an emotionally charged, genre-blurring album where pop instincts, club energy, and vulnerability collide

there is something quietly brave about trance. it doesn’t rush to chase the mood, instead , it lets emotion, memory, and movement run through, until you realise you’ve been pulled into a full emotional arc. this is an album about connection, distraction, desire, and the spaces in between, built with pop precision but carried by feeling.

based in san ramon, california, mike quintor approaches trance as a fully self-built world. writing, producing, and shaping every detail himself, this is an album born from complete creative control and emotional intent. drawing influence from artists like kid cudi, kanye west, tame impala, and daft punk, mike blends modern pop instincts with late-night introspection, club energy, and moments of raw vulnerability. trance feels less like a debut statement and more like a personal archive, a place where years of ideas, emotions, and experiments finally find space to exist together, uninterrupted.

we’re really pleased to take this album track by track…

the journey begins with good time, and it wastes absolutely no time setting the tone. a stunning synth intro draws you in slowly before the track opens up into a full pop production masterclass. it feels expansive and emotionally open, chasing that moment where things finally feel right again after distance and doubt. there’s joy here, but it’s earned rather than naïve.

party follows with a softer touch. more chilled, more spacious, it captures the desire to feel seen without needing the spotlight. the lyric “give me air, gimme some loving” lands beautifully, summing up that quiet craving for connection beneath the surface of the night.

with club, the album hits one of its earliest standouts. rather than leaning into peak chaos, this track captures the post-club atmosphere effortlessly. that hazy moment when the night has already peaked but something still lingers. it’s confident, fluid, and cool without trying too hard, and it locks into the emotional centre of the record.

lonely nights slows things down again, turning inward. it reflects hesitation, emotional walls, and the need for reassurance before giving too much away. there’s vulnerability here that feels unguarded, sitting with uncertainty rather than trying to resolve it.

space mountain uses its metaphor well. the twists, drops, and weightless moments mirror the emotional rush of a relationship that keeps pulling you back even when you know the risks. it’s playful on the surface, but quietly intense underneath.

then comes we don’t give a fuck!, which arrives like a release valve. chaotic, loud, and unapologetic, it throws off judgement and restraint completely. the room is already on fire, so why hold back. it’s a momentum track, pure adrenaline, and it works because it doesn’t overthink things

all i need is another standout moment. grounded and emotionally direct, it balances devotion with self-protection. the line “ain’t got time for games or the chase” cuts cleanly through the noise. this is confidence born from experience, not bravado, and it hits hard because of that.

ocean pulls everything back into isolation and reflection. floating, detached, and heavy with memory, it captures that feeling of holding on even as something slips away. the water imagery feels fitting, a quiet struggle to stay afloat emotionally.

something offers a shift in tone, recognising a connection that feels mutual and natural. there’s ease here, a sense of trust and rhythm that hasn’t been forced. it feels like a brief window of calm inside the album’s emotional current.

ü is a sharp and welcome switch-up. built around a uk garage beat, it immediately stands out while still feeling perfectly at home. it’s playful, fresh, and a personal favourite. the change in rhythm brings new life into the record without breaking its emotional continuity.

with beautiful thing, the album leans into stillness and sincerity. this track recognises a kind of love that feels rare precisely because it isn’t dramatic. calm, present, and real, it’s about protecting something good without needing to overstate it.

darkness doesn’t shy away from pain. instead, it sits with it. this track reflects the ongoing process of moving forward while carrying weight that never fully disappears. there’s honesty here that feels grounding rather than heavy.

2nite dives back into distraction, chasing late nights and loud rooms to avoid sitting with memory. pleasure and escape blur together, the night repeating itself in familiar cycles.

with fabricated fiction, reality and imagination start to overlap. the track questions whether moments are real or just patterns replaying in the mind. it’s disorienting in a way that feels intentional, mirroring emotional confusion.

nightmare (can’t wake up) explores attraction that feels intense but unsettling. desire and fear exist side by side, pulling you in even when you know something isn’t right. it’s tense, emotional, and quietly haunting.

dream follows naturally, sitting in confusion and loss. it captures the struggle of letting go of something that felt real, even if it may never truly have been. there’s a softness here that feels unresolved, and that’s the point.

ethereal sky locks into the groove of the album. warm, fluid, and soaked in west coast vibes, it feels like emotional escape without full detachment. it’s one of the record’s most immersive moments.

nothing feels real is heavy with grief and disconnection. time moves on, but the emotional distance remains. it’s understated, reflective, and quietly devastating.

with find someone like you, the album turns towards hope again. it captures the strange patience of searching for love while measuring everyone against one person. there’s belief here, even if it’s cautious.

the record closes with the lost one, a fitting ending. exhausted but still reaching, it reflects the desire to feel something again even when love keeps slipping away. it doesn’t offer easy resolution, but it feels honest, and that honesty is what makes it land.

trance feels like an album that had to be made this way. emotionally layered, sonically flexible, and deeply human, it trusts the listener enough to sit with complexity. this is pop music that thinks, feels, and stays with you long after the final track fades.

thank u for making this mike quintor 💫