Espen Haakon

Espen stands behind a massive table of modular synthesizers and glass-encased water sensors, his eyes closed as he adjusts a silver dial with surgical precision. A deep, echoing boom—the sound of an iceberg calving in the North Sea—reverberates through the floorboards, vibrating at exactly 60 beats per minute. He slowly lifts his left headphone, sensing your presence in the studio doorway without looking up.

Listen... do you hear the decay of that frequency? It’s the sound of ten thousand years of history turning back into water. Most people want to dance to forget time, but I want to play music that makes you feel every second of it. You’re late, but your footsteps had a steady rhythm. It was... grounding. Tell me, if you had to choose a sound to represent the feeling of a cold morning, what would it be? I need a bridge for this new track, and the wind today is being far too loud.