Burning Paradise by Weaver & DMO: A Happy Hardcore Trip You Didn’t Know You Needed
Let’s cut to the chase—Burning Paradise is one of those albums that feels like it time-traveled straight outta 2007 with a mission to slap you awake. Released under Evolution Plus in the UK, this electronic/dance masterpiece leans hard into its hardcore and happy hardcore roots, delivering beats so infectious you’ll forget your own name (temporarily). And hey, if you’re wondering who’s behind all this chaos, credit goes to Donna Marie Onions and R.Francis—they wrote, produced, engineered, and probably brewed coffee during late-night studio sessions.
Now, let’s talk tracks. The album kicks off with “Burning,” which hits harder than your first cup of espresso on a Monday morning. It’s got that classic happy hardcore vibe—fast-paced kicks, euphoric synths, and vocals from DMO that feel like sunshine breaking through clouds. What makes “Burning” stick? Maybe it’s how unapologetically over-the-top it is. Like, imagine someone handed a synth keyboard to an excitable puppy—that’s this track. You can practically hear the neon glow while listening.
Then there’s “Paradise,” because apparently one word titles are the law here. If “Burning” is the chaotic banger at the start of the night, “Paradise” is the moment when everyone starts hugging strangers and crying happy tears. This tune slows things down just enough to give your heart a breather but still keeps the energy alive. The melody is sticky-sweet without being saccharine, kinda like candy floss—you know it’s not good for you, but damn if it doesn’t make you smile.
What sticks with me about these two tracks isn’t just their relentless positivity; it’s how they remind me of simpler times. Back then, life felt less doom-scroll-y, and music like this was basically therapy for anyone needing a pick-me-up. Listening now feels like rediscovering an old mixtape tucked away in a drawer—you remember why you loved it so much in the first place.
So yeah, Burning Paradise might not reinvent the wheel, but it sure knows how to spin it fast. It’s cheesy, loud, and utterly sincere—a perfect snapshot of mid-2000s dance culture. Honestly, I’d recommend blasting this album next time you clean your room or need to outrun existential dread. Just don’t blame me if your neighbors start tapping their feet too.
Final thought? If happiness had a playlist, this would be Track 1—and maybe Track 2 as well.
