From an early age, UK-based producer Frameworks was inadvertently immersed into a world of creativity. His father, an artist for advertising agencies, would conjure up drawings straight out of his mind and into the hands of marketing executives. However, it was his mother who(seemingly out of nowhere) piqued his musical interests.




Frameworks remembers one holiday season when his mother allowed him and his brother to choose a musical instrument as a Christmas gift. “...he [his brother] was straight away like, guitar,” he recalls. “I sat on it for a couple of weeks and eventually said ‘I’d like a drum kit.”






Although his dedication to art and graphics would eventually lead him to art school, Frameworks pursued his percussion-led passion after joining a band where he played, you guessed it, the drums.




“We played a lot of Manchester venues and stuff like that, kind of small clubs and stuff like that,” he says of his time in a band. “It wasn’t on a big scale. It was just four guys thrashing it out.”




Having pivoted into music, Frameworks left art school and began developing his musical know-how, absorbing everything from performance to jazz and drumming. However, it was a production course that would form the foundation for Frameworks, the DJ and producer we know today.




“There was a module in one of my courses that was more production, and I just fell in love with it,” he expressed. “Just the fact that I could sit and create without having to rely on other people’s schedules and stuff like that. I was just blown away.”




After a brief stint at the renowned record label Ninja Tune, Frameworks knew his career would orbit the electronic music sphere.









“I think it just flipped my head the kind of people that were there. It was just crazy,” he says. “I actually met Diplo in the basement where they were sending out records.”




If you listen to the records that Frameworks produced early in his career, you will notice his musical influences permeate the airwaves. Percussion, strings, and haunting vocals were all part of his identity as a young producer.




“Coming into my music, it was from more of a live perspective,” he speaks on his earlier work. “So my earlier albums were laced with more live instrumentation, some strings, and stuff like that.”




Compare that to his latest album, Reflections, the change in tune is evident. Although the emotional attachment still resonates as it did in his debut EP, Vanish, there’s been a clear shift to more club-oriented releases.




When asked about his shift in sound, Frameworks alludes to his evolving ear saying, “My taste has changed. It’s just become a bit more dancefloor-oriented, especially after the pandemic.”






Frameworks joins countless electronic acts that have pivoted to a more upbeat sound post-pandemic. He recognizes this movement, saying, “I see this too, especially with the UK scene and UK garage coming back a bit,” he continues, “I wasn’t able to have those experiences. From DJing in Manchester quite often to then nothing. That was my fix, you know?”




A married father of three, Frameworks also refers to a shift in focus over the last few years. He credits his wife and children as inspiration for his recent concentration on his craft.




“I’ve always been quite prolific because I’m always writing, always creating something,” he says. “But the last four years I think really, I don’t know, really gone for it, you know what I mean?”




With a sharper focal point, Frameworks has been thriving in the festival circuit outside of his Manchester home. His intricate instrument-led productions have been heard from Costa Rica to Canada, amassing a legion of followers along the way.









Although his career has taken him across varied landscapes, there’s still much to accomplish. “I’d love to go on a big tour,” he exclaims. “I’ve never done a bus tour, so I’d love to tour in a bus. Just you know, support acts for someone big or something like that. I’d love to have the opportunity to do that.”




If Frameworks continues on this upward trajectory, soon enough he will be granted the chance to headline his own cross-country tour, bus and all.

















Frameworks

There's something wonderfully unclassifiable about Born Dirty's (aka Mika if you're friendly) music. His innovative and broad soundscapes are a musical melange ranging from the Afro-Latin "Samba Sujo" to the warped techy bass of "Crizpy" and the brightly buoyant nu-disco-tinged "Key To Me." Maybe it's his multicultural background at play. He was born in Israel to an Israeli mother and French father, his maternal grandmother is Algerian, paternal is Tunisian. Mika grew up in London and Paris, and lives in LA. Maybe it stems from the multi-genre musical roadmap he traversed in his youth, bouncing from UK rave to the goth rock of Bauhaus and East Coast golden era hip hop. Whatever it is, his singular ability to inject his music with distinctive cultural footnotes has given dance music over a decade of music that never fails to elicit incredible WTF moments that keep us dancing.

As he traces his family tree from Hungary to Sicily, the Czech Republic, and Russia, he explains that multiculturalism is a part of his DNA. He's naturally inclined to put it all in a blender while equally paying homage. He even does this when he cooks, he adds.




"In my music, if you dissect it, you might be able to hear that. My background with North Africa. Middle Eastern, for the rhythms and percussion. And then, the UK just has imprinted on me very heavily," Mika explains.




Music has always been omnipresent in Mika's life, and despite not having traditional instruments at home, his dad, who had played drums and guitar, found fun ways for the kids to make some noise.




"He would always get the pots and pans from the kitchen. We wouldn't be able to have drums, so it was just like, wooden spoons and then pots and pans. My dad's got rhythm! You can see he's a musician. He's never exploited that, because he couldn't because [of] life and choices. But I grew up in this environment where I had a dad that really was musical."

When Mika was 13, his sister's boyfriend gave him a guitar, opening a window to his raw, unfiltered talent for music. His room quickly filled with instruments and the sound of cover versions of his favorite songs. He wasn't great at school, but "I knew that I was good at music straight away. The path was super clear to me. That's all I wanted to do. I would go to bed and dream [of playing] in front of thousands of people."


In Indian religions, dharma gives an object its purpose, or as Mika explains, "The dharma is your path. It's what you're born to do. So, I know that's my dharma."




As his purpose became more evident, he was running with a group of youngsters who introduced him to underground raves and electronic music. He spent nights calling info lines from pay phones and hitting up map points that led to abandoned warehouses and distant forest clearings. He could feel his molecules rearranging to accept this new world of radically revolutionary music as he rolled up to these covert functions. And while the chase of the party was incredible, Mika always kept one foot in and one foot out.




"I was always making music, always playing instruments, always playing in bands, always singing—playing drums in one band, playing guitar in another, playing bass in another. Everyone at one point, you know, they didn't really like me, in a sense, because I was running thin. I wasn't really dedicated to anything in particular. But looking back, I've learned so much from that. When I moved to London, is really when I started to make electronic music."

Living on a meager salary, Mika devoted himself to creating. His first dance music projects were a mishmash of indie grunge vocals and hip-hop beats. He then took on the moniker Son Of Kick, a progenitor of early bass music and breaks. It was a creatively liberating time. He tells me that the music just flowed out of him. It was the first time he began to experience success, and he signed tracks to UK breaks stalwart Botchit & Scraper, SMOG, Buygore, and started his label Way Way Records.




The UK didn't embrace his music as much as US audiences did. And while he got the chance to tour in The States, he felt like it wasn't working. Crowds were more narrow-minded, and anytime he stepped out of "his lane" and maybe played something with a 4/4 beat, he got side-eyed.




"Eventually, I was like, fuck this man. I really didn't want to be in that scene anymore. Because I was like, 'This is so closed-minded.' I'm just going to start moving on, and I met Linden. And we started making music together."

Born Dirty was originally a collaborative project with Londoner Linden Jay. The music they made together was equally left of center. Their off-kilter beats made sense in a world where house music was shifting. Early heaters like "Misbehave," "Blind When I Dance," and "Daddy" carried a sound that was unique, percussive, and just a little bit dusty in the right way.



Mika always felt like he was just a bit ahead of the curve. It's something that's always been a tenant of his music. Case and point, his recent release, "So Big" on Thrive Records, is pulled chiefly from a track he wrote seven years ago.


"I just make music. I just jam and have a good time making things. I've been really shit at being on time." His way of explaining how he is ahead of the curve is wonderfully poetic and reflexive. "I don't have a good time making music that is for the purpose of being current."

Being naturally forward-thinking arises from his ability to contextualize his myriad influences. As Latin and Afro house continue to become even more everpresent, he's quick to point out that not only is this not a new phenomenon—Latin house goes back to the origins of dance music—it's also something that's forever been a part of his sonic DNA. And as he looks forward to broader musical horizons, he wants to create more diverse musical moments.




In late 2022 he posted a clip of him singing a cover of Low's "When I Go Deaf." Seeing Mika passionately belt something more indie-slanted surprised his thousands of followers. Knowing what I know now, however, it was more of a full-circle moment. The gentle glimpse into the world of his side project, Rose Ryot, was yet another signal of his immense talent, passion, and how one can make a career of peacefully driving down a musical highway with no lanes.
























Born Dirty

Ky William has an easy-going confidence about him. As a successful DJ, producer, label owner, and production teacher, he always has something going on. But despite having a packed schedule and mounting fame, he still seems relaxed and excited.




“I think having patience and discipline to not take everything that comes your way is important,” he says. “It all goes back to me wanting to be like, ‘I’m super pumped; let’s push super hard!’”






When we chat over a video call, he’s at home in Brooklyn, between shows for his first headlining tour. Until recently, this hometown hero has played most of his shows in NYC. Now as he preps for his next stop in Vancouver, he starts getting excited.




“You can only really tell so much from social media and streaming numbers, and it doesn’t really hit you until people come up to you like, ‘hey, listen to your music all the time. I really like what you’re doing!’ I’ve had some great success, but to actually see that in person is such a different feeling.”




Lately, Ky has been juggling weekend tour sets between music production, admin work for his label, and teaching classes about production and sound design. Mondays are his days off. It’s a steady schedule, one that keeps Ky focused and inspired.




With music underpinned by deep grooves and killer beats, Ky has built a reputation as one of New York’s premier selectors and most promising music producers. His expertly crafted blend of UK tech and deep house has earned him support and play time alongside industry titans Jamie Jones, Loco Dice, The Martinez Brothers, and Danny Tenaglia. If Ky seems to have a strong vision, it’s because he’s had years to refine it.




While growing up in the rich cultures of Brooklyn, Ky started DJing local weddings and bar mitzvahs with the guidance of a family friend when he was 12. Once in college, he moved up to playing local fraternity parties and bar nights. He eventually worked his way up to a monthly residency in Atlantic City. This steady growth allowed Ky to take time with his sets, fall in love with dance music, and learn the tricks of being a grade-A DJ and selector.




“I think you should be prepared to play a room at any time, no matter what it is,” he says. “Educate yourself on the music, go to the events, make yourself aware of what’s going on, and see how people are playing and how the crowd reacts. I think that’s something that really helps people understand what this is all about. It’s not only being an artist but also being part of the community.”




After spending years behind the decks, Ky decided to start producing. One night, after an Anjunadeep showcase at the Brooklyn Mirage lit a spark in him, he went home, bought Ableton, and stayed up all night making music.






With a love for deep, groovy sounds, Ky brings an emotive undercurrent to his songs, something beneath the surface that you can’t quite pin down. It’s allusive, but it makes the music that much more compelling. His songs carry a solid structure, a 4x4 beat with rock-steady high hats, but he adds innovative, interesting flourishes, like the glitchy hops in his first single, “Rabbit Hole.”




Ky is a music lover and a dance fan, so he understands what fans need on the dancefloor. He’s producing with them in mind, trying to connect with them. As a DJ first and producer second, he knows his strengths and weaknesses in the production booth.




“People who are DJs first typically understand how a dance record should be arranged and made. However, I think it also limits their creative side,” he says. “I’ve been trying to teach myself to let go of some of those rules.”






Shortly after he started producing, Ky acquired a record label. When he met fellow Brooklyn producer Ramsey Neville during the COVID-19 lockdowns, he joined him in running the freshly created Andhera Records. At the time, Ky only had one record out. But he knew good music, and he had a passion for learning. Before long, he was running the label on his own.




“I just want to put out good music that I honestly believe in, and more importantly, with artists that I resonate with and get along with,” Ky says. “I also think it’s important for labels to keep their sound evolving. It’s good for the culture, in general, to pump new ideas and inspiration into other artists that are listening.”




Ky William loves dance music and the culture behind it. And in his eyes, the more accessible we can make production and performance tools, the better. He’s even begun hosting his own workshops on production, DJing, and A&R around Brooklyn, aiming to support blooming creators.




“What really excites me is that it’s so much easier for people to get involved,” he says. “You don’t really need anybody besides yourself anymore. There’s so much good technology. There are a lot of successful people out there who are all self-made and never worked with a record label. They do it all themselves.”




But make no mistake, Ky knows that this isn’t for everyone. Success in the music industry means dedication, perseverance, and most importantly, passion.




“I think the strong always prevail and the ones who are in it for the wrong reasons will get weeded out eventually. But just be consistent. Stay dedicated. If you’re consistent enough and you believe in what you do. you’ll be fine.”
































































































Ky William

Despite being a relative newcomer to the dance music scene, the accomplishments of Azzecca are lengthy and a sign of a star in the making.

Her small but mighty catalog includes releases with Diplo's Higher Ground and Gorgon City's Realm—just a sample of the many high-profile artists supporting Azzecca. Her DJ sets are known to defy genre, and her prolific ability behind the decks has allowed her to share the stage with a diverse range of artists, from Tale of Us to Jamie Jones and everyone in between.



It might be hard to believe that someone who so recently began a career in music has found so much success. Yet, there are many factors as to why Azzecca has found the transition from interior design to DJing to be relatively seamless.

"I feel like my entire childhood has a soundtrack from both my parents," she explains with a smile about her musical upbringing. "My dad was super into classic rock and so I grew up listening to Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, and Bob Seger. My mom was super into the whole synth-pop era, Eurythmics or Blondie and that really feminine fun dance music back then. I've got an older brother and he was really into hard rock music. Rage Against the Machine, Radiohead… So I've just been listening to all different types of music my whole life."



In addition to the influences of her family, Azzecca discovered electronic rock at a young age which ultimately began her eventual turn to house. Pink Floyd and Nine Inch Nails gave way to dubstep, followed by big room, and eventually mainstage dance music. A natural instrumentalist, she played a variety of instruments throughout her childhood. After moving to Chicago from the suburbs of Illinois she dove deeper into house music.



"I started digging into the history of house music and where it started here in Chicago, but also the roots of it in the UK. I found that house music is what really stuck with me. Then from there, I moved into techno and now, I'm in this sweet spot between house and techno where there's a never-ending amount of music for me to listen to. When I moved back to Chicago, I just immediately dove into the house scene. My entire life just started revolving around dance music and Chicago, and learning all about the roots of house music in Chicago, and going to see Derrick Carter at Queen as much as I possibly could. I'm so happy that I live here and it's really shaped who I am as an artist in a lot of ways."



With that inspiration as a backbone, she eventually began to work on producing and, luckily, had a more than competent mentor at home. Azzecca's husband, Kye Gibbon, is a prolific producer, sound engineer, and one-half of Gorgon City. He was able to provide advice and instruction to help her translate her ideas.



"I was just sitting in the studio with him all day every day, and I would give him my idea as I play some guitar. I'd play some chords and as time went on it was more like 'okay, these are really sick ideas, but I can't use these because they don't fit with my music.' And so he basically said to me one day, 'you really need to try and do this yourself.' So then I did and I just worked and worked and worked until something came together that I felt proud of. That's when I started working on actually making tracks myself, and my first song that I got signed was with Higher Ground… that was a song that I actually just made with no intention of ever releasing. I didn't think I ever wanted to release my own music."



Although it might sound obvious, the concept of making music to play in her sets ultimately helped Azzecca break through. Her edits and originals began circulating amongst known DJs, with their club-ready energy appealing to acts like Diplo. After he began supporting, all Azzecca had to do was send her demos to Higher Ground, and the rest was history. Her efforts to make DJ set-friendly music and her unique musical background ultimately led Azzecca to become known for diverse, genre-switching, high-energy DJ sets.



"I don't stick to one genre. I like going left and right, up and down. I'm doing heavy things into really light things. That's what I always like to listen to, So I want to take people on a journey through a bunch of different emotions and feelings in my set."



As her journey into stardom began, Azzecca also focused on creating safe spaces for women to enjoy nightclubs. When COVID happened, she paused everything and felt the need to reassess her career. During this time, she not only decided to pursue DJing and music production, but also
discussed with female peers the increasing difficulty and discomfort they experienced in nightclubs. She sought to take action, starting Dirty Disco, a fem-friendly nightclub experience.

"I started Dirty Disco in an effort to just create a more female friendly night. A more inclusive night where everyone can come and know no one's going to put up with B.S. There's not going to be a bunch of creepy guys here because they know not to bother coming because we're all on the lookout for it. It also gave me an opportunity to design spaces, so every party we throw I design myself. I'm in there hanging flowers, and hanging disco balls for the party. It's an opportunity for me to bring all of these things that I love together, and to also build a community in Chicago that all revolves around music."



For most artists, releasing on Diplo's label, playing major shows, and founding a blossoming party brand in Chicago would be considered career achievements. For Azzecca, this is simply the beginning. Her future is limitless, and her excitement for her career is only matched by her excitement for the future of dance music.



"People are really open to discovering new sounds which gives people who are making music more creative freedom. You don't have to pigeonhole yourself, I'm going to make tech house or I'm going to make techno. I want to experiment with sounds like breakbeat, or Drum & Bass. There is now a whole new pool of people that are interested in those sounds and discovering them which is so exciting."


Azzecca

Justin Marchacos is one of the most exciting upcoming house and techno artists out of New York City. With roots originating in film, the triple threat composer, producer, and performer's unorthodox journey into dance music led him from composing music for award-winning independent films to becoming a resident of the premiere dance music events outfit, Cityfox and dropping dark, driving and beautifully cinematic releases on Desert Hearts Black and Sven Väth's Cocoon.

For many years Justin composed ambient soundtracks for award-winning documentaries and films. Not your average 9-5, he explained that it wasn't even something he studied in a formal setting. Despite taking piano lessons as a kid, which he hated, and writing intricate string and orchestral arrangements for film, he doesn't remember how to read music. All of his success is due to an incredible ear. In middle school, the self-taught multi-instrumentalist learned to play the guitar, drums, and bass.



Despite a flourishing career in the film industry, electronic music had always captured his interest. At first, it was under the guise of hip-hop, which shares a historical link to dance music and many of the same production techniques. He produced, aside his principal work, as a hobby. He says that the hip-hop scene was thick in his hometown of Denver, Colorado, and as a dancer and graffiti artist, he was embedded.

It wasn't until one night when he saw one of his heroes, DJ Premier, that his life would change forever. For those unfamiliar, DJ Premier is one of the most influential producers in hip hop. He was a part of the foundational Gang Starr duo with Guru, and his repertoire includes hits for Jay-Z, Notorious B.I.G, Nas, and many more.



After the show, Justin went on stage to talk to Premiere. At the time, Marchacos was considering moving to New York to become a hip-hop producer.



'"Hey man, I'm a really big fan. Can I ask you a question? If you could give me one piece of advice, what would it be?" Justin remembers asking the hip-hop icon.



Premier responded, "You make music you think that I would like. You make music that you think I would actually like and play. And you don't settle for anything less."



It forced Justin to reconsider his direction. "So I had to be honest with myself, would DJ Premier like this? No, he wouldn't like this. I keep what he said in the back of my head, so whoever my favorite producers/DJs were at the time, I kept in mind what he said."



It took over a decade following that night for Justin to finally get his music to a level where record labels would consider releasing it. First, he had an EP signed to Cityfox. Then they asked him to perform a live set on New Year's Eve of 2014.



He had never performed anywhere, not even a house party. Justin prepped his set for months. Then, the day before the show, as Justin ate lunch in his neighborhood, he saw DJ Premier sitting across from him at the restaurant. Unable to deny the work of fate, Justin walked over to speak to him.



He told Premiere the story, explaining how impactful that night had been. "If it wasn't for that advice you gave me," he said, "I wouldn't be where I am today." They exchanged phone numbers, became great friends, and now their studios are a few blocks apart.



The CityFox New Year's live performance proved to Justin that performing was where his heart lay. He played for over 2000 people and absolutely loved it. He realized that moving forward, performing was where he would direct his energy.



"It's great seeing films with your music in, but it's much more fun performing to a live audience," Justin told Gray Area.

Asking any successful individual who their influences are, provides some interesting, sometimes surprising, answers. So when I asked Justin about this, he hesitated.

"I always have a tough time answering this question. I listen to all kinds of stuff. So I honestly don't have an answer to who is my biggest influence."

I rephrased, and instead asked what his biggest driving force to create is.

"Performing for sure. A lot of people were making a lot of productions during the pandemic, but I lost all my motivation during that time because I couldn't imagine performing. If I can't imagine the space of performing then I have a hard time creating. I love communicating with people through my music. I'm not a DJ at all, every bit of music I play and perform is all my own, every single drum sound, every single thing. While there are a lot of live sets like mine that are really freestyled with a lot of machines. I actually prepare pretty much the entire thing from start to finish and practice it and create a real story from start to finish. I've got it planned out. I enjoy watching everyone get involved in my story and me going on the same journey too," he explains emphatically.



"I'm making music that's my favorite music. I want to make music that I enjoy more than anything else, otherwise what am I doing? When I play I'm drenched in sweat. I move like crazy. I never play the same way twice. I always create and prepare a brand new thing every time. I love going on a journey and communicating with people without saying a word. I sometimes have a hard time talking to people for an hour after I play, because for so long I was communicating in this other language."

Justin's performance style is certainly unique, and this seems to originate not only from his innate creativity but simultaneously his career in composition.



"It's impossible to separate them. It took me longer to pull some of that cinematic stuff out of my music. I had a period of time where there was too much of this cinematic, moody stuff with big breakdowns and epic sections where it was just too much. I had to figure out how to strip it back and under-compose. But 100% both are a part of me forever."

After such an impressive and eclectic career thus far, Justin is excited to look toward the future.

"I wanna keep pushing the envelope of boldness. Big and bold memorable tracks that stand the test of time, that aren't too trendy. There's a lot of trends in music that everyone gets drawn to but I think you've gotta be careful of that."

So watch out for this New York powerhouse gracing a stage near you. It is only just the beginning for Justin Marchacos.



Justin Marchacos

Between a fabric residency, US tours, and the launch of his Midnight Parade label, Jaden Thompson has covered a lot of ground for a 20-something house music DJ and producer. To be fair, though, he had a head start.



The Swindon-born, Manchester-based artist started learning to produce music at only 11 years old. “I’ve always been interested in music since I was very young, and that sort of just came from listening to all sorts of soul music, funk, R&B, hop-hop,” he tells Gray Area. “And then I slowly became interested in making music.”



His first exposure to production came courtesy of Timbaland’s Playstation Portable game called Beaterator. “I was making beats, putting together loops and trying to make hip-hop/R&B,” he says. “And then I slowly got into house through YouTube, Boiler Room, that sort of stuff, and then got more involved.”



It’s true: Jaden Thompson set his sights on house music before he was old enough to set foot in a club. When, at last, he was able to experience dance music in its proper setting, he got his first taste at the Warehouse Project in Manchester.



Jaden was only 16 or 17 when he got to see Seth Troxler and The Martinez Brothers perform at Store Street, considered by many to be the spiritual home of the Warehouse Project series. Around the same time, he delivered his debut release, the All Day EP, via Cuttin’ Headz. Stripped-back and to the point, each track on the effort reflected an innocence reminiscent of early Chicago house records.



Not long afterwards, Jaden’s parents took him to see Seth play once again at nightlife destination DC10 during their family trip to Ibiza. It just so happened that Seth’s parents were present as well. The two made a strong connection, and Seth continues to play a key role in Jaden’s career to this day.



“He's like a mentor, and a friend to me as well,” Jaden says. “He’s just been very supportive of my career. I feel like he’s very much trying to help push forward the young dance music scene, not just myself but other artists.”

Jaden Thompson landed his first gig at the Bay Bar Beach Club in San Antonio, Ibiza, and then he played one-off sets in Newcastle and Nottingham. After racking up releases on labels like New State Music and Material Trax, he turned a major corner in his career. At only 20 years old, he became a resident DJ of world-famous London club fabric.



“It was around the time when they were looking for new Friday night residents,” Jaden recalls. “And Ellis Coles, who's actually now my one of my managers, he works for fabric. He approached me about becoming a resident, and this was actually before he started managing me. It was such an amazing honor, and I was very shocked, as well, to get it so early on in my career.”



Jaden credits his fabric residency as teaching him how to hold a crowd’s interest once he’s caught their attention. He says, “Creating the vibe is one thing, but actually maintaining it and keeping the crowd entertained for hours is another, especially when you only play like an hour and a half to two hours, which is what I was used to.”





When the COVID crisis put nightlife on hold, Jaden Thompson shifted his focus back to his first love, music production. His single “Closer” landed on Three Six Zero Recordings, and “Only One” arrived by way of Kitsuné Musique.



Then, shortly after nightlife resumed, Jaden made a power move. He launched his artist imprint Midnight Parade with “Move Your Body,” a single he said was influenced by the likes of Kerri Chandler, Derrick Carter, and Omar S.



“Starting my own label was something I've been wanting to do for a long time; I was sort of debating for a while whether it was the right time to start it,” Jaden recalls. “And I just thought you know, there's never really a wrong time to start it.”



On the contrary — his timing couldn’t have been better. In October of the following year, Jaden Thompson embarked on his first of many US tours. From Spybar Chicago to Art Basel in Miami, Stateside dance music fans welcomed his distinctive sound signature with open arms.



Jaden says US crowds can be quite different from those of the UK. “In some areas, they’re more switched on and aware of the underground scene, not just the more commercial side,” he says. “But certain places, like Miami and New York, are among my favorite places that I’ve been able to play.”

But perhaps one of the biggest full-circle moments in Jaden Thompson’s career came when he got to play back to back with his mentor, Seth Troxler, in fabric for nine whole hours in 2022. “It was incredible,” he recounts. “One of my favorite nights.”



Having come such a long way by his mid-20s, is Jaden ready to rest on his laurels and ride into the sunset? Not even close. He’s only at the start of his journey, with bigger and better things lying out on the horizon ahead.

Jaden Thompson

British DJ and producer Chapter & Verse (né Barry Pearson) may have only released his first record, "Dreams," in 2020, but his relationship with house is well-worn. His music floats between the halcyon days of the late 90s rave and Balearic era while bubbling with a fiercely future-forward aesthetic. Soaring melodics and syrupy vocals swirl amidst grinding drums and rolling funky basslines. And when you consider that the first time he ever touched a set of decks was in 2000, it's easy to see why he can so effortlessly exist in these two eras.




"I remember the first two tracks that I ever mixed together were on a set of my friends 1210s," he tells me from his UK studio. “Tiesto’s ‘Adagio For Strings’ and ‘For An Angel’ Paul van Dyk.”






He explains that while he may not have spent those years following his first turntable encounter pursuing dreams of becoming a globe-trotting DJ, he maintained a healthy relationship with club life in the UK and was a frequent visitor to Ibiza. However, despite being a professional raver, it took him nearly two decades to realize that his connection to dance music was more visceral and tangible than he had ever imagined.



It's not that Pearson's only connection to music was on the dancefloor. Quite the contrary. As a child, his parents exposed him to the impassioned arias of Pavarotti, the psychedelic grunge of 70s rock, and the legendary musicals of London's West End.




"I used to sing in musicals when I was younger," he remembers. "My mom was kind of an amaeteur singer, so she always put on West End musicals."




The love of performance and being a vessel for music laid dormant in him for years until 2018, when Pearson says his inner performer reawakened after a string of back-to-back parties.






"I went to a [Michael] Bibi show and then an elrow show very close to the same time, and it kind of reignited a passion that I've had for all my life," he explains with the smile that's almost always on his face. "It reignited a passion I had for art."




The next stop on his musical reawakening was backstage at a Cloonee show, "All my friends are friends with him and know him from Sheffield, which is where I'm from. I kind of thought, 'this is wicked!' And then a few of my friends were like, 'come to Ibiza, you'll come backstage with us.'"




In Ibiza that summer, as he re-experienced the clubs he'd grown up partying in from the vantage point of the performer, and realized he could see himself there, controlling the dancefloor.




Pearson doesn't mince words when talking about the hurdles of getting into the music industry after having spent half a lifetime clocking in and out of a day job. "I think it is a lot more difficult when you are older to try and break through the barriers and the gatekeepers," he explains candidly. However, he's not terribly concerned with cliques, how others make their moves, or how they perceive his. "From the very beginning, I always knew what I wanted to do, and I always believed that I could do it in myself."



That feeling of self-belief and dogged perseverance were paramount to his success. There have been times in the past few years when Pearson just made shit happen, come what may. His aforementioned encounter on the turntables was quite literally some of his only experience as a DJ. And for most fledging DJs, that lack of experience would only get you a 9 pm timeslot at the local bar. For Pearson, it was a challenge to open for one of dance music's hottest acts, Meduza.




"My friend was running a night in Sheffield about three and a half years ago, and I made up that I was a DJ. I'd never touched a controller before. I touched 1210s a few times, but I never touched a controller." He says he went out three weeks before the show and bought a Pioneer controller. "I learned to DJ—some would disagree—but I learned to mix two songs together in about an hour, and then did that every single day for twenty-one days until I played with Meduza."



He took a similarly unconventional approach to sign his first record. Instead of sending a set of demos to 3-5 record labels. He sent them to 20,000 labels whose emails he pulled from the online directory Labelbase. It's a massive undertaking, and he says it took him months, but you miss 100% of the shots you don't shoot. And it's this level of steadfast determination that has turned so many heads in such a short period of time.

Commitment and dedication are necessary for any music job, Especially when you are up against so much noise. Chapter & Verse hasn't just been successful at breaking through it. He's excelled. In the three years since his first release, he's dropped a staggering 80 releases, including remixes for dance legend Dave Aude, Russian bass house titans VOLAC, releases on Repopulate Mars, Insomniac, Night Service Only, REALM, Atlantic Records, Solotoko, and a publishing deal with Ultra Music.




"I think it's about the commitment and the desire to want to do it. I work every day from seven in the morning till twelve at night [on] something to do with music. I've done it all myself till now." And while his recent signing to Red Light Management will make the load lighter, he's comfortable knowing that he will remain dedicated to his craft and the community of fans he's coalesced around the world. "I've watched every single follower of those sixty-odd thousand. Every single one, and it's a question of commitment and a question of being, you know, I am so committed and so focused on achieving."













































Chapter & Verse

A seminal figure of our time, DJ Hanzel is a German producer prodigy who transcends the ideas of a traditional artist’s desires. His discography symbolizes his ongoing quest to plumb the cavernous expanse of the house genre, with each song going one deeper than before.


DJ Hanzel has explored the depths of dance music in anti-everything, his newly-released debut album, which his longtime nemesis Dillon Francis has once again stolen credit for. Co-released with Francis due to unjust copyright laws, anti-everything is a tribute to Hanzel’s quiet confidence.


The artist effuses that the music is not to be heard, metaphorically mimicking the wings of the owls Hanzel grew close to as a child on his parent’s farm in Düsseldorf. These owls unwittingly empowered Hanzel to pursue his dream of eliminating Kraftwerk’s influence from the pop culture stratosphere, leading the budding musician to begin crafting work challenging the offensive band’s lack of depth.


In an illuminating conversation, Hanzel discusses his background as a reality TV star and commercial jingle writer. He also sets the record straight on the injustices he claims Dillon Francis is currently committing against him.




Hanzel, thank you so much for joining me today.




Thank you for having me. Sadly, I wish it was under better circumstances, but here we are.




I’m so sorry to hear about your release. I did have a couple of questions about it, if you’re okay with me asking.




Of course, that’s why we’re here, to set the record straight.




How did you, a young man from Düsseldorf, go from “Germany’s Most Naked Accidents” to the release of your first full-length album, anti-everything?




Yes, well, the transition from being naked and having an accident to being fully clothed and doing something intentional was definitely a hard one to make. But I don’t want to give away too many secrets. I guess what I would say is that if you’re naked, and watching this or reading this right now by accident, there is hope.




Being on that show somehow seems better than being on MILF Manor, so I think to come from that to where you are now is inspiring. So, I don’t know how to say this, but I did listen to your music—




Argh.




I know, I know. I didn’t know how that was going to go. I was wondering, though, why does Dillon Francis get a co-writing credit on this, your magnum opus?




The reason for Dillon Francis’s credit is purely a legal matter based around freakish copyright laws that were made up thousands of years ago that should be fixed. But I’ve sent a team of lawyers to search the ancient Bedouin Caves in the Arabian Peninsula. So until I hear from them, I will have to stay silent, legally, against Dillon Francis because I will not tolerate this. And I still think he is wrong.




How are they going to tell you from the cave?




Well, they’re in the Bedouin Caves to look at certain laws from even further back then, because right now we’re dealing with copyright laws from the 19… somethings? Maybe the laws back then were even crazier. And maybe better? Then I could sue Dillon Francis again for what he has done to me.

I did read a little bit about your background. Growing up, I know you were super close with your family’s owls on the owl farm.




Yes, very close.




I heard that they inspired you a lot as a musician.




Yes, very much. As you know, you can’t actually hear owls flap their wings, which I think is probably one of the deepest things about owls.




I had no idea, but that makes a lot of sense, considering your music. Much like an owl, it shouldn’t be heard.




Exactly.




So, with this in mind, since these owls inspire so much for you, I have a couple of photos of Germany’s most beautiful owls here. I’d really love to show these to you.




Let’s look at these owls.




If you could tell me a feeling, or maybe even a sound that comes from them that you love in your music, that would be so beautiful.







This owl holds a lot of shame. But that will be good for him later in life because it will empower him, I believe.







This owl is clearly in a loveless marriage. And it is a coward. That’s what I see about this one.




That’s so funny because he’s recently divorced.




Good for him. Maybe he’ll be happier later.




Thank you so much. I feel like I learned a lot about your creative process there. You seem very tapped in with the owls.




I am. I spent a lot of time with them. Sometimes I like to go and record them for six hours a day, because you know, there’s inconsistencies in the way they walk, move, you have to stay there for a long time to make sure you get the right note you want from the talons because I don’t like to change the notes at all. Once the talon hits, if it’s a C, I have to produce the song in C. If it’s in A, I have to produce the song in A. If it’s F, I have to produce the song in F.




That’s nice. It takes away a lot of the stress of having to choose.




Absolutely.




Have you ever considered being paid in OWL token to compete with your nemesis Dillon Francis’s Bored Ape payment last year?




This is a great question, but I have a better question that I would like to first ask you.




Of course.




What the hell are you talking about? And also, this is a rhetorical question, so next question.






Okay. Fair enough. Your hatred of Kraftwerk is a big part of why you do what you do. I know you want to go one deeper than this group. Can you tell me about a time when you went deeper than ever before? And how did you achieve that deepest depth no one has ever reached?




I’ve thought about this a lot, and I don’t think I’ve gone to that moment yet. The deepest moments that I hold very close to my chest I will perhaps write about in a book one day, and you can read it. But know this, when you open the book, it will do the same thing that the Arc of the Covenant—you know the Arc of the Covenant, from the Indiana Jones films? It will do the same—it will capture the same emotion that film captured for me. And that’s what I can tell you about the deepest moment in my life. I will not tell you about it, but maybe one day it will be written in a book.




Do you feel like that’s the same as telling someone something if you write it down?




Words speak louder than actual talking, I think.




I agree. Spoken word is out.




It’s out. Written word is in.

Before you focused on the hatred of Kraftwerk, I know that you also wrote a bunch of jingles for German commercials like Soured-Os. How did your experience writing these lyrics transfer to your electronic songwriting?




Just remembering the lyrics of “it’s the cereal that is bread” gets me very emotional, as you can clearly see on my face. Not a single syllable wasted, for it is truly the cereal that is bread. I guess my hope one day is that I’m able to craft something that reaches this high watermark again.




What are your other jingles you wrote? What are your favorites? Other than Soured-Os.




Oh, what was the one… it was about when you die… I forgot the lyrics. I’m fully enveloped in the cereal that is bread. I think that was the pinnacle of my TV career in music.




Hard to beat.




It is hard to beat. It’s so straightforward. It tells you what it is. All these people try to tiptoe around what things are, like sugar-free. Is it really sugar-free? No, they’re liars. This tells you exactly what it is. It’s cereal that is bread. Not gluten-free. We don’t care. No. We are true to who we are.




It’s got heaps of gluten, and truth.




It’s got heaps! So much gluten. If someone with a gluten allergy ate it, they might die. We even put that on the box.




Good riddance. Get their weak GIs out of the system.




Exactly, I’m sick of it.




I’m so glad we could share that, set that record straight. We’re setting a lot of records straight today.




We are.




Okay, this is a bit controversial, but let’s say you were going to fight Dillon Francis, maybe in an octagon or a large arena of some sort. What strategies would you use in this hypothetical fight? For legal purposes—we have not set up a fight. There will be no fighting. But, as an idea, how would you fight him?




So this is a hypothetical. It cannot actually happen?




Yes, yes.




Bummer, okay. What does Dillon Francis have against me? What is he using?




You both have the same tools at your disposal. So you seem to know how Dillon thinks. Because you hate him so much, you’re very tapped into how he might act.




Yes, so what would happen in Dillon’s mind is he would hear the word “gladiator,” and then he would try to choose maybe a battle axe or sword. So I would choose a gun. Next.




You would kill it in US politics.




Thank you.




So one day, if you want to run—you know what, scratch that, we’ll talk about it after this.




I will never get into politics, don’t worry.




Okay, thank God. I mean, it would be good, but don’t.




No. I will not do it.




Who do you think is the most offensive member of Kraftwerk, and why?




The audience! For encouraging such terrible nonsense! Perhaps you’ve already heard, there is a statistic about Kraftwerk. Every single person who has ever gone to a Kraftwerk show went to do something very, very bad. I wish it were a lie, but it is not, and you can look it up.




You know what? I believe you. I trust your word. I know that you’d never lie to me.




Never.




So I don’t even need to look it up. That’s so poetic. To be complicit in something so not deep is an offense in itself.




It is. I’m disgusted with their fans. Disgusting! Just committing very bad things. Very bad. I don’t even know what they are. But they’re bad. And it’s written. Somewhere. Online.




I’m sure. Somebody’s got it. People have cell phones.




Maybe don’t look at the author who wrote it, when you look, because it’s definitely a medical professor. You wouldn’t even be able to read his name properly. But it’s not me. I didn’t write it.




What do you hope that your… fans? Should we say fans? What do you like to call the people who disobey you and listen to your music?




Well, I cannot fault them for doing things that are wrong. They are my equals. I would still gladly shake their hands. I know that all they want to do is go deep. But, to the fans that chose to be disrespectful and listen to my album, I should hope that when I see them in real life and do shake their hands, that they would apologize to me for their mistakes. You should not consume what is meant to not be consumed. I’ve said this over and over. My album is not to be consumed. If people need something to understand to be consumed, I could list off a couple of things. A football match, a book about apes, and a two-liter bottle of Pepsi. Those are all things you could consume, and I have actually consumed all those things today. I could consume more. Those are just things off the top of my head.




Did you eat the book?




I did not eat the book. I consumed the knowledge in the book about apes.




So your brain was eating.




Yes.




Perfect. Thank you so much for telling me that. I feel a lot better since I did listen, and I would like to repent. So I’m going to go check out a book about apes, not look up facts about what Kraftwerk fans do after shows, and not listen to your music.




Thank you so much. I appreciate the apology.




Anytime. Well, Hanzel, it was a pleasure speaking to you today. Thank you for sharing with me how deep you can really get.




Thank you. I’m glad we could set the record straight on a lot of things, and I guess if there’s one last thing I’d like to say, never listen to Dillon Francis’s music. He’s not deep, and I hope he never has babies.




And that’s fair.





























DJ Hanzel

Thomas Schumacher has weathered almost four decades of changes in electronic music since he first discovered it as a youth. These days the longstanding techno DJ and producer has the relaxed confidence of knowing that neither he, nor the music he loves, is going anywhere.




This calmness is a characteristic Schumacher shares with his fellow OCs or “original creators” in the techno genre, which, in the early days of electronic dance music, burned up the dancefloors and came with reverential respect for its producers and DJs. The genre fell out of favor for a spell, but its creators and followers carried on doing what they were doing—Schumacher being one of them. Then, another shift occurred, and techno became the coolest of electronic dance music genres, a position it continues to occupy.






“It’s still a wild roller coaster,” says Schumacher speaking from his home in Berlin, the techno capital of the globe. “When we started out, it was just techno. Throughout the ’90s, these sub genres happened, and people got confused. Techno was not the hot thing anymore. Same thing being a DJ. I went through times when people looked down on me, then they looked up to me. But now, I feel like techno is fully established. It has become this amazing canvas for people to project onto. If you ask people, what is techno to you, you will get ten different answers from ten different people. It’s something rather cool people want to identify with.”




Schumacher recognized cool as soon as he heard Depeche Mode’s 1983 album, Construction Time Again, which was recommended to him by a clerk in a record store in his hometown of Bremen, Germany. Construction Time Again was the gateway drug, as it were, for Schumacher’s discovery of new music. He soon found himself returning to synth-rich and drum machine-heavy tracks. Then, in the same record store where he discovered Depeche Mode, the clerk handed him his first acid house 12”, and Schumacher was ready to make music.




He got an afterschool job and saved to purchase costly equipment. Once again, a clerk, this time in the music store, guided Schumacher in the right direction.

“Everything was expensive,” Schumacher says. “Gathering information took so much time. Even simple things, like how to connect your gear, were really complicated. It took me years to find the right person to teach me. On the other hand, the benefit is you learn the trade properly. These days, everything is immediately available. It’s too easy. Too much information, too many choices, and people are overwhelmed. Then, everything was more difficult and took more time, but I think it gave me the chance to learn things from scratch.”




It was a natural step for Schumacher to start DJing to test out the music he was making. Once again, it was the clerk in the music store that helped Schumacher buy the correct—albeit very low-quality—turntables.




“They were not made for DJs,” recalls Schumacher. “It was so difficult, and it took me so much longer, but it also forced me to become really good at it. After two years, I mastered beat matching with these shitty turntables. The first time in a club when I had the proper Technics, it was super easy for me. “

Schumacher and a friend approached the promoter of the local house club about DJing, who strongly rebuffed them for wanting to bring techno to the venue. So they started their own party and quickly scaled up.



A year later, the same promoter who turned Schumacher away courted him to become a resident at his club. Here Schumacher learned the craft of DJing by playing six to eight-hour sets. And if he messed up, he heard about it. “The guy that ran the club was super-controlling,” Schumacher recalls. “He worked behind the bar and had a remote control for the sound system. When we messed up a DJ transition, he would mute the sound system and yell at us. It was so embarrassing.




“He was quite strict,” he continues. “No drugs while you’re working but also no alcohol. You can drink a beer every now and then, but no shots. Compared to these days, it was a completely different mindset. He could be a pain in the ass but at same time, he forced us to focus and helped me to hone my skills. I give him credit for that.”




Schumacher witnessed the music he was involved with going from obscure to mainstream over a few short years. “The last two or three Love Parades in Germany had over a million people,” he says. “I played on one of the trucks. We had come from super underground events with 150 people in a little cellar somewhere to this, and I’m an integral part of the scene. It filled me with a profound sense of pride.”

When Schumacher released his first productions on independent German labels, he says it “Gave me such confidence. I remember holding my music pressed on vinyl in my hands, making me a legit producer.”



In 1997 his track “When I Rock” debuted on Manchester’s very credible Bush Records. Carl Cox picked up on it, played it on his BBC Radio show, and according to Schumacher, “He just kept playing it, and I believe he singlehandedly broke the record, and it became this worldwide hit.” This leveled up Schumacher’s career from local DJ to internationally recognized name.




“When I was traveling, I realized a lot of people connect techno with Germany—even though it is a global phenomenon,” says Schumacher. “I was invited by the Goethe Institute, which represents German culture, to Mexico to talk about techno music and there were 1000 people in the auditorium. These moments feel great. Not that I need official recognition, but when you receive it, it is beautiful. It also gives you this reassurance that techno is not going to go away.”




While techno is global, Schumacher’s record labels tend to be location-specific. His first label, Spiel-Zeug Schallplatten was Bremen-based, and his second label Electric Ballroom is Berlin-bound. In between, Schumacher released music on Get Physical, Noir Music, Drumcode, Superstar Records, among others, including a stint as a major label artist, an experience he is not keen to revisit. Schumacher’s output has leaned toward singles, but he has put out his fair share of albums, although he may not do so again.




“Doing albums gave me a chance to show all sides of myself as a producer,” says Schumacher. “But every time I did an album, I felt like I was forcing myself to do it. I was told that’s how you have to do it. I think it was true for a long time. But then I also realized, it doesn’t mean I have to do it like that. The album format was designed for singers, for storytelling, to give them a chance to connect with the audience. Nothing like that applies to what I’m doing. It’s not the key to a successful career. I’m not going to rule out that I’m never going to do an album again, but for now, I’m happy to do singles.”




Schumacher’s longevity links to two key factors. His recognition of changing parameters and adaptability to those changes—without compromising his artistic vision or creative direction.




“For us, ‘OCs,’ as you say, the danger is to get bitter,” he observes. “I see, way too often unfortunately, old school producer/DJs ranting on social media, and it breaks my heart. It will not help you with your career or your feelings of not being respected enough. Times are always changing. Techno is ever changing. But it is so established and it’s rather positive and it’s not going to go away because it represents so much more.”

Thomas Schumacher

Perhaps the most unmistakable trait of Brooklyn-based DJ, producer, musician, and label boss LEFTI is his deference for quality. It manifests in his vast catalog of dance tracks spanning the spectrum of soulful sound — from groovy gospel house to late-aughts blog house and funk-infused disco. That very same commitment to sonic excellence is apparent in any of LEFTI’s live sets, in which he digs to the back of the proverbial crates, unleashing disco house deep cuts at some of the country’s preeminent nightlife institutions, including New York’s Avant Gardner and Le Bain, Los Angeles’ Sound, and Philadelphia’s Warehouse on Watts.




And notably, the relationships LEFTI has forged across the multi-genre spectrum have helped jettison the artist into his current position as one of New York’s most notable disco house names. Recently, he’s collaborated with the likes of Selena Faider (the duo’s “Party People” released on LEFTI’s own Quincy Boy Records was honored last summer as BBC Radio 1’s Track of the Week), legendary gospel and soul vocalist Ann Nesby, and deep house powerhouse Demarkus Lewis — to name just a few.









As we sit down for an interview on a rainy winter evening at his home studio in Greenpoint, Brooklyn — where LEFTI (né Alex Suarez) has resided for 12 years — we talk about the evolution of the local dance music scene, specifically, the growing popularity of disco house and nu disco in past half-decade.




“I’m getting to the point where I’m really ready to lock it in,” says LEFTI, describing his ambition to continue honing his funky, soulful, sample-heavy style, which has become an aural trademark of his Quincy Boy brand (named after his exotic shorthair cat, Quincy Bones, an ode to the iconic producer and jazz musician, Quincy Jones).




But labels like Quincy Boy with a distinguished flare aren’t built overnight. And in an increasingly crowded disco house category, LEFTI leans into his decades-long tenure as a musician to rise above the fray.









Long before LEFTI, the disco house aficionado, there was simply Alex, the Connecticut-born, Florida-raised kid whose passion for music was innate from the start. His true first love was rock music. Heavily influenced by his two older brothers — a drummer and a guitarist — he would sneak into their rooms to practice on their instruments prior to getting his first guitar. Son to a Spanish father and a Colombian mother, LEFTI’s childhood, like many children of the 80s, could be described as a crucible of sound.




“This was in the 1980s, so, a different time for music. Lots of hair metal. MTV had just come out. Hip-hop was born,” he says. “And my parents are Hispanic. They were into Gypsy Kings. Juan Luis Guerra. Julio Iglesias. But I was definitely influenced by my brothers.”






When his family moved to Boca Raton, Florida, in his teens, LEFTI left the bedroom and took his passion for rock music out into the world, syncing up with other punk rock-loving adolescents at the skate park, and forming his official group, On the Slot. He experienced the typical rights-of-passage for many teenage garage bands. The thrill of winning local battles of the band. The periodic group breakups, reunions, and rebrands. And couching surfing in dingy basements as he and his bandmates (under new monikers) played in dives along the western Florida coast.




“I knew I wanted to pursue music when I was a little kid. Even when I’d be jamming out to a wall, it was like I was in the band, playing to a huge arena. My imagination was there. Music came naturally to me,” he says. “I always had the desire to figure out one way to always be doing music.”









Later pursuing a culinary arts degree, LEFTI (“CHEFTI” as he’s named his culinarian alter ego) worked seasonally as a chef, saving his summers to tour nationally with his screamo band, Kite Flying Society, from 1999 to 2004. And soon, his childhood daydream of playing in packed-out arenas would become a reality. Moving to New York in 2005, he reconnected with a friend and fellow musician, Ryland Blackinton. One night, the duo crossed paths with vocalist Gabe Saporta, who invited them to be a part of his upcoming project: Cobra Starship.








“Being part of Cobra was an amazing thing. We opened for Justin Bieber on the South America leg of his first world tour. We played the Rio stadium, about 85,000 people — sold out two nights in a row — which is like no experience I’ve ever had in my life. We did a lot of late night and morning talk shows. We were nominated for a VMA one year and were front and center for the Taylor Swift-Kanye West moment. It was all a wild thing to be part of.”




During that time, LEFTI says, the blog house era of music was going strong. This genre, as he describes it, of “DJs and indie musicians making dance music mashups” was notably catalyzed by bands spending time in nightclubs. In part, this is where LEFTI cut his teeth as a DJ, spinning at afterparties and launching an anonymous and temporary dance music project, GRVRBBRS, to test out his dance music chops.












When LEFTI exited Cobra Starship in 2014, he pursued a career in music production and songwriting. It wasn’t until 2016, after he took on a couple of dance music remixes that he realized how much he missed playing out. “LEFTI” was officially born with a nod to the artist’s left-handedness. And perhaps that same outside-in, sidewinder approach to the disco house genre has become a hallmark of his big, bold “Disco for the Warehouse” sound.




“There is an art to the curation of a party. For a disco party, it’s just got to be really fun. But I try to play great music that [aren't] obvious cuts,” he says. “My curation is based off what grabs me. It is a narrow field. I can scroll through a million songs, and I’ll know right away if it has that thing that grabs me. [And] I think the reason why I wanted to start my label.”




Take his latest release, “Gotta Lotta Love,” a choppy, 4-to-the-floor house heater that distorts and pitches up a male vocal sample to resemble a female vocalist. Or his first release on Quincy Boy, “I Demand,” a groovy house track with a powerful vocal sample straight from the pulpit. And over the years, he’s released a dynamic collection of original tracks across many prominent imprints, Toolroom, Love & Other, and Big Beat.









As LEFTI thinks about the next step for his brand, he envisions how it can be a conduit for dance music culture.




“You walk around Williamsburg and Bushwick [Brooklyn] and you hear house music everywhere. And I think that’s awesome. I realized [Quincy Boy] was a great opportunity to start a small label and help younger DJs find a footing. It’s the first thing that’s excited me in a while besides starting a new project. It felt really right to me.”







LEFTI

Leaving your hometown and starting a new chapter in life can be daunting, but the rewards can be worth it. It can open new opportunities, expand cultural competency, and encourage personal growth. You’ll need courage and determination to succeed, but the benefits can be life-changing. UK-born Jenn Getz and Alfie’s adaptability and flexibility, coupled with their hard work and purpose, helped them to make a significant impact since 2020. Building a reputation quickly is an impressive achievement in a male-dominated emirate like Dubai, especially since they are the only female DJ duo to do so.





Dance played a significant role in their separate upbringings. The ability to use their bodies as instruments to express the rhythms and beats of music has formed that innate connection and tool for creativity. Moreover, spending hours practicing how to move to sound develops a deeper appreciation of various styles and genres of music. Enhancing the music with their movement required a strong sense of timing and a depth of knowledge, both critical skills for DJs to read a crowd. Their formative years, disposition towards seeking self-improvement, and circumstances are similar, but their reasons for moving to Dubai were not.






“I lived in Bali since I was 19, and learned how to DJ there in 2014, and six years ago I moved to Dubai for a change of scenery and a different opportunity,” Jenn tells us.






“I started DJing six years ago in the UK - initially training to be a dancer - but I chose to DJ - and I got offered a DJing residency in Dubai three years ago, so I packed up and left,” Alfie adds. Although they were strangers before the move, their friendship arose from a fortuitous coincidence - where fate brought them together. 



Jenn and Alfie say the underground music scene in Dubai has grown significantly in recent years, influencing the formation of their partnership as a female DJ duo and leading to an influx of other artists vying to play there. Dubai is renowned for its luxury lifestyle, iconic architecture, and world-class shopping and dining. They’re also known for paying DJs top dollar to spin at their opulent venues.



“When I moved here three years ago, everything was based on glam - now people are there to listen to good music and there’s movement,” Alfie explains.




“From an artist’s point of view, DJs didn’t care about where they played, they knew they were getting paid to be there. Now, they want to be in Dubai because the scene is getting bigger,” Jenn adds.





As exciting as it is to hear the dance music culture expanding in parts of the Middle East, traditional cultural attitudes and societal expectations are magnified when working in a male-dominated field like the music industry. Men have more access to resources, networks, and opportunities than women. However, it’s worth noting that this is changing as more women break through these barriers and make their presence known in the Emirate music industry—Jenn and Alfie being prime examples.




They explain that since the duo shares similar physical and ethnic qualities, promoters pitted them against one another.




“The event company wanted a [in air quotes] ‘female DJ,’ they didn’t care about anything else - and we thought ‘why are we competing when we can be strong together,’ “Jenn says about a time when they were in line for the same gig.



“It was hard for people to take us seriously as a female duo, and it is still a challenge we face now,” Alfie adds. “There are still some people here who will tell girls what to wear and what to play. We’re artists. It was hard to stick to our guns and not take that, “Jenn tells Gray Area.




Jenn & Alfie simply wanted to do their job: create a lively atmosphere and give their audience an authentic and memorable experience. So, they chose a lionhearted approach in a society that had never witnessed anything like it before.







Challenging the status quo and breaking down barriers requires the responsibility to work hard to prove oneself constantly. Their funky tech house sound and relentless efforts have landed them record signings on prominent house music like Sonny Fodera and Mark Knight. Furthermore, earning a residency at Dubai’s #1 nightlife destination, Soho Garden DXB, and a weekly show on the notorious Ibiza Global Radio UAE was also a milestone for the pair. 




Seeing that they are not held back by uncertainty to pursue their aspirations, Jenn and Alfie’s main priority now is to move forward and headline an event. Organically branching out and continuing to evolve as artists under unique circumstances makes the dynamic duo fearless and resilient.



Jenn Getz & Alfie

We often find ourselves trapped in our daily routines and familiar environments, leading to a sense of stagnation and dissatisfaction. Changing our surroundings can catalyze personal growth and push us out of our comfort zones. This concept can also apply to our approach toward music and the styles we choose to create and share. YokoO, a record label chief, producer, DJ, world traveler, and professional yogi, embodies this approach as he continually challenges himself to embrace new opportunities for building his brand, wellness, and record label, SATYA.



Born in France, by age 20, YokoO moved to Australia. The venturous artist needed a change of pace far away from his stomping grounds. It was time to manifest a new path. YokoO brought only a bag of records he had accumulated since he was 15. His objective was to attend a university to master the English language, study international business, and acquire a visa. To earn extra income, he started accepting DJing jobs on the side.


“At the end of my international business degree, I realized not only that I didn’t want to go back to a corporate environment, but also that I could generate a decent income just through playing music. I decided to pursue a career and teach myself how to write music,” YokoO tells us.



Whether it’s creating or listening, music serves as an escape. Its beauty is its ability to evoke powerful emotions, nourish a sense of connection, reflect feelings and experiences, and provide an understanding or distraction. As an artist, YokoO personifies the role of a creator and consumer, having grown up resonating with wistful music and honing his skills as a guide toward unique soundscapes. He further sharpened his mastery in engaging a crowd when he developed a fixation for deep house in 2008 and had the chance to play marathon sets at a residency.




“I always love to explore given that I am provided with a platform to express myself,” he explains. “I try and make the experience harmonic and flawless so that even though people never know where it’s going, it flows.”



With set times typically limited between 90 minutes and three hours, it’s become challenging for artists to dig deeper and showcase a broader range of their music. “It usually takes me an hour to find my groove and capture the audience into my bubble, then you can take them anywhere, and you become the puppeteer.”






His approach to playing live is similar to his attitude towards traveling without a set itinerary: unpredictable and exciting. He finds that playing on more than two decks is a thrilling way to layer sounds and improvise new songs on the spot. It reflects his perspective on life, where embracing the unknown and not imposing restrictions leads to unexpected and memorable experiences.







Speaking of avoiding constriction, YokoO talks about the essence of his imprint SATYA. It’s his vision to provide an outlet for himself and emerging artists to trumpet their proficiency in diverse sounds and reach new audiences.




“I feel that a lot of artists are trying to fit in or follow trends when they have a lot more to express,” YokoO says. “With SATYA I am trying to push a circle of artists to tap into their truth and let that be expressed freely,” he adds.





The remarkable thing about YokoO is that he utilizes his affinity with different styles of music and rhythmic sensibility to branch outside of the sound he was known for before launching SATYA. His visionary ear for groove and melody allows him to evolve and expand his audience’s horizons, exposing them to other facets of his identity. Before establishing his platform, he was notorious for his magnetic melodies released on All Day I Dream, which he explains was only one of the versions of his creative output.




“A lot of my followers appreciate my versatility and change of sound, but some still associate me solely with my achievements on All Day I Dream,” YokoO explains. “They may be expecting me to follow that style - but I’m not, I have been communicating that this is not me, it’s only a part of me,” he adds.





YokoO’s leap of faith and commitment to establishing something that genuinely represents him is a testament to the power of authenticity. It’s a shining example to other artists of embracing change and confidently presenting their musical expressions. On SATYA, listeners will find his taste in rich harmonies, pulsating beats, flawless chords layered with fluent vocals, and basslines that vibrate with a deep house groove. Upcoming releases from Retza, Francesco Mami, Haider Uppal, Hermanez, Cristina Lazic, and many more will fuel the energy for SATYA.



When YokoO isn’t working on expanding his label or touring, he is recalibrating and focusing on the things that bring him happiness: wellness, exercise, practicing yoga, reading about philosophy & spirituality, and forming genuine connections with loved ones. All of which makes us humans more in touch with ourselves and the present.












YokoO

Anyone who's done research into the history of techno knows the genre was born in Detroit, and anyone who knows techno was born in Detroit knows it wouldn't exist without DJ Minx.




DJ Minx, the DJ, producer, and label head, who was born Jennifer Witcher. Commonly known as "The First Lady of Wax," Witcher was hitting now-mythical nightclubs like Detroit's Music Institute as far back as the 80s, just as the burgeoning genre was making its first impact on the gritty industrial landscape of Motor City.




Witcher still calls legends she met when they were still locals like Carl Craig, Kevin Saunderson, and Moodymann friends. The latter being the person who encouraged her to start Women on Wax, the groundbreaking label she continues to run to this day.






Three decades into her dance music journey, the most important thing about the scene for her remains unchanged.




"30 years into me doing this music thing, the one thing that still brings a glow to my eyes is the fact that people love the hell out of this music," Witcher says to Gray Area over Zoom, golden Detroit logo earrings dangling from her ears. "And I think about myself when I first started listening to it and how I felt when I went to the club and I looked at the DJ. Now I'm in the position of people looking at me coming to listen to me and to feel what I put out there."




In recent years as house and techno music have emerged as the top genres in dance music, Witcher has confidently ridden the wave. And in 2022, for the first time, she hosted her own stage at Movement Music Festival, Detroit's preeminent dance music festival.




As a stalwart of Detroit techno, Witcher has played Movement every year since its inception in 2000. And even on its massive stage, she feels connected to the audience like she's playing in the darkest, most intimate club.






"Everyone is here at the home of techno where it all originated," Witcher says of Movement. "And with me having the stage it was very personal. People would come and talk to me and tell me 'I'm going to be at your stage on Monday. I'm going to be at your set on Monday.'"




Months later, people still extoll Witcher for her set and curation on that fateful Memorial Day afternoon. And while she certainly appreciates the praise, what she finds even more heartening, is that people are clearly doing their research and understanding Detroit's role in the history of techno.




From her perspective, Detroit hasn't yet received its due respect for creating the genre, but she does see progress happening in that regard.




"There's a large amount of respect, and with that comes knowledge," Witcher says. "It's making a world of difference with the artists that are out here right now."






One vital piece of knowledge connected to the history of techno in Detroit is Witcher's 2002 track, "A Walk In The Park." Released initially on Women on Wax, it was a sought-after hit that every Detroit DJ wanted in their set.






One of these many DJs who wanted to play "A Walk In The Park" was Ricardo Villalobos. Now, remember, at that time, 20 years ago, there was no Spotify. There weren't even MP3s. So like most tracks in those days, it only came out on physical media, and like most independent releases, international distribution was minimal.




Villalobos managed to get his hands on a copy and played it at a European festival. When the record played, Detroit legend Richie Hawtin was in the booth with Villalobos.




"I almost broke my neck, trying to get to see what it was," Minx remembers Hawtin saying to her about the track, but once he did, he went to a record store, bought all the copies, and decided he wanted to sign 'A Walk In The Park,' to his record label, Minus, which he did for a 2004 release.






The track was such a hit that Witcher watched Hawtin play it for 12 minutes straight at a club in Windsor, Canada, and the crowd lost it with every new drop. It was so everpresent that a man rudely accosted on the street her about it, telling her he hated the track because it was on the radio so much.




"Well that's good for me, not for you," Witcher says with a laugh.




For all its popularity, what's most remarkable about "A Walk In The Park" is that Witcher produced it in roughly 45 minutes. That's how the track got its name. It was so simple for her to make that it felt like a walk in the park.




And yet 20 years later, it still resonates with the dance music community. So much so that Insomniac-owned Factory 93 Records rereleased it with a new remix package including a fresh edit from Witcher, remixes from fellow Detroit natives Seth Troxler and Carl Craig, and additional remixes from younger artists like the Dirtybird resident, Ardalan, which she finds especially rewarding.






"The music is timeless. You know it's old because of its date, but like me and my edit, you add different elements to it. It just feels good to hear what someone else's interpretation of this track could be," Witcher says. "I like Ardalan's productions. What he did absolutely sounds wonderful having that knowledge of the music."




If you show you know the music, Witcher is down with you. Whether it be dance music veterans or giant pop stars like Beyoncé, who recently staked her claim in the world of dance music with her 2022 album RENAISSANCE.




There was some criticism of Beyoncé following her GRAMMY nominations in the dance music categories, but what Witcher respects about her and her efforts is she tapped the originators of the sound as collaborators on the album.






"[Beyoncé] used Big Freedia. She used Honey Dijon, Luke Solomon, Terry Hunter. Someone on her team did some research to actually pull these people," Witcher says. "These are people that are putting this music out today which is going to amp them and when it amps them and puts them in the spotlight, that's gonna shed more light on us as well."




One thing Witcher has always been about since her early days is shedding light on deserving young artists. For many years she served as a mentor to female artists in dance music, working with now-famed talents like the Berlin-based artist Magda, and starting in 2023, she is going to get back into it.




For anyone interested in working with Witcher, she encourages you to send her an email at queenbeats@gmail.com. This is a chance to work with someone vital to the history of techno and become a part of that history yourself.











DJ Minx

There's never anything overnight about success. The paths we follow to our most treasured goals are often long, winding, and include switchbacks and detours. Peruvian tech-house DJ, Bastidas (né Jose Guerrero Bastidas) has been obsessively consuming everything about music and production for over 20 years. After years of hard work, he's not only writing infectiously lucious Latin-tinged records, he’s uplifting and supporting the South American music community in an effort to pay back the immense support his community has given him.




Bastidas grew up in Lima, Peru with an insatiable appetite for music. His parent’s weren’t musicians, but he cites his uncles’ massive music collection as an early inspiration.









“I was into every type of music, I loved to collect music,” Bastidas said when I spoke to him over Zoom. “I remember having a little notebook, and when I was looking at music videos that was my addiction, just writing the names of the songs and musicians.” It wasn’t long before Bastidas—affectionately nicknamed Basti—discovered electronic music.




After moving to Miami with his family at age 11, Bastidas began an obsession with dance music, much ado to his influential older brother. He bought his first bit of DJ gear when he was 12, and a fire ignited. It was the early 2000s, and the Miami club scene was just about the explode.




But before he could headline the Miami clubs, young, ambitious Bastidas had to hone his craft. He played house parties and high school events before he was old enough to go clubbing. Even from these tender early years, Bastidas was a hustler. “I remember when I was 15, I used to play everything. Sometimes I used to play in restaurants too. Anything, you know, because it was like a hustle.”






He could've waited until he was old enough, but the pull was too great. So, as soon as found a good enough fake ID, he started exploring the local club scene.




Bastidas regularly visited Club Space in Miami, a mecca for dance music lovers craving marathon raves in the Sunshine State. The reggaeton and Latino influence on Miami’s dance music was palpable, especially during one of Erick Morillo’s sets. Morillo wore his Columbian heritage on his sleeve during his sold-out sets at Club Space, and young Bastidas was intrigued. He saw this merger of house music and Latino culture as vitally influential and widely underrated. Those Morillo sets at Space helped shape Bastidas’ trajectory for the next decade.




By 2010, Bastidas was orchestrating his own showcases at Club Space with big-name South American artists and producers (Jean Pierre, and Patrick M, for example). These early iterations of his label and project From the South already had a fully formed ethos: to celebrate and uplift Latino music and producers.




“When I created [From the South] I was like, let's see if I can push more artists from over there that really they keep working hard and producing 24/7,” he said. “Obviously, they sometimes cannot fly because (getting a) visa is difficult for them. But they're such talented people all around.”




The label’s premiere single “Vinotinto” features Bastidas and two other grade-A Latino producers, Luciano and Carloh. Five days after its release, “Vinotinto” was cruising steadily in the #1 spot on the Beatport charts.




Though a debut single reaching #1 is impressive, the pièce de résistance of Bastidas’ career thus far is undoubtably his pop-up shows in Comuna 13 in Medellin, Columbia. Most famously known as Pablo Escobar’s old neighborhood–that was once rampant with drugs, poverty, and violence–Comuna 13 is now a slowly blossoming community. One day, Basti and British producer wAFF, decided to throw a block party in Comuna 13.




“We planned out everything in one day,” he said. “When we started playing, we didn't know what was going to happen and we didn't know if the cops were going to come shut us down. So it was crazy.”




The cops didn't shut them down. Instead, they created a moment of pure communal support and joy. With rented decks on a small rooftop, Bastidas and wAFF converted Comuna 13 into a happy house playground. Children ran playfully through the dancefloor, and local mothers opened their homes (and restrooms) to the guests.


“Everyone was so happy,” Bastidas recalled. They made you know so much money for their families and the community. It was a mix of everything, so it was beautiful.” After a successful rerun of the block party in 2022, Bastidas now hopes to turn the event into a festival.




With such an impressive work ethic, it’s no surprise that Bastidas is keeping one foot in the future. With a successful new record, a blossoming record label, and a passionate purpose driving it all, Bastidas only has one question for himself. “Nobody expect this, you know. When ‘Vinotinto’ was released, we saw the love from the people. It was so organic. Now we're just preparing for the future. ‘So what's next?’”




Bastidas

The Piratebay, the world's most resilient torrent site, is actually a real place.




Ardalan's been there.




Many years ago, somewhere in Tehran, Iran, there was a mall. In this mall, there was a room. In this room, there was a man with a computer filled with compilations of music, and for a nominal fee, he would burn that music onto a disc for you.




It's where Ardalan Noghre-Kar, a premier house and techno artist, would buy music growing up. Covert missions to buy music engrained the gritty, clandestine, and illicit nature of the underground into his musical DNA. He continues to honor that upbringing with his eclectic DJ sets and productions today.




"It's all about that raw feeling you get the first time you make music or you look for music. I've never wanted to forget that feeling,'" Noghre-Kar says from a studio in a barn somewhere in Los Angeles. "For me, it's always that feeling. It's always going to go back to that feeling. It's that excitement that keeps me wanting to do what I'm doing."




The real-life Piratebay wasn't Noghre-Kar's only source of music in his early days. In Iran, where Western music was banned and there were no legitimate record stores, he had to rely on two primary sources.




The first was his family. His father was an avid saxophonist. And his brother sparked his interest in house music when he gifted Ardy a cassette tape that featured Daft Punk's "Around The World" on one side and Tupac on the, which explains the significant hip-hop influence in Ardalan's music.






The second was new technology. As an architect, his father was one of the first people in Iran to work with CAD programming giving Noghre-Kar early access to computers and the internet. Ardalan's interest in technology drove his interest in music.




"I was really into computers since I was 6-7; downloading games and music. It was a really interesting time because I grew up on the internet. I would find so much music [by] downloading illegally because you didn't have anything else in Iran," says Noghre-Kar.




He perused now-ancient platforms like Winamp, which included a section called SHOUTcast with different web-streaming radio stations playing genres like drum & bass, house, and techno.




Noghre-Kar also spent a great deal of his younger years in the Bay Area (which he would eventually call home as an adult), and through those travels, his love of music and technology evolved.






The Bay Area was always an affluent hub for tech. And when he first arrived, he fit right into that culture. He attended De Anza College (the same school Steve Jobs attended with Apple co-founder Steve Wozniak) and took an intro electronic music course.




"They taught some really cool tricks with programs that I use like Reason and Ableton," he remembers. "That class made such a profound effect on the rest of my life."






As he was engaging with music production from a more academic perspective, he also attended notable electronic music parties in the area. He attended Sunset parties thrown by the mythic Wicked crew. He went to Drum & Bass shows thrown by Haight-Ashbury outfit Compound Records. But most influential on his life trajectory was the regular Dirtybird BBQ in Golden Gate Park. These parties birthed the globalized record label, clothing line, and event brand that Dirtybird is today.






Noghre-Kar attended his first BBQ when he was 17. It was also his first real music event in the US. Founding members Claude VonStroke, Justin Martin, and Christian Martin were all there playing great music as the late Grillson served up great food.




"Doesn't get any better than this. This is the direction I want to go," Noghre-Kar says of the first BBQ. "They all took me in and got me really excited to make music."






He skipped his shift at Cold Stone Creamery to go, got fired the next day, and the following year he debuted the unmistakable "Mr. Spock" on Dirtybird with Justin Martin,






"It was a really interesting and fun way for the universe to tell me you're doing what you're doing. You're doing something for yourself," Noghre-Kar says.




That track would launch a close relationship with Dirtybird that persists. He's had numerous releases and compilation offerings on the label, including his debut album Mr. Good. Ardalan (or Tiesto of Modesto as Dirtybird's most passionate members lovingly call him) is still an expected and very welcome name on the lineup for the summer-camp-themed festival, Dirtybird Campout.






"It's always fun. It feels like you're back in high school in some ways when you go. All your friends are there and you can interact with the fans. Very homie vibes," Noghre-Kar says.




That sense of fun and community is something Noghre-Kar carries into numerous activities, including his nascent party brand, Ardy Pardy. In a relatively short life span, Ardy Pardy has expanded all over the US, popping up in San Francisco, Chicago, and Art Basel in Miami.




"I just always wanted to throw a party. Curate the sound and have that simple element of wanting to throw a fun party where I can have a good time and not necessarily DJ the whole time. Have my friends who I really love play my parties and be able to enjoy it with other people," Noghre-Kar says. "It's a very fun experiment where I can be creative visually or I can make the party super fun in a simple way. Being silly but also having really good music. Now it's become something where I need to take it to the next level."


Ardy Pardy isn't his first mission in community building. With the help of other friends and musicians with Dirtybird associations like Walker & Royce, Justin Martin, and VNSSA, Noghre-Kar helped to start a Twitch channel over the pandemic called GoodTV.




The pandemic was jarring for Noghre-Kar, but it also afforded him the opportunity to revisit his love of tech by learning all about streaming.




"I went back to feeling like I was 10 years old learning something," Noghre-Kar says.






Like taking that electronic music course in community college, learning streaming presented new opportunities for him to express his creativity and connect with his roots. The first stream he did was with Deep House Tehran, a collective of artists living in Iran.




"There were all these Iranian fans and that was the most beautiful thing ever because I hadn't played for people from Iran ever," Noghre-Kar says. "I started curating nights where I would showcase artists specifically from Iran and it was really amazing to be able to open that door for people around the world—creating new fan bases for them because there are so many talented artists in Iran. For me, it was an experience of learning about people from my homeland and seeing their art and having a platform for them."






Noghre-Kar is determined to continue supporting artists from Iran either through more streams in the future or a record label he intends to start.




He acknowledges that he is blessed to be in a position where he can travel the world playing music or shack up in a barn making a new album like he was doing just before the interview (expect Tarzalan sometime in 2023).




But he knows now more than ever there are so many artists in Iran who have the potential to do the same, and many of them are probably still hitting The Piratebay to get their new music the same way he did.


















Ardalan

If you asked Nakadia to describe herself in one word, she would instead offer two: “Positive energy.” The Thailand-born, Berlin-based DJ and producer has a vibrant, bubbly personality that lights up a room. When she’s behind the decks, she dances without abandon. But the root of her positive energy runs much deeper than what others simply see or hear. Having overcome numerous obstacles in her life, Nakadia learned early on the importance of never giving up, hard work, and always finding the silver lining.






These character traits have served her well, especially in her career. For nearly two decades, Nakadia has risen through electronic music’s ranks with her bold techno sound and unrelenting work ethic. Along the way, she helped elevate Thailand’s underground music scene while playing international gigs nearly every weekend. In addition to releasing music on labels such as Intec, Set About, and Filth On Acid, she has performed at ADE, Tomorrowland, and Loveparade, where she played to over a million spectators.




Any of these events could place as an artist’s greatest achievement, but Nakadia’s answer surveys the bigger picture. “I did my career by myself,” she says. “Even 20 years now in the business, [I’m] always growing. I’m walking on the stairs step by step… I don’t take a lift.”




Independence has been a mainstay in Nakadia’s life since childhood. The daughter of farmers, she grew up in a small village in Thailand’s Isan region with no running water or electricity. “We were poor,” she recalls, “but I am happy because we did not miss anything.” One of her daily chores was fetching large buckets of water from a nearby lake for home use. Rather than pay attention in school, she dreamed of traveling and owning a business.






When Nakadia was 15, she embarked on that dream, leaving home to work in factories—but seeing the same people every day eventually wore on her.




“I love to always change something, look for something new,” she says. First, she found a job at a mall in a sticker shop, then at an Internet café. In the café, Nakadia began learning English by using chat rooms to connect with people from around the world. Soon after, she made a friend (and eventual manager), Sebastian, who invited her to visit him in Germany.




Nakadia had, in some ways, practiced DJing before she knew what a DJ was. Back in the village, she blasted cassette tapes from her brother’s boombox, occasionally taking requests from the neighbors. Later, when she shared an apartment with six other girls in the city, she soundtracked their private rooftop parties with pop music and samba. And at the Internet café, she handpicked and played new music for the patrons.









During her first trip to Germany in 2002, Nakadia visited a nightclub headlined by Marusha. She instantly noticed how the people faced and revered the DJ on stage, and the rush the pounding techno gave her. “My hair stood up like, wow,” she remembers, “and I wanted to be a DJ in that moment. I love to party anyway, so why not make this a job then?”






She returned to Thailand with two records but nothing on which to play them, so she practiced beat-matching and mixing on a local club’s turntables during the day. The following year, Nakadia returned to Germany and spent three months improving her vinyl skills by day and observing DJs by night. By the end of her stint, she’d successfully played at a club in Hanover.




While her reception in Germany was enthusiastic, Thailand’s electronic scene—then dominated by men and commercial music—was less open. Nakadia recalls multiple club owners saying she’d need to change her sound to get booked. Even after moving to the nearby island of Koh Samui, a destination spot for European tourists, she endured multiple rejections in an attempt to DJ on her terms. Finally, someone bit—but with a caveat. “The place was really small, like it can fit 150 people,” she remembered. “But I was so happy that he said yes… He let me play kind of early when the staff get ready to drink, and there was nobody on the dancefloor yet. Then the managers like, ‘Wow, your music’s really nice. You can come back next time to play for the people.’” When she did, promoters from South Korea noticed her and promptly booked her.









From there, Nakadia’s international bookings steadily increased, with each new city and country an opportunity to learn about the world, music, and the art of DJing. Eventually, in 2010, she relocated to Berlin due to its more central location. In the years that followed, she landed high-profile gigs, including at Sankeys and Ushuaïa in Ibiza—while regularly traveling back to Thailand to host her Nakadia Welcomes parties that feature high-profile friends like Sven Vath and Loco Dice.




While her DJ profile was still in its nascent stages, Nakadia taught herself to produce using Ableton. “As a DJ now, you [also] need to produce,” she says simply. Her tracks span the techno spectrum, from the melodic drama of “Tale of Khonburi” to the high-speed “The Red Queen” to the fuzzed-out psychedelia of “Acid Storm.” Staying in one place when the pandemic hit allowed her to build a collection of modular gear, on which she continues to refine and practice her skills when she’s not touring. “I want to learn more,” she says. “Lucky that today you can learn a lot on YouTube.”




Since the world has reopened, Nakadia has been able to do what she loves. “I enjoy giving the people the music that comes from my heart,” she says with a smile. “I bring [it] from my arm to the mixer… out of the speaker to the people. Yeah, that’s the best part.”



















Nakadia

Alain Quême, better known as Braxe, has teamed up with DJ Falcon for one of the most innovative acts in a brand new wave of French house, as Braxe + Falcon. Braxe, famously known for international phenomenon Stardust and their infamous 1998 house cut, “Music Sounds Better With You,” ultimately founded the blueprint for French house in the late 90s. Now, as Braxe and Falcon, the duo (coincidentally also cousins) are setting out to revive the classic, inimitable French disco sound for a new generation of ravers.




The artists recently dug into their back catalog, unearthed rare gems, and debuted new ones on their exclusive US tour in the fall of 2022. Those lucky enough to catch one of four exclusive sets heard a unique tapestry of rave nostalgia filled with the hypnotic elements of samplers, stellar vocal drones, and stunning synthesizers.






Braxe and DJ Falcon recall memories from the era they first experienced electronic dance music and how American house music helped form a foundation for their sound.




“House music is really a key element,” shares Braxe. “For me, it started probably in the early 90s, buying 12-inch imports coming from America. So, it’s really a key factor.”




“Especially the Chicago scene—guys like Paul Johnson, [DJ] Sneak, Todd Terry, all those guys, and labels like Dancemania… They were a huge influence,” adds Falcon. “I discovered it while going to rave parties in the early 90s. Back then, raves were only beginning to spring up in Paris.




“I was just following all my friends and that’s how I got into it. Plus, I was really close with Pedro from Ed Banger. So we kind of discovered it at the same time all together.”





Many of the most historically significant French names in electronic music hail from the era, like Daft Punk, Busy P, Cassius, and Étienne de Crécy. To onlookers, it was a close-knit scene. But for those on the inside, the growing french disco sound was something more. It catapulted many of those involved to unprecedented popularity internationally. As a result, many of the establishing French acts became household names, simultaneously becoming synonymous with coining the Parisian French house sound.






“It’s because the scene at the beginning was very small,” says Braxe. “In fact, it was in Paris, and in other cities in France, but mainly in Paris. It was just a few hundred people really interested in this musical movement in the beginning.”




“There was a party called ‘Respect,’ and this is where we all connected,” says DJ Falcon. “It was on every Wednesday, and we all got to know each other through those parties.”






Originally having stemmed from a mere handful of artists and their fans enamored with the new sounds, it is not lost upon Braxe and DJ Falcon how France became the epicenter for French disco house. Now, in the present age, the pair is reinventing the genre for a new generation of ravers.




“Disco music was really strong in France during the 70s and the 80s,” recalls Braxe. “So there is a big background with dance music in France. But globally? If we want to make it simple, let’s say that when Daft Punk released Homework, they pushed a new version of disco one step further. Daft Punk is a key factor as well in this story.”






Both Braxe and DJ Falcon worked with Daft Punk. Braxe, previously half of the duo Stardust, produced arguably one of the biggest dance music songs of all time with Thomas Bangalter and vocalist Benjamin Diamond, creating a pivotal composition in the history of electronic dance music.






“Retrospectively, it’s quite interesting the way it was produced because it was mainly hardware equipment,” he shares when asked about “Music Sounds Better With You.” “The computer was not a key element in the process. So it’s based on some quite old techniques.”




According to Braxe, writing and producing the tune only took one week.




“Benjamin Diamond, the singer, was also of course involved in the process... It’s a song which is based on a sample [of Chaka Khan’s “Fate”] so I was mainly using the sample and upgrading it with louder drums and a newer production. It was quite a natural process. At one point we were a bit lost in the song because there were much more lyrics, but we couldn’t find the right arrangement. Once we decided to get rid of some of the lyrics, everything was okay suddenly. So that’s it. It was a Sunday, we pressed ‘record’ and that was it.”




This original version of “Music Sounds Better With You,” with the entirety of the song’s original lyrics, was thrown out, says Braxe.




“I witnessed when they played this for the first time,” says DJ Falcon. “I was doing a live show at the Rex club in Paris… They played it for the first time at the Rex, you know? I remember helping Thomas carry a huge AV synth to play the chords. It was special, hearing them play it for the first time at the Rex... Everybody knew something was going on at that moment, it was a very cool vibe in the club.”






DJ Falcon also collaborated with Thomas Bangalter (and Justice) in the early heyday of the French disco sound. Then, he moved on to produce original works, eventually stepping away from music production for years.




“For me, it kind of came as an accident,” said the DJ. “I like to see myself as a tourist.”




After releasing Hello, My name is DJ Falcon on Roule, the DJ collaborated with Bangalter, producing a handful of critically-acclaimed dance cuts. “And then I did a couple of remixes for Phoenix, Justice, Cassius, but I was more into the DJ side.”




The French house producer shared he felt very fortunate to travel the world with various talented peers in the genre, getting an opportunity to dip into his other passion, photography.






Coincidentally, the joint act are cousins. But, say they initially had no clue that either one was working on music within the same space until after they’d already started releasing music.




It was French disco peer Bangalter who clued the cousins in, says Braxe. Braxe released his first record on Roule, and Bangalter, noting Falcon also released music on the label, put them in touch.




“It took us quite some time to decide to make music together. We started in 2014. We spent a few months in the studio working on demos, stopped, and then we reopened the demos like two years ago. Then, we decided, okay, now let’s try to finish this.”






The two cousins met up and pitched a demo to Domino Records label head Peter Berard. “And he said, ‘Okay, you guys should finish this,’ and he made it an EP. He gave us motivation to finish it.”




The Step By Step EP is wide-ranging, pulling soundscapes and elements from both artists’ production styles, moving effortlessly from down to uptempo. Their live performances—with only four stops scheduled in the US—include their latest originals and fan favorites from their individual discographies, performed as a unique B2B DJ duo.




Braxe + Falcon arrives at an opportune moment in dance music that sees a diverse and willing audience of listeners rediscovering the sounds of a genre they contributed in shaping.

Braxe + Falcon

From writing poetry in her German mother tongue at the tender age of five to being taken under Damian Lazarus’ wing, it’s been quite the journey for singer, songwriter, and producer JOPLYN. She grins warmly from her home in Berlin, which she says always looks like day one of a move. A hectic year of touring is to blame for the lack of time spent in her abode and home studio.




Music has always run through JOPLYN’s veins. By the time she was age eight, she was playing the piano and combining her poems with her self-composed melodies. She soon progressed into learning song structure, initially writing “very pop influenced…real piano ballads.”




She says that in those early stages, Lady Gaga and Lorde inspired her heavily, becoming a "turning page" for her as her interest in school dwindled and her passion for music ignited further.




Now, she explains that places spark her creativity. Convenient considering a large portion of the job is traveling. In early 2022 she released her second album Sant Jordi 02, which was born from an extended stay in Ibiza. 



Life on the road can be time-consuming, and with so little alone time, JOPLYN has realized that no place is a bad place to write a song. Even mid-set.




“[It’s] such a special headspace to be in, such a special place, seeing people in front of you and hearing your music on loudspeaker.”






JOPLYN explains her dreams have also provided a nuanced window into her subconscious and a source for her introspective melodic music.




“I dream so visually that most of my songs are me describing my dreams.” She explains how one of the songs from her album was the result of a particularly thoughtful journey she had in her vivid dream state. “I was in my apartment in my dream and saw a little door. I went through it, and it was a door to my subconscious. Walking around it, looking around it, like I was in an exhibition.”




It almost goes without saying that growing up in Berlin was responsible for her lust for music production, edging her down the electronic route. There was, of course, “A lot of partying growing up in Berlin. Going to clubs at a pretty young age." Despite their inherent chaos, JOPLYN believes that "Techno clubs are one of the calmest environments in the world. Filled with love… so much appreciation of being in this moment together and dancing together.”




JOPLYN’s inspirations were always a wide-ranging melange that crossed genre lines. Like Caribou’s “indietronica house and neo-psychedlia dream pop." And Germany's Oliver Huntemann and Booka Shade, who approached her for a collab and eventually became mentors, guiding her along the way in her musical journey. A far removal from her early days of listening to Lady Gaga.






In April 2022, she made her debut on Damian Lazarus’ Crosstown Rebels with “We Will Forgive Ourselves.” When reading its lyrics, it’s clear that a hidden message lay laced within.




“It’s my way of dealing with this hedonistic, excessive side of this culture, this genre that I’m in, within techno, within house. There is this dark side that no one talks about. It can be a very toxic place too, within all its beauty. That was my way of, in my mind, marrying the two ideas that it can be toxic and that it can be this dark place, but at the end of the day, it is uniting. It has this ‘we’re all in this together feeling.’ That at the end of the day we will forgive ourselves for all of the parties, all the things that we did.”



This kind of introspection and careful thought seems rare in a culture so focussed on living in the moment. And maybe, it’s why JOPLYN has stood out to so many.




“You can of course take this whole idea and project it on a wider scope, we will forgive ourselves in general in this world for all the things going on,” she continues. “It is a very melancholic song but I did want it to have a hopeful message at the end, and I did want it to be positive and uplifting. And because it is very choral, it feels almost like we’re in a church when I play it. It’s those moments on the dancefloor that I live for. I had the melody before I had the lyrics, so I was trying to write lyrics that captured this feeling that this melody had evoked in me.”






Well, now we know what song to turn to when we want to repent our sins on Sundays from our weekend antics.




The release marked a massive benchmark in her career and added another dance music icon to her growing list of heavy-hitting mentors.




I asked JOPLYN what goes through her mind when creating her music, as it’s easy to feel transported and lost within her tracks. I was curious if she had the listener at the forefront when in the studio or if she just let her magic flow.




“There’s a line to walk between art and functionality. Because you need both, especially when making pop music because people want to dance and lose themselves to it. In the initial spark moment, all of that isn’t on my mind at all. All I’m doing in that moment is letting out my ideas, recording them somewhere, and putting it all down. But that moment lasts about five minutes, and then the building blocks of the song are there. Then it’s about being very diligent and working on every single building block. So when I’m in that mode, I’m obviously thinking, ‘ok, if I make this break too long, people are going to leave the dancefloor.’ But I think it’s important at the beginning to free yourself from these preconceptions of how music is supposed to be or follow a formula or think about it too mathematically.”












Her musical journey has not only included her own progression but spearheading other women’s progression. JOPLYN is passionate about bringing more females into the world of music production. When I asked her why she thinks there is a gender imbalance, she remarked, “It’s such a technical job, and technical jobs in general get attributed a lot to men, which makes it intimidating for women to download Ableton or pick up a controller…We lack representation. If you look at the lineups, at the producers, at all the rosters, it’s all men. I see it everytime I play a gig, I’m always the only girl at the artist dinner. As a woman you tend to get belittled a lot. You get sexualised a lot. You aren’t taken seriously.”




I followed this up with how she saw best to encourage more women in the industry.




“Representation is important. Safe spaces are very important. Uplifting each other. Empowering each other.”






Probing that she’s a woman of action, JOPLYN has been working with Ableton and Spotify to give production workshops to make things a little more accessible and less intimidating. “The creative process is such a mysterious thing, kept behind closed doors. You’re presented with this perfect piece of music on this gold platter... So democratizing that whole process and concept is very dear to my heart.”




2022 was a massive year for JOPLYN and is still only the start for this super-talented young artist. In 2023 a new album is on the way. She says she’ll be locked away in an LA studio for two months working on it. She’s also teased a “couple of cool collabs coming,” including one with her mentors, Booka Shade. She also reveals that she’s “working on things with Damian “(Lazarus). So keep your ears and eyes peeled for what could be an explosive year for JOPLYN.





















Joplyn

Ben Dorman, best known behind the decks as BIJOU, is renowned for dark, driving, and ominous records. His latest release, “Gang Gang,” out via AC Slater’s esteemed label, Night Bass, proves to be an excellent example of his distinct sound.



“I wanted to create something that was for the people who have followed me from the beginning,” he says. “‘Gang Gang’ is [for] everyone who's supported me, everyone who comes to the shows, everyone who’s listening to my music. I wanted to create something that kept my West Coast-influenced sound but was also driving forward and a little bit housier in regards to the direction that I’m going now with my music.”



Dorman adds that the vocal sample, pulled from LA rapper Baby Keem’s “Gang Activities,” is a big aspect of the song. He wanted something simple and groovy to complement the heavy drop.



This isn’t Dorman’s first release on Night Bass. His relationship with the imprint and its founder AC Slater goes back to 2016 with “We Don’t Dance,” which skyrocketed him to fame.





“AC Slater is one of my really good friends,” Dorman explains as he remembers how he first signed to the tastemaking label. “I actually had flown into [Los Angeles] for one of the Night Bass parties on Thursdays that they do at Sound. I landed at the airport and we were texting,” he notes, adding that he sent AC Slater a song that the label boss liked. “It’s nice to have that relationship with [AC Slater] because it’s more than just music. There’s an actual friendship with him, [and] he’s done a great job with the label as well.”



Dorman grew up in a musical household. His father was a manager for local bands in Phoenix, Arizona—where Dorman grew up. The producer was “always around bands,” and his father played guitar, bass, and drums, in addition to singing at home.



“I grew up listening to reggae,” Dorman says. “My dad was playing reggae and rock and roll all the time, so that has been a huge inspiration and I hadn’t even heard it in my music. One of his best friends came to one of the shows and goes, ‘Did you realize that the drums [you use] in [your] set are very influenced by that sound?’ I never noticed it until he pointed that out.”



Dorman fell in love with dance music after hearing Tiësto’s “Adagio For Strings” in 2009. At the time, he was playing for the West Coast baseball league in Washington. He went out one night with his teammates to a club, and the next day he asked his coach if he could attend a deadmau5 show on the beach. Though his coach said no because they had to practice, Dorman says the team could hear the set during as they did.



While attending Northwestern Oklahoma State in 2010, his teammate suggested they attend Insomniac’s Nocturnal Festival in Texas. He saw Avicii, Armin van Buuren, Porter Robinson, and Green Velvet perform, solidifying his love for the genre. The next day, he downloaded a copy of Virtual DJ. “I was hooked,” he says.



BIJOU cut his teeth in Arizona clubs. His time as a local DJ was invaluable to his skills as a selector, but he tells Gray Area that, given the opportunity, he would give his younger self a bit of guidance.



“I would say to focus even more on production and perfecting my sound and craft,” he says. “I think early on, as a local DJ, I was so focused on DJing. I didn’t understand how important it was to produce and really have my own music. I think that would be the biggest thing that I would actually focus more on and tell my younger self.”



Dorman continues to evolve and transform and says his current music excites him the most. Like many experienced producers, he makes additional income by passing his imitable production skills on to younger artists. And his favorite song to date was produced with one of his students.



“He sent me this record, and I was like, ‘Yo, this is incredible. If you want to work on this together, I’m all for it.’ He’s an incredible producer as well. [He] goes by the name of Zaerd, and the song’s called ‘St. Tropez.’ I can’t stop listening to it, honestly.”

While some artists believe it is necessary to know music theory, Dorman has a different take. “I think it depends on what you’re making. For the type of music that I make, I don’t think so. It can definitely help. I have no knowledge of music theory. I’m totally transparent and I’ve done everything my entire career by sound or by ear and just being like, ‘Okay, is this in key? Is it not in key? Does it sound good?’ Because in the end if you think about it, if it sounds good, that’s all that really matters.”



Bijou

UK-born-and-bred house music veteran Low Steppa, née Will Bailey, has a career peppered with aliases, accolades, and career highs that include being at the axis of tectonic shifts in dance music several times over. He’s one of the select few to hold the title of Defected Records resident. And his label, Simma Black, has established itself as a tastemaker, releasing records that hold steadfast to his ethos that “music’s got to have a groove. It’s got to have a bit of soul.” His solo releases follow suit, walking the line between blissfully dusty classics and pristinely executed modern groovers. In a scene obsessed with trends, Low Steppa remains fascinated with what forms the backbone of dance music.






“I think when you’re younger, you’re more prone to gravitate towards fads that aren’t your thing,” he explains about the decade preceding his 2013 debut of the Low Steppa alias. Bailey spent his early career shifting through various sounds that helped pave the way for dance music’s inevitable explosion in the mid-aughts. Among them were his genre-bending work as part of fidget house outlet Twoker (with Alex Calver aka Skapes) and eponymous, genre-spanning work that saw him collaborate with a range of artists from Chris Lorenzo and Gettoblaster’s Paul Anthony to Valentino Khan.




For an artist whose entrée into dance music was on the soulful house tip, it became increasingly clear that the further he drifted from his roots, the less authentic his music felt.




A sense of nostalgia is inherent in even the most current sounds of “classic” house music. Those that have found inspiration in the creators of the culture, like Masters At Work, Todd Terry, and Frankie Knuckles, are recontextualizing a timeless aesthetic that has continued to persist on the dancefloor for nearly 40 years.






“That’s the beautiful thing about real house music,” he explains wistfully. “You’ve got all the things that are going on right now, you know, your tech house, all this, but it all sort of comes and goes away. Whereas your classic, sort of Defected vibe, I believe it’s always gonna be there. It’s like the backbone to a lot of things. So, I feel like I’ve drifted around along on back to what I wanted to do when I first started DJing and buying vinyl.”




He explains that, unlike other artists who were brought up on a diet of soul and disco, the Bailey household was one rife with rock and pop music. His dad, Richard Bailey, spent a spell as the keyboardist for '80s metal band Whitesnake. And he remembers growing up around studios in Birmingham, England.




“But I kind of made my own way through his record collection. I was obsessed with ‘Thriller’ when I was a kid. And so I think that got me on my way.”




In the ’80s and ’90s, he grew up parallel to the storied UK rave scene. And in Birmingham, a city associated with the tougher side of dance music (and the home of bassline house), he first discovered D&B. By the time he was getting into club life, he found the soulful side of house via BBC Radio 1 DJ Danny Rampling’s Love Groove Dance Party show.




He’d happened upon a sound that often appeals to a more seasoned dance music aficionado. As the years drifted on and he wound his way through a vast sonic soundscape, the distinct syncopated drums of the Birmingham Sound and timeless vibe of soulful house never left him. So when he released his garage-inspired rework of Route 94 and Jess Glynne’s “My Love” as a free download in 2013, he’d finally returned to the sound that made him fall in love with house music.






“I’ve always loved those skippy beats,” he explains about the bootleg that eventually made its way into Route 94’s DJ sets. “And it’s just fun when you’re making beats [thinking] ‘just where can I put these snares?’ And ‘what groove am I gonna get an average swing or quantized one off my beats?’”




As he gives a window into the process behind creating one of his impossibly danceable grooves, he recalls the wise words of Grant Nelson, also known as Wishdokta, Bump & Flex, and N’n’G, who is heralded as the “godfather of UK garage.”




“I think it was Grant Nelson that said to me once, ‘you know you’ve got to be grooving off just your drums.’ And that’s the approach I always have. I mean look at the drum beats that bookend Kenny Dope - 'The Bomb,' stuff like that. You don’t really get so much anymore where a record has an amazing drum beat.”




While modern production techniques have allowed for music to be far cheaper and easier to produce, the reliance on machines and sample packs has created a space where the humanity of music has been somewhat lost. Low Steppa has spent his career trying to reclaim it. And when he hooked up with Defected, he found a group of like-minded folks seeking to do the same.






In 2016 he released Low Steppa’s Disco Party, a 66-minute throwback to the music that arguably made house possible. Defected founder Simon Dunmore recognized Bailey’s inherent need to understand the roots of the music he loved in his track selection. Dunmore hit Low Steppa up to say he’d spent all weekend listening to the mix.




“I think he sort of realized that I knew my music and I think that was one of the key things. I think Simon [has] got a lot of respect for people who know their music or the background of it.”



Bailey has long been a veracious sample hound and music historian. “And that I mean, that’s very important to him, I think. Because obviously, there’s not really people that know much more about it than him.”




After a few opening slots in the UK, Bailey was brought into the Defected fold. He’s released several dozen records there, including a throbbing, organ-laden remix of Hardrive’s “Deep Inside,” an impossibly funky rework of “Freedom” by CeCe Rogers and Jack Back aka David Guetta, and 2019’s disco-tinged “You’re My Life” that masterfully samples Jackie Moore’s 1979 “This Time Baby.”






And while he was already a well-established touring DJ, Defected also allowed him to spread the gospel of house music even further by being a staple on their global club and festival lineups.




“I think Defected did really help me get into the space I wanted to be in because it allowed me to go back to my roots and do what I really wanted to do,” Bailey says.




While he’s in the most creatively fulfilling space of his life, there are times when he feels he could take it even further. “I still can’t always play what I really want to. Sometimes I’d love to play a more soulful set, but when you’re in a festival or busy club [and] it’s hyping, you just know what you got to do. I do miss playing in a bar where people are just chilling, and you’re just playing some light, soulfuric vibes.”






The pandemic allowed him to connect even more with his roots by doing just that. He quickly became a staple of the streams and dug in the crates for long-lost house music gems. It’s likely what led to his monthly Defected Broadcasting House Show.




“I think that’s what was great about it for me. I went and found all these records I used to play. And I was just playing a lot of this old stuff and I loved it. Everyone was just at home and [the] dance floor was equal. Just play whatever you wanted, that was one of the beautiful views of it all for me during those times, as weird as it was.”




Low Steppa has had the good fortune of an extended and fruitful career in dance music. He’s remained a relevant and culturally significant voice for the duration. He explains that he’s done so by staying in his own lane.




“That’s exactly the phrase, stay in your own lane, and just be happy with what you’re doing," he says. "I’ve got my followers, and it’s important to just keep them happy, and not get to get caught up in the trends. I don’t really want to want to follow the trends. I mean, it’s great to hear stuff that’s new, and you’re like, 'oh, wicked,' and they get a vibe off that. But I do want to stick to what I’m doing.”



Artist Interviews