Sometimes, the biggest moments on the dancefloor come from the least likely places.
You think it’s going to be the usual banger, the obvious crowd-pleaser—and then I drop that track. The one nobody saw coming. The one that starts with a slow, crackly vocal or a waltz-time piano riff and ends with the whole room jumping like it’s midnight on New Year’s Eve.
These are my favourite moments.
Because taking a track that was never meant to be danced to—and flipping it into a weapon—that’s the real magic of remix culture.
A few of my greatest surprise hits:
- A 1940s French chanson that became a liquid drum and bass roller.
- A lullaby turned into a breakbeat bouncer (yes, really).
- A Broadway ballad that now opens every festival set I play.
- A 70s AM radio love song now riding a future bass drop.
- A barbershop quartet chopped, filtered, and looped into a house groove so tight it’s hard not to move.
What makes these unexpected flips so powerful?
Surprise. Nostalgia. Irony, sometimes—but more often, reverence. I don’t remix to be funny. I remix to reveal. To show people what they missed in those original tracks. The emotion. The grit. The melody just waiting for a beat.
When the drop hits and someone mouths “Wait… is this what I think it is?”—that’s my favourite part.
So if you hear something weird during one of my sets—something you didn’t expect to dance to? Lean in.
It’s probably about to go off.