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“Adding my own voice, message, and lyrics is absolutely essential to my work. Without my vocal, I feel there would be no way to stand out or express what my music communicates.”


GEA’s vocals move between rap cadence and melodic release, often within the same track. Sometimes they cut sharply through the mix. Other times they dissolve into atmosphere, stacked and processed until they become pads, choirs, whispers that hover above the rhythm. She rarely uses synthetic pads at all. Her voice becomes the harmonic bed, especially in intros and build-ups, shaping space before impact.


This approach demands control, which is why she refuses to let go of the technical side of her work. GEA produces, mixes and masters her own tracks, not out of distrust, but out of intimacy. Every decision is personal. Every frequency carries intention.


“I see mixing and mastering as creative processes. You can define the entire personality of a track by the approach you take.”


There is a stubbornness to this autonomy, one she openly embraces. Delegation, for her, risks dilution. Mixing while producing allows ideas to remain alive, shaped while the emotional impulse is still fresh. Tracks often emerge already seventy percent mixed, their


identity baked in long before any final polish.


“My tracks take form from my vocal cords to the hand moving the mouse, from the software and the last limiter in the chain to the piano keys and Serum.”


Her creative process resists ritual. Sometimes it begins with a kick, bass and drums locked into a key. Sometimes with a rhythmic phrase that appears almost uninvited. Once that spark lands, everything else follows it. Lyrics are written quickly, often staying close to their first form. Vocals must be recorded the same day the track begins, before the energy fades.


“When creation and performance happen in the same moment, something truly magical comes out.”


012 That


naturally to the stage. GEA’s decision


philosophy to


bring


extends a


live


microphone into techno spaces was not calculated. It came from absence. DJing her own tracks felt incomplete without the physical act of singing. What started as an experiment became one of the most defining elements of her performances.


“I needed a deeper level of


connection with the crowd, and I also missed singing on stage.”


Integrating live vocals into high-volume club environments is technically Compression,


FX


unforgiving. chains,


monitoring, timing. All of it had to be learned through trial and error. The goal was never spectacle. It was coherence. The vocal needed to feel embedded, faithful to the track, organic without tipping into pop theatrics.


On the dancefloor, the effect is immediate. Surprise first. Then recognition. In rooms where people know her music, crowds


sing back. In places


where they do not, curiosity turns into momentum. The voice cuts through the anonymity that often defines techno spaces, creating eye contact, vulnerability, presence.


“In the end, I’m a performer. Limiting myself to DJing would be restricting who I am.”


Certain nights crystallize that identity. June 2024 at Spook in Valencia was one of them. Warm- up duties turned into a two-and- a-half-hour set, people arriving early, lyrics already known. The microphone stayed off that night, but the connection did not need amplification.


Another moment arrived a


month later at Tramunfest in Girona, playing to thousands in her own region. Home crowds carry different weight. They listen differently. They respond faster. For GEA, it felt like alignment.


“I felt more at home than ever, with the most genuine and connected crowd I’ve ever had.”


Despite a clearly aesthetic,


defined GEA refuses


stagnation. Curiosity drives her as much as identity. Recently, she has been lowering BPMs, exploring groove, sound design and lyrical space with renewed focus. House, Hard Groove, Drum and Bass, Dub, Rock. None of it


feels contradictory.


preparatory. Her


It feels


EP reflects that openness. Latin


cohesion.


empowerment, genre shifts that deliberately


upcoming eight-track influences, avoid


playful


Tracks in Romanian. Vocal-less experiments. Pop-adjacent moments. Dirty sound design paired with reggae-inflected delivery. Only two tracks sit close to her established signature.


“Staying in one lane would be limiting and caging myself, and I don’t allow that.”


That same refusal to accept limits extends beyond her personal career. Ácida, the platform she founded to spotlight female DJs, emerged from a simple observation: women and queer artists were consistently


underrepresented.


Instead of waiting for change, she built infrastructure.


Three editions later, Ácida is not just a party series. It is an ecosystem. Women across every role, from DJs to lighting engineers


to notes, is backstage


management. The atmosphere, she


different. Trust


replaces competition. Energy circulates differently.


“You could feel it in the atmosphere. There was trust, sorority, and an electric, overflowing energy dancefloor.”


all-female lineups feels like progress, even if she remains clear-eyed about how much work remains, especially in production spaces.


Visually, GEA maintains the same level of authorship. Artwork, covers, concepts are largely self- directed. Drawing and painting remain private practices, creative reserves she does not feel obligated to monetize. Not everything needs to be visible to be real.


Her philosophy rejects ownership in favor


of transmission.


Creation, for her, is less about asserting self and more about allowing something external to pass through.


“The more ego I insert, the more soul the work loses.”


That belief does not diminish her ambition. It sharpens it. Her writing often draws from anger, heartbreak, exhaustion, the emotional debris of nightlife and intimacy. Heavy kicks carry playful intent. Darkness dances.


Looking is


forward, undeniable.


momentum International


bookings are increasing. Collaborations are forming. An EP and album titled “EAZY.” is scheduled for March 2026. Audiovisual performances, analog machines, expanded live elements are already on her horizon.


There is no plan B. Only expansion. on the


The ripple effect matters to her as much as the events themselves. Seeing other promoters adopt


GEA’s project does not ask for permission from techno culture. It speaks directly into it, voice first, body second, systems shaking behind her. In a landscape that often prizes anonymity, she insists on presence. In scenes that value repetition, she introduces narrative. And in a genre that rarely sings back, she gives the crowd something to say.


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