There are festivals you attend and festivals that rearrange something small but permanent inside you. Perpendicular belongs to the latter. After collaborating in the past from afar, 2025 was the first time we actually stepped into the pine-covered clearing that so many trusted friends had mythologized. The stories turned out to be accurate. Perpen is a wavelength, a temporary pocket of reality where strangers treat each other like long-lost cousins and music arrives without the burden of proving anything. Medi became the custodian of the final night, a responsibility whispered about long before we reached the festival grounds. We met him in Valencia days earlier, sharing coffees and paellas, and the quiet confidence in his presence suggested the weight of experience rather than ego. His record bag ended up in our car on the drive to the woods, and resisting the urge to peek at those vinyls felt like an oath. Friends offered no clues about what he might play, which only deepened the suspense. Some artists close a floor. Medi was preparing to close a narrative. When the cartridges were swapped, and the stylus touched down, fatigue evaporated like mist. Techno and electro braided, pulled along by those razor-sharp snares that sliced through the smoke like a metronome for the collective psyche. Each snap felt like a reminder that the night still had business to finish. Medi’s vinyl work was absurdly fluid, so intuitive it seemed the records were cueing themselves. Broken patterns teased hallucinations, basslines carried the tired bodies into borrowed energy. Then The Cure’s Forest appeared like a knowing smile from the universe, reminding us of where we were and how lucky we felt to be there. The dancefloor dissolved into laughter, hugs, disbelief, and eventually a gentle crawl toward La Cabaña for one final ambient delirium. What lingers about this mix isn’t just the track selection or the execution, but the emotional climate it documents. You can hear the relief of a weekend well-lived, the gentle ache of goodbye, the kind of affection that only forms on a dancefloor surrounded by trees and dust and shared emotions. Perpen 2025 quietly rewired our sense of what a festival can feel like. Until the next pilgrimage, Medi’s recording remains the ember reminding us it wasn’t a dream. www.instagram.com/medinofilo Write up by @gilleswasserman Follow us on social media: @itsdelayed linktr.ee/delayed www.delayed.nyc www.facebook.com/itsdelayed www.instagram.com/_____delayed www.youtube.com/@_____delayed Contact us: info@delayed.nyc