When I was a kid, I used to wander around my neighborhood with a little marching snare drum, probably annoying everyone with my endless snare rolls. Making music—or just making noise—felt completely natural to me. Now, as a parent, I see the same instinct in my kids. Being loud, exploring sounds, and communicating beyond words is an essential part of growing up. But what’s truly special about making music with others is the shared experience. Playing the same rhythm, feeling the same pulse—it’s like a secret language that connects us. Dancing together in a club, all moving to the same beat, is a pure expression of joy. It reminds us that we belong.
As someone who has been making music my whole life, I’ve always had mixed feelings about consuming music passively, especially when it’s available anytime, anywhere. I never liked radio, except for curated shows that aligned with my taste. And now, with music streaming everywhere, I feel even more disconnected. Services like Spotify always seemed off to me. When I first tried it over a decade ago, I didn’t like how it attempted to predict my taste—it felt mechanical, impersonal.
If you’ve ever listened to a DJ mix, like the one by my friend Scholee, you’d understand that no algorithm could create such a journey. Listening to music can be a creative, active experience, not just a passive one. You can dig deep—search for tracks on Discogs, learn about the producers and engineers, and uncover the stories behind the music. In the past, album sleeves provided these details, allowing listeners to connect with the music beyond just hearing it.
It’s important to remember that the recording industry is entirely manmade. Over time, creating records has become synonymous with making music. But music is everywhere. Birds singing remind me of how deeply rooted music is in our existence. Before we spoke, we made sounds, rhythms—music. I’d even argue that without music, humanity wouldn’t exist as we know it. Everything we hear, every noise we make, is part of this vast musical landscape.
That’s why I believe we should take a step back from streaming services and rethink how we engage with recorded music. My career as a DJ has given me a lot to reflect on. It’s no longer just about knowing a genre inside out, being the coolest selector, or saving the night at a club. It’s about endurance, about the deep dive into music—connecting unexpected sounds, curating something meaningful, and surprising listeners. It’s about bringing life back to the experience of listening.
This doesn’t mean getting lost in the overwhelming amount of music online. Instead, I focus on my friends’ work—listening to mixes by DJs I know and supporting the people around me. It might sound obvious, but it’s not. I remember a time when the only thing that mattered was knowing all the famous underground DJs and artists. Local DJs were often overlooked in their own cities, and prime-time slots were reserved for the jet-set elite. That era—what I call the ‘easy-jet-set’ period—seems to be fading, at least for now. And that’s a good thing.
I hope we can step away from passive streaming and rediscover music as something we’re passionate about. Ironically, as AI-generated music floods platforms like Spotify—simply because it’s cheaper—it may push us back to playing real instruments and engaging with music more deeply. And in that sense, the future of music might just be more human than ever.
