Over the years, I have moved from analogue to digital, and back again. But now, I stand in a different place—no longer caught between formats, but clearer in purpose. It is 2025, and I no longer collect vinyl. The cost has become inflated beyond sense. The ritual is still beautiful, but the practicality is lost. Records now sit on retail shelves priced between seventy and one hundred dollars. The market feels like a bubble—a tulip craze, a dot-com fever. And let’s be honest: even in the heyday, how many records were truly listened to from start to finish?

Today, I use digital—but not through a laptop, not through endless folders of forgotten tracks. I carry a modest GB's of carefully selected music. I use a small unit—which travels easily and performs brilliantly. I have made peace with digital. I’m not drowning anymore; I’m swimming.

There was a time when I questioned the dedication of any DJ who chose digital for convenience. I now understand that dedication does not live in weight or sweat alone. It lives in the intention behind what is played. It is not just about skill, but about presence, generosity, intuition. A DJ is not just a performer—they are a listener, a responder, a translator of energy.

I still believe DJs should pay for their music. I still believe in knowing your tracks deeply, not hoarding them. But I no longer cling to the idea that ownership defines value. Style, selection, and the shape of your choices—this is the fingerprint of the DJ.

Though vinyl is gone from my regular practice, I carry its spirit forward. I still chase good signal paths. I tune my PA for warmth and presence. I keep my rig lean, tactile, human. Some nights, I ride to a gig with a USB and a DJ unit strapped to my back. That, to me, is homage enough.

I have stepped away from social platforms under the Meta umbrella. The promise of visibility came with pressure, manipulation, and fatigue. I no longer wish to be shaped by algorithms or solicited by systems. My presence, from here forward, will be quieter, more direct, more intentional.

And then there is AI. I use it to extend my thinking. I discuss ideas, signal flow, event promotion. I use it to write, to reflect, and sometimes, to discover.

What has not changed is this: I play what I enjoy. I avoid track indigestion. I strive to earn the trust of those in the room. To that list, I now add a fourth principle:

Have fun.

Because joy is not a by-product—it is the engine. And without it, we are simply pressing buttons. With it, we create something worth remembering.