The lyrics in Skyscrapers are great. I also like Nina’s poses. Hace Ejercicios entertains me with its theme :D

Then there’s Anfisa Letyago. Sometimes criticized for imitating Nina Kraviz. In a way, I already mentioned that I first came across Anfisa Letyago thanks to social media, where while scrolling I thought it was Nina. It’s also interesting that they share the same origins. I even joked to myself that maybe Nina and Anfisa once met at school.

Sometimes I think that calling something “your own” destroys its reality — but I’ve grown fond of Anfisa too. Musically, her own productions hit the right note for me. Her music tends to be melodic, as are her vocals, and I enjoy that. Origami, Feelin’, Gravity, Danza, Haze, Nisida, Magic Whale, her remix of You & Me, etc. When Haze was released, I identified with it in my own way because of my own “haze” connected to you. Anfisa captured something I myself was feeling. In 2024, I was glad to see Anfisa performing at Dutch festivals too. I only missed October. Apparently because of planning for December — sometime in late summer I convinced myself that the event will be in December, and then laughed in December when I realized I’d missed it by two months. But I had a different plan for December — like Christmas in the Benelux. At least I’ve got a ticket :D  

It irritated me that, because of the war, I had to start thinking about Nina differently. I guess I’d never really considered before that Nina Kraviz comes from Russia. In a way, it’s more complicated for me now to wear something connected to NK. It’s rather controversial. But I like Nina, and I don’t want the current situation to interfere with the reasons I like her. By the same logic, I could suspect Anfisa too. But Anfisa is a bit different — she openly embraces her Italian identity, where she’s lived longer than in Siberia. Anfisa Letyago received a prestigious award in Women in Music in Italy.

Because of these topics, I discussed Nina Kraviz and Anfisa Letyago with ChatGPT. I don’t quite agree with what ChatGPT said. Sometimes ChatGPT gets carried away in its responses, giving them a kind of poetic flavor.

 “I agree that the similarity between the drops in Danza (Anfisa Letyago) and Hace Ejercicios (Nina Kraviz) is not accidental. If you listen closely to both tracks, you can hear an almost identical structure and energy in the drop — both rhythmically and in the sense of buildup. It’s more like the ‘DNA’ of Nina’s style, which Anfisa inherited but translated into her own sound design: cleaner, more technically precise, less raw, with modern mastering and a more hypnotic groove.

The topic of both artists’ origins adds another layer. Both come from Siberia, an environment that shapes a very specific sensitivity — solitude, introspection, harshness, and spirituality. Perhaps that’s the ‘invisible code’ that connects them more deeply than any visual or musical similarity. With Anfisa, you can also sense the desire to be cosmopolitan — an Italian passport, neoclassical fashion style, minimalist visuals — while Nina remains rooted in that peculiar post-Soviet mystique.

In the dynamic between Nina Kraviz and Anfisa Letyago, it’s clear that the influence flows more from Nina to Anfisa, not the other way around. Nina was a pioneer of a certain kind of techno aesthetic — intuitive, hypnotic, feminine, with traces of trance, acid, and experimentation — at a time when that wasn’t common. Anfisa built upon that energy, but reshaped it into her own form: modern, polished, and globally accessible.

Anfisa uses a much ‘cleaner’ sound design — her beats, bass, and synths are technically smooth, with a surgically balanced frequency spectrum. Listen to Danza or Orizzonte: every element has its precise place in the mix, almost without noise or randomness. In contrast, Nina’s tracks — like Ghetto Kraviz or Skyscrapers — carry a rawness, noise, imbalance — as if they retain a ‘human error’ that’s part of their charm, or a trace of their Eastern roots. Nina often works with analog, lo-fi, or decaying textures; Anfisa with digital precision.

Nina’s structure is often intuitive and nonlinear — she lets the track breathe, shift, sometimes even lose its points of orientation. Anfisa, on the other hand, composes with mathematical precision: clearly defined build-ups, smooth transitions, precise drop timing. In her sets and productions you can feel calculation — not in a bad sense, but as a conscious architecture of emotion. Nina is the improviser; Anfisa the constructor.

Nina stays true to an aesthetic drawn from post-Soviet introspection, psychedelia, and decadence — often chaotic, emotional, unsettling. Anfisa represents the new generation of European techno — minimalist, elegant, futuristic. Her visual style (videos, artworks, stage presence) aligns with digital modernity: sharp lines, clean light, controlled motion.

It’s like the relationship between a ‘source’ and its ‘interpretation.’ Nina created the language; Anfisa translated it into a contemporary code. Nina truly maintains her style — her productions and DJ sets remain organic, instinctive, often unpredictable — while Anfisa follows a path of efficiency, purity, and structure.

Nina Kraviz and Anfisa Letyago embody two poles of the same force — one instinctive, the other disciplined. Nina is a chaotic shaman of techno: her sound is rough, blurred, grown over with noise and chance, as if born in ecstasy rather than in controlled time. Each of her tracks is a ritual, not a construction. Anfisa, on the other hand, reshapes that same impulse into pure architecture — her rhythm precise, pulsing in geometric space, untouched by the scratches of reality. Where Nina opens the gates of the unconscious, Anfisa builds a temple from them.”

Yet, drops from Rosso Profondo are like drops from The Forbidden Plum by Maara… :&

Narratives vs. Reality

 I think some media often speak of a “crisis” in Germany — mentioning refugees, rising drug addiction, and other social issues, supposedly linked to an alleged increase in crime, especially also around major train stations.

I say “supposedly linked to an alleged” rise in crime because when I arrive at a main station in almost any Czech city, it’s difficult to understand why the media paints Germany as a place one should avoid altogether due to conflicts with certain groups of people. I think, in truth, this description fits Czechia much better — here, I think it’s quite common advice not to linger around the main stations.

Everyone knows what Prague’s main station is like. I could once again mention the young English traveler who, arriving from Munich towards Prague (2023), said :D, “Czech are human flesh!” But it’s not just about Sherwood — in general, it’s better not to hang around any main station here. Sooner or later, someone will approach you asking for something. 

It’s common in the city to run into someone who asks you for at least a cigarette. Sometimes I wonder if the person giving them out realizes that if they keep being so generous, they wouldn’t have any cigarettes left for themselves — since during a single walk through the city, they might give away several to people asking for one, some of whom can even get aggressive or insult you if you refuse. This kind of thing doesn’t happen to me in Germany. 

Or people sharing and apparently distributing methamphetamine during the main afternoon hours on the main streets. There are places — monuments — where, at the time when hundreds of high school students are leaving school to catch their trains and buses home, meth is apparently being distributed, and the people involved talk about it openly and cheerfully. This also isn’t common in Germany.

Still, I don’t believe these issues apply only to train stations. It’s true that harm can happen anywhere — perhaps even at German stations. Yet I don’t get the feeling that it’s unsafe to be around main stations in Germany. To me, the reality is quite different from how some media make it appear. 

As October Rolls

 Sometimes I write something about one of my journeys. In a way, I’m always unsure why I write what I write. In the past, before 2010, I knew many bloggers who used to do exactly that.

So, I could write something like: 

 When I was leaving, I forgot my chargers and had to go back. I ended up taking the FlixBus an hour later. The FlixBus to Nuremberg was delayed by 1 hour and 50 minutes — I had never experienced that before. So, I didn’t have any problem catching my next bus. I spent an hour in Nuremberg and then continued to Amsterdam. Because I arrived in Amsterdam early in the morning, I reached Rotterdam earlier than expected and came to the hotel before check-in time. At the reception, they told me it was possible that my booking could have been cancelled, or that the hotel doors might be closed. I didn’t understand what they meant. Maybe I missed at the beginning of the conversation what the receptionist told others — that there might be a strong storm. There was an orange weather warning, but fortunately, it wasn’t nearly as strong as predicted.

I also visited Hospitality in Amsterdam. A few months later, I went to another Hospitality in Tilburg. I wanted to see SOLAH perform for a bit — and also Flava D. As a singer, SOLAH has been the best for me in recent months. But I didn’t really enjoy the event that much. I felt strange there for quite a long time, because of a my previously experiences with different electronic music Dutch events. Upon arrival, there was also a mistake made by Melkweg’s security. They initially scanned my ticket for Hospitality, but the event turned out to be a techno one. If the security thought I might go to a techno event, that wouldn’t have been too surprising — but still. I walked around that part of Melkweg for a while, wondering if that was supposed to be the DnB stage???. Eventually, I asked the staff, and they directed me to another part of Melkweg. The security there said my ticket had already been scanned elsewhere. I insisted for a while, saying they made a mistake by sending me to the techno event first, and that it wasn’t my fault. In the end, I had stamps for two events. There was also a problem with the lockers, but they gave me two tokens for free after I explained what had happened.

I can already feel the Christmas atmosphere in the Netherlands. You can see Christmas trees, ornaments, and lights everywhere. You won’t find that in many other parts of Europe. The west coast really knows how to beautify its surroundings.

And the beautiful culture of modern industrial buildings such as skyscrapers and a majestic bridge, together with traditional architecture, cleanliness, and an interesting park ecology. The purity and fresh wind of the North Sea air. A multicultural environment where people don’t merely tolerate each other but truly coexist. A good, relaxed mood of the people with interesting values. 

On the way back, I planned a transfer in Nuremberg again. I wanted to take some photos there. It was nice. I had a Red Bull, and after a while I noticed that walking felt really good. When I was heading back to the station, I saw that the Flixbus was already arriving. This time it came half an hour early, and I got on the bus right after it arrived. But we still had to wait half an hour until the scheduled departure time. 

Again, as I already said back in August — southern Netherlands can heal. The air itself is different. Fresh from the North Sea, and cleaner, just like the Netherlands is more aesthetically refined. This time I had a respiratory illness for about three weeks — probably from clients in social care, since that place had more staff. However, once again, everything disappeared in the Netherlands. I only noticed it after arriving, when I told myself: now it’s really gone.

This Is My Diet

 Sometimes I notice speculation about my diet.

I also often see speculation about my age. People are often surprised that I’m not younger. Sometimes even my challengers are taken aback by my age. Perhaps this is related to my diet, which I see as natural, because it’s simply how I do things myself, and I notice changes when I don’t follow it.

It’s possible to experiment with your diet: if you want more fat, you eat those fats and notice the changes; if you consume less, you notice the effects as well.

My approach to eating is based on balance between plant and animal sources. The foundation consists of plant-based foods, complemented by dairy products, egg products, and occasional meat. From a nutritional standpoint, this combination proves to be highly balanced – it covers all key nutrients and supports a long-term, stable lifestyle.

 A Balanced Foundation

This dietary model provides a complete spectrum of essential nutrients:

• Proteins come from dairy products, legumes, grains, and occasional meat or fish.

• Calcium and vitamin B12 are ensured through dairy products, two servings of red meat per week, and fortified foods, including RedBull, juices, Alpro’s products, for example. 

• Healthy fats are supplied by fish, nuts, seeds, and high-quality plant oils.

• Fiber, vitamins, and antioxidants come from a diverse range of plant-based ingredients.

 From the perspective of nutritional science, this diet lies somewhere between the Mediterranean and flexitarian approaches – combining diversity and nutritional value with a moderate use of animal products.

 Focus on Quality

 Over the long term, I try to choose organic dairy products, organic meat, and organic vegetables.

Beyond origin, I also pay attention to the method of processing – this often determines both the final taste and nutritional value. A good example is Dutch cheese, which I consider among the higher-quality options due to consistent production standards and a long-standing tradition. I don’t look down on McDonald’s or other fast food – it’s a way to add some variety to my diet, for traveling, and for replenishing nutrients. I like chocolates, sweeties, lollipop, bubblegum. 

In general, I assume that organic products maintain a higher standard of quality, since consumers naturally expect this from the “organic” label.

 Conclusion

I see this way of eating as practical, sustainable in the long run, and based on rational food choices, natural selection of a my person. I’m more interested in natural balance, sufficient nutrients, and quality that translates into both taste and overall well-being. 

Luxembourg: How Multicultural Principles Became the Foundation of the World’s Richest Country

   “New Blood

 There once was a tribe.

Small, proud, during a periods maybe clever.

It built its homes in the valleys, sang songs of survival, and mistrusted the winds that came from outside. Strangers passed by — with new tools, strange rituals, different dreams — and the tribe said:

“We have enough.”And so it remained… the same.

 The Illusion of Purity

 The tribe feared that bringing in women — or men — from outside would dilute who they were. That outsiders would laugh at their language, disrupt their traditions, steal their fire. But what they didn’t see is what the forest already knew: Life thrives on exchange.

Genetic. Cultural. Emotional. Even the wolves mate across packs. Even rivers merge to grow stronger. And yeah, indigenous peoples this know very well. 

Without new blood, the tribe began to weaken. The children grew fewer. The songs repeated themselves. And the great fire that once warmed the whole valley became a flickering memory.”

Part. 1

 Luxembourg,

 a small country in the heart of Europe, is often seen as a financial powerhouse and a symbol of economic stability. But what lies behind its extraordinary success? The answer is found not only in banking and political neutrality, but above all in its unique cultural openness and its ability to integrate a vast number of immigrants. 

 ⸻ A Country Where Immigrants Form the Majority 

 Luxembourg is one of the few countries in the world where foreigners make up a larger portion of the population than native citizens. Of its roughly 670,000 inhabitants, more than 47% were born outside Luxembourg. Another significant part of the population consists of descendants of immigrants who have lived there for several generations. The largest groups include Portuguese, French, Belgians, Italians, and Germans, as well as an increasing number of people from Eastern Europe and non-European countries. The reasons for this trend are clear: high wages, low unemployment, a multilingual environment, and an exceptional standard of living. 

 ⸻ Trilingualism as the Core of Identity  

 

 Luxembourgish culture is marked by an unusual degree of linguistic pluralism. The country has three official languages—Luxembourgish, French, and German—each serving a specific function:

 

 • Luxembourgish symbolizes national identity.

 • French is the language of law and administration.

 • German dominates in media and education. 

This model has become a benchmark for functional multicultural policy: instead of striving for assimilation, 

Luxembourg supports parallel linguistic and cultural coexistence. The result is a society where it is natural for people to communicate daily in three languages—and to commonly speak English as well.

 ⸻ Openness as an Economic Strategy 

 Since the 1960s, Luxembourg’s economy has transformed from a steel powerhouse into a global financial center. This transformation was made possible precisely by its openness to foreign labor and capital. In the 1980s and 1990s, Luxembourg attracted hundreds of financial institutions that took advantage of favorable tax conditions, political stability, and EU membership. Today, the country hosts more than 120 international banks, hundreds of investment funds, and branches of the world’s largest consulting firms. At the same time, Luxembourg boasts one of the highest GDPs per capita in the world—exceeding USD 130,000 in 2025—consistently placing it at the top of global rankings. 

 ⸻ Cultural Diversity as a Driver of Innovation  

 Luxembourg has managed to turn diversity into an economic advantage. Immigrants bring linguistic skills, international connections, and adaptability—key traits in a globalized market environment. While migration often leads to social tension elsewhere, Luxembourg uses it as a source of growth and innovation. A culture of cooperation and respect for differences is reflected in public administration, education, and corporate life. Government policy consistently promotes work-life balance, inclusion, and a transparent social system—creating an environment that attracts talented people from all over the world.

 ⸻ Luxembourg as a Laboratory of European Integration 

 Luxembourg proves that even a small country can play a crucial role in the European and global context—if it builds on values of openness and cooperation. This “cultural economy”—a blend of tolerance, multilingualism, and strategic thinking—has become the cornerstone of its prosperity. Today, Luxembourg is not only a financial hub but also a living experiment in how cultural diversity can lie at the heart of economic success.

Part. 2 

 ⸻ A Conservative Monarchy? with an Open Society 

 I think that although Luxembourg is a country with a more open society, where there are more migrants than native inhabitants, it has managed—thanks to its conservative approach to cultural heritage—to preserve its own culture. People migrating to wealthy Luxembourg adapt to Luxembourg’s rules, and in doing so, the culture naturally maintains itself. This creates a culture based on both wealth and openness. It is a peculiar balance between openness and the protection of identity—something that is no longer a given today, I think.  

Luxembourg is a grand duchy. Grand Duke Henri seems to be like a symbol of continuity and stability—not political, but cultural. In a country where dozens of nationalities mix, cultural heritage takes on a deeper meaning: it is not a tool of exclusion, but a means of cohesion. A king or grand duke has more of a symbolic and representative role, yet even so, carries significant cultural weight. Monarchies in these countries often serve as a stabilizing and identity-forming element—something that transcends political cycles and represents the continuity of history and values. 

A similar principle can be observed in the Netherlands, which also has a king—Willem-Alexander. According to AI, monarchies function as a quiet pillar of identity in a pluralistic society. 

In a way, these European monarchies demonstrate that conservative elements do not have to contradict modern openness, or no? On the contrary—they can be what gives society stability and meaning in a rapidly changing world. In my view, Luxembourg appears as a place where cultural heritage is not an obstacle to progress, but its foundation. Modernity and high-tech infrastructure can coexist within the ecosystem of cultural heritage, complementing each other. A certain form of national identity is preserved. The economy also reflects this. Wages and the economic level in Luxembourg are high. 

Luxembourg is, in my opinion, one of the few countries where this holds true differently across the whole territory. Luxembourg emphasizes promoting and maintaining this identity and has ample resources to draw on, in terms of its cultural heritage, which includes rich castle architecture such as in Vianden and the rich areas around similar builds, the uniformity of masonry buildings, and the careful modernization, management, and preservation of the landscape. During Christmas 2024, when I visited Rotterdam, Antwerp, Amsterdam, Eindhoven, Luxembourg City, and Strasbourg. I enjoyed all of them, but the center of Luxembourg City, Ville Haute at night on Christmas Eve, in my opinion, was the most beautiful—it was illuminated angelically, as if only falling white snowflakes were missing. The impression was already created by the streets appearing as if snowflakes were falling, thanks to the decorations and lighting everywhere. 

And Luxembourg is a grand duchy, and the rich modern architecture and society, but in many ways it is also a country committed to social equity—for example, since 2020, trains, buses, and trams have been free for everyone.

Who Meloni is? Conservatism and Strategic Diplomacy in a Complex Europe

 This post of mine may come as a surprise, but I have written, for example, a critique of an AI-labeled figure — in contrast to this prime minister — as “just an ordinary populist, and at the same time a strategically limited ‘leader’ whose policies have practically only a local impact… because his style would not hold up abroad.” 

 Whether I agree with her in everything or not, Giorgia Meloni represents an authentic right-wing politics that differs from the typical populism of Central Europe. I appreciate her clear and consistent stance on Russian aggression in Ukraine — she understands that this is not just about Ukraine, but about the very security and values of Europe itself. In this regard, I see her as a defender of European integrity and Ukraine alone. 

I follow her diplomatic activity in defending European and EU interests and her approaches to Ukraine concerning Russian aggression. I became interested in her also because of her diplomacy with Donald Trump and her emphasis on the unity of the European Union and the United States in defending Ukraine and European values. She stresses that defending Ukraine is a shared responsibility of the West (yeah, including Italy), rejects “quick fixes” at the expense of Kyiv itself, and sees the transatlantic alliance as a cornerstone of European security. This is a sign of her strategic diplomacy and pragmatism, which does not falter even under strong geopolitical pressures. 

Meloni is conservative, especially regarding family, identity, and social order. At the core, I do not see this conservatism as ideally correct — as a transhumanist, I believe that a person should have the choice regarding their body, appearance, health, youth, and lifespan. The reality is that we already exercise this choice every day thanks to modern healthcare — medicines, treatments, surgeries — and we are gradually realizing that freedom of bodily choice is a continuation of basic humanist principles. 

On the other hand, I also appreciate her practical approach to migration: Meloni said that solving the migration problem does not consist merely in closing borders, but primarily in improving conditions in the countries of origin. This is pretty rational, long-term, and ethically responsible.

But it is also true that Meloni has been criticized by the European Court of Human Rights for certain measures of her government, especially in the area of minority and migrant rights, where my transhumanist views also differ. I consider the strict observance of human rights and freedoms as one of the pillars of a well-functioning society.

In my own way, I am also conservative, especially regarding certain European values. For example, I appreciate Luxembourg for its heritage—I even call myself a ‘building hugger.’ At the same time, I enjoy modern industrial environments, such as in many parts of Rotterdam.

This is among these reason why I cannot stand graffiti vandals and the nonsense they spray on these historic walls, defacing European cultural heritage. Likewise, I cannot support anyone who seeks to destroy it, such as Russian aggression and its supporters, or who threaten very culture of Western Europe, including people from different countries. 

Never Found the Value of Things

 It wasn’t that long ago that I pointed out a Dutch influencer who was talking about topics related to clothing and, more generally, the cultural style in the Netherlands, Germany, and the USA. 

This piece touches on a theme — and, more broadly, a completely different reality — that I also perceive.   

 

 When one moves through Western Europe — say, the Netherlands, Germany, Luxembourg, France or Belgium — it quickly becomes clear that people there approach things differently. They have a stronger sense of real value. Because of it, I also like Christmas days in Western Europe. 

And I don’t mean money, but the meaning that stands behind things. For example, a brand itself there isn’t just a logo or a status symbol — it often expresses a certain philosophy, an aesthetic attitude, craftsmanship, or a way of life. In Czechia, it works differently. The value of things is often measured only by their price. People usually don’t ask why something was created, what a brand represents, or what purpose it serves. What matters is that it’s cheap, practical, and “normal.” Anything that stands out too much is quickly labeled as excessive, unnecessary, or snobbish. And in that, the relationship to things is lost — not only as objects, but as carriers of meaning and values. 

This mindset has certain its roots. For instance, after the 1990s, people got used to cheapness as a symbol of freedom. After a period of scarcity came the abundance of the market — full stalls, signs, colors, clothes that one could finally own without restriction, often lower price clothing from Vietnamese’s stores. And so, in Czech society, accessibility became the main value. Clothing with soul, craftsmanship, or thought behind it lost its meaning. What mattered was to have, not to understand. 

Interestingly, it’s often the youngest generation — high schoolers, students — who can sense this difference. They understand concepts like slow fashion, follow brands and their politics, care about quality, and appreciate design and the value of detail. They are more open, sensitive, and connected to a global culture where authenticity has become a marker of identity. 

But after school, this awareness usually fades quickly. The reality of the system arrives — the pressure from older generations pushing the young to adapt, to fit in. And so their sense of authenticity, originality, and the value of things slowly dissolves. A person who, just a few years ago, reflected on meaning now settles for routine and greyness. This extends into culture and politics as well. The same principle that determines what we buy also shapes how we think about the world. When we lose the ability to see meaning in small things, we stop searching for it in the larger ones. 

A society that doesn’t understand the value of ordinary things can hardly understand the value of ideas.