Jonathon Ng, known to the world as EDEN, has always found poetry in distortion—melding glitchy textures, ambient layers, and emotional candor into a sound uniquely his own. Emerging from Dublin’s DIY scene and rising through the digital ether, EDEN made his mark with 2015’s End Credits and 2016’s i think you think too much of me, projects that quietly reshaped the boundaries of alternative electronic music. Since then, he’s amassed over a billion streams—not through algorithm-chasing singles, but through immersive, emotionally rich bodies of work that sit somewhere between bedroom confessionals and cinematic odysseys.

Now, EDEN returns with Dark, his fourth studio album, and perhaps his most expansive yet. Written across continents and consciousness, the project plays like a collage of memories, dreams, and introspective truths. Sonically fluid and emotionally resonant, Dark is a meditation on surrender—letting go of what cannot be held, and choosing to find beauty in uncertainty.

In the album’s 13 tracks, EDEN opens up about the fear and thrill of love, the quiet dread of existing in a hyperconnected world, and the strange freedom of relinquishing control. From spectral synths to ambient echoes, each layer feels intentional yet instinctive—like memory itself.

We sat down with EDEN to talk about the emotional weight behind Dark, how his creative process has shifted in the last few years, and why jumping into deep water might be the most important thing we ever do.

Let’s start with the title—Dark. What drew you to that word, and how does it reflect the emotional terrain of this album?

I had been holding onto Dark as the title for this album for maybe a year or so before I started any work on its music. I get these attachments to words (Dark, vertigo, ICYMI, etc) that feel like they encapsulate my world. They can even shape how I imagine the music. I think me and my friends had been throwing around the word dark as an almost lighthearted response in conversation for a long time. From the horrors of 21st century news items, to personal anecdotes, or memes - ‘thats dark’. I think that was the start of it taking a new space in my head. More than a coping mechanism. Instead of winding the anxiety tighter it kind of gives release.

You’ve described the album as feeling like a “double exposure.” Can you elaborate on that metaphor in relation to the music?

When I’m writing sometimes I experience a rabbit hole feeling. Something that kicks off an idea in the present, a feeling or something on my mind, can kind of trigger flashes of memory. It’s like the core of the idea is threading a needle through my life, connecting all the moments that let to right here. The second verse of Light Sleeper is maybe the most obvious example of it, but it is really everywhere.  

A lot of Dark was written while touring. How did being on the move shape the album’s sonic or emotional direction?

What was nice about creating on the road, was that it felt so unserious - even though really meaningful work came out of it. When I got to the tour bus after a show and decided to open my laptop it was really pressure off. My main purpose was touring, whatever sounds come out of my laptop speaker is just for fun. You can go to more places in that kind of headspace.

Tracks like “True” and “Ghost in the Shell” carry this intense vulnerability—how do you decide what emotions or moments make it into your music?

I really don’t decide. Sometimes things just have to come out. 

Field recordings and ambient textures have always been part of your sound. How did you approach sound design on Dark?

I think I wanted more cohesion. Everything that I love happening at the same time. I would put so much effort into the ambient beginning of Ghost in the Shell for example, but I knew that it couldn’t be the end of the journey. The song had to come forward into a new space. That happened twice actually on that song. Once with the drums/electronic elements, and then once again with the guitars in the outro.

There's a subtle optimism throughout the project, even amidst the unease. Was that a conscious shift from previous work like no future or ICYMI?

The level of optimism I think more directly reflects my life than being a conscious decision. It’s how I’m seeing my world. 

You’ve mentioned feeling both “crushed” and “reborn” while making this album. What moments on the record reflect those extremes most clearly?

The contradiction of highs and lows was so essential to me. Most crushed moments while writing were probably Ghost in the Shell, the bridge of 5ever, Light Sleeper. Most reborn - At Once, Pocket (montreal), Quantuuuum.

How has your relationship with songwriting evolved since your early releases?

It’s been so strange. I was so heavy into it in my late teens. I wrote five choruses for End Credits like some k-pop hit factory might. Everything was hammered into perfect (subjective) form. Afterwards I had a pendulum swing the other way, wanting to deconstruct everything. First time I played my debut album for the label back then, the head of A&R’s response was “where are the choruses”. I was done with convention. I think I wanted everything to be pure inspiration for a while. Thoughtless in a way. Coaxed out rather than ground out. Funny enough I feel closer to how I felt in 2015 now. In a new way, but still it feels exciting.

Do you see Dark as closing a chapter or opening a new one in your artistic journey?

To be completely honest - I’m not sure. I think it felt like closing a chapter while I was making it. It’s been such a long road to get here. Right now maybe its the start?

How do you navigate creating deeply personal music in a time when everything feels instantly public and shared?

It’s really just my life. I couldn’t make it any other way. Theres a quote I loved about the internet in the 2020’s that said something along the lines of “nothing can be erased, but everything is immediately forgotten”. Every structure on the internet wants you to spend your life either creating disposable content, or consuming disposable content. And we have a choice to engage with that or not. This means the world to me. I never want to undermine that. 

What do you hope listeners take away from this album—emotionally, spiritually, or otherwise? 

I just hope people feel it. I hope people connect with it. They can draw their own conclusions. 

If Dark were a place, where would it be—and what would it sound like standing still in the middle of it?

The top of a vacant multi story car park at sunset. Overlooking the city. Rumble below - music blasting from cars and clubs blurs with the hum of the traffic. Above, the sky is turning purple and the breeze is warm.