36 musical styles, 36 places, 36 eras. And coffee had already been there everywhere — with its own story, prepared differently each time.
The flight through the musical styles is at the same time a journey through time and the world. And coffee took the same road — from its origin to every bar, every living room, every factory hall where someone is holding a cup today.
Ethiopia · the origin → Yemen & Arabia · the first coffee houses, the port of Mocha → the Ottoman Empire · the cezve → Vienna · the coffee house → Italy · espresso → the New World · Brazil and Colombia.
The same music you hear in the background while the espresso runs through — and which, if you listen more closely, carries you once around the world.
Day — the bright, danceable side. Night — the calm, nocturnal one.
A short excerpt — the first minutes of the journey. The whole double album Day & Night tells it to the end: the omaneo singing carries it through, from the first stop to the last.
Listen to all 36 tracks in the player → More music: the Delight Albums →
Hover over a region heading to show the region as an old map (Esc/move away to close); hover over a stop for a short explanation of the style.
The continent where coffee was born — in the highlands of Ethiopia. Highlife is its joy of life in guitars and horns.
With the Ottomans, coffee came to Europe — and with it the cezve, Turkish coffee. The brass carries the night.
The music of the Central European coffee houses, where people sat for hours over a single cup, talking and playing.
Longing in a minor key — and the bica, the small dark espresso taken standing up. Portugal carried coffee across the seas.
Coffee travelled to the New World by way of Spain. Along with it, a café con leche and the clapping of hands.
Django in the cafés of Paris — the place where the coffee house became a stage.
The country that supplies the world with coffee. Quiet guitar, soft voice — the sound of the cafezinhobreak.
The coffee fazendas carried Brazil’s rise — and samba carries its festivals.
The same bossa, half a century later, with the pulse of the present.
The tinto from the highland arabica, drunk to the swaying cumbia of the Caribbean coast.
The Cuban cafecito, small, black, sugar-sweet — fuel for the hottest nights.
In the cafés of Buenos Aires, tango has its home — and the cortado its hour.
The ballrooms of the swing era — and the endless diner coffeethat kept the night going.
Leaning back, muted, cool — coffee-house jazz in its purest form.
The sound that never disturbs in any café. That is exactly what it is made for.
Rolling piano basslines from the bars where the coffee was as strong as the music.
The forerunner of rock ’n’ roll — loud, swinging, wide awake.
Route 66 diners, neon light, coffee in a thick mug.
Strings, velvet, soul — the smooth soul of the East Coast.
The land of tea discovers American soul — and dances the night away.
Pure groove — the engine that keeps everything moving.
The mirror ball spins, the night is young.
Born from disco, built on four-to-the-floor.
Soft West Coast pop, sun on the water.
The wide-open spaces, the road — and the pot of coffee that never runs empty.
Rough, honest, brushed against the grain.
Banjo and fiddle from the mountains — craft like a well-pulled espresso.
The umbrella term for the big country and its quiet stories.
Tokyo’s kissaten celebrate coffee like a ceremony — siphon, hand pour-over, precision. City pop is their neon glow.
Nowhere is the connection more direct: the Irish coffee, whiskey, cream, warmth against the rain.
The club jazz of London’s café scene, groove meets improvisation.
Jazz and electronics merge into the modern lounge.
The sound of the island as the sun goes down.
The art of wanting nothing — just the cup and the moment.
Night drive, neon, memory of a future that never came.
The common thread of the whole album: music for the room, not for the stage. Exactly what plays alongside the espresso.
Where a classification reflects the sound of the era rather than the origin of the coffee, that is deliberate — the journey tells of both: of the map and of time.
Empires came and went, styles replaced one another, the world kept turning. Yet whoever lifts a good cup to their lips today smells and tastes what kept people awake in the first coffee houses of Arabia. Over all that time, one thing has not changed.
Then as now: only quality lasts.
The world is cold enough. What warms is the real thing — doing something with your own hands, understanding what you do, and sharing it. Good coffee is not something you buy and forget. It is something you learn, taste and pass on.
So treat yourself to something really good — and, if you like, learn how it is done. You belong.