JP Posada: "Transformation itself never really ends"
- 4 days ago
- 6 min read
JP Posada is a DJ and producer with a deep approach to music as both a language and a creative process. After several years living in Barcelona, where he developed a significant part of his sonic identity and performed across different European cities, he recently returned to Uruguay to begin a new chapter. His sound moves through different branches of house music, blending hypnotic grooves, immersive atmospheres, and a strong rhythmic sensitivity. Highly focused on production, his project is supported by original and unreleased material, always aiming to build a distinctive and recognizable artistic identity. Currently, he divides his time between the studio, live performances, and new projects that connect Uruguay with the international electronic scene.
Let’s go back to the beginning: what was the spark that got you started in music production?
I actually started as a DJ, and for several years, my focus was only on mixing and playing other artists’ music. At some point, a very strong desire appeared: the idea of being able to play my own tracks in my sets. That possibility was what really sparked everything for me.
Producing became a natural extension of DJing. It wasn’t about becoming a producer in the traditional sense at first, but more about creating music that represented what I wanted to express in the booth. Over time, that curiosity turned into a deeper creative process, and eventually into my own artistic identity.
You describe Transformación as “a descent into the depths of the self.” Was this album born out of a specific life event or long-term reflection?
Yes, it definitely came from a period of deep self-exploration. It wasn’t a single event, but rather a phase in my life where I was questioning many things about who I was, what I wanted, and how I related to the world around me. During that time, music became my main channel to process emotions and ideas that were sometimes difficult to express in words.
The album was born from that need to translate internal experiences into sound almost like documenting an inner journey. In many ways, producing Transformación helped me understand myself better. It became both a creative process and a personal one, where reflection and expression were constantly feeding each other.
Several tracks — like Naudhiz and Teiwaz — use ancient symbols and runes. What’s your connection to those symbols, and how do they inform the music?
The runes have been part of this project since its very beginning. They were a gift from someone very important in my life, someone who played a key role in helping me shape not only the music, but also the conceptual direction of the project. Because of that, they carry a strong emotional and symbolic meaning for me.
During the creative process, I developed a personal ritual: before starting to work on a track, I would draw a rune and let its meaning accompany me throughout the session. Interestingly whether by coincidence or something deeper, the symbolism of each rune often resonated with what I was experiencing in my life at that moment. That connection naturally translated into the sound, the mood, and the energy of the music.
So the runes are not just aesthetic references; they function more like archetypal guides. They helped me access certain emotional states and narratives that later became part of the sonic identity of the album.
From a technical standpoint, what tools or instruments were essential in crafting the textures and tones on this album?
The album was created during a period of deep focus and long hours in my studio in Barcelona. I was fortunate to have a very intimate and consistent setup, and there were two synthesisers that became the foundation of the sonic identity of the record.
On one side, the Moog Sub 37, which I used for all the bass elements. It has a warmth and presence that feels very alive, and it allowed me to shape low frequencies in a very expressive way. On the other side, the Nord Lead became the main tool for leads, textures, and pads. Its versatility helped me explore a wide emotional range while still maintaining a coherent sound across the album.
As a curious detail, many tracks also contain organic textures that come from field recordings I made myself over several years in nature. I often processed and glitched these recordings heavily, transforming them into abstract atmospheres that blend with the electronic elements. That combination between analog synthesis and manipulated natural sound became an important part of the album’s character.
You’ve worked in both digital and analog formats. How does the approach shift when preparing a vinyl release?
For me, the biggest shift when preparing a vinyl release is the intention to preserve the original character of the analog sources as much as possible. Many of the sounds on the album come directly from hardware synthesisers, and they have a certain depth, warmth, and imperfection that I didn’t want to lose during the mastering process. Vinyl naturally rewards that kind of material, but it also requires more attention to dynamics, low-end control, and stereo information.
So the process becomes more about refinement than enhancement , making sure the energy translates well without over-compressing or pushing loudness in a way that would compromise the musicality. It’s almost the opposite mindset of digital platforms, where loudness can sometimes dominate decisions.
There’s also something symbolic about vinyl that influenced my approach. Knowing that someone will physically place the record on a turntable and listen with intention changes how you think about sequencing, space, and narrative. It reinforces the idea of the album as a complete journey rather than a collection of individual tracks.
In that sense, preparing the vinyl wasn’t just a technical adaptation, it was an extension of the philosophy behind Transformación itself.
Which track on the album felt the most emotionally intense for you to create, and why?
Without a doubt, it was Temis. While I was composing that track, my maternal grandmother was going through a very difficult health situation. I remember receiving a video call from my mother from the hospital in Uruguay while I was in Barcelona. Not long after that, my grandmother passed away, and I wasn’t able to be there physically to say goodbye.
That moment carried a lot of emotion, and the track became a way for me to process everything I was feeling. Like with other pieces on the album, I poured those emotions directly into the music, but in this case it was especially intense. In a way, the music itself helped me move through the grief.
The name Temis represents balance and justice — qualities that my grandmother always embodied and transmitted to our family. So the track became a small tribute to her, and a way of keeping her presence within the album’s journey.
Your music invites introspection. Do you think electronic music today leaves enough room for that kind of depth?
I think the massive growth of electronic music has inevitably shifted some of the original essence of the culture. In many cases, things that once created spaces for connection, introspection, and shared experience have been replaced by a stronger focus on spectacle and immediacy.
That said, I do believe there are still many artists creating music that can take listeners into deeper, more introspective places. Maybe they’re not always the ones on the biggest stages, but they exist, and they’re an essential part of keeping that spirit alive.
For me, electronic music still has a unique power, the ability to create inner journeys through sound. And I think there will always be people searching for that experience, both as artists and as listeners.
How does your cultural background or personal philosophy shape the way you approach music?
Growing up in Uruguay and later living in Barcelona created an interesting contrast in the way I see and feel music. Uruguay gave me a strong emotional connection to sound — a sense that music is something intimate, almost personal, while Barcelona exposed me to a much broader electronic scene and pushed me to develop my artistic identity in a more conscious way.
On a philosophical level, my approach to music is deeply connected to introspection and self-observation. I see music as a tool for understanding internal processes, emotions, tensions, transformations and translating them into something audible. It’s less about chasing perfection and more about honesty: creating from a real internal state rather than from expectations.
If someone listens to Transformación without knowing anything about you, what do you hope they feel?
I would hope they feel that there is a real intention behind the music, a sense of truth rather than trend. That the sounds come from an honest place, not from following what is fashionable at the moment.
More than understanding a concept, I’d like them to perceive an identity, something that feels coherent, emotional, and human. If the listener can sense that the music carries meaning, even without knowing the story behind it, then the connection is already there.
Looking forward: do you see Transformación as a standalone statement, or the beginning of a longer journey?
I see Transformación as both a closing and an opening at the same time. The spirit of the album comes from completing a personal cycle, a period of deep inner change, but transformation itself never really ends. What feels like an arrival is usually just the threshold of the next beginning.
So in that sense, it’s not a final statement. It’s a marker in an ongoing process a moment of awareness that naturally leads into whatever comes next.
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