Back in 2007, I made my first attempt at a DJ mix. It was called BrikaBrak, and you can still find it on my compilation album Rewind: Rough Cuts & Lost Sounds (check it out here). Ever since then, I've had this itch: to create a new mix—something better, more ambitious, with the skills (and questionable taste) I've developed over the years. But life kept getting in the way. Until now.

In July 2025, I finally found the time, energy, and motivation to make it happen: an album of four mixes, each around 30 minutes, forming one big taste-melting DJ journey. I dove into my hard drive, where I'd lovingly archived hundreds (thousands?) of albums ripped from my once-vast CD collection. I narrowed it down to about 300 songs I really loved and wanted to experiment with. From there, I started mixing—and in the end, 67 tracks made the cut.

What surprised me most? When I played two or three tracks at once, something new and magical often happened. Unexpected blends, accidental harmonies, weird rhythmic overlaps… They felt like remixes, or entirely new songs born from the chaos. So instead of a traditional DJ mix, this became a sort of hybrid project: part DJ mix, part mashup, part audio collage. And three weeks later, it was done.

What happens when you throw jungle beats, electro chaos, and a glitter cannon into a blender? You get Cannot Contain the Crunch. This mix jumps headfirst into hyperactive percussion, distorted vocals, and the kind of energy that makes your brain do somersaults. Somewhere between a rave, a snack attack, and an AI nervous breakdown.

Cannot Contain the Crunch kicks off the album—though fun fact: it was actually the second track I mixed. Clocking in at 29 minutes and 30 seconds, and running a steady 130 BPM, it's a high-energy ride through electro, jungle, big beat, a dash of industrial, glitchy chaos, and just the right amount of pop sparkle.

Some of the blends here make me weirdly proud: Mujuice melts into Moloko, Flo Rida tangles with Haezer, and somehow Kesha ends up partying with The Crystal Method and The Future Sound of London. It's edgy, eclectic, and just the right amount of unhinged—kind of like a dancefloor held together with duct tape and neon dreams. I really like this one. Hope you do too.

Soft lights, strange emotions, and a casual existential crisis: You and Mademoiselle is your moody stroll through indie streets and global back alleys. Think bittersweet memories in sepia tone, but with a rhythm section. It's the kind of mix that smiles politely, then hits you with Joan Baez and DJ Vadim in the same breath.

You and Mademoiselle may be Track 2 on the playlist, but it was the final mix to come out of the oven. This one leans introspective, textured, and a bit cinematic. Think of it as the emotional core of the album—with moments that feel poetic, nostalgic, and even a little political. It's less about making you dance and more about taking you somewhere. Somewhere with meaning.

One of my favorite moments is the court speech by Bartolomeo Vanzetti—as portrayed by Gian Maria Volonté in Sacco e Vanzetti—which flows straight into the hauntingly beautiful Here's to You by Ennio Morricone and Joan Baez. It gives me chills every time.

There's also Mexico by CunninLynguists, where I make a smooth little switch from the regular version to the instrumental so the kalimba line can really shine. It's subtle, but it hits just right. And the blend between Hybrid and Pascal Pinon? Unexpectedly perfect. Honestly, this might be my personal favorite of the four. The others slap, but this one speaks.

This mix doesn't walk into the room—it struts, lights a sparkler, and headbutts your expectations. Something Bigger Than Kittens is loud, glam, and ready to cause (mild) structural damage. With fat synths, glitch-pop, and a few detours into hyperspace, it's the musical equivalent of "hold my drink, I got this."

Something Bigger Than Kittens was the first mix I tackled—so don't be surprised if there are a few rough edges here and there. But hey—sometimes raw edges add character. Like burnt sugar on crème brûlée. Clocking in at 135 BPM, it's easily the most high-energy, pedal-to-the-floor track on the album.

My personal favorite moment? Hands down the mashup of FKA Twigs with The Crystal Method. It gives a strange, haunting power to an already intense track—like emotional turbulence you can dance to. I'm also fond of the Tame Impala segment, where things get swirly and psychedelic before being hijacked by Fatboy Slim and Evil Nine. It's messy, loud, slightly unhinged—and that's exactly how I like it.

Chill but not sleepy, weird but not broken, Donuts with Heaven is the Sunday morning mix for people who stayed out too late on Friday and still haven't come back. It's lo-fi funk, hip-hop instrumentals, playful samples, and the occasional philosophical detour. If Wes Anderson DJ'd in space, this would be his set.

Donuts with Heaven is the fourth and final mix of the album—a slow-burn outro to wrap things up with style (and a bit of weirdness). It kicks off with an unexpected cinematic face-off: Fight Club and Ravenous, two must-watch movies from 1999, both featuring outstanding, unforgettable soundtracks. I actually wonder who would win in a fight between Tyler Durden and Colonel Ives/Colqhoun—probably depends on who's more hungry. I loved the idea of throwing them together in a musical blender right from the start.

This mix cruises at a laid-back 105 BPM—the slowest tempo of the album—but don't let that fool you. It's still packed with surprises. One standout moment: Tam Tam by Banda Magda. I couldn't bring myself to cut it—the arrangement, the performance, everything was just too perfect. So I let it play out in full. Total respect.

Another highlight for me was Curse Ov Dialect—a mind-bending track featuring multiple languages and a runtime over 11 minutes. I only kept a small slice, weaving it into OutKast to see what would happen. The result? Something unexpected and slightly magical.