BERLINCIAGAY #9 – EMSHO
How have you been lately? What’s been taking up most of your energy or attention, creatively or personally?
I’m responding to this from a very raw and vulnerable place. Being an Iranian living abroad means carrying two realities at once. You wake up in one country, but your heart is often somewhere else. You learn how to function, to work, to create and at the same time, you’re feeling everything happening back home in your chest before you even read the headlines. There’s a particular kind of distance in diaspora. You are far, but deeply connected. And maybe the hardest part is that no one around you really gets it. For me, music has always become the space where I can hold that complexity. It gives me the space to take grief, and process. To take anger, and let all kinds of big feelings breathe. maybe that’s what I’ve been learning lately, that creativity isn’t separate from what’s happening in the world. It’s a response to it. It’s a way of saying: We are still feeling. We are still connected.
You spent time living in Berlin before settling in NYC. When you think back to Berlin, what’s one memory, place, or moment that really stayed with you?
When I think back to Berlin, my mind goes straight to the studio I was renting in Lichtenberg, in East Berlin. It was this run-down building that was entirely filled with music studios, just concrete, cables, and people disappearing into sound for hours, basslines bleeding through walls.
It was right in the middle of the pandemic lockdown, which feels ironic now. The world was shut down, and there we were, voluntarily locking ourselves inside sound proof rooms, making music all day, the unspoken understanding of people committed to the craft.
My studio neighbor was Dan Curtin, which, for me, felt surreal. To be making music ear to ear with someone whose records I had respected for years, that kind of proximity to a legend, was so inspiring.
Those studio days are the memories that stay with me most. There was something pure about them, no audience, no pressure, just exploration. I don’t know if I’ll ever recreate that exact kind of environment again, and maybe that’s why it feels so precious. It was a moment where music was the only agenda.
Berlin is such a vinyl city. Do you have a favourite record shop there, and what made it special for you? Was it about the records, the people, or the time in your life?
My favorite has to be Audio-In. On Fridays, when the new collection drops, if you’re not there before it opens, you’ll find yourself standing in line behind some serious legends who are ready to snatch the best records immediately. It’s competitive, but in a beautiful way, you feel the hunger and the respect.
Kimchi Records is another special one for me. My friends Kim and Martin have done such an incredible job with it. The Persian carpets in the basement set the tone. You immediately get a Latin and Persian vibe entering it. you’re digging in this beautiful Neukölln space with soft natural light coming through the windows. It feels intimate, warm, and you’re really set up for a proper, slow dig.
And then there’s Bikini Wax. I just love digging there. The listening station up the stairs next to the sofa, sweet atmosphere where you can lose track of time and stay for hours. It’s less rushed.
And in terms of randomly finding some of my all-time favorite records, I have to name-drop the obvious: SpaceHall. It’s one of those places where you walk in without knowing exactly what you’re looking for, and somehow walk out with something that feels like it was waiting for you. It has given me records I didn’t even know existed, every single time.
All of the above, baby. Berlin is never just about the records. And if anyone says it is, I dare to name they’re either lying or they’re unaware of impact of the ritual the city has built around music. Berlin is never about one of those things, because its records, and culture is shaped by its people who are deeply committed to club culture for the right reasons.
But the third reasons, the specific moment in my life I was there, that definitely made digging feel like discovery, not just of music, but of myself.
BERLINCIAGAY is very much about community and connection through music. What does community mean to you today, especially as someone who’s lived between different cities and scenes?
I recently read a book by Malidoma Patrice Somé called Ritual, which really put my experience with community into words. He talks about how rituals are what bind people together, shared practices that people return to again and again, and through that repetition they create belonging. That’s precisely what community means to me: staying true to rituals together. It was living between different cities and scenes that taught me that rituals are what hold people together even when everything else changes. You can move from one place to another, but if there’s a shared rhythm, music, conversation, a dance floor, people find each other again.
I think music scenes can work in a similar way. The dance floor becomes a kind of ritual space where people bring their energy, their creativity, and their individuality, but they’re also part of something shared.
So for me, community isn’t just people in the same place. It’s people who keep returning to the same rituals together and through that, they create belonging.
Looking ahead to 2026, what’s next for you? Any new music, projects, collaborations, or ideas you’re quietly working on or excited to explore?
Looking ahead to 2026, I’m working on a few exciting projects with a couple of my producer friends, which I’m really excited about. Producing can be hard when life gets busy, but these collaborations really push me to get back into the studio, reminding me of the days in Berlin when making music was such a constant part of life.
I’m also working on a cute project with a raver friend around underground culture, community, and understanding. It’s something we think could be both valuable and fun, exploring the spirit of rave culture and the ways people connect through it. I’m really excited to see where that goes!