For more than a decade, Luca Venezia, better known as Curses, has occupied a unique space within contemporary electronic music. Drawing equally from post-punk romanticism, EBM intensity, new wave melancholy and the liberating energy of the dance floor, his work has consistently blurred the boundaries between live performance, DJ culture and club experimentation.
Whether through his productions, his collaborations, or his unmistakable DJ sets, Curses has always seemed less interested in genres than in tracing the invisible threads that connect them. Few projects illustrate this better than his acclaimed Next Wave Acid Punx series for Eskimo Recordings. Since 2021, the trilogy has explored the music that shaped him, uncovering a lineage stretching from post-punk’s embrace of electronics through EBM, new beat and freestyle, before arriving at the hybrid sounds that continue to define underground dance music today.
With Next Wave Acid Punx TROIS, the story comes full circle. Returning to the early 1990s rave culture that first captivated him as a young New Yorker, the compilation captures a brief but transformative moment when techno, breakbeats, trance, EBM, hardcore and ambient music collided across cities like New York, Frankfurt, London and Valencia. The result is both a historical document and a personal statement: a celebration of a period when genre boundaries dissolved and musical curiosity reigned supreme.
For this edition of Times & Tunes, Curses shares a playlist that expands on those ideas, revealing some of the records, moods and memories that continue to inspire him today. We caught up with him to discuss the final chapter of Next Wave Acid Punx, the enduring spirit of rave culture, and why openness remains one of electronic music’s most radical qualities.
INTERVIEW
Next Wave Acid Punx TROIS feels less like a compilation and more like the final chapter of a personal story. Looking back, did you always envision this series as a trilogy, or did its larger narrative reveal itself over time? The three compilations almost feel like a musical autobiography. We’re curious whether that structure existed from the beginning or emerged organically as you revisited different chapters of your musical life.
Everything started way smaller. Nadiem at Eskimo knew I was obsessed with Belgian New Beat, so I was invited to do a compilation of favorites. But it took on a life of its own and became more about my personal influences and musical journey out of the band world. With DEUX I wanted to showcase live electronic artists with that synth wave energy. When it resonated with so many people, I knew I had to do at least one more to close it out properly. TROIS comes full circle: before I was a producer or DJ, just a kid in punk and wave bands who fell into raving. The trilogy totally evolved into a musical autobiography. A personal totem.
Throughout the series, you’ve traced a lineage from post-punk and industrial music to rave culture and contemporary club sounds. What do you think connects all these seemingly different worlds at their core? Beyond genres, there seems to be a shared attitude running through the entire project.
There is always this root of DIY attitude in the electronic or guitar music I am drawn to. Break the rules. If you limit yourself you won’t discover anything new.
DIY attitude, always. Learning guitar by experimenting, learning to DJ by making a lot of mistakes: that’s punk to me. Money is never the motive when these scenes pop. It’s about community, energy, rebellion against whatever’s commercial and mundane. Corporations eventually catch on, but there’ll always be a new underground doing something exciting and fresh.
For TROIS, you return to the early rave experiences that first pulled you into electronic music. When revisiting that period, were there any memories or emotions that surprised you? Memory has a way of romanticising the past, but it can also reveal things we missed at the time.
I found myself going through old photos of me as a teenager. My mom kept so many: she taught me to sew and I’d make these massive 150cm wide jeans for the parties. I’d forgotten that my very first rave experiences were in the Hardcore rooms. Coming from punk, we were doing sweaty basement shows at Coney Island High and Don Hill’s, throwing fists in the pit. The Hardcore rooms at raves were doing exactly that: mosh pit and all, so it was an easy transition. Eventually I grew out of the angst and gravitated toward the more euphoric, driving techno and trance sounds that still stay with me today.
One of the most striking themes in your notes is how fluid those early rave environments felt. Techno, breakbeats, hardcore, trance, ambient and EBM could all coexist under one roof. Do you think today’s club culture is rediscovering that openness? Many contemporary scenes still operate through genre identities, but there seems to be a growing appetite for crossing boundaries again.
Absolutely. Crowds are getting tired of aggressive TikTok terror trance and techno. People want emotion, stories, something honest. If a DJ makes themselves vulnerable with their selection, a real trust builds with the crowd and that makes for a crazy and memorable night.
You’ve often spoken about coming from a punk background before discovering electronic music. Looking back now, what elements of punk culture continue to shape how you approach music? Not necessarily sonically, but philosophically.
The DIY attitude is something that I always carry from my punk youth. You might not have the best financial means, studio or equipment, but you find a way to make it work. When you believe in something that hard, that’s dedication and that’s punk. I still make all my own merch, artwork and video clips (with a lot of help from my wife) so the vision stays uncompromised, same honest craft from day one.
The compilation brings together historical records alongside contemporary artists like Zaatar, Leona Jacewska and Italo Deviance. What were you looking for when selecting newer productions for the project? Was it about finding direct descendants of those earlier sounds, or artists carrying the same spirit in new forms?
Most of them are people I consider friends, not just artists I admire. I’m drawn to people I click with beyond music. We might all be influenced by the same obscure 80s Italo or 90s Valencia proto-techno track, but we each pull different things from it and take it somewhere original.
You’ve lived between different cultural worlds — growing up in New York and later building a life in Berlin. How have those cities shaped your relationship with electronic music? New York’s rave culture and Berlin’s club culture often feel connected yet fundamentally different in their philosophies. We’re curious how moving between them has influenced your perspective as both a DJ and producer.
Over a decade ago I was creatively stuck. NYC nightlife had been taken over by bottle service culture and it brought a different crowd. Eventually I started DJing afterhours and felt that breath of fresh air again: parties like Beef Cuts and Resolute were channeling Berlin energy back to New York. But I still wanted something new. I’d lived in Berlin in 2005 and stayed close with friends from then, so in the summer of 2015 I went back. I immediately met like-minded artists mixing wave and Italo with chuggy club tracks and felt at home again. There is a lot of new energy in Berlin. New underground parties, artists, feels like a new burst is coming.
Across all three compilations, there’s a recurring tension between darkness and euphoria. Why do you think that combination remains so powerful on the dance floor? Many of the records you champion feel simultaneously melancholic, uplifting and liberating.
People want emotion when they’re escaping the tough shit of everyday life. Melancholy is cinematic, bitter and sweet at the same time, and the tension in music always eventually brings a release.
Your work often explores darker moods, yet it rarely feels pessimistic. In fact, many listeners describe your music as strangely uplifting. What is it about darkness that you find inspiring rather than limiting? Some of the most euphoric moments in your sets and productions seem to emerge from tension, melancholy or introspection rather than pure positivity.
I always try to evoke hope, whether it’s a slow ballad or a hard-hitting EBM banger. I approach songwriting like a film: something unknown that slowly becomes a feeling so familiar you can’t explain how it happened.
As a DJ, producer and curator, do you approach digging for music differently today than you did ten years ago? Has your relationship with discovery changed as the internet has made almost everything accessible?
Totally. Back in the early 2000s it was crates at flea markets, hunting for obscure gems on vinyl. Now I spend hours on Bandcamp and Discogs. There’s too much music, that can’t be denied, but if you put in the effort you discover amazing things that 20 years ago wouldn’t have had any chance of reaching the world without the exposure of the internet.
Romance has always felt like an understated but important part of the Curses universe — from the post-punk influences to the cinematic atmosphere that runs through your productions. Do you think dance music has lost some of that romanticism over the years? Many contemporary club environments prioritize functionality and impact, whereas some of the music you champion feels driven by emotion, mystery and desire.
Let’s circle back to the damn TikTok terror trance and techno, haha. I get it. I started raving in the gabber and Hardcore rooms, it’s fun but it’s not timeless to me. Romance in music is timeless. It’s easy today to get distracted by trends and shift your style to keep up, but the romance is gone the second you do that. The artistic innocence and naivety of making what you love and really believing in it becomes contagious. Like a slow love spell. Over time, people start to trust.
Alongside this interview, you’ve put together a playlist for Times & Tunes. What was your starting point when assembling it? Did you approach it as a companion piece to TROIS, a snapshot of your current listening habits, or something else entirely?
There are so many hidden gems from early 90’s Valencia sound and Netherlands and Italy that I couldn’t find the ownerships to license or don’t fit the cut. Too much music to share! So, this playlist is a collection of some tracks that share the same energy and aura of what TROIS is about with an ending of bliss and calm.
Is there a particular thread connecting the tracks in the playlist? Whether it’s an emotional quality, a historical connection, or simply a feeling that’s difficult to put into words.
Raw, uncensored sex wave energy
Looking back at the entire Next Wave Acid Punx trilogy, has researching and curating these compilations changed your understanding of your own musical identity? After spending years tracing your influences, do you hear your own work differently today?
It deepened my appreciation for praising the pioneers while shining a light on younger artists coming up now. I hope these compilations inspire new artists and show them there’s a ton of incredible stuff from the 80s and 90s underground they might not have known existed.
One idea that runs throughout TROIS is the notion of freedom — freedom from genre boundaries, expectations and limitations. In 2025, what does “being free” in music mean to you? And where do you think the next generation of artists might find that sense of freedom?
Be true, be patient, don’t get distracted by what’s trending, and never sacrifice your artistic message.