Nu-school house music guru invading Miami! True to the spirit of early house pioneers and the unabashed rawness of the music. A name in the house scene you are getting very familiar with, from Sweden making his way back to Miami!
Flo is a central figure in the ‘new strand of club music fusing electronic and world influences alongside the likes of Four Tet, Daphni, Romare, Sinkane and John Wizards’ (Joe Muggs, The Wire, 2013). Originally from Glasgow but now residing in London, he has traveled the world extensively pushing his unique ‘Afro-futurist’ sound either with the Auntie Flo live band or solo as a DJ. Through his label and party series Highlife, Auntie Flo further delves into the musical heritage and influences from the places he draws inspiration from.
DJ Python, a name whose serpentine connotations are a good fit for Piñeyro’s slinky, sidewinding grooves. Lush, heady, and shot through with an undercurrent of wistful contemplation, producer Brian Piñeyro’s “deep reggaetón” sound can’t be called lo-fi anymore. The mid-2000's were banner years for the latin sounds. One of the people who picked up on the lurching kick drums and syncopated snares as they dopplered down the block was Brian Piñeyro. As soon as he heard it, Piñeyro told Pitchfork, he realized he wanted to make music that sounded like that, but to “recontextualize” it, make it his own. Eventually he moved to New York, where he became a fixture of the city’s underground electronic community, and as he began developing his voice, crafting nuanced lo-fi house and techno under aliases like DJ Wey, Deejay Xanax, and Luis, reggaetón’s telltale syncopation snuck into his productions alongside house grooves and slow-motion jungle breaks. This full-spectrum array of frequency and texture is held together by a no-frills synth melody that sounds like a filtered dial tone, but is expressive–lyrical, even—in a way that’s unusual for this kind of subterranean club cut. As it bumbles away, one finger on the keyboard, it occasionally rises or falls in pitch before returning to its ostinato foundation. It sounds a bit like a car stereo whipping past—an echo, maybe, of the sensation that captivated a young Piñeyro all those years ago