I first came across her through a post on Instagram. Frustrated by the familiar claim that promoters “couldn’t find” enough female DJs, she spent a single evening compiling a list of more than 300 women behind the decks. It was simple, direct and impossible to ignore. The post travelled far beyond her own audience, not because it shouted the loudest, but because it quietly dismantled one of the scene’s favourite excuses.

Naturally, I wanted to know more about the person behind it.

The more I looked into Alice – better known as Zaba – the more I realised that post wasn’t an isolated moment. Whether she’s DJing, running events, advocating for grassroots venues through Croakheads or championing other artists, everything she does is rooted in the same belief: music is at its best when more people are invited in. After chatting over email, it became clear that advocacy isn’t something she’s added to her career – it’s simply woven into who she is.

Music found Zaba long before DJing did. Growing up in a military family meant constantly moving from place to place, but one thing remained reassuringly consistent – there was always music. Long car journeys were spent glued to an MP3 player, Saturday mornings meant trips to HMV, and choosing CDs purely because the artwork caught her eye became a ritual that introduced her to genres she may never have discovered otherwise.

At home, music surrounded her. Her dad played guitar in a band and filled the car with classic rock, punk and metal, while trips to concerts and festivals became part of family life. Her mum, nan and cousin all nurtured that same creative spirit in different ways, making music feel less like a hobby and more like something woven into everyday life.

“It was kind of inevitable that music would become an enormous part of my life,” she says.

By the age of eight she was playing clarinet in orchestras, jazz bands and marching bands, taking singing lessons and learning guitar. Looking back, those early experiences unknowingly laid the foundations for DJing. Rhythm, timing and musical instinct were already second nature by the time she stepped behind a pair of decks.

“I have an instinctive pull towards music that I really can’t explain,” she tells me. “I found myself organising playlists by vibes, atmosphere and label sound. DJing was just the natural next step.”

That curiosity still defines the way she approaches music today. While many artists become known for one specific lane, Zaba has never understood the pressure to stay inside one box.

“I like too many genres,” she laughs. “Isn’t it better to explore a wider range and push yourself to discover new music?”

If she had to describe her sets, she’d call them “warm, fun, nostalgic energy, with a creative and personal twist” – a reflection of someone who values emotional connection over sticking rigidly to expectations.

Like many people working in grassroots music, though, the biggest lessons haven’t come from learning how to DJ. They’ve come from learning how to navigate people.

Looking back, she describes herself as a naive promoter who naturally assumed everyone shared the same intentions she did. Over time she realised that wasn’t always the case.

“I’ve learned you don’t need to explain yourself to everyone,” she says. “Trust your instincts, pay attention to how people make you feel and step back from spaces where your support isn’t met with the same warmth in return.”

That honesty feels refreshing. So much of the music industry celebrates relentless giving, but Zaba speaks just as openly about the importance of protecting your own wellbeing.

“I’ve realised that championing others is great, but not at the cost of abandoning my own needs, values or wellbeing.”

That balance runs through everything she does.

The post introducing hundreds of female DJs wasn’t about creating division. It was about removing barriers. Having repeatedly heard promoters claim they simply couldn’t find women to book, she decided to prove otherwise.

“I wanted to show that this just isn’t true,” she explains. “Finding 300 female DJs in one evening made that pretty clear.”

It’s a conversation that naturally expands into representation, accessibility and creating spaces where more people genuinely feel welcome. For Zaba, inclusivity isn’t achieved through one diverse lineup – it’s built through listening, questioning and constantly asking who still isn’t in the room.

That same mindset is what fuels Croakheads, where she works as Head of Operations. The collective exists to champion independent venues, promoters, artists and local communities while raising awareness around the UK’s ongoing grassroots venue crisis.

“We’re losing more than buildings,” she says. “We’re losing entire ecosystems.”

It’s a perspective that resonates deeply with Fleckies. Grassroots venues aren’t simply somewhere to perform – they’re where artists find confidence, audiences discover something unexpected and lifelong friendships begin. Speaking to venue owners has only reinforced how fragile those foundations have become, but she’s equally inspired by the resilience of the people still fighting to keep them alive.

“I’ve seen so much resilience,” she says. “People are still showing up and still building something incredible together.”

Ask her what a healthy music community looks like and the answer feels beautifully simple.

“A place where people genuinely look out for each other. Where everyone feels seen and valued. Where people stand up for spaces and for each other.”

Looking ahead, Zaba shows no signs of slowing down. Croakheads is expanding its resident and ambassador teams, with more fundraising planned for Music Venue Trust alongside a new newsletter and the possibility of launching a podcast celebrating people making a difference across grassroots music. Alongside that, she’s continuing to DJ while quietly working on her own productions.

“I don’t want to sound like everyone else,” she says. “I don’t want to rush my art.”

That patience feels symbolic of everything she’s spoken about. Whether she’s creating music, supporting artists or challenging the industry, very little is driven by speed. It’s driven by purpose.

If there’s one thing I took away from this conversation, it’s that Zaba isn’t trying to become the loudest voice in dance music. She’s trying to make sure more voices get heard. In a culture that can sometimes reward ego over empathy, that’s quietly radical.

Her final piece of advice feels fitting.

“If you’re going to be outspoken, be prepared to face criticism. Don’t give up. Use your voice. Be brave.”

The industry needs more people willing to do exactly that.

Listen and follow Zaba:

Click here for all things Zaba

Click here for all things Croakheads

The post Zaba: Building the Scene She Wants to Dance In first appeared on Fleckies - Discover the best local events in town.

Speaking to BEKIMACHINE, it’s clear she’s the latter.

We first crossed paths at Music Barn Festival earlier this year, where she brought her signature blend of melodic and driving techno to the Fleckies Stable Stage. I’d heard great things before we met, but what struck me most wasn’t just the set – it was how genuinely warm and down-to-earth she was behind the scenes. After chatting over email, that first impression only became stronger. Behind the bold name and high-energy music is someone who’s spent years quietly refining her craft, embracing change and following wherever creativity takes her.

Music has never really been something she discovered. It was simply always there.

Growing up, she threw herself into it from an early age, learning the flute before attending performing arts school and later studying Music Technology throughout school, sixth form and university. Alongside that came bands, performances and countless opportunities to experiment. She fronted a local rock band as a teenager before joining ska-punk outfit Just Say Nay as a flautist and backing vocalist, experiences that gave her confidence on stage long before electronic music entered the picture.

Looking back, those years built the foundations for everything that followed.

She was equally inspired by the music she immersed herself in. Paramore, VersaEmerge, Kesha and Kate Nash formed part of the soundtrack to her younger years before artists like Grimes, HANA, Purity Ring and Lights completely captured her imagination.

“I’ve always been massively into female-fronted bands and artists,” she explains. “They’ve really shaped my music over the years.”

Although many people now know her as a DJ, production actually came first.

BEKIMACHINE began life as a synth-pop project, performing original songs live using Ableton, vocals, flute and live effects. More than simply releasing tracks, she created an entire concept around the project – a cyborg alter ego complete with commissioned artwork, connected visuals and story-led releases.

“I’ve always had a creative brain,” she says. “Writing songs collaboratively in bands was so fun, but I wanted to try the process solo.”

Like many artists, lockdown became an unexpected turning point. While streaming on Twitch from her bedroom, she taught herself to DJ and gradually found herself pulled towards a different corner of electronic music. Melodic house evolved into driving techno, which eventually opened the door to hard techno and trance.

Rather than feeling like a dramatic reinvention, it sounds more like a natural progression.

“As I’ve grown as an artist, my music has become more of a reflection of who I am now.”

That willingness to evolve feels central to BEKIMACHINE’s creative identity. She isn’t interested in staying inside one lane simply because it’s familiar. Instead, she follows whatever genuinely excites her, building sets that she describes as “melodic, fun, energising and vibey.”

“You’ll always have a good time,” she laughs. That same mindset extends beyond the DJ booth.

Alongside producing and performing, she founded Cloud9, a techno event created to bring more electronic music to the West Midlands. Running an independent event is rarely glamorous. There’s endless organising, constant promotion and no guarantee people will walk through the door.

“The biggest challenge is getting a good turnout,” she admits. “There’s so much involved and often no financial gain.”

But almost immediately, she follows that with what matters far more.

“The reward is creating that space in the local scene.”

That sentence says a lot.

Throughout our conversation, she continually returns to community rather than personal success. Whether she’s talking about grassroots venues, local promoters or the friendships she’s built through music, there’s an obvious appreciation for the people who make scenes possible.

She’s also a proud resident for Altered Events, describing founder Paris Camille as both an incredible DJ and now a close friend. It’s another reminder that behind every successful grassroots brand are people choosing to champion one another rather than compete.

That sense of community feels especially important at a time when independent venues continue to disappear across the UK.

“It’s so sad to see,” she says. “There’s nothing like having a dance surrounded by friends and enjoying amazing music. That’s why grassroots events are so important – they keep the scene alive.”

When the conversation turns to being a woman working across DJing, production and event management, her answer is refreshingly honest.

Rather than focusing on external barriers, she talks about the pressure she places on herself.

“I feel like I’m not doing enough,” she says. “I’ve been trying to learn to give myself grace.”

Balancing music alongside a full-time job means accepting that there are only so many hours in the day. It’s a feeling many creatives will recognise. The desire to keep pushing can easily outweigh the need to pause and acknowledge how far you’ve already come.

And there have been plenty of moments worth celebrating.

Playing TwitchCon Amsterdam, winning Modul8’s DJ competition and closing for Helen Frey, hearing her music played on BBC Radio 1 Dance – they’re all milestones that remind her the hard work is paying off.

“It’s easy to forget to sit back and be proud of yourself.”

Right now, she’s building on that momentum.

Her latest release, Perspective Is Everything, created alongside Transistor Rhythms, has just arrived complete with a music video, while an EP is already taking shape for release later this year or early 2027. There are collaborations quietly developing in the background too, alongside hopes of bringing Cloud9 back after a short hiatus.

Nothing feels rushed. Everything feels intentional.

Looking ahead, it doesn’t sound like BEKIMACHINE is chasing trends or overnight success. She’s simply continuing to build something that feels authentic to her, one release, one set and one opportunity at a time.

Her advice to anyone wanting to follow a similar path captures that perfectly.

“Don’t give yourself excuses not to start. Just start.”

It’s simple, but perhaps that’s the point.

Conversations like this continuously make me think about just how many artists like BEKIMACHINE exist across the country – quietly putting in the hours, learning new skills, creating opportunities for others and keeping grassroots electronic music alive without expecting recognition in return.

Those are exactly the kinds of people Fleckies was built to celebrate.

And if her work so far is anything to go by, it feels like BEKIMACHINE is only just getting started.

Listen and follow BEKIMACHINE:

Stream BEKIMACHINE and explore more on Spotify

Click here for socials, tickets and everything else

The post BEKIMACHINE: Building Her Own Frequency first appeared on Fleckies - Discover the best local events in town.

That was my biggest takeaway after speaking with RIJ.

We first connected after he reached out to me on Instagram, suggesting a chat because he felt we were on similar journeys. By the end of our conversation, I understood exactly what he meant. Yes, he’s a DJ. Yes, he’s played Ibiza, produced music and built an event brand. But underneath all of that is someone deeply interested in people – what connects them, what inspires them and how music can become the thread running through it all.

Music found him early.

Growing up, it wasn’t production software or club culture that first sparked something – it was community radio. At just twelve years old he landed a regular slot on a local summer station after his science teacher, Mrs Burgess, put his name forward. It quickly became much more than reading links between songs.

“I learned confidence, speaking into a microphone, working a mixing desk and sharing music. It gave me the bug straight away.”

By fourteen he was presenting a weekly Chart Show, bringing friends into the studio, taking requests and opening the lines to listeners. Looking back now, it’s funny how naturally those early experiences mirror what he’s building today. Even then, he wasn’t just interested in playing music – he wanted to create spaces where people felt involved.

Music was everywhere at home too. CDs were prized birthday presents, speakers had to have enough bass, and like many of us growing up in the early internet era, he spent hours tinkering with music-making tools online long before he knew what production really was.

Then university arrived, and with it, dance music.

Walking into Birmingham’s legendary Rainbow venue for the first time became one of those moments that quietly changes everything. “I just remember thinking, this is something completely different.”

Not long afterwards, a friend handed him a pair of ageing DJ controllers that barely worked. They weren’t glamorous – “I’m being generous calling them decks,” he laughs – but they were enough to light another spark. House parties followed, then a proper set of Pioneer decks for his twenty-first birthday after his aunt and uncle offered to fund half, provided he invested the other half himself.

It wasn’t about owning equipment. It was about committing to the craft.

Like many DJs, RIJ taught himself through trial, error and persistence. He learned by playing wherever he could, first for friends, then at parties, then gradually in larger venues. Looking back, he admits he spent too long waiting for opportunities to arrive instead of creating them.

“The minute I stopped waiting for someone else to build it for me and took ownership, things started to shift.”

That shift eventually led him to Ibiza – almost by accident.

What followed wasn’t simply a collection of gigs on one of dance music’s most iconic islands, but an education in adaptability. Equipment failed. USBs crashed. Decks overheated in thirty-five-degree bars. Every set became another lesson in staying calm under pressure.

More importantly, Ibiza reminded him that relationships matter just as much as talent.

“You never know who’s in the crowd or who’s sat next to you in the green room. Just be a decent person. That goes further than any hustle.”

His sound naturally evolved alongside those experiences. House sits at its core, but disco, garage and soulful vocals all weave through his sets, shaped by childhood memories, family influences and countless hours behind the decks. He describes house music’s four-to-the-floor rhythm as something almost primal, while disco brings “warmth, nostalgia and emotion”. Garage adds groove and attitude.

“The warmth and melody probably come from my family,” he says. “The bass and the naughtiness? That’s all me.”

But perhaps the most interesting part of RIJ’s story isn’t the DJ career at all. It’s Naughty Parrot.

What began as an events concept has grown into something much bigger – an event series, podcast, creative platform and community built around one simple idea: Be Bold. Dance Free.

The philosophy behind it feels refreshingly honest. RIJ believes people shouldn’t have to choose between looking after themselves and enjoying nightlife. His phrase “Party with Balance” sums it up perfectly.

“Naughty Parrot was born from wanting to create spaces where people can show up unapologetically as themselves.”

That idea runs through everything the brand does. Events are designed to feel intimate rather than intimidating. Podcasts dive into wellbeing alongside music. Emerging artists are given opportunities to share their stories, while established guests help shine a light on the next generation.

Listening to him talk about it, you quickly realise Naughty Parrot isn’t really about him.

It’s about everyone else.

“How else are they going to get a voice?” he asks when talking about supporting emerging DJs. “If I’ve got a platform, however big or small, I want to use it.”

It’s a mindset that feels increasingly rare. Rather than viewing the scene as something to compete within, he sees it as something to contribute to. He speaks openly about paying artists fairly wherever possible, recognising the hours that disappear behind the scenes long before anyone steps into a DJ booth.

That same generosity carries into the wider community he’s building.

“Community isn’t just part of Naughty Parrot,” he says. “The brand doesn’t exist without it.”

In a world that often feels increasingly divided, he believes dancefloors can still offer something powerful – places where people arrive without pretence, connect through music and leave feeling a little lighter than when they walked in.

That vision continues to grow.

Following a sold-out London event, Naughty Parrot heads to Manchester on 4^th July before expanding into Bristol and beyond, while RIJ continues balancing DJ bookings across the UK and Europe with growing the platform itself. Longer term, he’s already thinking about taking the concept overseas.

It’s ambitious, but it doesn’t feel rushed.

His advice to others reflects exactly the same mindset. “Pick your battles. You can build more than one thing, just not always at the same time.” It’s practical advice, but also quietly reassuring. Progress doesn’t always happen in a straight line, and creativity doesn’t need to move at everyone else’s pace.

By the end of our conversation, I found myself thinking back to why Fleckies exists in the first place. It’s easy to look at someone’s Instagram and think you know their story. Usually, you don’t.

Behind the Ibiza sunsets, sold-out events and polished content is someone who still believes music is fundamentally about people. About conversations. About giving others a platform. About creating spaces where everyone feels welcome.

If Naughty Parrot continues growing with those values intact, I have a feeling this is only the beginning.

Listen and follow RIJ:

@RIJMusic_

For socials, tickets and everything else, head to:

TICKETS for July 4th!

All things Naughty Parrot

The post RIJ: Building Something Bigger Than the Dancefloor first appeared on Fleckies - Discover the best local events in town.

There’s something grounding about that kind of longevity. In a scene that constantly reinvents itself, it’s rare to find artists who have not only witnessed those shifts but adapted to them without losing their identity. Speaking to Soul Avengerz, it becomes clear that their approach has always been simple – stay true to what feels right, and let everything else fall into place.

Both coming up in North London, music was never something distant or abstract. It was part of everyday life. “Music was a huge part of both our upbringings,” they explain, recalling early days spent DJing in the late 80s, moving through soul and boogie before house music fully took hold. That period, just before the explosion of the scene, gave them something invaluable – time to learn, to experiment, and to understand what it really meant to move a crowd.

Those early experiences shaped more than just their sound. They built an instinct. Playing open-to-close sets, reading rooms without distraction, relying purely on the music and the people in front of them. It’s a skillset that feels almost lost in today’s faster-paced, digital-heavy landscape, but one that still sits at the core of what they do.

When house music first arrived in London, everything shifted. “It was exciting, special times,” they reflect. There was no blueprint, no clear path to follow. DJs weren’t chasing status or visibility, they were collectors, curators, people obsessed with finding the right record and sharing it. “You got booked through mixtapes and word of mouth,” they say, painting a picture of a scene built on trust and connection rather than algorithms or online presence.

Record shops became central to that world. Places where hours would disappear flicking through vinyl, where conversations turned into opportunities, and where community naturally formed. It’s a far cry from the instant access of today, but there’s a sense that those slower processes created something deeper. Relationships that lasted, sounds that evolved organically, and a culture that felt genuinely shared.

The Soul Avengerz project itself came together in that spirit. Not through a grand plan, but through alignment. Having crossed paths on line-ups and recognising a shared direction, the opportunity to step into the studio with James Reynolds became the starting point. “We loved it straight away,” they say, and from there, it grew naturally. The vision was never complicated – make quality house music that works on the dancefloor and reflects who they are.

Over the years, the landscape around them has changed dramatically. The shift from vinyl to CD, and then to USB, has transformed not only how DJs play but how they discover and share music. The scene itself has expanded globally, opening doors that simply didn’t exist in those early days. But despite all of that, they remain clear on what hasn’t changed.

“At its core, house music has always been about bringing people together.” It’s a sentiment that comes up again and again, and one that feels particularly relevant now. Beyond the technology, beyond the platforms and the pace, the essence of it all is still about connection. That moment on a dancefloor where everything else fades away, and you’re simply part of something bigger.

It’s perhaps this understanding that has allowed them to remain relevant without ever chasing it. “We’ve never really thought about staying relevant,” they admit. Instead, they’ve focused on doing what they’ve always done – playing and producing music that feels right to them. It’s a subtle but important distinction. Rather than adapting to trends, they’ve let their sound evolve naturally, trusting that authenticity will always resonate.

That approach hasn’t come without effort. Longevity in music requires resilience, even if it’s not always spoken about. The industry has shifted countless times over the years, and staying consistent through that requires a level of belief in your own direction. For Soul Avengerz, that belief seems to come from a genuine connection to the culture itself.

Community has always been central to that. Not in a performative sense, but in a lived one. “We’ve made lifelong friends on the dancefloor,” they say, even noting that it’s where they both met their wives. It’s a reminder that for many, this isn’t just a career path. It’s a way of life. A network of people and moments that extend far beyond the music itself.

That same energy continues into everything they do today. Whether it’s a club set, a production session or a larger event, the focus remains the same – create a space where people can connect, even if only for a few hours.

Right now, that focus is leading them to one of London’s most iconic venues. On Saturday 18th April, Soul Avengerz will take to the decks at Fabric as part of the Fool’s Paradise day party. It’s a lineup filled with names that have shaped the scene, making their inclusion feel both fitting and well-earned.

“Being part of that line-up is a real honour,” they say, recognising both the history of the venue and the calibre of artists involved. Fabric, with its renowned sound system and atmosphere, is a space that continues to hold weight, even for those who have played countless venues over the years. “It never loses its magic,” they add, and there’s a sense that moments like this still carry the same excitement as they always have.

As for what to expect from their set, the answer is refreshingly straightforward. “Uplifting house music, pure and simple. Good energy, good vibes.” It’s a description that feels almost understated, but perhaps that’s the point. After all this time, they don’t need to over-explain it. The music speaks for itself.

Looking ahead, there’s no grand reinvention planned. Instead, the focus remains on what has always worked. New music is in the pipeline, collaborations are ongoing, and ideas continue to develop. “There’s a lot more to come,” they say, keeping it open-ended in a way that feels true to their journey so far.

For younger DJs and producers coming through, their advice is equally grounded. Don’t follow trends. Make music you love. Be patient. Stay consistent. Build something that feels authentic. It’s not flashy advice, but it’s the kind that lasts. The kind that reflects lived experience rather than quick wins.

Spending time with their story, even from a distance, there’s a quiet respect that naturally builds. Not just for what they’ve achieved, but for how they’ve done it. Without shortcuts, without compromise, and without losing sight of why they started in the first place.

In a scene that often moves quickly, Soul Avengerz feel like a reminder to slow down. To trust your instincts. To focus on the music and the people around it. Because at the end of the day, that’s what has always mattered.

Listen and follow and get tickets
Follow Soul Avengerz:
https://www.instagram.com/paul_soul_avengerz/
https://www.instagram.com/waynesoulavengerz/

For Fool’s Gold socials and tickets head to:
https://bio.to/FoolsParadise

The post SOUL AVENGERZ: DECADES ON THE DANCEFLOOR first appeared on Fleckies - Discover the best local events in town.

Karim’s relationship with music began long before he had any say in it. Growing up in Shepherd’s Bush, he was surrounded by traditional Middle Eastern sounds, shaped largely by his dad’s passion for music. Instruments like the oud, derbake and keyboard weren’t just objects in the house – they were part of daily life. “I started learning piano from the age of five,” he says, and from that point on, music never really left him. It wasn’t something he discovered later, it was always there, quietly embedding itself into who he was.

Some of his earliest personal connections to music came through small, almost nostalgic moments. An orange Sony CD player carried everywhere in the late 90s, a Notting Hill Carnival compilation on repeat, and one track in particular that stuck. “Don’t Turn Around by Aswad,” he recalls. It’s a simple memory, but one that says a lot about how music finds its way into us – not always through big moments, but through repetition, familiarity and feeling.

Interestingly, DJing didn’t come until much later. His first mix was put together in 2020, a 30-minute UK garage set for a breakfast radio show. It was pre-recorded, painstakingly re-done over and over on a small controller until it felt right. “I listened back years later and laughed,” he says. “I’ve come a long way.” There’s something reassuring in that honesty. The idea that even those who now feel established started in exactly the same place as everyone else – figuring it out, one step at a time.

For Karim, the fundamentals were always clear. Track selection and keeping everything in time. Everything else, he says, comes with experience. But what stands out more is how quickly his interest expanded beyond just DJing. Playing music was never going to be enough on its own.

“What is life really?” he asks at one point. “It’s a collection of experiences that make you feel something.” That idea sits at the core of everything he does. Music, for him, isn’t just about sound. It’s about how that sound exists in a space, how it’s delivered, and what people take away from it. That shift in thinking led him naturally into curation, into creating environments rather than just contributing to them.

His residency at Soho Radio has played a big part in shaping that perspective. It’s a space known for its authenticity, and one he speaks about with genuine appreciation. “Everyone there is a music purist,” he says. “And more importantly, kind people.” Being part of that environment has sharpened his instinct for what matters in the moment, allowing him to champion underground and alternative sounds with intention. It’s not just about playing music, it’s about elevating it.

That same mindset carries through into Meet in the MIDI, the project many now associate him with. Described as a music curatorial studio and community platform, it’s built around the idea of helping people explore themselves through music. But in practice, it feels far more personal than that.

One of its most distinctive formats is the sonic lecture – intimate listening sessions where an artist’s story is told through ten carefully selected tracks. These aren’t passive experiences. They’re moments where people are invited to sit, listen, and engage with music in a way that often gets lost in more traditional club settings. “We play the tracks and weave conversation around their life and catalogue,” he explains. “Then follow it with an all-vinyl set.”

It’s a simple concept, but incredibly effective. In a world that often prioritises speed and consumption, Meet in the MIDI asks people to slow down. To listen properly. To understand where the music comes from and what it represents.

Vinyl plays a big role in that experience, and for Karim, it’s about more than just sound quality. “It delivers a richness you can’t find anywhere else,” he says, but beyond that, it represents something deeper. A sense of permanence. A physical connection to music in an increasingly digital world. “The record isn’t just a format, it’s an experience.” It’s tactile, deliberate, and requires a level of attention that streaming simply doesn’t.

While the listening sessions form the core of the project, Karim has also expanded into more traditional club nights and events, each still grounded in the same principles. Whether it’s a curated DJ lineup or a concept like MIDI Eastern – blending Middle Eastern percussion with UK bass culture – the aim remains consistent. Create something meaningful. Something that allows people to explore, rather than just consume.

That balance between creativity and substance hasn’t come without its challenges. Building something that feels authentic, while also keeping it accessible, requires constant reflection. But Karim seems to approach it with a quiet confidence. There’s no rush to scale for the sake of it. No desire to follow trends. Just a steady focus on building something that feels real.

One of the more recent expressions of that has been Second Pressing, an exhibition that brought together vinyl history and contemporary art. The idea came from a moment of inspiration – standing in a gallery, listening to a saxophone performance, and suddenly connecting it to a completely different era of music. From that, a concept emerged. Artists reinterpreting album artwork from different decades, with visitors able to listen to the original records while experiencing the new pieces.

It’s a perfect example of how Karim’s mind works. Always linking ideas, always finding ways to deepen the experience. “People rediscovered the albums as both sonic artefacts and cultural time capsules,” he says. Again, it comes back to storytelling. To giving music the space it deserves.

Looking ahead, there’s a sense that Meet in the MIDI is only just getting started. With its first birthday approaching, plans are already in motion for festival appearances, live album launches and more opportunities for the community to come together. There’s talk of another exhibition too, and an openness to exploring new formats as they come. “Anything feels possible,” he says, and you believe him.

What stands out most, though, is the intention behind it all. There’s no sense of ego driving these projects. Instead, it’s rooted in a genuine care for the culture and the people within it. That comes through clearly in the advice he offers to others. Start small. Stay honest. Don’t wait for permission. “If it feels real, people will find it.”

Spending time with Karim’s story, felt like a reminder of why platforms like Fleckies exist in the first place. Even when you think you know someone – or think you understand what they do – there’s always more beneath the surface. More context. More intention.

And in Karim’s case, that depth is exactly what makes his work so important. Not because it’s loud or attention-grabbing, but because it’s thoughtful. Considered. Built to last.

Listen and follow Karim & Meet in the Midi:
https://www.instagram.com/karimbitar1/
https://www.instagram.com/meetinthemidi/

The post Karim Bitar: Curating Sound as Experience first appeared on Fleckies - Discover the best local events in town.

MINA’s story begins in Oxford, where music was always present in the background, long before it became something she actively pursued. Her dad played a big role in that early exposure, filling the house with everything from David Bowie and New Order to Daft Punk. “He’d have music blasting on weekend mornings,” she says, and those moments clearly left their mark. Live music came early too. Glastonbury at 14, Burning Man at 19 – experiences that most people only encounter much later, if at all.

But like many artists, her relationship with music deepened outside of those early influences. As a teenager, she found herself drawn into rave culture, sneaking into drum and bass events and festivals underage, absorbing the energy of those spaces before she fully understood them. Dubstep, jungle, dancehall, reggae – her tastes were broad, instinctive and rooted in movement. By the time she reached university in Leeds, those influences had started to take shape in a more defined way. Nights at SubDub and Beaverworks became formative, not just for the music, but for the sense of community they created. She began DJing at house parties, cramped basements transformed into makeshift clubs, learning how to read a room and create something that people could feel.

The shift from listener to creator came later, but when it arrived, it landed with clarity. A relationship with a grime producer introduced her to Logic Pro X, and what could have been an intimidating learning curve instead felt natural. “I found it surprisingly easy,” she says. “When something comes naturally to you, it makes you want to do more.” That moment opened the door to something bigger – not just a new skill, but the realisation that music could be more than just a passion. It could be a path.

From there, her approach to production developed quickly, shaped by curiosity and collaboration rather than rigid structure. MINA isn’t interested in staying within one lane. Her sound is built through what she describes as “cross-pollination” – blending different genres, cultures and ideas into something that feels distinct. Early influences came from UK funky, left-field bass and dancehall, but over time her references have shifted. Now, her work draws on soca, dennery segment and Nigerian street beat, pushing towards something faster, harder and more intense.

There’s a clear thread running through it all – a fascination with tension and release, with building moments that feel both euphoric and unpredictable. It’s something she’s been exploring more deeply through live performance, as well as through her collaborations. Time spent in Ghana working alongside artists like Gafacci and Bryte has been particularly influential, shaping both her sound and her perspective. “If I’m inspired by someone, I’ll reach out and ask to work with them,” she says. That openness has become a defining part of her practice.

But what sets MINA apart is that her work doesn’t stop at the music itself. Alongside producing and performing, she has consistently invested time and energy into building projects that support the wider creative community. It’s not something that came as an afterthought – it’s always been part of her approach. “I’ve been running parties for over ten years,” she explains, “and doing things behind the scenes to support artists.” There’s a clear sense of responsibility in how she moves through the industry. Access to knowledge, networks and opportunities isn’t something to hold onto, it’s something to share.

That ethos is perhaps most visible in Club Soft, her alcohol-free party concept. Born from a shift in her own relationship with nightlife, the idea challenges some of the assumptions that have long defined club culture. Late nights, heavy drinking, the pressure to keep bar sales high – these are all things that can exclude people, whether intentionally or not.

Club Soft flips that on its head. It creates space for a different kind of experience – one that happens earlier, removes the focus on alcohol and invites a wider range of people onto the dancefloor. “It’s about asking who these spaces exclude,” she says. And more importantly, what happens when you change that.

The response has been powerful. “It’s the most meaningful feedback I’ve ever had for an event,” she explains. There’s something deeply moving about creating a space where people feel comfortable, included and connected. It’s a reminder that nightlife doesn’t have to look one specific way to be valid.

That same drive to make the industry more accessible runs through Funding with Mina, a platform designed to help creatives navigate the often confusing world of grant funding. For many artists, funding feels out of reach – too complicated, too opaque, too competitive. Mina saw that gap and decided to do something about it.

“It’s a skillset I’d developed over time,” she says, after finding success with her own applications and helping friends do the same. What started informally has grown into something much bigger, offering workshops, mentoring and guidance that demystifies the process. Her advice is refreshingly honest. Rejection is part of it. It’s rarely personal. And the more you apply, the easier it becomes to understand how to communicate your ideas.

Across everything she does, there’s a clear through line – a belief that the industry can be more equitable if people actively choose to make it that way. “If we think about what we can offer as much as what we can take,” she says, “it becomes a more enjoyable place to work.” It’s a simple idea, but one that feels increasingly important.

Right now, MINA is balancing multiple projects, each pushing her in new directions. She’s developing a live electronic set based on a recent collaboration with Ugandan artist Maganda Shakul, with plans to perform both solo and together in the future. At the same time, Club Soft continues to grow, with more events planned and expansion into a new city on the horizon, alongside a large summer day party in London.

It’s a lot to hold, but there’s a sense that everything feeds into the same bigger picture. Music, community, access, collaboration – none of it exists in isolation.

If there’s one piece of advice she returns to, it’s the importance of showing up. Not just online, but in real life. “If you want to be part of something, go to it,” she says. Introduce yourself. Be present. In a world increasingly shaped by digital connections, there’s still something irreplaceable about being in the room.

Spending time with MINA’s story, even from a distance, leaves you with a sense of possibility. Not in a vague or idealistic way, but in something much more grounded. The idea that things can change if people are willing to build differently. That creativity doesn’t have to come at the cost of community. That there is space for more of us, if we choose to make it.

And that feels like something worth holding onto.

Listen and follow MINA: https://linktr.ee/minamusicuk

And check out Funding with Mina here.

Photos by: Alex Lambert, Cicely Grace, Lorcan Berg

The post MINA: Building Spaces Where Everyone Can Thrive first appeared on Fleckies - Discover the best local events in town.

Andy’s story begins in what he describes as a “bog standard” Midlands upbringing. Nothing particularly dramatic, nothing especially unusual. Just the familiar rhythm of growing up in a town where music finds its way in through small, unexpected moments. For him, one of those moments came through family. When he was around ten or eleven, he would visit his cousin’s flat where her turntables and vinyl records filled the room. Hard house, trance, techno, and occasionally faster, harsher sounds like gabba spun through the speakers. “It opened my eyes a bit,” he says. “I hadn’t really seen anything like that before.”

Another moment came years later when he first heard The Prodigy’s Warriors Dance on the radio as a teenager. “I remember thinking what the fuck is this” he laughs. Something about it clicked immediately. From that point on, music stopped being background noise and started becoming something he actively chased.

DJing itself started in the most unpolished way possible. Andy and his friend Elliot decided to split the cost of some second-hand Pioneer decks they found online. When the equipment arrived, the excitement quickly turned into confusion. “We just stared at them for months,” he admits. “They didn’t come with instructions and we had no idea what we were doing.”

Eventually they connected the decks to a laptop and downloaded Traktor. At the time Andy was deep into drum and bass, so their early sessions were built around that sound. Beat matching was another story entirely. “I thought I knew what I was doing,” he says, “but I definitely didn’t.” It took a handful of YouTube tutorials before things started to fall into place.

Those early experiments slowly grew into something bigger. Practice sessions turned into informal parties, then into small events. For a long time it remained something playful rather than purposeful. But somewhere along the line, the idea of doing anything else started to feel strange. “I couldn’t imagine a future without music in it,” he says. “Being surrounded by music and DJing is everything.” He pauses for a second before laughing. “It sounds cringe, but it really does feel like the music chose me.”

Production entered the picture while Andy was at university. Like many producers starting out, his education came through late-night YouTube tutorials and a lot of trial and error. Over time he realised how many different routes there are into learning production – lessons, collaborations, and simply spending time around other people who know more than you do. Lockdown gave him the space to focus more seriously on developing those skills. Still, production remains something fluid. As his tastes evolve, older tracks often stop representing the sound he wants to play today. Yet one moment keeps pulling him back into the studio.

“When you play your own track in a set and people react well to it,” he says, “that’s a whole different kind of feeling.” It is nerve-wracking but rewarding – hearing something that once existed only on a laptop suddenly filling a dancefloor.

Around the same time Andy was developing his sound, another idea was forming alongside his friend Jake. They had both tasted what it was like to run their own events and began noticing more of their friends leaning towards house music, they decided to head in that direction too. Midnight Mass was born from that instinct.

In the early days a group of around eight people helped run the events. Over time that circle naturally narrowed until it became mainly Andy and Jake steering the brand forward. Midnight Mass slowly carved out its own space in the local Northamptonshire underground scene, known for energetic crowds and a sense of shared ownership between the DJs and the people on the floor. A few years ago things shifted again when Jake moved to Australia. Suddenly Andy found himself running the brand largely on his own. The first solo event he handled – at Basing House in Shoreditch – came with more than a few nerves. Running an event brand alone means managing everything from bookings to promotion to the logistics of the night itself. It is demanding work. But it also forced him to grow in ways he did not expect.

“I used to stress so much during events that I wouldn’t even enjoy them,” he says. Learning to handle everything himself has changed that. It has pushed him to be more present and more confident in his own decisions, even while recognising how valuable it is to have someone to bounce ideas off.

The journey has already taken Midnight Mass further than Andy originally imagined. Over Christmas he brought the brand to Australia while visiting Jake, running a busy event there under the Midnight Mass banner. Seeing the name travel that far provided a rare moment of perspective.

“When you’re in the middle of building something, it can feel like you’re not moving forward,” he says. “Australia gave me the moment to appreciate how far we’ve come and what we have actually created.”

Community remains the thread tying everything together. Andy believes the strength of any local scene comes down to people supporting each other – showing up to events, backing their friends and building spaces where music can thrive. That ethos carries through his advice for anyone starting out. “Just be sound,” he says simply. Be kind to people. Leave your ego at the door. Support the events happening around you.

Now another chapter is approaching. This April Andy will move to Manchester, drawn by the city’s long-standing reputation as one of the UK’s most vibrant music hubs. The move offers a new landscape of venues, collaborators and ideas. “It’s a whole new playground,” he says.

The plan is to keep building Midnight Mass while pushing further into production. His sound leans heavily on UK garage influences, but he is keen to experiment across genres rather than confine himself to one lane. The immediate goal is refreshingly straightforward. “Finish tracks,” he laughs. “And hopefully get them signed.”

Speaking to Andy for this feature reminded me exactly why Fleckies exists. Even when someone becomes a friend, even when you have shared a few chaotic nights and conversations along the way, there is always more to understand about how they arrived where they are. This interview was meant to happen years ago, but I am pretty sure it landed at the right time after all.

Manchester is about to gain someone with serious passion for the craft… and I cannot wait to see where his journey takes him next.

Listen and follow Andizz:
https://linktr.ee/andizz
https://linktr.ee/MidnightMassuk

The post Andizz: Finding Rhythm in the Underground first appeared on Fleckies - Discover the best local events in town.

I honestly can’t pinpoint the exact moment we met, which in a way says a lot about him. With Charlie, it feels like he’s always just been there – in the best way. Supportive, kind, consistent, and someone who genuinely shows up. For the scene, for his mates, for other brands, for the culture. He’ll be the first one through the door at an event and the last one to leave.

Over the last year of knowing him, I’ve seen first-hand the graft, the heart and the pure love he puts into everything he does. And what he’s built with Azul is something special. Watching that project go from strength to strength has been a joy, and this interview felt like the perfect time to spotlight the man behind it all.

So let’s get into it.

“ANYONE WHO KNEW ME AS A KID WILL REMEMBER I USED TO FILM EVERYTHING.”

To understand Charlie Wick, you have to go back to Hertfordshire, where he grew up before moving to Northampton at 14.

“I was always a creative person,” he tells me. “Constantly drawing, making things. In my early teens, I filmed everything. I loved making videos.”

It wasn’t until he settled in Northampton that all those creative threads started weaving together. Music, art, design, film production – suddenly, it wasn’t just interest, it was identity.

And then there was garage.

“When I was around 10 or 11, I found my cousin’s MySpace where he posted tracks off his garage mixtapes. It instantly resonated. I could pick up the London pirate stations from where I lived, so I was always locked in. If it wasn’t garage music, I didn’t wanna know.”

That passion led him to a DJ course where he learnt to play vinyl and made his first mixtape at eleven years old.

CUTTING HIS TEETH IN CLUBS AND BARS

Charlie’s first proper DJ experience came from a bar job in Wellingborough.

“I was given the first two hours to play, then I’d jump on the bar for my full shift, then back on the decks for the last hour or two,” he laughs. “I never really played at home, so I was thrown in the deep end. But it made me grow fast.”

Those early nights shaped him – technically, emotionally and creatively. He became a multi-genre DJ, travelled for gigs across London, Essex, Hertfordshire and Cambridgeshire, and picked up confidence with every set.

But something was missing.

“Even though I was playing a lot, it wasn’t the music I wanted to play and it wasn’t the music I was making.”

That itch would evolve into something much, much bigger.

FROM THE BLUE ROOM TO A BRAND

In March 2023, everything clicked.

Charlie was working as a DJ in a newly renovated Wellingborough club that was struggling to gain traction. But he could see the potential.

“I knew the venue had something. There wasn’t anywhere for house music in Wellingborough at the time, so I thought people would be excited about it. The room we used was called the Blue Room, so the name Azul came from that – ‘blue’ in Spanish.”

It was a simple idea at first – make something happen in a town that needed it. But like most great things, it grew quicker than expected.

THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP

Azul might have started with Charlie, but it was built with friends.

“I’d known Leon (BART) for a couple of years but we’d never really spoken in person. I asked him to play the first event, and soon he became part of Azul.”

That fourth Wellingborough event took a big loss – a turning point that forced a rethink. Then came Elliott (Flippin El), who gave Charlie the energy and direction needed to restart everything.

“El suggested taking the event to Bedford, and it turned out to be one of the best decisions we’ve made. Our roles formed naturally over time. My creative side and El’s organisational skills balance well, and we’ve learned so much along the way.”

LEVELLING UP INTO LONDON

The moment Azul outgrew its hometown, they knew the next chapter had to be bigger.

2025 saw their first ever London event at 93 Feet East – a huge step up and a proper milestone. And I was there for it.

“Thank you for coming,” Charlie smiles. “It was daunting. We’d never ventured outside one of our local towns, and suddenly we were given main room in a prestigious venue at the last minute. But the response was amazing. It felt like a new chapter.”

And then came Halloween, when Azul were invited to play for LoveJuice – one of the biggest brands in UK house music.

“To play main room at one of the best venues in London was a dream come true for all of us. Being trusted by a brand that huge definitely makes it feel like we’re doing something right.”

Together, these moments cemented Azul as a brand with real momentum – rooted locally, recognised nationally.

“Making the move to London was always part of our plan,” Charlie says. “We’re constantly trying to move forward and do something bigger and better.”

COMMUNITY, CONNECTION AND CONSISTENCY

If there’s one theme that runs through everything Charlie does, it’s community.

“It’s so important to us and to the scene in general,” he says. “Having friendly, like-minded people support the event makes it so much more enjoyable. It brings a sense of familiarity even in a new setting, and people can feel the energy from our community as soon as they walk in.”

Azul is built on real people, real support and real connection – not hype, not ego, not empty branding. And that resonates deeply with how we see things at Fleckies.

When I ask him for advice for new DJs, promoters or creatives starting out, his response couldn’t be more aligned:

“Stay consistent. Do not stop working. Even if you only have one hour that day to practise or create or produce, get it done. Keep moving forward.”

It’s simple, but it’s exactly how he built Azul – small steps every day, no shortcuts, no pretence, just passion and graft.

WHAT’S NEXT – UPPER EAST AND BEYOND

Azul’s next event lands this Saturday 22nd November at Upper East, an intimate 200-capacity container space with underground roots and a wicked sound system.

“This venue is smaller than the room we had at 93 Feet East,” Charlie says, “but it’s more intimate and we love that. The energy is unmatched. This time we’re welcoming DAETOR and Scott Steer, who are both absolutely killing it right now.”

And 2026? They’re already ahead of the curve.

“We have the first half of 2026 planned. Stay tuned. All I’ll say is that the first event of the year will be in London – bigger and better.”

Knowing Charlie, it will be exactly that.

Charlie Wick is one of those rare energies in a scene that moves quickly and forgets easily. He’s proof that kindness goes a long way, authenticity resonates, and community will always be the heart of underground culture.

Azul is in very good hands – evolving and building something real – and it’s only just getting started.

Follow Azul: @Azul_UK
All links: Azul Link Tree
Tickets for Upper East: Get Tickets Here

The post Charlie Wick: Building Azul, Building Community first appeared on Fleckies - Discover the best local events in town.

I first met Dean Church, better known to most as DjD, through a mutual friend, Stacy-James. But honestly, I’d heard his name long before that. In Kettering’s music circles, Dean’s the kind of figure people speak about with genuine affection and respect – a local legend mentioned in the same breath as other pillars of the scene. For years, we’d crossed paths at events but never properly chatted.

That changed when Dean launched The Social. I went along with Stacy, finally met the full crew, and instantly got it – why everyone talks about him the way they do. And over the last two years, as I’ve had more interactions with Dean, that feeling has only grown. He’s one of the good ones: calm, kind and the definition of community spirit. He’s been behind the decks for decades, watching dance music evolve from vinyl to USBs, from tiny basement nights to festival stages, all while keeping his love for connection at the centre of it.

Over a year ago, we finally sat down for a proper long-form interview. It took months to actually happen – busy schedules, life, everything in between – and the plan was to pair it with our first ever Fleckies digital cover shoot. But due to many moving factors, that vision has never quite made it over the line (one day!) – nevertheless, these words deserve to be out in the world, so here it is.

“IT ALL STARTED WITH MY MUM BUYING A HOUSE RECORD.”

Dean’s story begins, fittingly, at home.

“My mum and dad both had great taste in music,” he tells me. “Soul, Motown, a bit of disco – all that 70s and early 80s electronic stuff. My mum actually bought the first house record in our house – Farley ‘Jackmaster’ Funk’s Love Can’t Turn Around. From then on I was hooked.”

He laughs about sneaking into local clubs as a teenager, hearing DJs spin early house and techno at places like Times nightclub. “I was fifteen, shouldn’t have even been there, but that’s where I caught the bug,” he says. “Back then you didn’t buy decks first – you collected music. You built a collection before you even thought about DJing.”

FROM JUNGLE TO JAZZ – AND EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN

In the mid-90s, Dean helped pioneer one of Kettering’s first regular jungle nights.

“We started a little session under the train station – probably 1995 – and it was the first proper jungle and drum & bass night in town,” he remembers. “There weren’t many people doing it back then. We’d do two nights a month, small crowd, but pure energy.”

That night evolved into Flava Unit, a run of events that spanned everything from Thames boat parties to New Year’s Eve sets.

“We’d book DJs like Randall, do house in one room, drum and bass in another. It was a proper community thing.”

Even as the sound of DnB shifted – from soulful rollers to techier edges – Dean stayed rooted in the music’s heart.

“The crowd knew their records,” he says. “You could feel the energy build when they recognised a tune coming in. That’s something you don’t always get now.”

VINYL ROOTS, DIGITAL FUTURE

Like so many who came up through the 90s, Dean’s relationship with vinyl runs deep.

“We were all vinyl back then. You’d spend your wages on records every Friday. But when people started sending me new music, I bought one of the first Pioneer CDJ-1000s locally – just so I could burn the tracks to CD and play them without spending forty quid on dubplates.”

Eventually, the shift to laptops and digital DJing came naturally.

“Technology opened everything up,” he admits. “You’re not limited to what’s in your record bag anymore – you can play anything, anywhere. It’s made DJing more accessible, which is great, though sometimes people see it as a shortcut to fame rather than about the music.”

For Dean, it’s always been about the music. “I’ve never chased the money. I just enjoy playing records to people.”

MENTORING, MEMORIES AND MOMENTS

Dean’s influence reaches far beyond his own sets. He’s helped guide countless DJs in the area – including Kettering LEGEND Rhys Alford, who went from messaging Dean for advice about headphones to playing main stages within a year.

“I’ve always tried to give people their first chance,” he says. “We weren’t ever a cliquey thing – if someone loved the same music, they were welcome. Seeing those people still DJing now, years later, that’s what it’s all about.”

And then there are the moments that remind him why he still does it.

“I’ll never forget playing the Cellar Bar in Oxford,” he smiles. “Tiny room, low ceiling, packed to the walls. I was ill all week, nearly didn’t go, but ended up playing jungle all night. People banging on the air-con units, sweat dripping off the ceiling – pure madness. Nights like that stay with you.”

ADVICE FOR THE NEXT GENERATION

After decades behind the decks, Dean’s perspective on the next wave of DJs is grounded and honest.

“To really make it nowadays, you’ve got to get into production,” he says. “Back in the day, DJs were DJs and producers were producers. But that changed. Once record sales dropped and people weren’t making money from vinyl anymore, producers had to move into DJing to earn a living. And now, if you want to stand out, you need your own music. It’s the quickest way for people to recognise your sound.”

But he’s quick to add that the technical side isn’t everything.

“Community matters just as much,” he says. “It’s not just about getting gigs – it’s about building genuine connections. Sharing music. Supporting each other. Being part of something. That’s how scenes grow. That’s how you stay grounded. And that’s how you make a difference beyond just what comes out the speakers.”

THE SOCIAL – A HOMEGROWN INSTITUTION

Fast forward to now, and The Social has become one of Kettering’s most loved nights. It all started, fittingly, with Dean’s 50th birthday.

“I hired the room upstairs at Aura,” he says. “Invited everyone – open invite, all ages, loads of old faces. The next day Chris came to me and said, ‘We should do this more often.’ So we did.”

What began as a one-off became a bi-monthly ritual – part gathering, part celebration, part throwback to simpler times.

“We start at seven, finish at one,” Dean laughs. “If the place is packed at one, we still cut the PA – we’ve all got work or families now. But it works. People can come straight from work, have a few drinks, catch up, dance, then still be in bed before the birds are singing.”

What makes The Social special is the openness.

“Some of the people who play aren’t even DJs – they just have amazing record collections,” Dean says. “It’s not about perfection, it’s about sharing music and seeing mates you haven’t seen in years.”

That simplicity has become its magic.

“We’ve had people in their 20s through to their 70s come down. It’s just about reconnecting. That’s what music should be.”

LOOKING BACK, PLAYING FORWARD

After decades behind the decks, Dean’s approach remains refreshingly grounded.

“We’re not trying to ‘make it’ anymore,” he says. “We’re just happy plodding along, playing tunes, and seeing people enjoy themselves. Anything extra is a bonus.”

Still, his influence runs deep – from shaping Kettering’s early jungle nights to inspiring the next generation. And as The Social heads into its next chapter, it’s clear Dean’s legacy isn’t just about the music he’s played, but the people he’s brought together through it.

“AT THE END OF THE DAY, WE JUST LOVE PLAYING MUSIC.”

That line sums up Dean perfectly – humble, passionate and quietly iconic. In a world that often chases hype, he’s proof that longevity, kindness and community still matter most.

So tomorrow, Friday 14th November, The Social turns two, celebrating with another of its now-iconic nights at Aura, 7pm – 1am (and not a second later – beauty sleep, you know). Entry’s free, the vibes will be golden, and if you can get down there, trust me – you should.

Follow The Social: @the.s0cial

Follow DjD: @dean_DjD

The post DJD: The Soundtrack of a Scene first appeared on Fleckies - Discover the best local events in town.

I first met the Mas Fuego trio through a mutual friend – MiddleGround (aka Scott Fouracre) – at his debut FOUND event in Northampton. They’d come up from London to play on the lineup and support Scott, and within minutes of meeting them I knew they were my kinda people. Their energy was infectious – genuine excitement not just for the music or the night, but for connecting with new people, talking shop, and celebrating underground culture in its truest form. They instantly reminded me why I started Fleckies in the first place.

So ahead of their next event, BUTTAH VII, happening this Saturday 15th November at a secret East London location (find me on the dancefloor, once I’ve found it!), I sat down with Mas Fuego to find out more about the collective, their journey, and what’s coming next.

“WE’RE ALL IN, EVERY TIME.”

Mas Fuego are made up of Greeso, Jamo, and Roddy – three London-based DJs and producers with a deep love for underground sounds.

“We’re a DJ collective from London with a passion for underground music and the underground scene as a whole,” they tell me. “We love raving – whether we’re playing or partying, we’re all in every time, and that translates to the music we play and the connection we have with the people that come to see us.”

And that connection really is the heartbeat of everything they do.

FROM SCHOOL FRIENDS TO THE DANCE FLOOR

The story of Mas Fuego started long before the decks.

“Grindr,” Roddy jokes when I ask how they met – before laughing it off. “Nah, just kidding. Greeso and I have known each other since school, and we met Jamo through SoundCloud.”

Roddy’s cousin was running a hip hop and R&B night called Love at First Vibe, and seeing the buzz around that inspired them to do something similar – but for their own corner of club culture.

“We wanted to create something for the tech house scene, so the collective was born,” they explain. “Now we’ve got BUTTAH, our own promotion, which has become one of London’s best underground parties and a platform for emerging artists and DJs to make a name for themselves.”

DIFFERENT ROOTS, ONE RHYTHM

Each member brings their own background and influences, which collide beautifully in their sound.

“Roddy’s from an Afro-Caribbean background, I’m from an Arab background, and Jamo’s from Kent – so we’ve all got different musical roots,” says Greeso. “Music is a huge part of Afro-Caribbean and Arabic traditions, and Jamo’s mum was a bit of a raver, so you could say it’s in the blood! Growing up in and around London, we were heavily influenced by jungle, grime, DnB, garage and house – and you can hear all of that in what we play and produce.”

That mix of culture, style and perspective is exactly what gives Mas Fuego their edge.

THE MAS FUEGO SOUND

Their sound is hard to box in – a deep, groove-led fusion of tech house, afro house, garage and minimal.

“Different ideas, upbringings and cultures allow us to create something unique and distinctly our own,” Jamo says. “I’ve got a lot of Romanian mates who introduced me to the Rominimal style, Roddy’s a garage fiend, and Greeso was into afro house before it was cool. We bring all those influences together to make filthy deep tech and tech house bangers.”

That chemistry has been built over years of producing together. “We’ve always had good chemistry, and we inspire and motivate each other to keep getting better,” they tell me.

THE BIG MOMENTS

They’ve played at some serious venues – KOKO, Ministry of Sound, and even Tantra Ibiza – but when I ask about their standout moment, there’s zero hesitation.

“There’s plenty of honourable mentions, but there’s only one answer – our first BUTTAH party,” they say in unison.

They threw that first event in a church in Central London after announcing it as a secret location. “It felt like a gamble at the time,” they admit, “but it went off without a hitch. It’s still one of our most talked about parties, and seeing what BUTTAH has become since then – no other moment can top it.”

THE BUTTAH BLUEPRINT

If you’ve been to a BUTTAH night, you’ll know the vibe is different. It’s underground in the purest sense – secret locations, surprise lineups, and an atmosphere that feels more like a movement than a party.

“Our manager and queen of the underground, Kadz, used to run her own promotion called Service and she numbered her parties, which was pretty cool – that’s why ours are numbered now,” they explain. “When she became our manager, we decided to merge the two brands and take it forward together.”

“We’re inspired by 90s rave culture – that energy, that freedom. Back then, raving was about people coming together from all walks of life, escaping reality for a few hours, not taking selfies or filming the DJ for clout. We wanted to bring that essence back.”

So at BUTTAH, there’s no VIP, no tables, no bottle girls – just the dance floor.

“We encourage DJs to mix with the crowd rather than stay in the green room. Everyone’s part of the same experience. That’s what makes BUTTAH special – you really feel part of something.”

ENERGY IN THE BOOTH, ENERGY IN THE CROWD

When it comes to performing, their chemistry is as unpredictable as it is electric.

“There are three of us and we never plan our sets,” they laugh. “So for two-thirds of it, we’ve got no idea what the others are going to play – which means we’re basically raving behind the decks too. The crowd can see that and feeds off the energy.”

And yes, they’re known for sharing their riders mid-set. “We see you going hard out there!” they grin. “If you’re partying, we’re partying.”

KEEPING IT REAL

But for all the fun and freedom, they’re also honest about the challenges of navigating the industry.

“The hardest thing to deal with is the lack of authenticity,” they say. “In the social media era, anyone can blag their way to the top without real skill. Promoters book DJs based on big follower counts or viral clips, thinking they’ll bring a crowd – when in reality, they couldn’t draw a crowd with a pack of crayons.”

They’re not bitter – just real. “It can be disheartening when you’re grafting and watching people get opportunities over you, but that’s life. You have to enjoy the struggle. We’ve learned not to take things personally and to do this purely for the love of the game – even if it doesn’t always love you back.”

WHAT’S NEXT

Mas Fuego are only just getting started. “We’ve got a release called These Moves coming out next year on a wicked label, and we’re sitting on tonnes of unreleased music,” they say.

There’s also talk of launching a BUTTAH label, to give a platform to other producers in the scene. “Helping other artists get their sound out means a lot to us. We’re buzzing for that next chapter.”

And of course, the next big event – BUTTAH VII – is right around the corner. “It’s happening this Saturday (15/11/25) at a secret East London location. If you’re reading this, grab a ticket and come see what the hype’s about.”

Tickets here
Follow Buttah on Instagram

“DO IT FOR THE LOVE.”

Before we wrap, I ask them what advice they’d give to anyone coming up in the scene.

“If you love it, don’t quit. Doesn’t matter if you’ve got one follower or one million – do it for the love, not the recognition. If you can’t get gigs, throw your own parties. If you can’t do it alone, find your people and build something together.

Support smaller promotions too – some of the best parties we’ve ever been to had less than 100 people. Bigger isn’t always better. It’s better to be a bigger part in a smaller machine and grow with it than be a cog in a big one that overlooks you.”

And that’s the Mas Fuego way – no egos, no gimmicks, just pure passion for the music and the movement.

Follow Mas Fuego: @masfuegomusic
All links: linktr.ee/MASFUEGOMUSIC
Event: BUTTAH VII – Secret East London, 15 Nov 2025

The post Mas Fuego: The Sound of London’s Underground first appeared on Fleckies - Discover the best local events in town.