Marcel Dettmann: Yeah, definitely. I grew up in the countryside, and my grandparents lived in the East, close to where the wall was. When I was around 12, it came down. Before that, it was still very present, you had memorial sites, remains of it, this whole atmosphere. It was a crazy time. And what’s strange is how I remember it now, it feels like it was just a few years ago. When I talk about the early or mid-’90s, I still feel like that was recent. But it’s 30 years ago. Back then I was 19 or 20, and it had a huge influence on me. In the bigger picture, it’s a long time. But when you’ve lived it, it doesn’t feel like much. And I think the next 30 years will go even faster, especially when you have a family. I’ve been married for 16 years now. It’s a long time but it’s great.

It was very different. It was harder but in a good way. There was no social media telling you what you should like. You had to search for things. I grew up recording radio shows on cassette tapes. There were certain programs where they would let the track play from the beginning and you knew, okay, now I can record it. Then you’d listen to those tapes again and again, share them with friends, make mixtapes. That was amazing. I loved bringing music to my friends and saying, “This is it, you have to hear this.” That feeling is actually one of the reasons I became a DJ. And when I listen to music from that time now, it’s like a family album. You carry it with you. Sometimes you open it and suddenly remember everything, people, moments, feelings. You hear a track and you feel like you’re 16 again. That never goes away.

It’s different. Today everything is instant. You get files, you listen to them on your phone, you store them, it’s all very easy. And of course, there are advantages. I get music early, I can play unreleased tracks months before they come out. But the value changes. Back then, you had to go from store to store to find something. Sometimes it was sold out, sometimes you got lucky. And when you finally had it, it felt special. Today everything is available immediately. That’s convenient, but it also flattens things out. You don’t build a relationship to music in the same way. Now it’s more like someone says, “Here, you’ll like this,” and you listen and say, “Yeah, okay, nice.” But when you have to search, when you really want something, it means more. I think that makes it harder today, especially for younger people, to understand what they really love. Because everything is available, everything is suggested to you. But the obvious stuff, the things everyone likes, can get boring. It’s important to find your own taste, your own style. That’s essential.

It’s still the same feeling in a way, but more complex. When you’re DJing, you’re dealing with a lot of different emotions at once. Some people are excited, some are tired, some are waiting for something specific, others just go with the flow. It’s like working with an instrument, like an organ. You have all these different layers, and you have to feel how to bring them together. And it’s never perfect. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. But that’s important. If everything is always smooth and nice, it becomes boring. You need dynamics, good nights, difficult nights. Also, not everything you do is for everyone. You can create something amazing, but some people won’t connect with it. That’s something you have to accept as an artist.

You can prepare in the studio, but once you’re there, everything changes. You might think, okay, I’ll play this and then this but then you arrive and you feel, no, that’s not going to work. So you need a direction, but also the flexibility to change immediately. For me, the most important thing is that I feel good with what I’m doing. If I’m happy, the crowd will feel that. It’s not about playing what you think people expect, that’s boring. At some point you stop thinking in categories. You just react. And the space matters a lot too. The architecture, the atmosphere, it all influences how things feel. Whether it’s a basement, a bunker, or an art space, it changes the energy.

Sometimes, but it’s also funny. People say that, and then I look at myself and I’m wearing something colorful. Berlin does have a certain mood, but for me it’s more about freedom. It’s one of the freest places in the world. It’s free, but not necessarily supportive. At the same time, it’s not easy. I know a lot of amazing artists who struggle, who have to take other jobs because there’s not enough support. That’s something that doesn’t make sense to me.

Fashion moves faster, music stays longer. But both rely on instinct. You don’t always know why something works. At some point you stop thinking in names or scenes. You just react to what feels right.

It wasn’t planned. These were sketches over time. At some point they made sense together. My Own Shadow is not separate from what I do. It’s just another angle of it. Same ideas, different focus. I don’t plan releases. I just work. There’s more coming soon. Another EP, and an album later this year.

Yeah, my son comes into the studio sometimes. He makes hip-hop tracks with his friends. I help them with beats on a drum machine. Last time they made a song about a lunchbox, it was really funny. And some of his friends say they want to be DJs. Their parents ask me what they should buy, but I always say: first find the music you love. It’s not like football. It starts with passion. Everything else comes after.

It’s my escape. Even my therapist says that. It gives me freedom, it gives me peace. It’s just me in the studio, doing what I love. And honestly, that’s enough.