What do you do when the wind grows too strong for kitesurfing and sand trickles in through the open window of your loft? You lie back on the bed and slip on your headphones. The laptop open just a crack. You begin to shape tone sequences and first melodies around a clear beat. Your sound rises above the rush of the waves. Then you fall into step with it, gazing out of the window towards the far horizon. For a moment, the climbing sun blinds you. The beat breaks as evenly as the surf. Then the passages shift – on the trail of distant Atlantic swells. Wind and surf fuse within tone sequences that return only sparingly. Now and then, a drift of squeaking hi-hats toys with the curl of the next crest rolling in. Five days later, everything is utterly still. You lie in a hammock, rocking gently in the memory of stormy afterimages. This is the time your music needs to grow – to loosen itself from the images of nature left behind. Suddenly you think of going home, and yet three weeks of solitude still lie ahead.

This is how five new tracks came into being in late summer 2026. One of them is an anthem dedicated to the small village of Taguluche on La Gomera. Another, Ltriumphs, is a timeless homage to the L of love. And at the very end, Nocxxxxx – a nocturne of endlessness, defying the seasons – carries us into a buoyant nighttime mood. And suddenly you wonder what it will feel like to miss the first party after your return – with a clear conscience.