First Sets and Second Rooms

So, I played my first set on Friday. It was, in a word, surreal.

Playing your first set does something weird to your brain that no amount of bedroom mixing can prepare you for. I’ve been at it properly since December, I know my way around a pair of decks, but none of that really matters when you’re standing there, USB in hand, trying to look like you belong.

At first, I was hyper-aware of everything: my hands, the levels, the people in front of me, even the Man City game being shown behind me for reasons I still don’t understand. It’s cool, obviously. Properly cool. But there’s a quiet panic running underneath it.

That first transition felt like it took forever. I was second-guessing everything: is this the right track, is it too fast, too slow, have I already lost them? I’d only invited a couple of people in case it went badly, a kind of emotional insurance policy.

Then something shifted. I looked up, saw familiar faces, clocked that I was playing a warm-up, not a headline set at peak time, and remembered I was supposed to be enjoying it. The nerves didn’t disappear, but they loosened their grip. I settled in.

What no one really tells you is how much DJing is about waiting for cue points. I could make it sound fancier and say that it's about letting tracks do what they’re meant to do instead of constantly interfering, or giving things space to breath, but in this case it was far simpler and saw me actually watching a waveform for my cue point to come in. I’d mapped the set out beforehand, so once instinct took over it became less about making decisions and more about trusting them.

It wasn’t perfect. It was never going to be. But it worked. I even screwed up, accidentally loading a song in on the playing CDJ, pausing the music. No one cared, someone cheered as I hit play on the new song, and we continued on.

And more than that, it felt like a natural extension of something I’ve always done anyway — sharing music, trying to put people onto something, opening the circle. There’s definitely a version of me from last year who wouldn’t have believed I’d actually do it. I’m glad I did.

I followed this up Saturday with a pretty transcendent time at Fabric. I was ostensibly going to see Joris Voorn with about 40 friends from a group chat, but actually I had the best time on a slow orbit around them, flitting between the different fragmented groups, listening to a phenomenal Room 2 lineup of Riche, Elif and Ivory.

Going out in a big group can swing one of two ways: if the group stays together, it can feel a little obnoxious, but when everyone is scattered it means you're never far from bumping into a couple of people to have a dance with.

Not that I went far from Room 2. While most people were crammed into the main room for Voorn, most of the people in Room 2 were only there if they had heard the DJs themselves. There was more space to move, physically and mentally. You’re not constantly jockeying for position, and you can close your eyes for a bit, lose yourself and shake whatever body part you want to shake.

It’s not that the main room is bad. I ended up there from 5:30 till the lights came up at 7, and fell back into the crowd of everyone who was still standing. But for Saturday night at least, Fabric's second room was the real story of the night. I've seen Elif before and they're great, but this was the first time I'd encountered Riche or Ivory, and there was a real joy of discovery there. After the maniac energy of last week, this was a perfect antidote.

Finally, I'm here to ask a question: what's the best food you've bought in a club? I'm working on a future newsletter centred around the best club food in London, and I want to make sure I try what people recommend.

The Mix

This week's mix is from Drastic Shuffle, interviewed below. Here's the mix in her own words:

A chilled mix to wake up to and ease you gently into your day. New and not-so-new music from Australia, Switzerland, Sweden, Germany and the UK. Kitchen dancing very much encouraged.

Also, remember when we interviewed Ed two weeks ago, and I said he was everywhere? Here he is tucked away in the picture for this mix. You can see it below if you're on the website, or on Drastic Shuffle's Soundcloud if you're one of our newsletter subscribers, because the Soundcloud embed doesn't work in email. Thanks for subscribing.

In the Booth - Drastic Shuffle

Drastic Shuffle’s path through music doesn’t follow a straight line, looping through promotion, journalism, and radio, picking up depth at every turn. Originally from Mexico, she built her early career in Spain, working across indie labels, newspapers, and magazines, eventually becoming editor of Playground, a Spanish music magazine. Along the way, she developed a reputation for sharp musical instincts and a voice that helped shape the conversation around underground sounds.

Her time in Madrid saw her branch into broadcasting, hosting shows for Mexico City stations like Radio Neurótica and FM/, while co-founding the boundary-pushing Nerd Sound System collective. That period laid the groundwork for a DJ style that resists easy categorisation—fluid, curious, and rooted in a deep understanding of music culture. To this day, she plays genre-defying sets that differ from place to place.

Now based in London, she balances a wide-ranging set of roles: studio manager at Mission London, label head of the vinyl imprint This, and host of two monthly radio shows. The two shows share the same guiding principle: the music comes first. Voices, a two-hour slot every first Monday of the month, from 7-9AM, began in ambient territory but has since opened out into something far broader, drifting through dub, reggae, soul, jazz, disco, gentle house, and the occasional left turn into folk or pop. It’s a slow-build kind of show, designed to ease you into the day rather than drag you through it. Netil, by contrast, is geared more towards movement: a last-Thursday (5-7pm) broadcast shaped by new and not-so-new tracks with guests in the mix and a quiet challenge of meeting them on their wavelength, track for track. There’s less talking and more space given to the records themselves.

If you want to see her, and you should, she's playing on April 25 at The Blocks, a free show at Number 90.

What is your earliest memory of dance music?
My earliest memory is waking up in the middle of the night to parties my mum and dad used to throw with strobes and lights and lots of dancing. My dad was a disco enthusiast, I still have his copy of Supernature by Cerrone. Not sure if that counts!

Later, listening to Bizarre Love Triangle by New Order and Just Can't Get Enough by Depeche Mode for the first time, my mind was blown. I was 10, and my older cousin Coco let me listen to his records so I could make myself a mixtape.

What’s the first track that made you understand what a dancefloor could do?
More than one track it was a series of shows. Sónar Festival in 2002 changed me. Seeing Manitoba (now Caribou) and Jeff Mills was amazing. Popkomm in Cologne that same year was also a revelation with Disko B’s showcase night and other parties around the city. Then seeing Andrew Weatherall for the first time at Benicàssim Festival in 2005 and playing that same festival in front of a couple of hundred people the day before.

What do you notice from the booth that no one else sees?
I can see who has come for the love of music, who is trying to experience something new, and who is afraid of dancing and letting go. It's a real privilege to witness how people connect with music and what it means to their lives.

When was the last time a crowd surprised you?
When I played for Nan's Basement at The Goose last September. I was terrified to look up. I'm shy, most of my friends weren't there, and familiar faces always help calm the nerves. When I finally gathered the courage to look, a lot of people were really into it, dancing with their hands in the air. I could spot three friends smiling and dancing, and that was everything.

What part of you only exists on a dancefloor?
The part that has no responsibilities or problems, the part that wants to escape somewhere safe, if only for a few hours. I'm extremely shy and might just sway side to side on my own, but with friends I can really let go and dance like my life depends on it. The extroverted version of me lives on the dancefloor.

What song do you keep in your back pocket to cause trouble?
I can't name just one, but if you listen to my radio shows, I'm sure you'll be able to spot the track that ended up there just to make things a bit more interesting…

Who's your partner in crime?
Maïs, a super-talented DJ I met through Mission London. She's my partner in crime in the booth and on the dancefloor. I love playing with her, I try to catch her sets as much as possible, and we go dancing and hunt for music together. Then, all my friends you'll find alongside me on a night out.

Why do you dance?
It's a bit of a necessity, like running or swimming. I dance to celebrate being alive, to forget the state of the world, and to work through whatever problems I'm carrying. The number of dancefloor epiphanies I've had in the last couple of years is frankly ridiculous.

What’s a risk you took that paid off—and one that didn’t?
Deciding not to go back home to Mexico in 1998 to pursue a career in music, that paid off. Not signing a contract with a band that went on to make it big, back when I had my first record label, ​that one still stings a little.

What made you start the label?
My enthusiasm for sharing what Bert Verso makes. A burning need to show his talent to the world.

What's one misconception people have about running a small record label?
That we have money to bankroll artists. In reality it's all about taking risks and spending your own savings on something you believe in and love.

Do you think dancefloors today are listening differently compared to a few years ago?
Yes and no. There's more chatter than I'd like sometimes from people who haven't yet made a real connection with music. Those who don't own their music, who pay to rent and be algorithmically fed it. Social media and phones have changed us completely; there's less attention span, it's harder to connect with strangers. But then there are still the ones who arrive with open ears and open minds, who really listen, who support DJs and producers by dancing and smiling. They make it worth it.

What does a “Drastic Shuffle set” mean to you in 2026? Has that definition changed over time?
It's evolved. The name came from the shuffle function on an iPod when a friend used it on my iTunes library and the genre-hopping was so chaotic, so unhinged, that it became an inside joke and kind of warning within the name. Beatmatching was also basically non-existent at that point, so it was accurate.

I've learned a lot in the years since, but the core meaning hasn't really changed: it's me hoping that people will listen and discover the music I've found. I think I'm just doing it more gracefully now. I'm more capable of delivering a peak-time dance set and an ambient horizontal one to drift off to. The shuffle is still there, it's just got better taste.

What's on?

This weekend, while you’re all pressed together under low ceilings and strobing lights, I’ll be thinking of you—honestly. There’s something comforting about knowing dancefloors are still filling up, that somewhere in London a DJ is pushing things just a little too far, and that familiar feeling of “just one more track” is keeping you all exactly where you’re meant to be.

I won’t be there this time. Instead, I’ll be in Italy, swapping sound systems for sunlight and raves for rigatoni. I'm expecting a different kind of rhythm: long lunches, slow evenings and plates of pasta that arrive faster than any drop. I fully intend to eat my weight in it, unapologetically. That's also why you're getting this newsletter early. Surprise!

Still, enjoy yourselves for me. Lose yourself a bit. Stay a little longer than planned. I’ll be back soon enough, probably slightly softer around the edges. Until then, dance one out for me. If I were here, I'd be going to Kollektiv Turmstrasse, where the combination of Innerstice and Avantime seems like something not to be missed. Also, Paula Tape is playing and I am so bitter I can't be there.

Friday
Parable: Kollektiv Turmstrasse, Innerstice, AVANTIME Unlocked
Sammy Virji Alexandra Palace
Starlane 8th Birthday 46 Hour Party Starlane
Teletech LONDON: NATTE VISSTICK, JOWI + MORE E1
Transmissions Fold

Saturday
Chicane - London The Steel Yard
Origins x Small Talk: Manfredas, Paula Tape & Armând Palais
Necropolis Festival - Day Time Church Rave The Old Church
Exquisite Corpse 04 The Waiting Room

Sunday
Secretsundaze, Grace Sands The Timber Loft
Kings Turntable: Jaye Ward, Citizens Of Sound, NOYB Kings Arms