Corren Cavini – Finding “A Place To Call Home”

Supported by heavyweights like Nora En Pure, Tinlicker, and Lane 8, Cavini’s sound feels both intimate and powerful — the kind of music that connects people on and off the dancefloor. We caught up with him to talk about the journey behind A Place To Call Home and what “home” really means in today’s world.

A Place To Call Home feels like a complete journey rather than a playlist of singles. What made you want to bring back the idea of the album as a full artistic statement? 

I don’t know exactly how that started - I think it’s because I grew up listening to full albums. When I was a kid, I’d save up money from chores to buy CDs, and I’d listen to them front to back. Ever since I dreamt of being a musician, one of my main goals was to create a full studio album.

So for me, A Place To Call Home was never about bringing back an old idea; it was simply the way I’ve always imagined making an album. Of course, a lot of albums today are more like playlists of singles, and that’s totally fine - but I’ve always wanted to make something cohesive, something that felt like a journey from start to finish. I just waited until I felt personally and artistically ready to do it.

The album began from a raw, emotional moment with your mum’s diagnosis. How did that day shape the heart of this record? 

It really did start that same day. When we got the news about my mother’s diagnosis, we hugged, cried, and after a while, the most natural thing for me to do was sit behind the piano at her house. That piano has always been my sanctuary - a place where I can let emotions out without needing to find words. I didn’t sit there with the intention of writing a song or an album; I just needed to feel and to play.

That moment set something in motion that became the foundation for A Place To Call Home. The album grew from that emotional space - from needing somewhere safe to process everything. Over time, it became a much bigger exploration of what safety, connection, and belonging mean to me.

The process took a long time. I made a lot of demos, spent months figuring out which ones felt right, and slowly built everything around those. I also added small personal textures - field recordings from places that make me feel safe, like my mother’s home or the street outside a club after a long night. They’re subtle, but they make the record feel alive.

You’ve described the album as a meditation on belonging and safety. How did you translate such human emotions into sound? 

It’s hard to explain, because it’s not something I do consciously. I don’t sit down and think, “How do I make this emotion sound like music?” It’s more like I feel something deeply, and sound just happens to be the language I can express it in best.

Most of the time it starts simply - sitting behind the piano or messing around with a synth until something hits me emotionally. Once I find that core feeling, everything else builds around it. I also use a lot of field recordings - little textures from real life - to make the music feel grounded and human.

For me, it’s about emotional truth rather than perfection. If something feels honest, even if it’s rough around the edges, it stays. That’s how you make people feel something, not just hear a polished track.

“Agoraphobia” is a beautiful twist on the concept - reframing fear of crowds as a search for connection within them. How did that idea come to you, and what does it say about your relationship with the dancefloor? 

Agoraphobia is very close to my heart. I’ve played it in almost every set for over a year now, and it’s become a staple for other DJs like Nora En Pure too. Musically, it captures the album’s identity perfectly - a deeply melodic, orchestral core combined with high-energy grooves and a big emotional build-up.

The name “Agoraphobia” translates to Pleinvrees in Dutch, which is also the name of one of the most influential parties and festivals in the Netherlands for melodic house and techno. I went there many times, and it had a huge impact on me. The artists they booked shaped my sound. Every time I went, I left inspired, emotional, euphoric - it made me feel safe and connected.

They had their final edition in October 2024, and this track is a tribute - to Pleinvrees as a party, but also to the idea that parties can change lives. This was my musical upbringing. This track is my thank-you.

Collaborations play a big role on the album, with artists like Chris Howard, MYRN, and Dan Soleil. How do you choose your vocal partners, and what do they bring to your creative process? 

Throughout the process of writing the album, I worked with quite a few different artists. Some of the collaborations made it onto the album and others didn’t. My publisher actually set up many of those sessions - just putting like-minded people together to see what might happen.

From there, it was about seeing what resonated - which songs felt meaningful and aligned with the story of the album. The five vocal tracks that made it were the ones that fit both musically and emotionally. What Chris Howard, Dan Soleil, and MYRN brought was their incredible talent and personalities. They’re all amazing writers, singers, and performers, but also just genuinely great people. That energy translates into the music, and it’s something you can’t manufacture.

The record moves between vulnerability and euphoria - from piano-led introspection to full dancefloor release. How did you find that balance without losing the emotional thread? There were really two main steps. First came the demo phase - making a lot of tracks that expressed whatever I wanted to express. Naturally, because I have broad tastes, the demos ranged from ambient and piano pieces to deep house, techno, and trance.

Once we had that pool of ideas, the next step was months of refining: building the tracklist, testing flow, adjusting intros and transitions, changing mixdowns, shortening or lengthening sections - all to make it feel coherent. It was a long, iterative process of shaping and reshaping until the whole record told one consistent story.

You released A Place To Call Home not just digitally, but also on a limited vinyl run. Why was that physical format important to you? 

It’s honestly a dream come true to have it on vinyl. At first, I just thought it would be cool, but as I got deeper into the process, I realized how special the medium really is.

Vinyl stands completely apart from digital platforms - people listen in isolation, not skipping between tracks in a playlist. That gave me freedom to make it sound exactly how I wanted, without worrying about how it would sit next to other songs on Spotify. It could just exist as its own experience.

The first time I held the test pressing in my hands, I cried. It’s a totally different feeling from hearing a digital file - you can touch it, see it, and feel it. Physical things carry emotion in a way that digital formats never can.

You’ve already released music on labels like DAYS like NIGHTS, This Never Happened, Armada, and now Purified. What makes the Purified family the right home for this project? 

Once I had the first batch of demos, I started thinking about where the album could live. There were a few options, but Purified stood out. I’ve been working with them for a couple of years now, and what really connects me to them is how aligned we are musically and personally.

If I were to curate my own ideal event lineup, it would probably overlap 90% with a Purified lineup. That says a lot. Beyond that, there’s a real sense of family. I’ve grown very close with Nora En Pure and the team - not just professionally, but personally. There’s trust, safety, and shared values there. For an album as personal as this one, that meant everything.

You’re classically trained, yet deeply connected to underground club culture. How do those two worlds influence each other in your sound? 

Even though I studied classical music and music theory, I don’t really identify as a classically trained musician. My sound is more like a sum of all my influences - everything I’ve loved throughout my life.

For me, club culture, especially the underground side of it, has been hugely important. But I’ve also listened to a lot of rock, pop, and other genres growing up - from Red Hot Chili Peppers to Green Day. Those things all leave traces. When I write music now, I’m pulling from a subconscious library of memories and experiences. I think the best artists never stop listening and evolving.

You’ve performed at some incredible venues worldwide - from Laroc in Brazil to Thuishaven in Amsterdam. How have those experiences shaped your idea of “home” as an artist? 

What’s really special about traveling the world with music is realizing that it doesn’t matter where you are - music connects people beyond language, culture, and background. Wherever you go, people can find a sense of home through music.

To be part of that - to create those moments of connection for others, the same way other artists once did for me - is incredibly meaningful. I don’t take it for granted for a second, and I hope I can keep doing it for many years. I can’t imagine a more beautiful way to live.

Now that A Place To Call Home is finally out in the world, what does “home” mean to you today?

When I think about “home,” I don’t think of a physical location - I think of a human need. It’s about having a space where you feel secure, where you can fully express yourself and connect with others without fear or judgment. I know from my own experience how heavy it can be not to have that, and it breaks my heart that not everyone does.

This album is an ode to that concept - to the need for a place where we can be our most authentic selves and feel safe. For me, that’s sometimes found in family or loved ones, sometimes just in a feeling of safety. But more than anything, in the hardest times in my life, I’ve found it in music and dance culture.

Clubs, dancefloors, festivals - those are the places where I’ve felt most free, most accepted, and most connected. It goes far beyond the hedonism it’s often made out to be. I truly believe dancefloors offer something rare in today’s world: a place where people from all walks of life meet and connect.

A Place To Call Home is about identity, belonging, connection, safety, and expression - how fragile yet essential those things are. These are the things I’ve lived through, and this is the story I wanted to tell.

A Place To Call Home is out now everywhere