Just music.

You’ve found the place.

You’ve brought together the people you actually want to be there.

You’ve probably made more decisions than you ever expected to make about lighting, tables, food, flowers, timings and things nobody warned you would require a decision.

And then the day arrives.

At some point, all of that disappears.

People stop looking at the details.

They start looking at each other.

Someone moves a chair.

Someone takes off their shoes.

Someone who said they weren’t going to dance changes their mind.

And the night becomes its own thing.

I don’t think the music should compete with your moment.

It should become part of it.

I’ve spent more than 25 years behind the decks, but every time I play for a new group of people, the interesting part starts from zero.

Because I’ve never had these people in this place on this night before.

One thing you should probably know about me:

If your idea of a perfect night is a familiar run of pop hits and evergreens, I’m probably not your DJ.

And that’s completely fine.

What I love is something more eclectic. Music with enough character to surprise you, but enough feeling to somehow belong.

You may not know every record.

You don’t have to.

You just have to want to stay for the next one.

And maybe the one after that.