For Utrecht-based producer Corren Cavini, music has always been more than just sound—it’s been a safe space, a language, and a way to connect when words fall short. With the release of his debut album A Place To Call Home, out now on Purified Records, Cavini opens up like never before, turning years of personal growth into an immersive listening journey.
Now available worldwide, A Place To Call Home marks a turning point in Corren Cavini’s journey. Released on Purified Records both digitally and as a limited-edition vinyl (only 100 copies), the album feels like the culmination of everything he’s learned about himself—both as an artist and as a person.
The project began with a single emotional moment: the day he learned of his mother’s cancer diagnosis. Sitting at the piano, he composed “Home (ouverture)”—the piece that would ultimately become the foundation of the entire album. From that intimate spark, Cavini built a full-length journey that explores belonging, safety, loss, and love through sound.
Across its 13 tracks, A Place To Call Home moves fluidly between introspection and euphoria. Highlights like “Tell Me” featuring Chris Howard and “Free Falling” with MYRN radiate openness, while “Valinhos” captures the warmth of connection. “Agoraphobia,” meanwhile, serves as a moving homage to the beloved Dutch festival Pleinvrees, reframing the dancefloor not as chaos—but as a sanctuary.
“Whether it’s a place, a person, or a community, everyone deserves somewhere they truly feel safe to be themselves. In darker times, music and dance floors have been that place for me. If I can help someone else feel at home through my music, then that’s worth everything.”
Nexus Radio caught up with Cavini to talk about the inspirations behind his album, how he translates emotion into melody, and what he’s learned about vulnerability, creativity, and self-acceptance along the way.
Tell us about your latest project.
I just released my debut album A Place To Call Home, which really feels like a milestone moment. I’ve wanted to make a full studio album since I was about thirteen, so to finally have it out in the world after fifteen years of dreaming about it means a lot.
The album is called A Place To Call Home because it’s a reflection on how valuable it is to have a place where you feel safe to be your true self—to feel grounded, connected, and free to express yourself. That doesn’t have to mean a literal house; it can take many forms. For me, it’s been found in music, in friendships, in love, and especially on the dancefloor.
Growing up, I knew what it was like not to have that sense of safety, so this album became a kind of tribute to the moments and spaces that did give me belonging—music being the biggest one. Dance music, in particular, gave me a way to express feelings I didn’t yet know how to put into words, and on dancefloors I’ve had some of the most healing and connecting moments of my life. Because of that, this album isn’t just a career milestone—it’s something deeply personal. It represents both artistic maturity and personal growth, and sharing it with the world has been incredibly special.
What’s your creative process like when producing a new track?
It really depends, but what always leads the process is emotion. Every track starts with a feeling, a memory, or a moment I want to express. Even though most of my music is instrumental, there’s always a story or emotion behind it—something from real life that moved me.
From there, I usually try to capture that feeling in melody, often by sitting behind the piano or experimenting with synths. I also record a lot of field sounds on my phone—just moments from daily life—and use them in the background to create atmosphere. So while the technical side varies, the heart of every track is always the same: translating emotion into sound.
What’s the weirdest or most unexpected place you’ve drawn inspiration from?
Because I draw inspiration from real life, nothing feels too weird to me—but I do use sounds and moments most people probably wouldn’t think of. For example, in the album there are field recordings I made at my mother’s home, or sounds I recorded while traveling that have no particular subject—just the feeling of a place.
One example is Valinhos, a track on the album inspired by a town in Brazil that has two incredible clubs, Laroc and AME. Every time I play there, there’s such a strong connection with the people—even though we don’t speak the same language. Sometimes you find places where you just align naturally, and that feeling became the heart of the track.
If you had to swap lives with a cartoon character for a week, who would it be?
That’s a tough one since I honestly don’t really watch cartoons! But when I was younger, I used to read a lot of Donald Duck comics, and I remember really liking Donald’s three nephews. They always had this strong bond and carefree energy, and it just seemed like such a fun and safe little world. So maybe I’d go with one of them—living a simple, worry-free week for a change.
If you could travel with a celebrity, who would it be?
I’d love to travel with Jacob Collier. He’s an unbelievable musician—someone with both immense technical knowledge and a natural, intuitive musicality. But beyond that, he has this beautiful openness and ability to connect with people from all walks of life. I think traveling with him would be endlessly inspiring, not just musically but on a human level too.
What’s the most significant lesson life has taught you so far?
A big turning point for me was learning to face my past instead of avoiding it. I went through quite a bit of trauma growing up, and for a long time I coped by not really talking about it. Eventually, I started opening up—first in therapy, then with people close to me—and that changed everything.
Becoming emotionally open made me a healthier person, but it also made me a much better artist. From that point on, my emotions and personal experiences became the foundation of my music. And I think it’s no coincidence that when I started writing from that honest place, that’s when things began to fall into place in my career too.
How do you handle failure?
I try to remind myself that failure doesn’t really exist—even though, of course, I still worry about it sometimes. I judge myself by effort, not outcome. As long as I give 100%—whether that’s in a show, a studio session, or a release—then I’ve done my job.
Sometimes a crowd connection just isn’t as strong as usual, or a release doesn’t get the attention you hoped for, and that’s okay. It’s part of the process. I’ve learned not to take those moments too personally. As long as I’ve expressed myself in the right way, I’ve done what I can do. Not every set or track will be received exactly as you hope, and to deal with that is just part of the process. So really, the way I handle failure is by acknowledging that bad times are just part of being an artist. I try to keep good mental health routines and acknowledge the good in the good times as well as the bad in the bad times.
