100 lanes. 150 BPM. A beat hacking forged in fire, sweat, and pure psychedelia.

This track was born from my obsession with Dido’s ‘Thank You’ and its festival-ready reinterpretation by Dimitri Vegas Like Mike, Tiësto, and W&W.

I always wanted to break it, twist it, and transform it into something kind of evil, with hints of techno and a bit more of the the soulful original.

100 lanes, almost everything built from scratch. No safety net, no off-the-shelf samples.

The result? An emotional journey — with Dido’s voice reborn and distorted — for those who know that music isn’t just a loop, but a shared experience.

Thanks for making it this far. This is my tribute to a song that has always been with me.

And a twisted love letter to beat hacking.

Thank You (But Not So Much) [beathacked]

Three months ago, I shared "Fallin’" as it came to me—raw, instinctive, unfiltered. It was honest. It still is.

But since then, I’ve learned things. About EQ. About compression. About shaping sound instead of chasing it.

This new version isn’t radically different. Just tighter. More intentional. More mine.
If the first one was beginner’s luck, this one’s the beginning of skill.

I’m not deleting the original. I’m honoring it—with this new take that reflects where I am now, and how far I've come.

🔥 For the curious, for the obsessive, for the ones who hear the difference

🌙 Press play. Let yourself fall—again.

Fallin'

It all started with a challenge and a question: "What kind of mess have you gotten yourself into?"

The spark was “Feel Like Singin’”, a gem from 90s Nervous Records. Something with soul, with analog instruments, with a voice that truly sang—not those canned vocals you find in so many sample libraries. I was facing something alive, and my initial plan to “beat-hack” it went spectacularly off the rails. A total f**k-up.

And in that “what the hell do I do now?” moment, magic happened. An operatic voice reminiscent of Anyma. A dirty bassline channeling the ghost of Benny Benassi’s “Satisfaction”.

And in my head—the explosion: madness. The idea of blending three impossible worlds into a single track.

This track is the result of that battle. The struggle of crafting a sub-bass from scratch because nothing else sounded right. The final victory in the studio, becoming my favorite creation to date.

But “I am Nervous” is not just a song—it’s a scene:

An apartment in New York, another time. A jazz band deep in a Sunday hangover. Weathered walls, the Brooklyn Bridge through a grimy window. The singer—a young British redhead with an energy the others, older, elegant Black musicians, no longer have. They start playing half-heartedly… but she wants to show them something NEW.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

An open hi-hat gives way to a whole new world. The kick drum arrives. The operatic voices take their place. The room goes dark, sweaty, and smokey. Strobe lights flash the f**k up. There’s lust in the air, raw concupiscence. Bodies and images of pleasure float to the rhythm of the sidechain. A queer DJ spins from the booth. And the old jazzmen, at last, let themselves go…

Now that you know the story, the track holds one last secret. A whispered message, just for you:

"Tonight… you could be ONLY mine…"

» Process: As mentioned, this track was born from a “beat-hack madness” that broke the rules I've been taught. Instead of reverse-engineering, the process turned into a spontaneous creative explosion.

» Influences: A collision of three universes—the soul of a 90s Nervous Records classic, the punch of Benny Benassi’s “Satisfaction” bassline, and the operatic atmosphere of Anyma.

I Am Nervous (Original Edit)

The road is endless, swallowed by shadows and neon fire. A lone car blazes forward, wheels screaming, body dissolving into sparks as if consumed by something greater than speed. Above it, the sky cracks open — a violent river of light pouring down, bending the night into ritual. This is not a journey anymore. This is surrender.

My remix of “Wild Ride” by KSHMR is born from that image: a collision between the mechanical and the cosmic, between desire and chaos. Where the original track surges with adrenaline, I’ve pushed it deeper into the abyss — sculpting the beat into a relentless engine, sharpening the drops into moments that feel like the ground collapsing beneath your feet.

Every measure is a pulse, a flame, a surge of electricity racing through the veins of a dancer who no longer distinguishes the club from the road, the music from the machine. The house rhythm anchors you, but around it grow darker atmospheres, aggressive textures, and that unmistakable pressure of something wild taking control.

This remix is not meant to be “safe.” It’s not background music. It’s a passage — a ride without destination, where speed becomes trance, where trance becomes fire, and where fire becomes the only truth left standing.

From Colombia to the world, I give you not just a track, but a vision: the sound of metal burning, of rituals disguised as raves, of freedom devouring fear. This is my "Wild Ride."

KSHMR - Wild Ride (DJ Amapola Remix)

DJ Amapola lleva el techno y el house a un terreno ritual... y sudoroso. Este set fue grabado para capturar la energía nocturna de Santa Marta y transformarla en un viaje hipnótico pensado para las pistas más tropicales.

BPM constante, beats profundos y un groove que no te deja ir: así suena la propuesta de DJ Amapola para Cumba Nights.

🌐 Más en djamapola.com
🎵 Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/intl-es/artist/4AgKWCiq5UAYjBehbmvlCZ
🎧 Sígueme en Instagram: https://instagram.com/djamapola
🎥 Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@DJAmapola

Cumba Ritual · Live in the Tropics

This isn’t a track. It’s a 4-on-da-floor riot.

"F*ck Da President (Rough Edit)" is what happens when you get tired of the costume party called politics and decide to DJ with a crowbar instead of a white glove.

Two voices bark like briefcase pitbulls—authority vs. defiance—spitting the same recycled script until the baby’s laugh tears it apart. That laugh is the mirror: innocence cracking, future hijacked, a lullaby fed through a meat grinder. The kick doesn’t “support the groove”; it stamps a boot on the podium. Hats cut like glass. Bass sits low and patient like a bomb under the table. No sermons. No permission slips. No PR polish. Dance first; argue later.

This is for the dancefloor kids who learned to read the world in strobes: for the ones who’ve been told to lower the volume, to be “reasonable,” to swallow the script and clap. No thanks.
Raise your chin. Middle-finger the teleprompter. Let the room sweat. Let the break hold its breath like a lie about to burst. When the drop hits, don’t be delicate—be undeniable.

I’m not naming names. If your stomach clenches, you already know why. Lobbyists in suits. Media varnish. Gold-plated morals. The algorithm sells you comfort; the floor sells you truth at 125 BPM. If you’ve ever danced with rage and left lighter, this one is yours.

Rough Edit isn't not only meant to talk about the mix, but since we're at it...

Where does it punch you? Where should I sharpen the blade? What fill would make the room snarl? Tell me straight. This is techno, not diplomacy.

To every paper crown and velvet rope: we’re busy. The club is Parliament tonight.
— DJ Amapola

F*ck Da President

This isn’t a love song. It’s a slowdown spell.

Slow Down Love was born where hip-hop dust meets soul ache—trip-hop as confession, as a ritual for lovers who run too fast into the fire.

The beat drags like smoke through an empty street. A voice—half-rap, half-plea—asks passion to breathe. “Not yet. Don’t rush. Let the moment expand.” Above it all, the sky: bruised clouds glowing in neon, two faces almost touching, cosmic but broken, bound by the same ache.

This track is about erotic restraint. About when the body begs for immediacy, but the soul knows the beauty of delay. Desire stretched out until it becomes devotion.

Dust, melancholy, and the weight of a starry night.

For the ones who know that sometimes the hardest thing is not to burn, but to slow the burning down.

Slow Down Love

Slow Down Love (Early Edit)

techno, clubedit, melodictechno, darktechno, underground, progressivehouse, deeptechno, rave, dancefloor, electronicmusic, vocaltechno, operatic, queer, amapola, strobe, 3am, clubmusic, warehouse, beat-hack, storytelling

"I Am Nervous (Club Edit)" takes the raw story of the original and strips it down for the dancefloor.

The jazz ghosts, the operatic cries, the smoky apartment in New York—all of it is still there, but now condensed into pure energy.

This edit is about tension and release: the sub-bass digs deeper, the kicks hit harder, and the atmosphere turns darker, sweatier, more relentless.

It’s the same madness, but reimagined for a strobe-lit crowd at 3AM. Nervous, alive, and ready to explode.

I Am Nervous (Club Edit)

There’s a moment — between the inhale and the exhale — where everything stops pretending to be real. The lights still flash, the bass still hits, but you’re somewhere else. You’re inside the echo.

“Slow Down Love” was never meant to be a song. It started as a failed attempt to control time — a ritual for lovers who can’t love quietly. It’s the sound of the body saying wait while the night keeps pushing forward.

Every kick is a heartbeat that refuses to let go. Every synth is a pulse of light trapped in glass. The voice isn’t singing; it’s remembering. Remembering what it felt like when you could still touch someone without turning it into a countdown.

I made this track during one of those nights where silence felt louder than music. When I hit export, I didn’t want it to end — so I made it loop, over and over, until the emotion became muscle memory.

“Slow Down Love” is that loop. The place where rhythm becomes prayer. The last breath before the drop that never comes.

Slow Down Love (Studio Edit)

There’s still no map.

Still no gods.

But the lights hit harder now.

The pulse cuts deeper.

And what once rotted beautifully… now burns clean.

"Third One Goes South (Club Edit)" is a ritual reborn in motion.

Remixed, remastered — not to change its meaning, but to make it breathe louder.

It crawls out of the cave and steps onto the dancefloor, carrying the same ghosts.

This isn’t a new track.

It’s the same descent, seen through a brighter strobe.

A reminder that every ritual repeats itself —until you forget you ever danced at all.

If it moves you: repost + comment how you’d mix it.

Third One Goes South (Club Edit)

🔥 DJ Amapola 🔥
Shatter conventions. Redefine normalcy. Beat stereotypes.
🚀 Dark Techno | House | Experimental | Underground Vibes

I don't just play music—I break boundaries. My sound blends the raw intensity of dark techno, the hypnotic pulse of underground house, and the unexpected twists of experimental electronic. Every beat is a rebellion, every mix a statement.

🔮 Inspired by the underground, the outcasts, and the ones who dare. No compromises. No apologies. Just pure energy.

🎧 Join the revolution at djamapola.com

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