For composer, producer, and multi-instrumentalist Reza Safinia, electronic music has never been about escapism alone. Across his work as a film composer, producer, and solo artist, he has consistently blurred the boundaries between meditation and movement, philosophy and rhythm, introspection and the dancefloor.

Five years after his paired albums Yin and Yang, Safinia returns with perhaps his most ambitious statement yet: 1/∞, a meticulously sequenced double album arriving August 26. Structured around the four classical elements—Fire, Water, Air, and Earth—the record explores modern consciousness through analog synthesizers, poetic lyricism, and expansive electronic production.

Its latest single, “Nostalgia,” is among the album’s most arresting moments. Built on brooding synths reminiscent of Depeche Mode and New Order while remaining unmistakably contemporary, the track examines a culture increasingly consumed by algorithms, distraction, and digital dependency. Rather than romanticizing the past, Safinia questions why so many people feel emotionally disconnected despite unprecedented technological progress.

We spoke with Reza about nostalgia, spirituality, vinyl sequencing, AI, and why human connection remains the most radical act of all.

“Nostalgia” resists becoming a simple lament. It recognizes that romanticizing the past can itself become a trap, while insisting the longing is genuine. How do you navigate that tension?

It’s a question I wrestle with constantly, so the tension is simply authentic to how I feel.

People often point to advances in healthcare, technology, quality of life, and all the incredible progress we’ve made compared to previous generations. Objectively, many things are better.

Yet I genuinely feel I was happier and more relaxed twenty years ago.

Nobody was talking about regulating your central nervous system back then. Today it’s one of the biggest conversations happening everywhere. Does that mean people simply weren’t aware of these issues before? Or does it mean they weren’t living under the same psychological pressure we are now?

I’m honestly not sure.

Alan Watts spoke about this exact contradiction decades ago, and I still find myself returning to his lectures because they articulate something that’s difficult to explain.

1/∞ is structured so each side of the vinyl represents one of the four classical elements, with “Nostalgia” living on the Fire side. How intentional was that elemental framework?

Completely intentional… but it also happened naturally.

Certain songs belonged together emotionally. “Fire” and “Nostalgia” came from exactly the same energy while I was writing them, so grouping them felt inevitable.

There are also practical considerations when sequencing vinyl—you naturally begin following a particular cadence—and somehow everything flowed into place without forcing it.

“Nostalgia” carries fire because it isn’t passive.

It’s activated.

It’s asking for something rather than simply mourning what’s gone.

The final line of the song is:

“A delicate prayer to see aliveness in eyes again.”

That feels like the heart of it for me.

The biggest thing we’ve lost through technology is genuine presence with one another. My hope is that we eventually recognize that loss and begin reclaiming it.

The references to Brave New World place the song inside a dystopia built not through violence but through endless distraction. Five years after Yin and Yang, do you think things have genuinely become worse—or are you beginning to see cracks in the algorithm’s grip?

Honestly…

Both.

Things have definitely become worse in some ways, but they’re also becoming better.

I think people genuinely want authenticity again. They want less technology dominating every aspect of their lives.

The problem is that the addiction is incredibly powerful.

Instagram and TikTok doomscrolling isn’t disappearing anytime soon.

People constantly say they want to support independent artists, yet their behavior often still follows whatever the algorithms and major gatekeepers put in front of them.

So I think there’s a disconnect.

People’s intentions have changed before their habits have.

The desire to escape algorithmic culture is there.

Our actions just haven’t caught up yet.

Much of 1/∞ seems to ask what humanity looks like inside an increasingly digital civilization. Do you think music still has the power to reconnect people with something genuinely spiritual?

Absolutely.

I’ve always believed music can access places that language alone simply can’t.

Whether you’re making electronic music, film scores, or songs, there’s something deeply mysterious about sound itself. It bypasses intellect and reaches somewhere more instinctive.

That’s where I think spirituality begins—not necessarily religion, but direct experience.

Music reminds us that we’re still capable of feeling beyond the endless stream of information we’re surrounded by every day.

Your work often combines philosophy, meditation, electronic production, and dance music without treating them as separate worlds. Have those disciplines always coexisted for you?

Very naturally.

I’ve never seen a contradiction between making people dance and asking philosophical questions.

To me, the dancefloor can be a place of meditation just as much as stillness can.

Movement can become contemplation.

Repetition can become transcendence.

Those worlds have always felt connected.

Sonically, “Nostalgia” draws from artists like Depeche Mode and New Order while still feeling unmistakably contemporary. What continues to inspire you about that era of electronic music?

Those artists weren’t afraid of darkness.

They understood that pop music could carry emotional weight without sacrificing accessibility.

There was mystery.

There was atmosphere.

There was room for melancholy inside songs that still made people move.

That’s something I continue to admire enormously.

Your background as a film composer gives your records a remarkably cinematic quality. Do you approach albums visually while writing?

Very much so.

When I’m writing, I usually see images before I hear completed songs.

The emotional landscape arrives visually.

Because of film scoring, I’m constantly thinking about narrative, pacing, tension, release, atmosphere—all of those cinematic elements naturally become part of my records.

The album title, 1/∞, suggests something simultaneously finite and infinite. What does that idea represent to you personally?

It’s really about perspective.

We are incredibly small within the universe.

But each individual consciousness also contains something immeasurable.

The title tries to hold those two truths simultaneously.

We’re one tiny part of something infinite.

Technology clearly occupies a central role in your work—not only as a tool but also as a subject. Where do you think the balance between innovation and humanity should exist?

Technology itself isn’t the problem.

The question is whether we’re using it consciously or allowing it to use us.

When technology begins replacing genuine human experience instead of supporting it, that’s where I think we run into trouble.

The challenge isn’t rejecting innovation.

It’s remembering why we create in the first place.

If listeners finish 1/∞ feeling only one thing, what do you hope it is?

Presence.

I hope they finish the album a little more awake than when they started.

More connected to themselves.

More connected to each other.

And maybe just a little more willing to look someone in the eyes instead of another screen.

Because ultimately that’s what Nostalgia is asking for.

Not a return to the past.

A return to aliveness.