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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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.
“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.
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| 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.
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.
Futurama (or Star Wars) as a Queer Utopia of the Future
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.
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.
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.
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.
Nothing started well at all when, on the sixth kilometre of my journey in Czechia, someone was killed in a motorcycle accident — and I was a witness. After giving my testimony, I had to find an alternative route to catch my connection to Germany, as the accident site was closed off.
In Germany, I spent a short while in a city. I was still quite shaken by what I had just witnessed.
Afterwards, the journey through western Germany was pleasant. I really like the area around Dortmund, and I enjoy it every time I pass through. The trip south through the Netherlands went without any problems.
After the illnesses I had in June and July, I finally found myself where I wanted to be. And at the North Sea. The water there felt sweet to me, as if it were regenerating me when it gently washed over me. I love the atmosphere around sunny Oostduinpark. The Hague is also a wonderful city on Europe’s western coast.
After a year, I attended an electronic music event in Amsterdam — even the same festival I went to for the last time last year. I missed Anfisa Letyago there :D, but the community was interesting enough that I felt it was worth returning to see how it is this year.
I am always quite surprised when I see reactions such as someone being a similar nukivalent and similarly related. That also pleases me.
Although nothing began well, I still had days in places where I wanted to be many times with the nice weather — though my health, and sometimes the weather, didn’t always allow it.
Also, I’m “sick,” my throat hurts or something like that, I even cough from time to time, and I don’t feel like myself. After a day in the Netherlands, everything disappears. One might even speculate that these could be psychosomatic issues related to the environment. This isn’t the first time I’ve experienced it. And I often expect that I will suddenly start feeling better “out of nowhere.” In reality, it’s the overall life rhythm – the Netherlands has a different pace, public space and services, a different culture, which itself reduces everyday stress. There’s something to it.
Someone may invoke the idea of freedom, but through their actions, they actually occupy, destroy, or displace the freedom of others.
When you claim the right to disturb the peace, to take space, to be accountable to no one — while the people around you lose the ability to decide about their own environment, their own sleep, their own body — their right to rest, to health, to dignity — then you’re no longer fighting for freedom. You’re claiming the rights of others as if they were unguarded territory.
When someone says they live freely, yet completely ignores the consequences of their actions on others, they are not speaking of freedom — but of egocentrism. It’s not ethics — it’s convenient justification. And if this community is unwilling to reflect on the consequences of its presence, then it cannot expect respect, nor understanding from the outside world.
If the free tekno community in practice violates peace, dignity, safety, and the living space of others, then it is objectively in conflict with human rights and freedoms, no matter what it claims about itself.
That’s why this community does not have my respect — not because a music style, but because of its disregard, masked as freedom. Freedom without responsibility is not freedom. It is a denial of humanity.
In my view, this is an attempt — whether conscious or not — to convince or even pressure everyone to eventually accept their version of anarchy, a world where no one asks anymore, where people are no longer truly human, but have regressed into “animals”.
Much of what I’ve said here is also the reason why I support daytime events — often in the Netherlands — where even organizers themselves refuse during weekend’s to play music after midnight out of respect for others.
Yet when I wrote multiple times that “Strictness is Freedom,” this is exactly what I meant — another example from the Netherlands. The strictness exists to support the understanding of human rights and freedoms as they truly are. To me, this reflects the idea that human rights and freedoms function better in Western societies, and because of that, these societies are better freer for everyone.
In Britain, where free tekno originated, the free tekno scene was already broken in the 1990s by the Criminal Justice and Public Order Act 1994. In the Benelux—Luxembourg, the Netherlands, and Belgium, there is no identical law like the Criminal Justice and Public Order Act 1994, but authorities commonly classify these events as illegal raves and quickly disperse them—often seizing sound equipment, towing vehicles, and issuing fines.
The behavior of the free tekno community in these countries is considered socially unacceptable, disturbing public order and the lives of local residents. This is at the core of the concept of “anti-social behavior.” In Luxembourg, rapid interventions are also supported by nature protection laws.
Contrast with surrounding countries
• While in Luxembourg or Belgium the police may arrive with dozens of vehicles, helicopters, and immediately seize equipment, in the Czech Republic monitoring and oversight are the standard response.
• In the Netherlands or England, the mere fact of a free tekno gathering with music is enough to trigger inevitable intervention.
• In the Czech Republic, events often last several days, and the police usually address related issues (traffic, drugs) rather than the music itself or another anti-social aspects.
Result:
While the scene in Britain practically disappeared after 1994, France and the Czech Republic became “safe havens” for exiled sound systems, where free tekno not only survived but grew into a mass phenomenon. From there, the culture spread further into Italy, Germany, Spain, Slovakia and Poland, but the main core remained in France and the Czech Republic. While it’s true that France (Bretagne, Occitanie, Marseille, for example) has the largest free tekno community in absolute numbers, when adjusted for population size, Czechia has the largest. It’s a central hub for the European sound system scene.
