From Bedroom to Booth: My DJ Origin Story

It all started with a dusty old turntable I found in my uncle's attic. I was 15, bored out of my mind during summer break, and desperate for something – anything – to do. Little did I know that this relic would change my life forever.

At first, I was terrible. Like, really terrible. My first mix sounded like a cat fight in a drum factory. But for some reason, I loved it. I spent hours in my room, headphones on, trying to figure out how to make two songs play nice together.

My parents thought I was going through a phase. "It's just noise," my dad would say, conveniently forgetting his own punk rock days. But I was hooked. I saved up every penny from my part-time job at the local chip shop (let me tell you, the smell of grease is not a good cologne) to buy proper DJ equipment.

By the time I hit university, I had upgraded from my bedroom to house parties. The first one was a disaster. I accidentally played the Macarena twice in a row, and someone unplugged my equipment thinking it was the toaster. But hey, you live and learn, right?

Slowly but surely, I got better. I started doing gigs at the student union, then at small clubs around London. One night, I was playing at this tiny underground spot – literally underground, it was in an old bomb shelter – when this guy in a flashy suit approached me.

"Kid, you've got talent," he said, handing me his card. "Call me if you want to play the big leagues."

I thought it was a joke at first. Turned out, Mr. Flashy Suit was a promoter for one of London's hottest clubs. A week later, I was standing in a real DJ booth, surrounded by flashing lights and a sea of people.

I'd love to say I nailed it, but the truth is, I was so nervous I nearly threw up on my mixer. My hands were shaking so bad I could barely put the needle on the record. But then something magical happened – I played my first track, the crowd went wild, and suddenly, everything just clicked.

That night was a blur of pumping beats, cheering crowds, and more adrenaline than I thought my body could handle. When I finally stepped out of the booth at 3 AM, drenched in sweat and grinning like an idiot, I knew this was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.

So here I am, living the dream – well, when I'm not debugging websites or trying to keep my houseplants alive. It's been a wild ride from that dusty old turntable to the clubs of London, and let me tell you, it's only getting wilder.

Stay tuned, folks. This DJ's just getting started.