It is 1986 in Venice. A man named Gigi Masin is sitting in a room surrounded by synthesizers, probably listening to the water lap against the canal walls outside. He records an album called Wind. He doesn’t have a record label. He doesn't have a marketing budget. He just presses a few hundred copies to give away at small concerts.
Then, a flood hits his house.
Most of the records are destroyed. For decades, the music of Gigi Masin is essentially a ghost, whispered about by vinyl collectors and sampled by people who know where to look. But one track survived the water and the silence to become a literal cornerstone of modern electronic and lo-fi music. That track is Gigi Masin Call Me.
The Slow Burn of a Cult Classic
If you've spent any time on the "vibey" side of YouTube or TikTok lately, you’ve probably heard "Call Me." It’s often slowed down, layered with reverb, or paired with grainy footage of anime characters looking out of train windows. There is a reason for that. The song feels like a memory you can't quite get a grip on.
When Masin recorded Gigi Masin Call Me, he wasn't trying to invent "lo-fi hip hop beats to study to." He was just an Italian composer trying to capture a specific type of melancholic stillness. The track is built on a simple, hypnotic piano loop and these ethereal, breathy vocals that sound like they're coming from another room.
Honestly, the story of how this song survived is as cinematic as the music itself. After the 1986 flood in Venice ruined most of the physical copies of Wind, the album became a "holy grail" for collectors. It wasn't until the 2010s that the internet really caught up. Music From Memory, a label known for digging up obscure gems, reissued his work and suddenly, everyone realized that this guy from Venice had been ahead of his time by about thirty years.
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Why Gigi Masin Call Me Hits So Hard
What makes this song different from a thousand other ambient tracks? It's the vulnerability.
Most ambient music is designed to be "furniture music"—something that sits in the background and doesn't bother you. But Gigi Masin Call Me demands a certain kind of emotional attention. The lyrics are sparse and repetitive, almost like a mantra: “Search me, find me, kiss me, call me.” It’s a plea. It’s lonely.
The structure is intentionally loose. Masin’s background wasn't in traditional pop songwriting; he spent years doing sound collages for radio and theater. He would play records backward or slow them down manually to see how the texture changed. You can hear that experimental "tape loop" feel in the song. It doesn't go from point A to point B; it just circles around a feeling until you’re fully immersed in it.
The Sample Trail
You might know the melody of Gigi Masin Call Me without even realizing it. Masin is one of the most sampled "unknown" artists in history.
- Björk used his music.
- Nujabes, the godfather of lo-fi, famously sampled Masin’s track "Clouds" for the song "Latitude."
- Countless underground producers have chopped up the piano from "Call Me" to create that specific, nostalgic atmosphere that defines the modern "chill" aesthetic.
While "Clouds" is arguably his most famous sample source, Gigi Masin Call Me is the one that people listen to when they want to feel something real. It has this raw, unpolished quality that is hard to replicate with modern software. It sounds like a human being in a room, not a sequence in a DAW.
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The Sound of Venice in the 80s
People often ask why Masin’s music sounds the way it does. He’s talked in interviews about how growing up in Venice influenced his sense of timing. In Venice, there are no cars. There is no traffic noise. The "rhythm" of the city is the sound of footsteps on cobblestones and the slow movement of the tide.
When you listen to Gigi Masin Call Me, you’re hearing that lack of hurry.
It’s music that breathes. In the mid-80s, while the rest of the world was obsessed with big hair, loud drums, and shiny FM synthesis, Masin was making something quiet and internal. It was a private rebellion against the noise of the decade.
Is it actually "Ambient"?
Labeling this track as just "ambient" feels kinda reductive. It has more soul than that. It’s got a jazz-like sensibility in the way the piano chords hang in the air. Some people call it "Balearic," which is a fancy way of saying it sounds like something you’d hear at a sunset beach club in Ibiza, but even that doesn’t quite fit.
It’s just Masin.
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How to Listen to Call Me Today
If you’re looking to dive into the world of Gigi Masin Call Me, don’t just settle for a 30-second clip on social media. The song is an experience that needs space.
- Find the original Wind version. The 1986 recording has a specific tape hiss and warmth that the digital remasters try to preserve but can never quite fully replicate.
- Check out the "Talk to the Sea" compilation. This was the 2014 release that basically saved Masin's career and introduced him to a new generation of listeners.
- Listen at night. This is not "getting ready for work" music. This is "staring out the window at 2 AM" music.
There’s also a lot of "slowed + reverb" versions floating around YouTube. While Masin himself is a fan of playing with speed and texture, the original version has a perfect internal clock that doesn't really need the extra effects.
The Lasting Legacy of a Flooded Record
It is wild to think that if that flood in Venice had been just a little bit worse, we might never have heard this song. Gigi Masin Call Me represents a bridge between the avant-garde experiments of the 70s and the lo-fi digital culture of today.
Masin didn't get famous when he was young. He didn't make a million dollars from Wind in 1986. He spent years working "regular" jobs, including a long stint as a radio DJ. But because the music was honest, it found its way out of the mud and into the ears of people who needed it decades later.
That’s the real power of a track like this. It wasn’t made for an algorithm. It wasn't made to "rank" or to go viral. It was made because a guy in a quiet city had something he needed to say to the silence.
To truly appreciate the depth of this work, go beyond the title track. Explore the rest of the Wind album, particularly "Tears of a Clown" and "Swallows' Tempest." You'll start to see a map of a very specific, very beautiful musical mind. If you're a producer, study how he uses space—sometimes what you don't play is more important than what you do.
Next Steps for Music Lovers:
- Listen to the full Wind LP on a high-quality streaming service or vinyl to hear the sequence as Masin intended.
- Explore Gaussian Curve, the trio Masin formed later in life, which carries the same DNA as his 80s work.
- Check out the Music From Memory catalog if you want to find more "lost" artists who share this specific, haunting aesthetic.