We could say that Tommy Cash has a mixture of Estonia, Ukraine and Kazakhstan in his blood and we wouldn’t be lying, but, truth be told, it doesn’t matter. These are formalities that don’t interest him, distinctions for short-sighted people who move in a traditional world, in which we have been told what reality is: whilst we get our act together, Cash has already done 2019. He is neither from here nor there, but from his own universe. A place in which there is room for Safri Duo type batucadas, warehouse trance beats, mákina rushes and raps in dodgy English, a mixture between Mad Max and Snatch that goes way beyond the purely musical.
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