> ## Content Index
> Fetch the complete content index at: https://www.dublininquirer.com/llms.txt
> Use this file to discover other available public pages before exploring further.

# Dean: On Blimp’s neon-lit electric wonderland
- URL: https://www.dublininquirer.com/dean-on-blimps-neon-lit-electric-wonderland/
- Published: 2026-08-27T23:17:05.000Z
- Updated: 2026-08-27T23:17:05.000Z
- Description: The Dublin DJ and producer’s new album “Our Wires”, is “likely to be my Irish electronica release of the year”.
- Author: Dean Van Nguyen
- Tags: music, Culture Desk

We welcome a new golden age of the airship, transporting you to an electric wonderland of neon-lit urban sprawl, hazy nightclubs and amethyst skies.

At the forefront of the movement is Blimp, real name Shane Smyth, a Dublin DJ and producer who, intentionally or unintentionally, elicits an aura of great mystery.

You see, details on the artist are scant. With the exception of some brief notes posted to [his Bandcamp page](https://blimp797.bandcamp.com/?ref=dublininquirer.com), I’ve yet to read a quote attributed to Smyth. But creating in the shadows hasn’t stopped him from forging a body of infinitely listenable electronic music that pays homage to several different forms of the genre.

These moves have culminated with new album *Our Wires*, likely to be my Irish electronica release of the year. The music is atmospheric, emotionally rich, lovingly crafted. It appreciates the nightclub, but also understands the streets outside the club, and all their rain-streaked drama. 

This Blimp took off in 2023 with a series of exciting loose tracks. Smyth’s greatest early victory came with the song “Real”, a collaboration with Good Luck that used ambient synth patches, tippy-tappy hi-hats, clipped vocal loops, and an urban-chic atmosphere that works as well in a cocktail bar as it does in the club. This general vibe was evoked once more on “Do You Do This Often?”, from the EP of the same name, which added a more extended vocal performance edited with some soulful computer software tweaking.

Last year saw the release of full-length *The World is Yours*, an “odyssey” inspired by the photography of Jason Evans and “urbanized cityscapes and a love story of two people separated by circumstance”. Smyth cited deep house, French house, disco and lo-fi as his primary influences and they meld into a collection of breezy club beats. Songs such as “Can’t Keep Me From Your Love” boast the necessary glitter ball shimmer, while “Moonlight” bears an exciting nineties R&B influence.

Now we get the album *Wires*, an android drama that runs a broader emotional gamut than any of Blimp’s previous works. As before, this is genial, inviting electronic music, but with a darker edge than the more pop-friendly *The World is Yours*. Here, it’s the dancefloor at 3am that is Smyth’s domain, when the room needs a little more ambiance to ride out the high.

Each beat is a beautifully constructed machine, an eco-system of complimentary sounds. The arrangements are deep and dense, but, crucially, never feel convoluted. No element attempts to elbow any other out of the mix. You feel Smyth’s guiding hand at all times, mastering the sense of space as he playfully matches a pinging loop to a shuffling beat, a heavy bassline to a tweaked synth riff.

So you get a song, “Promised”, which shuffles along with a drum ‘n’ bass-esque rhythm section and clicking keyboard riff, while a heavy orchestral synth comes in and out like a vast alien spaceship descending from the sky. Every sound has its purpose, and that overall sense of clarity is as warmly comforting as a heartbeat next to your own.

*Wires* runs through nine cuts in a sprightly 30 minutes and highpoints are all around. There’s an industrial music tint to “Say What’s on Your Mind”, while the dreamier synth pings of “In My Bubble” could score a 16-bit fantasy video game. Still, *Wires* is an emotionally intelligent piece. On the single “Playing With My Heart”, for example, the soft utterances of “I’m so tired” are punctuated with a tweaked keyboard motif, punctuating the sense of helplessness, another of the album’s neat little flourishes.

One of the most prominent elements of each cut are, indeed, the vocal samples that float above the instrumentals, adding a melodic feature that often reminds me of 2000s UK garage music. There’s an android soul to these voices, a pulse in the tin body. “Want U” revolves around the refrain, “Want you, I want you, I want you”, on repeat. It’s easy to picture a barely-lucid clubgoer finding themselves lost in someone on the dancefloor, minutes drifting by like seconds, with that one thought running through their hazy mind.

Yet I’ve actually found myself most enjoying *Wires* not late at night, but in the morning. It’s at sunbreak when the tranquillity that Smyth’s production exudes can be most valued.