When I first discovered Ibiza in my early twenties I was working at CNN International as a journalist, waking at 4am for World Business This Morning five days a week.
My life was extremely regimented.
Ibiza was my first taste of something quite hard to describe. Ultimately, I think the word is freedom.
I’d experienced intense club culture before — Zillion in Belgium during my university years was open 24/7 — but Space Ibiza was something else entirely. The terrace, the open air, the layering of smiling faces above a hidden amphitheatre of bodies dancing together in the sun.
It felt like collective joy.
I had never experienced anything like it. It changed me in ways I still can’t fully explain and it became something I returned to every year for that same feeling.
When Space closed in 2016, and when even places like DC10 added roofs, it felt like something fundamental had shifted. Later, when institutions like Sa Trinxa could no longer host DJs on the beach, and those barefoot sangria-fuelled afternoons dancing on tables at Salinas or Bora Bora disappeared, it became clear that the island was evolving.
Nightlife became more structured, more commercial. Perhaps that was inevitable in order to preserve it, but it represents something quite different from the spirit that originally built the scene here.
Back then I couldn’t even tell you who was playing Bora Bora — it was never about the names. It was about the feeling.
Now the industry often revolves around big line-ups and financial guarantees. That’s not necessarily better or worse — change is inevitable — and there is still so much to discover. But that sense of barefoot, spontaneous freedom isn’t quite the same.
It’s deeply personal, but connection is the key.
That’s exactly what this series aims to create — a space where people can understand Ibiza’s musical heritage, celebrate what exists now, and also ask what comes next.
Podcasts, panels and parties — the three Ps.
Spaces where people can share ideas, wisdom and perspectives, and feel like they are part of something rather than just observing it.
Inclusion in a fragmented world is everything.
Safety.
If people feel safe, they can truly relax.
If you’re worrying about your drink being spiked, whether there will be a taxi home, or whether you can walk back to your car safely — especially as a woman — then the freedom disappears.
But when you know you’re in a space where people are looking out for each other, where the environment is cared for, something shifts. The night becomes about letting go and being present.
That feeling is everything.
By people coming together and giving voice to what matters.
Authenticity doesn’t disappear overnight. It erodes slowly when communities stop protecting it.
It can be tempting to sell out — I completely understand that — but protecting the spirit of something requires collective responsibility.
The Balearic pioneers.
The sense of freedom.
And day time parties.
Some changes are simply out of our control.
People like Pepe Roselló didn’t necessarily have the choice to continue what he built.
The island evolves whether we want it to or not.
Hopefully still human.
Maybe we’ll see AI DJs and robots mixing records. can´t be worse than we see on social media anyways at times!
But the soul of Ibiza has always been people coming together. If we hold on to that, the spirit will survive.
Spaces like The Standard are incredibly important because they allow culture to be discussed openly.
We have amazing moments like IMS every year that bring people together before the season starts. But imagine if we had a regular monthly gathering — a place where the community could continue those conversations throughout the year.
Danny Whittle does something similar with his weekly hikes. It creates connection beyond the dancefloor.
And connection is ultimately what Ibiza has always been about.
