CVRDWELL

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Nem is tudom, hol kezdjem, mivel nem vagyok a szavak embere, főleg ilyen nehéz helyzetekben.

Volt egy zenei téma a fejemben, amit hónapokkal ezelőtt, egy elég mély pillanatomban rögzítettem élőben, egyetlen sztereó sávra. Valahogy mégsem éreztem késznek. Félretettem, megtartottam magamnak, és nem tudtam megosztani senkivel.

Talán valahogy ilyenek a mentális problémák is.

Művészként, férfiként, büszkeségből, vagy egyszerűen csak azért, mert nem így szocializálódtunk, nagyon nehéz ezekről beszélni. Én sem így nőttem fel. Világ életemben nagyon introvertált voltam, és nem igazán tanultam meg beszélni arról, ami bennem történik.

Aztán történik egy tragédia, és egyik pillanatról a másikra elveszítünk valakit közülünk. Egy nagyon fontos építőelemét a zenei és baráti közegünknek.

Elkeseredettséget, dühöt és szomorúságot érzek. Közben pedig meg is ijedtem.

Mert ráébresztett arra, hogy milyen közel lehetünk mi, zenészek és művészek a saját tragédiánkhoz.

Hétvégén körülrajonganak minket. Szeretet, rengeteg ember, figyelem vesz körül. Aztán jön a szürke, magányos hétköznap. A munka, amit muszájból csinálunk. A fáradtság még az előző hétvégéről. És ahogy telnek a napok, az a sok jó, amit a hétvégén kaptunk, simán elpárolog. Az emberek is eltűnnek körülöttünk, és egyszer csak úgy érezzük, teljesen egyedül maradtunk.

Szerdára már azt gondoljuk, hogy nem is érdeklünk senkit.

Pedig ott vannak a szeretteink, akiket sokszor észre sem veszünk, annyira természetesnek vesszük a jelenlétüket.

Csak pörgünk bele a saját magunk által generált lefelé tartó spirálba.

Aztán közeledik a hétvége. Előkerülnek a „haverok”, a követők, a rajongók.

„Tudsz listát?”
„Mikortól játszol?”
„Mit fogsz tolni?”
„Collab bro?”

De sehol egy:
„Milyen heted volt?”
„Hogy érzed magad?”
„Fussunk már össze egy kávéra.”

Aztán elérkezik a hétvége, a buli napja. A hét fáradalmai mentálisan és fizikailag még bennünk vannak, de jön az adrenalin, jön a buli, és minden rossz hirtelen a múlté.

A buliban újra önmagunk vagyunk. Kivirulunk. Mindenki szeret. A szettünk sem volt még soha ilyen jó mások szerint. Meg amúgy is mi vagyunk a legjobbak.

Szóval all good.

Aztán vége. Alszunk egyet a teljesen felborult bioritmusunkkal, persze nem pihenjük ki magunkat, és máris hétfő van. Vasárnap esti depresszió, és máris halványul minden jó, amit néhány órával korábban még annyira valóságosnak éreztünk.

Nagyjából ez az, amit szerintem sokan megélünk, különböző változókkal megspékelve: egzisztenciális krízis, imposztor-szindróma, szorongás, magány és még ki tudja, mi minden.

A legtöbb esetben erről nem beszélünk senkinek. Még a szeretteinknek sem.

Mert félünk attól, hogy kinevetnek. Hogy azt mondják:

„Dolgoznál a bányában napi 12 órát, és nem lenne időd ilyen baromságokra.”

Ez a mi kis világunk, a maga mélységeivel és magasságaival.

Viszont a mélységek veszélyesek. Nem mindig látszanak. Árnyalataik vannak.

Ákos mélységeit még mi, művészek sem vettük észre. Talán azért, mert túlságosan el voltunk foglalva a sajátjainkkal.

Most pedig már késő.

És ez nagyon dühít.

Próbáljunk odafigyelni egymásra. A legkisebb dolgok is számítanak. Egy kérdés. Egy telefon. Egy kávé. Egy „hogy vagy?”. Egy őszinte beszélgetés.

Lehet, hogy nekünk csak egy apróság. Lehet, hogy valaki másnak éppen akkor nagyon sokat jelent.

Elővettem most ezt a fiókba dobott zenei ötletet.

És valahogy ez a tragédia, az azóta bennem kavargó gondolatok, és Ákos személyisége, ahogyan élt és ahogyan hatott ránk, hozzáadták azokat az alkotóelemeket, amelyek eddig hiányoztak.

Most már be van fejezve.

Sajnálom, hogy nem hallhatod, Ákos.

De majd egyszer felviszem magammal a Genelec-eket, és meghallgatjuk együtt, „rendes hangon”.

Ezt neked.

For Mankind.

———

I honestly don’t know where to start. I’m not really a person of words, especially when it comes to situations this difficult.

There was a piece of music in my head that I recorded live, onto a single stereo track, during a pretty deep moment a few months ago. Somehow, it never felt finished. I put it away and kept it to myself, but I couldn’t bring myself to share it with anyone.

Maybe mental health struggles are a bit like that too.

As artists, as men, out of pride, or simply because of the way we were raised, it can be incredibly difficult to talk about these things. I wasn’t raised that way either. I’ve been a very introverted person all my life, and I never really learned how to talk about what’s going on inside me.

Then a tragedy happens, and suddenly we lose one of our own. Someone who was such an important part of our musical and personal community.

I feel devastated, angry and deeply sad. At the same time, I’m scared.

Because it made me realise how close we, as musicians and artists, can actually be to tragedy ourselves.

On the weekends, people surround us. We are celebrated, loved, surrounded by crowds and attention. Then Monday comes. The grey, lonely weekdays. The job we do because we have to. The exhaustion that is still there from the weekend.

And slowly, all the good things we received over the weekend just seem to evaporate. The people disappear too, and suddenly we feel completely alone.

By Wednesday, we might already be thinking that nobody really cares about us anymore.

And yet, our loved ones are right there. People we often fail to notice because their presence has become something we simply take for granted.

We just keep spiralling down into something we created ourselves.

Then the weekend gets closer.

The “friends” come back. The followers. The fans.

“Can you put me on the list?”
“What time are you playing?”
“What are you gonna play?”
“Collab bro?”

But hardly ever a:

“How was your week?”
“How are you feeling?”
“Let’s grab a coffee.”

Then the weekend arrives. The night of the party.

The mental and physical exhaustion of the week is still inside us, but then comes the adrenaline. The music. The party. And suddenly everything that felt wrong is in the past.

At the party, we become ourselves again. We come alive. Everyone loves us. Apparently the set was the best we’ve ever played. And, of course, we’re the best at what we do.

So, all good.

Then it’s over.

We sleep for a few hours with our entire body clock completely fu**ed, obviously don’t get enough rest, and suddenly Monday is just around the corner.

Sunday evening depression.

And everything that felt so good just a few hours ago starts fading away.

This is more or less what many of us experience, with different things added to the mix: existential crises, impostor syndrome, anxiety, loneliness, and whatever else comes with it.

And most of the time, we don’t talk about any of it.

Not even with the people who love us.

Because we’re afraid they’ll laugh at us. That they’ll tell us:

“You should work 12 hours a day down a fu***ng mine, then you wouldn’t have time for this kind of bullsh*t.”

This is our little world, with all its highs and lows.

But the lows can be dangerous.

They don’t always show.

They have shades.

We didn’t see Ákos’s depths either, even as artists. Maybe because we were too busy dealing with our own.

And now it’s too late.

And that makes me incredibly angry.

Let’s try to pay more attention to each other.

The smallest things matter.

A question. A phone call. A coffee. A genuine “How are you?”

It might seem like nothing to us, but it could mean a lot to someone else.

So I pulled out this piece of music that had been sitting in a drawer for months.

And somehow, this tragedy, all the thoughts that came with it, and Ákos’s personality and the way he lived added the missing elements to it.

Now it’s finished.

I’m sorry you can’t hear it, Ákos.

But one day I’ll bring the Genelecs up with me, and we’ll listen to it together.

Properly.

This one is for you.

For Mankind.

For Mankind • CONTACT/BOOKING: [email protected] [email protected] [email protected] • Nonverbal Language • BCCO • Illegal Alien • Warok • Secession •

This Saturday I’m back at Inota Festival, this time for a DJ set in the monstrous Turbina Hall.

A few years ago, I had the honour of opening both this stage and the festival with my live set, and I’m still receiving lovely feedback about that performance to this day.

This time, I’ve been given the task of creating a bridge between the legendary Extrawelt and one of techno’s current treasures, , followed by D.Dan and Farseer .

It’s a challenging spot, but that’s exactly the kind of situation that inspires me. I’ve always felt most alive when there’s a bit of pressure involved.

I’ll do my best to soundtrack the stomach of that enormous metal monster.

Saturday, 22:30–23:30.
See you inside.

Honoured to be back at Sziget Festival tonight, this time to play an improvised live modular set at peak time, right after the legendary live performer and producer KiNK .

It’s a rare occasion for me to play a 90-minute set instead of the usual 60 (02:00-03:30), at the brand-new Der Klub stage, hosted by TURBINA and Arzenál clubs.

As always, it will be completely improvised, but I’ve done a few practice jams to get myself into the right headspace. Check out the videos I’ve posted to get an idea of the mood I’m planning to bring.

It’s honestly crazy to think that the day has come when I’m performing live at Sziget. My younger self would never have believed it while watching my heroes, Underworld, The Chemical Brothers, The Prodigy and so many others, perform on those stages.

And on top of that, I’m playing in the same time slot as one of my biggest electronic music heroes, Underworld . How cool is that? (And also a little sad that I won’t get to see them.)

So yeah, I’m super buzzed and excited. As always, I’ll do my best to turn the energy of the moment into something special for both you and me.

See you in a bit! 🖤

⚠️ My remix for my fellow Hungarian artist Out Of Sight is out today on the Hamburg-based OSMIUM label & community.

I don’t usually play much of my own music in my sets, but this remix has been one of the rare exceptions, it’s made its way into almost all of them over the past months.

Solitude, by Out Of Sight 5 track album

Thank you, alkototabor. 🖤🫂🏕️🐫

It’s always a pleasure to return to my favourite boutique festival in Hungary, a place where some of the finest artists in our scene come together with the most open-minded and passionate dance music crowd you could ever hope to play for.

I’m incredibly grateful for the trust the organizers continue to place in me, and for their honest, genuine approach to every single detail of the festival. Every year I leave with a full heart after all the kind words, meaningful conversations with music lovers, and inspiring moments shared with fellow artists. Those experiences mean more to me than I can express.

This year, however, was particularly challenging. A few days before my live set, I developed severe tooth pain and had to undergo surgery just three days before the festival. That left me with barely a day and a half to build an entirely new live patch from scratch, and no time to properly rehearse it.

For the first time in my life, I seriously considered cancelling my live performance and playing a DJ set instead. But I simply couldn’t do that, not at Alkotótábor. I felt I owed it to this festival, its community, and everyone waiting for my usual “Alkotó” live set to give everything I had.

The result turned out to be something truly special, perhaps one of the most memorable live performances I’ve ever played.

Just minutes before stepping on stage, I was still taking pain medication. Yet the moment the performance began, I felt no pain at all. Instead, I experienced an overwhelming sense of calm, focus, and determination that is difficult to put into words.

That’s what Alkotótábor does to you as an artist.

It reminds you why you dedicate so much of yourself to the music you love. It reconnects you with the passion that made you start creating in the first place.

If you truly care about underground music and the communities that keep it alive, I encourage you to support festivals like this. Attend them, share them, and become part of them.

These small boutique festivals are precious little islands of creativity, freedom, and human connection. Keeping them alive depends on all of us. 🖤🫂🏕️🐫

📸Marcin

Back at my favourite boutique festival, Alkototabor, tonight for another improvised live set, starting at 3:00.
Until then, here’s a recording of last year’s performance, a little glimpse of what’s to come.

Alkotótábor 22. CVRDWELL Alkotótábor 23. - 2026.07.01-05.www.alkototabor.infoHungary, Bér...

A few moments from my session at .berlin .🧪
Thanks to everyone tuned in!
Check my bio for the link.
See the tracklist below:
1. Boards of Canada - Tape 05
2. .dj - Intro
3. Monolake -Cute Little Aliens (CVRDWELL HÖR edit)
4. - Slow Burn
5. - Frasco (Original Mix)
6. BLZS ( )- EXTRATERRESTRIAL
7. - Vessel (Original Mix)
8. - Escape This
9. - Zodiac Flare (Original Mix)
10. .___ - Soft & Tender (Original Mix)
11. .of.sight.__ - Gaslight (CVRDWELL Remix)
12. CVRDWELL - Feral Beings
13. .music - Domo
14. DJ Rush - Strasse E ( Remix)
15. - Avalon
16. - Strike3 (Original Mix)
17. - Withheld (Original Mix)
18. CVRDWELL & - Unnamed demo
19. AFX - .942937 (CVRDWELL HÖR edit)

SHDW-val ünnepli jubileumát a The Kids Want Techno Ha valaki egynél több alkalommal járt már techno buliban Magyarországon, valószínűleg hallott már a The Kids Want Technóról. A csoport,...