I often sit in front of too many blinking plug-ins, somewhere between rave and the leftover remains of reality. The bass isn’t on yet, but my pulse is acting like it is. There’s no business plan on the table. Just cold coffee, bad ideas, and that one good one that refuses to let me sleep.
Rein.Hart is not a project. Rein.Hart is a condition. A slightly elevated blood pressure of society.
I’ve watched enough people try to make music the “right” way. With spreadsheets, target groups, and the hollow stare of people who used to burn once. I decided to do the opposite. Not out of rebellion. Out of necessity.
I make rave music for people who think too much and still want to move. For bodies that remember before the mind understands. For nights where you briefly lose yourself and wake up the next morning with a grin you can’t explain.
Rein.Hart is 90s rave without nostalgia. Eurodance without apology. Humor without a safety distance.
I learned that labels don’t sign visions. They sign movement. And movement doesn’t come from calculation. It comes from friction. From exaggeration. From the courage to be slightly embarrassing before everyone suddenly calls it iconic.
My songs are not statements. They’re exclamation marks covered in sweat. My videos look like they were made at three in the morning. Because they usually were. My character is bigger than me. Thank god.
I play Rein.Hart because otherwise I’d be too reasonable. Too quiet. Too adapted. Rein.Hart gets to say things you’re normally only allowed to think. Rein.Hart gets to dance while others are still debating whether it’s worth it. Some call it trash. Others call it cult. I call it honest.
I’m not afraid of not being taken seriously. I’m afraid of becoming boring. That’s the real death in the music business. Not failure. Mediocrity with a good press photo.
When you hear Rein.Hart, you shouldn’t know whether to laugh or lose control. Ideally both at the same time. If you feel nothing, I failed. If you feel slightly exposed, I’m close.
I’m not building a monument. I’m building a rave.
And if you want in, you don’t have to be smart. Just awake.
The bass is coming.
Rein.
Hart.