When you say being able to zoom out, do you feel like that's kind of just something that perspective essentially comes with time or how do you think you got to that point? Because the world of dance music has really changed, we’ve seen DJs reach a new level of pop stardom and cliche and going out is about escaping, hedonism, lack of accountability. Yet, with your music and The Floor, you’re striving for a sense of presence. On the “breather” track, you’ve got some meditative voiceovers and it’s interesting to ask that of the audience.
Yeah, I think it's exactly that. It’s definitely changed over the years and some of the stuff that I struggled with over the making of this album was related to how it's changed. Thinking about what influence my first solo album had on dance music to where the scene is at now makes me realize how scenes grow differently than how they used to when I was a kid. In the end, I just had to sort of put blinders on and do exactly what I wanted to do, regardless of everything else because it was really messing with my head. The Floor is the antithesis to the giant stadium shows with everyone with their phones out. It's a small 300 capacity room. It's too dark for you to want to have your phone out and that's my favorite kind of thing to go to. I also try not to be too negative about it and there's a lot of people who connect with the music that I connect with now. Some of the more emotionally driven dance music nowadays feels a bit forced to me, as if it's not really coming from the heart but I also think there's enough space in the world for everybody to make and play whatever they want to.
Totally and thinking about cities as scenes, how was the energy in New York versus in London?
The energy was amazing. Even from night to night, the energy was totally different every night in both London and in New York. I love that about spaces, they transform every night.
It reminds me of something you said in a past interview – that dance music has the potential to be more radical than anything else – it’s unfixed. Hearing that now, where’s your head at?
It comes down to a basic instinct, not to get too serious or earnest about it, but humans have always been communicating through dance, there was always a need for it. Before an abundance of dance floors, it was a church and before that, people were banging wooden sticks in caves and dancing around to that. It’s how we've excised our demons since before we could speak in that way, it's always going to be around, you can do anything with it, it has endless possibilities because of that.
Endless possibilities meaning an infinite number of ways to find connection? You’ve used that word “connection” quite a bit, when do you feel most connected?
I felt that on Thursday night when Francois was playing in New York. I just had an hours long chat with him before his set and we were talking about similar things to what we've been talking about – the state of dance music, the different ways in which it goes and how he's experienced that since the start of his career, which was a lot longer than mine, and we have very similar feelings about all of that. Going to the dance floor to then watch him play and to see the room come together and be uplifted by his set, it was just a beautiful thing. It was very invigorating and super inspiring. I felt that connection more than I had on the other nights, even though the other nights were amazing, there was testament to the fact that you can get that good by doing it for that long and he’s done it for 50ish years.
That’s sustainability right there. I don't know if you struggle with this at all but I think there’s something to balancing how you perceive yourself, as an individual and/or as an artist. How far away are those terms in degrees of separation, if at all?
I think I'm constantly trying to figure it out. I'm trying to be as grounded as possible and I think that the answer to being like that is to not really think of yourself as an artist or it being any different from having any other job. Over the last few years, I've enjoyed treating it like a job, going into the studio no matter what, even if it wasn't working, trying to do a nine to five while giving myself the freedom to stay up for two days, if it's going well. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t but there are very few other professions where you get to have that workflow and it’s not to be taken for granted. I definitely don't walk around thinking of myself as an artist the whole time.
That’s interesting, you’re kind of chasing that flow state, feeling that connection while having to come back down and live in the sometimes mundane reality of things. That being said, music has kind of taken you around the globe throughout your youth and into your adult years, but I feel like home is something that also seems to be very important to you. What does home mean to you?
I think it's just the simple things it represents like having a routine, getting to see my favorite people, going to my favorite park – the things you start to take for granted. If I'm in one place for too long, I used to get restless but I'm really starting to cherish all of these little things again. It's all the stuff outside of music, really, that home represents and I think my perspective on it has changed slightly. I used to miss home a lot, I used to make music based on that feeling and now I think music is this totally international thing. I love traveling for music, getting to be in all these places and see the world and healers of new music and home is kind of a sanctuary away from that.