Daphni

Top Albums by Daphni



All downloads by Daphni
Sort by:
Bestselling
1-10 of 46
Song Title Album  
30
30
30
30
30
30
30
30
30
30

Image of Daphni
Provided by the artist or their representative


Biography

As some people are probably aware, during the time I was making Swim, I rekindled a love with club music that had been dormant for the previous decade or so. A particular kind of club music, anyway; I’d fallen back in love with moments in small, dark clubs when a DJ puts on a piece of music that not only can you not identify but that until you heard it, you could not have conceived of it existing. In contrast to live concerts where bands predictably string together the songs from their most recent album, DJs have the potential to blindside you, be genuinely surprising. As a music producer, ... Read more

As some people are probably aware, during the time I was making Swim, I rekindled a love with club music that had been dormant for the previous decade or so. A particular kind of club music, anyway; I’d fallen back in love with moments in small, dark clubs when a DJ puts on a piece of music that not only can you not identify but that until you heard it, you could not have conceived of it existing. In contrast to live concerts where bands predictably string together the songs from their most recent album, DJs have the potential to blindside you, be genuinely surprising. As a music producer, the parameters of dance music seem wider. The rhythmic underpinnings are liberating rather than constraining, allowing the rest of the elements to coalesce from a broad palette.

It was in that spirit that I started making Daphni music. I was DJing more, and despite all the great new dance music, I never had enough tracks that had the moments of surprise I was looking for. So I set about creating those tracks myself. In contrast to meticulously constructing songs that had a harmonic or compositional narrative, Daphni tracks are rough and spontaneous. They are about capturing the manic energy needed to start a track one afternoon, have it finished, and play it in a club that night. No time to sand off the rough edges, and the end results are perhaps better for it.

Daphni has also become a dialogue with equipment. Working quickly and intuitively emphasizes a physical relationship with an instrument, and electronic instruments are notoriously unpredictable. Sitting down at a piano or playing a guitar, I have a pretty good idea what actions will produce what results; they are controllable instruments in a sense, given all the time I’ve spent with them over the years. Over the past few years, I’ve been building a modular synthesizer that plays a prominent role on this album. Playing a modular synthesizer doesn’t seem to get any more predictable with practice. It growls or screams when I don’t expect it to. Nudging one dial changes the sound so drastically that I’ll never get the original sound back. It’s more like improvising with another musician than playing with another instrument, and its voice is all over this music.

I’ve been surprised by the number of transcendent moments that I, sober and in my mid-30s, have had in clubs in the last few years, both as a punter and as a DJ. Against my expectations, there’s some magic in it still. The clichés about the collective consciousness of clubs still seems to hold water in some special cases. Set against the backdrop of bland and functional dance music and the mind-numbing predictability of the EDM barfsplosion currently gripping the corporate ravesters, there is a small world where dance music lives up to its potential to liberate, surprise, and innovate. It’s there that I hope Daphni has a place.

—Dan Snaith, 2012

This biography was provided by the artist or their representative.

As some people are probably aware, during the time I was making Swim, I rekindled a love with club music that had been dormant for the previous decade or so. A particular kind of club music, anyway; I’d fallen back in love with moments in small, dark clubs when a DJ puts on a piece of music that not only can you not identify but that until you heard it, you could not have conceived of it existing. In contrast to live concerts where bands predictably string together the songs from their most recent album, DJs have the potential to blindside you, be genuinely surprising. As a music producer, the parameters of dance music seem wider. The rhythmic underpinnings are liberating rather than constraining, allowing the rest of the elements to coalesce from a broad palette.

It was in that spirit that I started making Daphni music. I was DJing more, and despite all the great new dance music, I never had enough tracks that had the moments of surprise I was looking for. So I set about creating those tracks myself. In contrast to meticulously constructing songs that had a harmonic or compositional narrative, Daphni tracks are rough and spontaneous. They are about capturing the manic energy needed to start a track one afternoon, have it finished, and play it in a club that night. No time to sand off the rough edges, and the end results are perhaps better for it.

Daphni has also become a dialogue with equipment. Working quickly and intuitively emphasizes a physical relationship with an instrument, and electronic instruments are notoriously unpredictable. Sitting down at a piano or playing a guitar, I have a pretty good idea what actions will produce what results; they are controllable instruments in a sense, given all the time I’ve spent with them over the years. Over the past few years, I’ve been building a modular synthesizer that plays a prominent role on this album. Playing a modular synthesizer doesn’t seem to get any more predictable with practice. It growls or screams when I don’t expect it to. Nudging one dial changes the sound so drastically that I’ll never get the original sound back. It’s more like improvising with another musician than playing with another instrument, and its voice is all over this music.

I’ve been surprised by the number of transcendent moments that I, sober and in my mid-30s, have had in clubs in the last few years, both as a punter and as a DJ. Against my expectations, there’s some magic in it still. The clichés about the collective consciousness of clubs still seems to hold water in some special cases. Set against the backdrop of bland and functional dance music and the mind-numbing predictability of the EDM barfsplosion currently gripping the corporate ravesters, there is a small world where dance music lives up to its potential to liberate, surprise, and innovate. It’s there that I hope Daphni has a place.

—Dan Snaith, 2012

This biography was provided by the artist or their representative.

As some people are probably aware, during the time I was making Swim, I rekindled a love with club music that had been dormant for the previous decade or so. A particular kind of club music, anyway; I’d fallen back in love with moments in small, dark clubs when a DJ puts on a piece of music that not only can you not identify but that until you heard it, you could not have conceived of it existing. In contrast to live concerts where bands predictably string together the songs from their most recent album, DJs have the potential to blindside you, be genuinely surprising. As a music producer, the parameters of dance music seem wider. The rhythmic underpinnings are liberating rather than constraining, allowing the rest of the elements to coalesce from a broad palette.

It was in that spirit that I started making Daphni music. I was DJing more, and despite all the great new dance music, I never had enough tracks that had the moments of surprise I was looking for. So I set about creating those tracks myself. In contrast to meticulously constructing songs that had a harmonic or compositional narrative, Daphni tracks are rough and spontaneous. They are about capturing the manic energy needed to start a track one afternoon, have it finished, and play it in a club that night. No time to sand off the rough edges, and the end results are perhaps better for it.

Daphni has also become a dialogue with equipment. Working quickly and intuitively emphasizes a physical relationship with an instrument, and electronic instruments are notoriously unpredictable. Sitting down at a piano or playing a guitar, I have a pretty good idea what actions will produce what results; they are controllable instruments in a sense, given all the time I’ve spent with them over the years. Over the past few years, I’ve been building a modular synthesizer that plays a prominent role on this album. Playing a modular synthesizer doesn’t seem to get any more predictable with practice. It growls or screams when I don’t expect it to. Nudging one dial changes the sound so drastically that I’ll never get the original sound back. It’s more like improvising with another musician than playing with another instrument, and its voice is all over this music.

I’ve been surprised by the number of transcendent moments that I, sober and in my mid-30s, have had in clubs in the last few years, both as a punter and as a DJ. Against my expectations, there’s some magic in it still. The clichés about the collective consciousness of clubs still seems to hold water in some special cases. Set against the backdrop of bland and functional dance music and the mind-numbing predictability of the EDM barfsplosion currently gripping the corporate ravesters, there is a small world where dance music lives up to its potential to liberate, surprise, and innovate. It’s there that I hope Daphni has a place.

—Dan Snaith, 2012

This biography was provided by the artist or their representative.

Improve This Page

If you’re the artist, management or record label, you can update your biography, photos, videos and more at Artist Central.

Get started at Artist Central

Feedback

Check out our Artist Stores FAQ
Send us feedback about this page