EMA & Jio: More Space
A fondness for everything Dublin was, a hopefulness for what it could be, but a frustration for what it has become.
It’s a bright Monday in June. The noise of building works soundtrack the morning of Lisbon’s commuters. Emma and Nevan, aka EMA and Jio, leave the apartment they are staying in and walk down to a local cafe in Anjos, their shoulders brushing off the tiled buildings in an attempt to stay in the shade.
They struggled to sleep the night before. The room they slept in was small and dark and used to be occupied by Bill Mango, who had joined them for a DJ set earlier that week in Cosmos, one of the city’s associations with a thriving artistic community.
They settle down on the confined wooden decking outside the cafe that is perched up on a hillside. Just as they do so, an old, yellow tram slowly screams by Nevan’s head. Emma orders an americano, Nevan orders a double espresso, and they each order a pastel de nata.
“I would like to DJ more,” says Nevan. “But I don't want to get into the whole rat race of having to sell myself.”
“I think that's going to just come very naturally to you,” says Emma.
“It's been nice seeing you being able do your own thing with DJing,” says Nevan, “because it proves that you can be someone so true to your roots and really love what you do and be given opportunities based on that. There's so much bullshit with the music and dance music industry, and you being able to sidestep that and do your own thing and be recognized for that, it's a beautiful thing.”
Emma reminds Nevan that they have to check in for their flight back home to Dublin in the afternoon. Emma takes out her phone, checks in, and screenshots their boarding passes. After a week in Lisbon, normality resumes tomorrow. As well as the 9 to 5 slog, they both have labels to run and gigs to organise. Emma is preparing the second release on her Woozy imprint alongside Sputnik One, and Nevan is preparing PEAR009 alongside Fio Fa.
“I feel there's been a natural progression for Fionn and I,” says Nevan. “Fionn's career in London is on its own plane and doing its own thing now. That's fantastic, because he's always wanted that. He can do that and we can do the label thing with Pear every once in a while and it will be really special.”
“Yeah. But this trip,” says Emma, “has given me that spark to maybe try and start looking for spaces back in Dublin.”
“There's a lot bigger and more important players than us that have to do their thing in order for us to be able to enjoy -”
“- What we do.”
"Exactly. I guess we're so busy with the grind of everyday life to survive in that city, that we've had to neglect actually doing some community work. But having met people who are working on the ground here in Lisbon and hearing what they struggle with and hearing what they want to achieve and seeing what they have achieved already - It is possible.”
“We need to explore more spaces,” says Emma.
“We need to go abroad more,” says Nevan. “We need to start experiencing more clubbing and spaces away from home. I feel otherwise we're just going to get tunnel vision.”
“That's where we'll pull inspiration from. I agree.”
Another old, yellow tram slowly goes by. Their cups are empty and the crumbs of a pastel de nata and a sprinkle of cinnamon is all that remains on their plates.
“But I think we really do have something special in Dublin,” says Nevan.
“Definitely,” says Emma. “When I moved back to Dublin from Berlin a few years ago, I realised what I was missing in Berlin was a sense of community. It just gives you so much more. It makes you feel, I don't know, that you have more worth. It makes what you're doing seem a bit more legitimate than just wanting to play tunes in the club. I love being in Dublin now because of that.”
“You didn't have a very good relationship with the city before.”
“I did have a negative view of what it was like before that. But you opened my eyes to Dublin, Nevan.”
“That time you came home was amazing. There was so many gigs happening, in places like Bernard Shaw, Tengu, and Wigwam. But I feel like now, the pandemic has completely decimated that community way beyond just the fact that clubs are closing. Think of the amount of our friends that have emigrated to different countries because there's more to do and there's more of an infrastructure there for them to continue to enjoy and reap the benefits of a dance music community.”
“But for you, that makes you want to stay in Dublin because you've already embedded yourself in the community.”
“It's less that I feel that I want to stay,” says Nevan. “I feel like I have to stay.”
“Is that not going to just make you feel bitter though?” asks Emma.
“It does completely. I don't possess the tools like-”
“-Give Us The Night?”
“Yeah, like Robbie Kitt and Sunil Sharpe. They know what they're talking about and they've worked their arses off to get themselves into places that will benefit the whole country when things come out of it.”
“But if you were to invest your full self into making those changes in Ireland,” says Emma, “you'll end up losing part of yourself. We know that Sunil has been doing it for, what? 15 years?
“A long time.”
“He has openly said it to me that his DJ career would look completely different now if he hadn't invested time in this.”
“And, for me,” says Nevan, “I don't possess any of the tools that Ireland desires: A bureaucratic vocabulary and having to dilute your vision through this variety of archaic licensing laws and archaic points of view in a city that is slowly crumbling under capitalist pressure from abroad.”
“But the idea of Dublin being a city to go to and party, the same way we see Berlin and London, is definitely going to be linked with new spaces popping up. We need spaces. That's the biggest thing. Even before licensing laws, I think.”
“Well, we all have to be conscious in how we do it, though, and we need to make sure we do it properly. Or else it is going to go to shit.”
Emma glances down at her phone to make sure that they are leaving enough time to catch their flight.
“I just want an excuse for people to come to Dublin,” says Nevan. “I want to continue what we already have been doing. I want people to come to Dublin and be like, 'Wow, what you have here is really special.' That's all I really want. And if we have a gig then we will tell everyone to fly home for it. Tell them to come back, because it's going to be great and you know it's going to be great because you know who's involved. You know that we're all friends and you know it's going to be great and you can all just go back home. Go back and live your life.”
“Nevan, remember the first few months that I moved back I told you that I had fallen in love with Dublin again. You'll have that effect on anyone that comes over.”
”As long as we can get as many people involved as possible that want to do it, and from that, beautiful things will flow.”
“But, so many people are just so scared to do it,” says Emma. “For example, with Skin&Blister I would love to create a better environment for women, trans, and non-binary people in Dublin. That's something I definitely didn't have when I was younger. That's what is keeping me hopeful. That's what I feel I want to invest my time in. I want to show people that they can start their own night and they can run their own label and they can do radio.”
“Well, I feel like Dublin has a great affinity to places like Bristol, which has a very similar, if not way more colorful history in its punk and DIY ethic. When I say punk I don't mean the style of music, I mean ‘Do It Yourself’: Create your own thing and have everyone else come to you, not the other way around.”
“Dublin could be that place, for sure,” says Emma.
Nevan watches another old, yellow tram pass by his head. “I hope so.”