I've been active in electronic music since the late nineties, but my relationship with sound started long before that. I began with classical training on flute and piano, later taught myself drums, and eventually played in a punk band. Music was never a direction — it was simply something I had to do.
My first real contact with electronic music came through a borrowed "Love Parade 1997" compilation and early rave records circulating between friends. At that time, everything was instinctive — no clear path, just curiosity, first setups, first experiments, and the slow realization that sound could become a continuous state rather than separate tracks.
What changed everything was learning to mix. I still remember the moment when it finally worked: two tracks locking together, time dissolving, and sound turning into one continuous movement. That feeling never really left me.
From there, techno became less of a genre and more of a physical language for me — driving, hypnotic, often tribal structures focused on flow, tension and immersion rather than categories or trends.
At the same time, another side developed in parallel: music without rhythm, without function, without expectation. Ambient and experimental sound became a space to process emotion, memory and internal states without translation. Not as contrast, but as necessity.
I also started organizing events around 1999. Not because there was a plan, but because there simply wasn't a scene around us and we wanted a place to play. What began as DIY nights with friends quickly turned into a deeper understanding of music as a social experience — not just tracks, but entire situations.
Those years taught me a lot about people, crowds and energy. I learned how fragile the connection between DJ and audience can be, and how much it depends on intention rather than status. I also learned that behind every DJ persona is just a human being trying to communicate something.
Between 2012 and 2015, I stepped away from the center of the scene. I spent time traveling and later worked as a sound engineer at venues like Tresor and on large-scale festival systems. That period shifted everything — away from pushing forward, and back toward listening.
In 2023, I founded aerial echoes as an independent imprint for experimental sound and long-form listening experiences. A space without expectations, focused on texture, atmosphere and emotional depth rather than function or genre.
Today, I move between two states: high-intensity, hypnotic techno sets built around flow and physical presence, and ambient performances where structure disappears completely. Both are different expressions of the same intention — creating moments where sound becomes a shift in perception.
Not entertainment. A state.