MY THOUGHTS
At its core, 22:22 isn’t just about music—it’s about friendship, intuition, and choosing to create something that feels true, even when no one’s watching.
Felix and Michael didn’t make this record for a trend, a dance floor, or a chart. They made it for the moments in between. For the quiet joy of collaboration, for the late-night ideas that actually meant something, and for the simple act of finishing something together, without compromise. That’s rare. And it’s powerful.
For Felix, this record is a homecoming—not to a place, but to a feeling. As someone who’s spent years carving out his space in the scene, it’s clear he’s arrived at a new chapter: one where curiosity leads and pressure fades. On 22:22, he’s not chasing perfection; he’s inviting emotion. His production choices feel intuitive, tender
even, like someone who’s finally allowed
themselves to stop editing and just express. It’s Felix who’s more open, more grounded, and more fearless than ever.
And still, you can hear the detail. Felix’s obsession with sound remains, but now it’s in service of something greater than just a well-mixed track. It’s about atmosphere. Depth. Story. You can sense the joy he found in the imperfections, the rawness, the late-night takes that maybe weren’t “polished,” but felt right. That kind of trust in himself and the process takes time to grow. And on this record, it blooms beautifully.
For Michael, 22:22 is a testament to his range, not just as a producer, but as a storyteller. His fingerprints are all over this record, not just in structure or rhythm, but in how each track unfolds with patience and purpose. There’s a calm confidence in the way he shapes ideas, giving them air and letting them evolve. It’s the sound of someone who’s done the work, gone deep, and come back with something meaningful to share.
And what’s perhaps most powerful is Michael’s role as a bridge between genres, between collaborators, between feeling and form. His input doesn’t scream; it guides. His vision isn’t loud; it’s clear. In a time where so much feels disposable, his dedication to making something lasting—something personal—hits with quiet force. And it’s that same energy that makes this record resonate long after it ends.
In a world that often pushes speed, noise, and constant reinvention, 22:22 stands still on purpose. And that might be its most radical move. It reminds us that art doesn’t always have to shout. Sometimes, the most honest work comes when you simply listen to your instincts, your collaborators, and your rhythm. And that’s exactly what Felix and Michael have done.
So take this album as an invitation. Not just to hear what they’ve created—but to feel it. To sit with it. To let it find you in the quiet moments, the slow evenings, or those strangely perfect coincidences—like glancing at the clock and seeing, once again, 22:22.
Text by: Sergio Niño
Photo: Cosmas Diener -
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