If your latest track were a TikTok meme, which one would it be – and why?
Probably one of those videos where everything on screen is complete chaos, while something incredibly calm or even classical is playing in the background. I love when the visual and the soundtrack seem completely wrong for each other, but somehow that contrast makes the whole thing work even better. Sometimes music doesn’t need to explain what you’re seeing. It can completely change the way you see it.
What picture (or mental reel) describes your sound best?
An expensive bar somewhere in 1980s America. Dark wood, red velvet, warm low lighting, men in perfectly tailored suits, women in evening dresses. A little decadent, a little dangerous, almost cocaine chic. Everything looks beautiful and seductive, but at the same time slightly inaccessible, like you’re looking into a world you’re not entirely sure you’re allowed to enter.
What’s the most absurd place a track idea has ever hit you?
Recently, probably on a plane during takeoff. The whole aircraft started vibrating and rattling, and instead of thinking about whether that was reassuring or terrifying, I started hearing a loop in it. It happens with normal machines too. A washing machine starts shaking or plays its little melody when it finishes, and suddenly I’m thinking about how I could record it, cut it up and turn it into something.
If you had to turn a random DM into a song title – what would it be?
AFTERPARTY. I see that word ridiculously often in my DMs: “Are you going to the afterparty?”, “What about the afterparty?”, “Where’s the afterparty?” At this point I’ve seen it so many times that I’ve started treating it almost like a sign.
Your sound as an emoji – which one and why?
💋 A kiss can be seductive, beautiful, ironic, intimate or completely casual. You can send exactly the same emoji to five people and all five might understand it differently. I like that ambiguity. I think my music works in a similar way. I don’t want everyone to feel exactly the same thing from it.
Tell me about your biggest studio fail – and how you fixed it.
I once spent three or four months working on a soundtrack for a film made by someone I knew. It was a project I really wanted to do, and I was genuinely obsessed with how it was turning out. The music captured exactly the emotions I wanted, and everyone who heard the demos loved it. Then I got booked to play in another city and flew there with the drive containing the entire project in my luggage. The airline lost the bag, and eventually I realized it wasn’t coming back. Neither was the project. It was probably one of the most painful things I’ve experienced creatively. But after some time, I somehow managed to pull the music back out of my head and rebuild it almost entirely from memory. It was never exactly the same as the version I lost, and I still think the original had something special. But I got surprisingly close. I guess the fix was realizing that the most important part of the project wasn’t actually on the drive. Some of it was still in my head.
What was the moment you realized, “Okay… this is more than a hobby”?
It wasn’t one specific booking or career milestone. It was realizing that music I make can genuinely change the mood of someone I’ve never met. Someone might spend their entire week sitting in an office, come to a club exhausted, and then I play something I spent months working on and watch them completely give themselves to the dancefloor. That’s when it stops being something I only make for myself. There’s something incredible about being able to give another person that feeling.
Have you ever made a track you loved but everyone else hated?
Definitely, but I’ve also experienced the exact opposite. There are tracks of mine that I would happily delete from every platform tomorrow, while other people genuinely love them. And sometimes I’ll hear a track at an event and think, “How can anyone listen to this?”, then look around and see the entire room losing its mind. I think music depends enormously on your state of mind and the moment you hear it. Sometimes the track isn’t wrong. It’s just the wrong moment for you.
Which gig completely threw you off – in the best or worst way?
My first set on a really big stage. There were around 600–700 people, and almost everything that could go wrong technically started going wrong. My USB failed, there were problems connecting the synths, the CDJs weren’t working properly, and eventually things started falling apart during the set itself. I was incredibly embarrassed, but instead of turning against me, the crowd started applauding and supporting me. Afterwards, people came up to me and said some really kind things. That taught me something I still remember: a crowd that understands live performance also understands that things can fail. Sometimes the people in front of you are exactly the ones who pull you through it.
Which sound effect makes you weak every single time?
Acid 303. It was one of the first electronic sounds I was introduced to when I started making music, and somehow it still works on me every single time. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of it.
Which current trend in the scene annoys you – and which inspires you?
What annoys me is when the scene becomes a numbers game. Sometimes followers, views and the ability to make a viral clip seem more important than the music itself. There are incredibly talented producers who have spent years developing their sound but remain invisible because they don’t have a huge audience, while someone with an existing social-media following can suddenly become a DJ and immediately get bookings. I’m not against influencers becoming DJs. I just don’t think follower count should become a substitute for musical identity. What inspires me is almost the opposite: the community around electronic music. People find friends, collaborators, support and sometimes a completely new version of themselves through this scene. That part of it is incredibly powerful.
What needs to change so newcomers can get into the scene more easily?
Promoters should look more at the music, selection, identity, performance and what an artist is actually trying to build, rather than using social numbers as the first filter. At the same time, I understand that this scene has always been built around community. That’s how I started too: meeting people, becoming part of something small, and gradually getting opportunities through it. I don’t think community needs to disappear. I think the doors into it need to be more open to people who don’t already arrive with 50,000 followers.
If you could redesign a club or festival from scratch, what would it look like?
A beautiful indoor space with a big dancefloor and an incredible sound system. No VIP tables, and ideally no phones. I’d also give artists proper time. Two and a half or three hours instead of squeezing everyone into one-hour sets. You need time to build something, change direction and actually show your musical identity. Most importantly, I’d want a crowd that came for the sound. I’d rather have a room full of people who came for the music than a room full of people who came to be seen.
What’s your ultimate “drop everything and dance” track?
Vladimir Dubyshkin – Russian Porn Magazine. It’s one of those tracks where I don’t really need an explanation. My body usually understands it before my brain does.
How does your background or environment influence your sound?
I grew up in a relatively small city where the electronic music community was tiny and almost completely underground. And I mean actually underground. I was under 18, some of the raves I went to were shut down by the police, and the whole scene felt slightly forbidden. That probably made it even more fascinating. Music was also always around me because of my grandfather. He listened to an enormous amount of music and had his own band when he was younger. He took me to concerts, taught me things on drums and guitar, and one of his friends had a synthesizer. Being able to create different sounds on it, combine them, record them and listen back felt almost magical to me. Later I moved to Moscow and discovered a completely different scale of club culture. Then came Asia, and now Spain and the rest of Europe. Every place has a different crowd, different relationship with nightlife and a different understanding of electronic music. To me it feels like one big book where every country is a new chapter, illustrated in a completely different style. I’m still reading it.
Which piece of gear would you save if your studio was on fire?
The drive with my projects first. Then the MacBook and whatever synthesizers I can carry without dying in the process. Gear can be replaced. Years of unfinished projects and ideas are slightly harder to buy again. Hopefully I’ll never have to test this answer in real life.
Do you have a production trick that really shouldn’t work – but does?
Auto-mastering. Sometimes I can spend three or four hours trying to find the perfect balance, get completely tired of hearing the same sixteen bars, press the automatic button almost as a joke, and somehow it sounds much better than it has any right to. Sometimes the best production decision is clicking “auto” and closing the project before I ruin it again.
What’s one sample you’d never give away?
I have an old folder with more than 300 vocal samples that I found years ago on some forgotten website that probably doesn’t even exist anymore. There’s something in there for almost every BPM, key and situation, and somehow I still keep finding uses for it. At this point I’m convinced the only people who still have that folder are me and whoever created that website. I’m taking it to the grave.
Analog or digital – and why?
Both. Digital for freedom and speed, analog for character. For me it’s a bit like choosing between BMW and Mercedes. I understand the differences, but if I can have access to both, why make my life unnecessarily difficult?
What’s the one producer hack that gave you the biggest “aha” moment?
Less is more, and groove is usually more important than complexity. Another big one was learning to actually finish the track before obsessing over the master. You can waste hours trying to make the first twenty seconds sound like the soundtrack to Interstellar while the rest of the track doesn’t even exist yet. Finish the idea first. Make it beautiful afterwards. And if everything fails, there’s always my beloved auto-mastering button.
What’s next for you – and what’s completely new about it?
Probably an EP. Right now I’m exploring the space between tech house, groove, minimal, electro and ambient. I don’t want to combine genres just for the sake of saying I combined them. I’m interested in finding something that still works physically on a dancefloor but has more groove, more space and its own character. I also want to be much more selective about what I release. I’d rather release less music and genuinely love every record than put something out just because the calendar says I should. Two of my recent releases had actually been sitting on my Mac for more than three years. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to release them, but my friends kept reacting to them, so eventually I thought: let them out and see what happens. As for NOKIANGEL in Europe, I don’t really want to draw borders around it. New cities, new projects, unexpected situations. I like not knowing exactly where music might take me next.
If you had to collaborate tomorrow with an artist from a totally different genre, who would it be?
Probably a jazz musician rather than one specific name. I’d love to put live saxophone and keys against a deep electronic groove and let those two worlds interfere with each other. Not electronic music with a random jazz sample dropped on top, but something where both sides are equally alive. I can already imagine how good that combination could feel. It’s definitely something I want to make happen in the future.
Imagine it’s 2030, you’re playing your dream set – where is it and what’s the last track you play?
Somewhere high in the mountains overlooking a beautiful city, close enough to the sea that we can go swimming afterwards. It’s around 4 a.m. and the first golden light is starting to appear. I’ve been playing groove through the night, somewhere around 130–140 BPM, but instead of finishing harder, I slowly bring everything down toward 115–120. Minimal, tech house, something warm and hypnotic. Everyone is exhausted, but nobody really wants to leave. The end of the party slowly becomes the beginning of a new day. I hope the last track is something I haven’t written yet. Then it ends, I probably cry, hug everyone I can, thank them for being there, and we all go swimming. If I can close a night like that in 2030, I’ll be pretty happy.
Website: nokiangel.com
Instagram: @nokiange1
Spotify: NOKIANGEL on Spotify
SoundCloud: NOKIANGEL on SoundCloud
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