Azure-tinged

  I hold many reasons close for this land— but here’s a quiet one: Ducks in the streets. Not lost, not out of place, but gliding calm through canals and streams, unstartled by the human pace. They swim like the city belongs to them too. And perhaps it does. Kralingen’s swans nest in still corners as children wander close, no rush, no fear—just a soft balance between feathers and footsteps, roots and routines. There is something sacred in a city that lets life be. Cleaner reality, and people who’ve learned to move with the rhythm of skyscrapers. In Kralingen’s hush, I see intelligence in ivy, ethics in botanic, a culture not only of words but of care. And in Zuiderpark, summer breathes through grills and laughter, a community of coexistence forming over shared bread and sun, beneath leaves that catch every language and send it back as joy. At Essenburgpark, the city bows before a quiet grove— not out of guilt, but respect. And above it all—Erasmusbrug, that swan of steel spanning the river’s grace. Its cables hum like harp strings in the wind, connecting not just land to land but idea to ideal. Skyscrapers rise like glass reeds against the Dutch sky, not to block nature— but to coexist with it. Reflection, not domination. Even in stone and steel, there is room for the soul. This is development not just of roads, but of rhythm. Of harmony between the naturalism and the made. There is no wall between person and pond. No border between culture and root. There is a peace here that doesn’t need to shout. A cultivated silence. Aesthetic. The Beauty of steel and the heritage.

 I’ve learned that I even tend to become “azure” after returning from the Netherlands. What someone may see is a my favorite Dutch city. And not only that – it is also the climate of the Netherlands as a society, a system, and a culture. 

Whether it is the openness of the space that comes from the North Sea and flows through the city without obstacles, or the air that does not stand still. Air is not just a mixture of gases – in the Netherlands it feels cleaner and fresher. It is also a different reflection of how society thinks. It is not only about having a cleaner and more aesthetic environment. 

In a different country, the air is not only worse in terms of toxicity, but also mentally burdened – with a different form of toxicity. 

In the Netherlands, the air is different. It flows. And flow means movement. And movement means life. Society is more open, less grounded in a limiting way, freer, less prone to extremism, it does not stink, it thinks more. Civilization is built so that people can enjoy its beauty. Even the infrastructure does not hold a person down. 

Where things like cycling, open space, modern urbanism, more aesthetic greenery, and less stagnation are supported, the air is lighter. Not only physically, but mentally as well. 

I have also mentioned several times that I recover quickly in the Netherlands – for example from a respiratory illness, which may not in fact be purely respiratory, but psychosomatic. 

People create the air themselves. In some places it is heavy on its own, and elsewhere it is lighter because people are able to naturally radiate through their own culture. I have written before that if the Netherlands has been described as first in quality of life 2026, it has its obvious reasons, which cannot go unnoticed if someone truly embraces this for themselves. 

And such a person may naturally be perceived that way within a certain society when they return from a place where things function in a way that feels closer to them.

Concept

 I’m not sure who still remembers it. It’s been ten years now, maybe even longer, since modern liquid drum and bass was still in its early beginnings.

Nevertheless, in my view once Chilloutbear was already questioning the very concept of mixing through his approach back then. Indirectly, he was also questioning the normality of mainstream DNB and its rave culture as such. Through his approach, he was setting different values from those represented by the mainstream drum and bass at the time.

There was a certain distance in it—an intentional separation from mainstream DNB, whose music is built on entirely different principles and values. That is also why the tracks uploaded by Chilloutbear were not commonly mixed into traditional DJ sets. A conventional, “formed whole,” as we know it from DJ sets, did not emerge there. 

I don’t know whether he was consciously aware of this distance, but that is how I perceived it.

Something similar happened when, in 2017, someone said about me that I was doing liquid only because I was a beginner, and that once I “woke up,” I would start doing neurofunk. It was exactly the opposite. I had already known drum and bass for sixteen years. I started creating liquid DNB mixes precisely because I did not identify with the mainstream— not only the Czech one those two were talking about.

Their rave culture, on the contrary, “woke me up” to the point that I reject it for years. And when modern liquid appeared, it was something that influenced my person. They did not understand (my) liquid drum and bass. It is not the same thing as neurofunk. Liquid tends to be more thought-out, more conscious as a genre—this is also why it was once referred to as intelligent jungle. It is not music for mindless rave intoxication, which is often associated precisely with harder strands such as neurofunk.

My first mix, Memories of The Future (2016), was—based on the logic described above—conceived in a similar way to Chilloutbear’s work. Nevertheless, in 2017 I decided that liquid DNB could be mixed in a way that preserves its inner logic. I therefore added SN and began, in my own way, to mix tracks, singles that truly resonate with me. 

Shutdown the Dissolution II

 In Shutdown the Dissolution I mentioned social services in relation to my own person. 

And since I often speak about the Netherlands, which inspires me, I could also name something from a visible fundamental systemic differences between how social services function in Czechia and in the Netherlands.

I am certainly not the only one who can see these systemic differences, nor the only one who has gone through—or is still going through.

 The Netherlands:

 The state has long relied on a relatively consistent strategy in the field of social care: It rather prefers working with a smaller number of workers who are well prepared, professionally qualified, and systematically supported, rather than employing workers without the required education and experience.

 Czechia:

 In social services, there is often an effort to quickly fill staffing capacities regardless of the level of preparedness.

 The Netherlands:

 In this model, the client is not perceived as an “experimental object.” The system is set up to minimize situations where procedures are searched for only during the provision of care.

 Czechia:

 The system is often set up in such a way that procedures are sought only in the course of providing care.

 The Netherlands:

 The worker is not exposed to expectations of improvisational adaptation without sufficient support. Responsibility is clearly structured, defined, and enforceable. Social services cannot excuse themselves by citing staff shortages or systemic failures—every actor knows exactly where their role begins and where it ends.

 Czechia:

 In the Czech environment a man often encounter situations where people without adequate professional preparation enter direct care. Training is usually brief, focused mainly on operational basics, and there is an implicit assumption that the worker will somehow manage. 

Responsibility here is often not systematically anchored—it is not clearly set but rather transferred ad hoc onto individuals (even onto individuals without any education or experiences). 

 The Netherlands:

 Emphasis is placed on structure, predictability, and continuity of relationships. Every intervention has a professional rationale, and workers know exactly why they choose specific procedures. The client is not an object of improvisation but the subject of long-term planned care.

Czechia:

 Work is often reactive—interventions come only at the moment of escalation (even by workers without any education and experiences) and a large part of decision-making rests on individual intuition and the worker’s momentary assessment rather than on clearly defined structures.

The Netherlands:

 In the Netherlands, qualification is not understood as a formal requirement but as a basic tool for protecting the client, the worker, and the system itself. Entry into the profession is gradual and conditioned by specific education, supervised practice, language competence, and mandatory ongoing training. Without meeting clear criteria for education and practice, it is not possible to perform given roles. In other words, without clear education and experience, no one is allowed into direct care.

Czechia:

 In the Czech system, requirements for workers in social services are often lower or bypassed for operational reasons. When entering direct care, appropriate education or prior experience is often not required. Workers in social services may have no education or practice at all. They are often thrown in at the deep end and expected to somehow cope. The result is a system that can fill shifts in the short term—often it appears that the primary goal is simply to cover shifts—but in the long term this leads to worker burnout, client insecurity, and above all the absence of clearly defined care approaches. This results in inconsistencies in work methods, crisis resolution, and interventions themselves, weakening both the quality and continuity of the service provided.

 The Netherlands:

 The Dutch approach seeks to protect all parties involved simultaneously. It protects the client by minimizing the risk of care failure. It protects the worker by providing time, competence, and professional support. It protects the social services through clearly defined rules of operation, and it protects the entire system by limiting the need for constant crisis management in “emergency mode.” This model places higher demands and means a slower entry into the profession, but its result is fewer traumatic situations, fewer failures, and less pressure to rely on improvised solutions.