
If you search for the glimmer in a neon sky, for records that feel like dusk distilled into sound, Ray Of Light's 88th unveiling may well be your answer. V-Sag, the Greek-born composer, pianist, and deep melodic explorer, joins the Ray Of Light family with an EP that spans three tracks as though they were three chapters in a single late-night chronicle. He brings with him decades of devotion to craft, piano training from youth, and a catalogue that already commands respect in deep-progressive circles.
From the first tone of Glowstate, the listener is drawn into a space between clarity and haze. V-Sag lets the pads breathe long before the drums step in, shaping layers around space as much as around motion. The low end is soft but insistent; it creeps in, not storms. That tension between patience and promise defines the track. The motif drifts-hovering, never pinned down-so the track feels like it's growing in real time, a living organism.
No Heaven Here tilts darker, pulling your shoulders into the shadows. The melody is wounded, beautiful in its slight dissonance, while the rhythm digs deeper. It's not a track for sunrise. It's a track for the moment just before you believe nothing can surprise you-but then you get surprised. V-Sag threads in ambient textures, flickers of reversed synth, and space around elements so that your ear keeps searching, anticipating.
Then No Hell Is Here closes the EP in a kind of late-night absolution. It scrolls with both weight and lightness. The percussion is sculpted, each hit purposeful; the top melody seems to lift, to release. You hear echoes of what came before but transformed, as though V-Sag decided to shine a cleaner light on the same emotional core. It's ambient and club-ready at once, the house music equivalent of breaking dawn and the last cigarette at daybreak.
In this EP, V-Sag continues a legacy of DJ and producer support that has bolstered his journey. Names like John Digweed, Dave Seaman, Hernan Cattaneo, and others have championed his work in their sets. His name appears in support lists and charts-he isn't unknown. His music has been embraced by the underground elite, not by accident but by the clarity of his melodic voice.
This release also belongs to a wider story-the story of Ray Of Light Records. The label has become a nexus for shimmering, emotive club music, the kind of imprint that DJs visit to find the record that shifts a set. Dougal Fox and the Ray Of Light vision have maintained a throughline: music that balances memory and invention, that respects the past but is never beholden to it.
With V-Sag's EP, Ray Of Light Record 88 adds a jewel to its crown: three tracks that stretch from dark introspection to luminous release, all rooted in melody, rhythm, and the space in between. Glowstate / No Heaven Here / No Hell Is Here doesn't merely ask for rotation in DJ crates. It demands space. It demands attention. It demands that the dancefloor remember that beauty and shadow share the same breath.
From the first tone of Glowstate, the listener is drawn into a space between clarity and haze. V-Sag lets the pads breathe long before the drums step in, shaping layers around space as much as around motion. The low end is soft but insistent; it creeps in, not storms. That tension between patience and promise defines the track. The motif drifts-hovering, never pinned down-so the track feels like it's growing in real time, a living organism.
No Heaven Here tilts darker, pulling your shoulders into the shadows. The melody is wounded, beautiful in its slight dissonance, while the rhythm digs deeper. It's not a track for sunrise. It's a track for the moment just before you believe nothing can surprise you-but then you get surprised. V-Sag threads in ambient textures, flickers of reversed synth, and space around elements so that your ear keeps searching, anticipating.
Then No Hell Is Here closes the EP in a kind of late-night absolution. It scrolls with both weight and lightness. The percussion is sculpted, each hit purposeful; the top melody seems to lift, to release. You hear echoes of what came before but transformed, as though V-Sag decided to shine a cleaner light on the same emotional core. It's ambient and club-ready at once, the house music equivalent of breaking dawn and the last cigarette at daybreak.
In this EP, V-Sag continues a legacy of DJ and producer support that has bolstered his journey. Names like John Digweed, Dave Seaman, Hernan Cattaneo, and others have championed his work in their sets. His name appears in support lists and charts-he isn't unknown. His music has been embraced by the underground elite, not by accident but by the clarity of his melodic voice.
This release also belongs to a wider story-the story of Ray Of Light Records. The label has become a nexus for shimmering, emotive club music, the kind of imprint that DJs visit to find the record that shifts a set. Dougal Fox and the Ray Of Light vision have maintained a throughline: music that balances memory and invention, that respects the past but is never beholden to it.
With V-Sag's EP, Ray Of Light Record 88 adds a jewel to its crown: three tracks that stretch from dark introspection to luminous release, all rooted in melody, rhythm, and the space in between. Glowstate / No Heaven Here / No Hell Is Here doesn't merely ask for rotation in DJ crates. It demands space. It demands attention. It demands that the dancefloor remember that beauty and shadow share the same breath.
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