It’s mostly about keeping the bar fun and engaging for everyone. That’s always been the baseline for me. Diversity in track genre is paramount, but you still want those lyrical hooks people can actually latch onto, the moments where heads lift, someone mouths a line, or the floor tightens in just a little. That’s what quietly builds a strong night.
The tricky part is that everything is frenetic, unpredictable, and ever-changing. You’re constantly required to read the room – mostly in real time, sometimes a beat too late. That’s DJ culture in its rawest form: part instinct, part gamble. Somewhere in there you’re also pretending you’re calm, like this isn’t a public forum for your decision-making flaws.
This particular night, I didn’t have time to prepare at all. No tidy crate-digging session earlier in the week. No neat little warm-up folder. I walked in cold. I made a couple of transition mistakes mid-set – nothing catastrophic, but enough that I noticed (I get frustrated when things are mixed perfectly). The kind of slips that feel huge in your headphones but barely ripple the room. And yet, somehow, the vibe didn’t dip. The energy didn’t collapse. Which just reinforces something I keep relearning the hard way: track selection saves everything. You can fumble the blend and still win the room if the next record hits where it matters. Anyone who’s ever watched a plan unravel in real time knows that strange mix of panic and focus that follows.
Then, mid-set, my mate Lou jumped on the DMX controller with absolutely no warning (my eyes immediately widened). Suddenly the lights kicked into gear properly and completely startled me. That full-body jolt, adrenaline spike, shoulders loosen, focus sharpens. Instant second wind. For a split second I thought: is this about to derail my rhythm I’d quietly locked into, or spark a whole new wave of energy to see me through? That single lighting shift carried me through the rest of the set. It made my night. A reminder that sometimes it’s not the decks or the crowd that resets you — it’s the environment snapping into clarity around you.
But the real cherry on top? Lou had updated the signage out the front to read: “Club Nickles – Free Entry.” I saw it later and couldn’t stop laughing. I hadn’t smiled that much during a set in ages. There was something so stupidly perfect about it. I had such a fun time, and that feeling has been rare lately. It was also the first time my “brand” came with a pricing strategy I could truly get behind.
It’s definitely something I’ve missed, the unpredictability of being out and amongst the nightlife, surrounded by strangers, mates, sound, sweat, lighting glitches, and all the little variables you can’t simulate in the studio. You forget how much you feed off that until it’s gone for a while. DJing isn’t just tracks and BPMs – it’s risk management in public, with subwoofers.
Big ups to those who asked for my Insta handle too, I’m always chuffed to have someone wanting to follow along with what you’re building. If you’re reading this, I genuinely hope you come to a future set.
Club Nickles. Free entry. No guest list. Shortest door policy in Sydney. Say ‘Nickles’ at the door and leave the ego at home.
