Delayed x Perpendicular: Lendl
Returning to Perpendicular Festival this June felt exactly as we'd hoped it would. The same pine trees. The same dance floor hidden beneath the canopy. Cabañas…The same feeling that, for a few days, the outside world could comfortably wait.
Part of what makes Perpen special is its scale. The festival doesn't seem interested in becoming bigger for the sake of it. Friends invite friends, collectives from across Spain and beyond come together for a few days, and before long it becomes difficult to tell who is playing, who is organizing, and who simply came to dance. The audience spans generations, from people who've spent decades digging for records to artists discovering their own voices. That exchange feels like one of the festival's greatest strengths. It keeps the music moving forward without ever losing sight of where it came from.
Over the next few months, we'll be sharing a series of recordings from this year's edition. Some come from familiar names, others from artists you may not have crossed paths with yet. It feels only right to begin with someone who has spent more than two decades helping shape Spain's underground scene.
Lendl, the longtime alias of Jordi Giráldez, has worn many hats over the years. DJ, producer, radio host, curator, collaborator. Whether through his drone project Cuatrojos, his years presenting Sismógrafo on Radio 3, or countless appearances behind the decks across Spain and beyond, one thread runs consistently through his work: a fascination with the deeper, stranger corners of electronic music.
His Perpendicular set arrived on Sunday afternoon, right around solar noon. The dance floor was slowly waking up after phenomenal morning sessions from Paduan and Güisvi. Some people had only just emerged from the shade, others from a quick shower, and a brave few had simply carried on from the night before. It is one of those peculiar festival hours where the energy could tip in almost any direction.
Lendl read the moment beautifully. The set patiently nudged the crowd back toward the dance floor, one record at a time. By the end, the conversations had grown quieter, more people were moving beneath the canopy, and the festival had found its rhythm again. From there, Al Blayney could take the reins and carry the afternoon forward. Deep, liquid, and hypnotic techno formed the foundation of the 90-minute journey. The energy gradually shifted throughout the set, moving from a reflective afternoon atmosphere toward something more physical as the festival continued its long journey into the evening.
A perfect way to begin our Perpendicular series here at Delayed.