“Whether music or painting, I never approach creation with a formula or expectation—I simply let what burns inside come out.” There’s a quiet intensity to LUM—born Sebastián Gandine—that doesn’t demand attention, but draws you in. His life is guided by change, shaped by solitude, and rooted in a deep relationship with nature and spirit. Living in self-imposed exile in Tulum, far from his native Argentina, he spends his days between the jungle and the ocean, listening more than speaking, creating more than promoting. His music and art aren’t separate disciplines but extensions of the same internal dialogue—a ritual of healing, a reach toward something lost and something just out of view.
His upcoming EP Golden Daughter of the Golden Cave, out soon via Maison D’Être, was born during the silence of lockdown. Isolated in paradise but far from his young son, he poured longing, memory, and movement into the track. What emerged feels both personal and shared: a pulse of nostalgia, a search for innocence, a need to gather. “Sometimes I miss that innocent child I once was, just exploring, smiling, untouched by the weight of the world.”
In this interview, LUM reflects on the cycles of exile and return, the tension between solitude and connection, and the ways music, love, and nature all serve as mirrors. We spoke to him not just about the new release, but about what it means to truly live inside change.
Photography by n_autre_quelqu_un
Sebastian, happy to have you here! How are you, and what’s been filling your days lately?
Thank you for having me. I’m living through a deeply transformative time—not just with new music and paintings but also in the profound joy of fatherhood. Being born in the year of the serpent, change is not something I seek—it’s something inevitable. And right now, I am fully inside it.
Can you tell us about the story behind your upcoming release on Maison D’Être? What emotions shaped its creation?
“Golden Daughter of the Golden Cave” was born during lockdown. I was fortunate to be isolated in paradise—Nomade Hotel in Tulum—where the days stretched long under the sun, and the ocean was my only witness. But I couldn’t see my son. That longing shaped the track—the voices of children in it are echoes of that feeling.
At the same time, solitude brought back memories of one of the most beautiful road trips I ever had, deep in the red forests of California. There, I found a sign on the ground that read Golden Daughter of the Golden Cave. It felt like a message. The song carries all of that—nostalgia, longing, and the primal need to dance, to gather, to return to innocence.
You’ve said before that your music is like a healing ritual — what kind of healing were you seeking in this release?
Whether music or painting, I never approach creation with a formula or expectation—I simply let what burns inside come out. That’s why it’s healing. It’s not about healing others, it’s about healing myself.
My childhood was tough, and sometimes I miss that innocent child I once was, just exploring, smiling, untouched by the weight of the world. In this track, I found him again. And maybe, in missing my own son at that moment, I was really reaching for that lost part of myself.
“Nature teaches you connection, but it also teaches you solitude.”
You are currently living in Tulum and describe it as a kind of exile. What are you running from, and what are you running toward? (smiles)
After my near-death experience, Argentina no longer felt like home. I needed to find my place, and when I first arrived in Tulum, I knew—I had found it. But exile is a journey, not a destination.
I won’t say I’m running toward anything specific now, but I feel the pull of change again. Tulum has been my sanctuary, my cocoon, but isolation can be just as dangerous as chaos. Perhaps it’s time to step back into the noise of the world, if only to remember what silence truly means.
How does living so close to the jungle shape your creative energy and daily rituals?
The jungle is a force. The wind moving through the trees, the echo of cenote waters, the calls of birds and monkeys—it’s all in my music. Living here allows me to create without distractions, immersed in ritual—tea, baths, meditation, silence. But there is a world beyond this, and I feel the call to explore how different landscapes, different energies, might shape my compositions.
I love spending time in nature myself — it always reminds me how deeply everything is connected. What has your time alone in nature taught you about connection?
Nature teaches you connection, but it also teaches you solitude. In the jungle, I am one with everything, but I also lose something—the ability to socialize, to navigate human interactions. There’s too much comfort in being alone with nature. And I wonder—am I losing the skill of conversation? Of being with others?
“Existence itself is an endless question, but what I struggle to understand most is balance.”
What does “home” mean to you now?
Home is where I feel safe to explore myself, fully and freely. I love discovering new places, but there’s nothing like opening my own door and feeling peace. Now, as I prepare to leave that home, I feel excitement and terror in equal measure. But change is the way of the serpent, and I trust its path.
Your Instagram description says: painter, musician, father, poet, dreamer, lover. Which one could you live without being?
I couldn’t live without any of them. They aren’t roles—they are facets of the same thing. I am who I am, and there is no escape from that. Depth is my nature, always.
What’s the best compliment you’ve received about your music so far?
For me, the greatest compliment is simply being able to share my music, to live from it, to see it reach people. I have more artists than listeners in my audience, which might seem unusual, but I find it beautiful—so many artists I admire wanting to collaborate, drawing inspiration from what I do.
There’s also a funny story. For years, very few people knew who LUM actually was. I never showed my face on Instagram or social media—it was a game, letting only the music speak. Once, on my first trip to Dubai, I was in an elevator when I heard three guys speaking Arabic, glancing at me. Then one of them said, “You dress like one of our favorite artists. Very cool style. You know LUM?” I never told them the truth.
“Whether music or painting, I never approach creation with a formula or expectation—I simply let what burns inside come out. That’s why it’s healing.”
Where do you see yourself in around 10 years?
In ten years, I want to look in the mirror and see someone who stayed true to himself. I see myself immersed in my ambient project, lost in painting, but still raving—because some fires never burn out.
What’s something about existence you’re still trying to understand?
Existence itself is an endless question, but what I struggle to understand most is balance. How to hold solitude and connection, stillness and movement, chaos and control—without losing one to the other.
The most important thing in life is?
Love. Always.
Pre-save LUM’s upcoming release Golden Daughter of the Golden Cave on Beatport here.
Follow LUM for more:
www.instagram.com/iamlum
www.facebook.com/LUM.music
www.beatport.com/artist/lum
