Ten years
of this.

I have been DJing on and off for more than ten years, starting back in college. Lately I have been putting a lot more time into it and being intentional about it.

That sentence does a lot of quiet work, so here is the longer version.

College was where it started, in the way it starts for most people: a cheap controller, a room full of people who were going to have fun regardless, and the slow discovery that reading a room is a skill and not a personality trait. It became the thing I thought about all week. Then it went quiet for a while, the way things do.

Going quiet turned out to be useful. Ten years of listening without the pressure of performing every weekend leaves you with taste instead of tricks. When I came back to it properly, I was not starting over. I was starting from a much better place than the version of me who used to panic and drop the biggest record in the box at 10:15pm.

What I play

My sound lives somewhere between groovy house, deeper club music, bass, and whatever else moves me. Deep and tech house is home base. Groovy, warm, a bit rolling, with enough weight underneath that the room feels it before it notices it.

I am not a genre purist about it. If a night wants a bassline record at the right moment, it gets one. If the crowd wants a disco loop for four minutes because the energy in the room asked for it, they get that too. What I will not do is treat a set like a playlist with the shuffle turned off.

Read the room before you read the tracklist. Everything else is technique.

How a set gets built

Three phases, and the first one is where most DJs lose the night.

The warm up. Nobody dances at nine and they are not supposed to. This is the part where the room is filling and the bar is busy and the temptation is to force it. Deep, groovy, patient, wide. The job is to make the room feel like something is about to happen. If you do this properly, the peak takes care of itself. If you skip it, you spend the rest of the night chasing.

The peak. Tech house, club energy, longer blends, the records that turn a room around. This is the part I have spent a decade getting good at, and it is the reason people book me instead of a playlist.

The close. The last forty minutes decide what people remember. I do not coast into the house lights. If the room still has something left in it, I am still working.

Four rooms, one ear

I play weddings, bars and clubs, shows, and corporate parties. People find that combination strange until they have seen all four. They are the same problem in different clothes: a room full of people, a limited number of hours, and a decision every ninety seconds about what happens next.

What changes is the constraints. A wedding has a timeline, a mic, and a mother-in-law. A club has a slot and a booker who wants the room fuller at close than at open. A corporate party has a run of show and a CEO who is about to speak. A show has a lineup and a job to do inside it.

I like all four for different reasons. The weddings taught me structure. The clubs taught me nerve.

The gear conversation

I bring sound sized to the room, backup for everything that matters, and I would rather over-pack than explain a silent dance floor. If your venue has a house system that is genuinely good, I will use it and tell you so. If it is not, I will bring mine and tell you that instead. Nobody should discover the answer to this question on the night.

Where I am going

More rooms, more often, and a body of recorded work that reflects what the live sets actually sound like. Mixes, clips, tracks I am into, old throwbacks, and full live sets. This is where all of it will live.

If you have a room, a date, or a night that needs a plan, that is the whole invitation.

Check my date