We talked with Stefano about his personal journey through music.
Your music has a very marked identity. Do you feel that identity was born more from the need to express yourself or from the search to differentiate yourself within the scene?
I believe that every real identity is born from a need. In my case, music was and continues to be a way to experience things that I couldn't find how to express in other media. When you live intense personal processes—migrating, starting over, adapting to new cultures—that ends up permeating everything you do. My sound was formed in that mix between the root and the search, between what I left behind and what I'm still discovering.
You lived in different countries and scenes. What did each one teach you about how electronic music is lived and felt?
Each city was a different stage in my way of understanding music.
In Venezuela I learned the value of pure energy, of spontaneity. There electronic music is lived as a vital need, almost as an act of resistance.
In Buenos Aires, the scene showed me the depth, the history, the emotional connection that a set can have and understanding that the dance floor can also be a narrative space, not just euphoria.
And in Barcelona, I found the possibility of connecting all of that: the Latin American root with the European structure. There the scene feels more open, more permeable to experimentation and collaboration. It's a point of balance between technique and emotion.
In the studio, when something "works", do you recognize it by an internal feeling or by a more technical reaction?
I recognize it by an internal feeling, always. There's a moment when everything fits and the body knows before the head. That intuition is the main compass.
If the track doesn't move me emotionally, no matter how well produced it is, it doesn't make sense to keep it. I prefer an imperfection with soul than an empty perfection.
In your sets there's a narrative, a kind of tension and release. How do you think about that story when you're mixing?
For me a set is not a demonstration of technique, but an emotional story. I'm interested in creating a curve that invites you in, that sustains a tension and releases at the right moment.
I work a lot with the concept of atmosphere: not just the sound, but the time, the energy and the silence. I like to play with what you don't hear as much as with what you do hear.
If you could condense your artistic vision into a phrase, something that defines what you seek to generate in those who listen to you, what would it be?
I seek to generate presence. That the person who listens, even if only for a few minutes, feels completely there: without past or future, just shared energy.
My music doesn't try to distract, but to connect. If I manage to make someone feel accompanied, understood or simply freer through a sound, then everything else—the hours in the studio, the tours, the effort—makes sense.
