Saoirse: ‘Building community is incredibly important. Do the work and show that you care.’
by Meike Jentjens
Impressed and obsessed
Becoming a DJ was an organic process and never a choice for Saoirse. She started going out when she was only fourteen. The pull of the dance floor was almost magnetic to her, and the many raves and parties she visited only heightened her love for electronic music even more. ‘It’s just been ingrained within my skin for as long as I can remember.’ One of the Irish-born first loves was trance, starting with illegal raves and then moving on to massive warehouse parties. It’s why she’s still in the game today, because, simply put, she just loves it so much. ‘Where some people find a sense of belonging in a hobby like football, mine was music and discovering new subcultures. It became like an obsession to a point; it’s quite fulfilling to feel like you’re a part of something.’
Although Dublin is the largest city in Ireland, it’s much smaller compared to cities like London. Even though Saoirse later left for the neighbouring country’s capital, many of the friends she met while clubbing in Dublin are still her close friends, around twenty years later. Much like others who find a sense of belonging in club culture, she felt like she finally met like-minded people on the dance floor who would feel like extended family. ‘There’s a lot of things that can come from having an electronic music community, and you can definitely build your life around it once you don’t fall into the dark side of it.’ She hints at too much partying and not enough sleep in places where there are so many stimulants and temptations. ‘You have to ask yourself if you’re partying for the right reasons and ensure you’re still enjoying your lifestyle. Realistically, doing stimulants should be fun rather than being an escape from real life.’
Impressed and obsessed
Becoming a DJ was an organic process and never a choice for Saoirse. She started going out when she was only fourteen. The pull of the dance floor was almost magnetic to her, and the many raves and parties she visited only heightened her love for electronic music even more. ‘It’s just been ingrained within my skin for as long as I can remember.’ One of the Irish-born first loves was trance, starting with illegal raves and then moving on to massive warehouse parties. It’s why she’s still in the game today, because, simply put, she just loves it so much. ‘Where some people find a sense of belonging in a hobby like football, mine was music and discovering new subcultures. It became like an obsession to a point; it’s quite fulfilling to feel like you’re a part of something.’
Although Dublin is the largest city in Ireland, it’s much smaller compared to cities like London. Even though Saoirse later left for the neighbouring country’s capital, many of the friends she met while clubbing in Dublin are still her close friends, around twenty years later. Much like others who find a sense of belonging in club culture, she felt like she finally met like-minded people on the dance floor who would feel like extended family. ‘There’s a lot of things that can come from having an electronic music community, and you can definitely build your life around it once you don’t fall into the dark side of it.’ She hints at too much partying and not enough sleep in places where there are so many stimulants and temptations. ‘You have to ask yourself if you’re partying for the right reasons and ensure you’re still enjoying your lifestyle. Realistically, doing stimulants should be fun rather than being an escape from real life.’
Cut through the noise
Escapism is something that gets much praise in club culture, but Saoirse feels like it also has somewhat of a bad rep. ‘It’s okay sometimes to escape, say when you’ve had a bad week. If you’re getting a good hit of happiness, you’re fine. But the problem is when people crave and do it too frequently, it harms them.’ When the London-based DJ was younger, staying out late and frequenting big raves was way more exciting because it was new, and being careful about how you treat yourself during the week was new, too. She now likes to stay ‘super healthy’ during the week and doesn’t drink, which helps with the lack of sleep DJs get. It's safe to say she’s learned a lot over all those years of spinning the hottest records, but nothing happened overnight.
'DJing started as a hobby for me, and people would see how much I enjoyed it and start giving me shows. My career has been a long process of pushing through, in which I now feel like I have more stability, but there's always that feeling that you lose what you've worked so hard for.' It's hard to cut through the noise, especially in the age where everyone is a DJ, according to her, and where everyone is trying to be louder than the next person.
So, the most important lesson Saoirse would share with baby DJs: find something unique to you and show authenticity. 'People are fans of you, because of you. Don't think of what will appeal to the new-age TikTok world or be scared of follower counts or views. If a video doesn't get as much traction as you'd want, don't let it demotivate you. Show promoters your authentic self if you get pushback. I think the biggest mistake everyone makes is looking at everyone else and what they are doing rather than looking at themselves and trying to figure out what they do well.'
Cut through the noise
Escapism is something that gets much praise in club culture, but Saoirse feels like it also has somewhat of a bad rep. ‘It’s okay sometimes to escape, say when you’ve had a bad week. If you’re getting a good hit of happiness, you’re fine. But the problem is when people crave and do it too frequently, it harms them.’ When the London-based DJ was younger, staying out late and frequenting big raves was way more exciting because it was new, and being careful about how you treat yourself during the week was new, too. She now likes to stay ‘super healthy’ during the week and doesn’t drink, which helps with the lack of sleep DJs get. It's safe to say she’s learned a lot over all those years of spinning the hottest records, but nothing happened overnight.
'DJing started as a hobby for me, and people would see how much I enjoyed it and start giving me shows. My career has been a long process of pushing through, in which I now feel like I have more stability, but there's always that feeling that you lose what you've worked so hard for.' It's hard to cut through the noise, especially in the age where everyone is a DJ, according to her, and where everyone is trying to be louder than the next person.
So, the most important lesson Saoirse would share with baby DJs: find something unique to you and show authenticity. 'People are fans of you, because of you. Don't think of what will appeal to the new-age TikTok world or be scared of follower counts or views. If a video doesn't get as much traction as you'd want, don't let it demotivate you. Show promoters your authentic self if you get pushback. I think the biggest mistake everyone makes is looking at everyone else and what they are doing rather than looking at themselves and trying to figure out what they do well.'
In need of larger platforms
Saoirse, of course, speaks from her own experience because being queer and not being afraid to show it would usually get restricted to minimal underground events when she first entered ‘the scene’. ‘You know, a lot of these larger festivals and events were predominantly very straight spaces, which meant there weren’t enough queer artists showcased.’ It’s part of the reason she left Dublin, as the gay club in the city was so male-heavy she never felt at home there. She did always recognise the abundance of talent in the much broader queer scene and felt like she needed to show that to the world, too, by giving it a bigger platform. Cue Body Movements, East London's first queer dance music festival to span over multiple venues in the city’s culture-dense Hackney Wick area.
Saoirse wouldn’t be Saoirse if she did it without having any experience running a festival. Still, she had a lot of experience working with promoters and event organisers, and being an artist for that long. Many befriended DJs trusted her initial idea when she rang them, just like the many dancers that can’t be overlooked when mentioning queer events. She partnered up with London-based promoter Clayton Wright because they ‘were so bored and annoyed of looking at events that label and market themselves as ‘gay/queer’ club nights, but ran by straight people and straight-owned companies who are here to profit from and commodify our community’s identity, sexuality and culture.’ That trust resulted in a festival that was sold out within days, highlighting the importance of its meaning once more.
Pinkwashing and ticking boxes
‘A lot of people come and pinkwash our scene. They use the queer community to benefit themselves without doing the work. Because we already had a lot of history within the scene and the trust there, people got on board quickly. It’s not about ticking boxes of diversity; your team also needs to be representative. Everyone on our team, from people doing the artwork to people working on our social media or working for the welfare team, is from the queer community, so people feel safe within the events and know that it was coming from people who understand them.’
Body Movements created its own niche in a way. Where a lot of queer events would be focused on pop or disco, or harder techno on the other side of the spectrum, this festival had more of an ‘underground’ music quality, which was not seen before. ‘The programming is fundamental. Since we have the trust of queer people, we can go even more underground and program less big names. I keep my ear to the ground when I go to events and constantly try to find new music for my sets. Meeting people in different kinds of communities helps. I have to stay connected to the dance floor.’
In need of larger platforms
Saoirse, of course, speaks from her own experience because being queer and not being afraid to show it would usually get restricted to minimal underground events when she first entered ‘the scene’. ‘You know, a lot of these larger festivals and events were predominantly very straight spaces, which meant there weren’t enough queer artists showcased.’ It’s part of the reason she left Dublin, as the gay club in the city was so male-heavy she never felt at home there. She did always recognise the abundance of talent in the much broader queer scene and felt like she needed to show that to the world, too, by giving it a bigger platform. Cue Body Movements, East London's first queer dance music festival to span over multiple venues in the city’s culture-dense Hackney Wick area.
Saoirse wouldn’t be Saoirse if she did it without having any experience running a festival. Still, she had a lot of experience working with promoters and event organisers, and being an artist for that long. Many befriended DJs trusted her initial idea when she rang them, just like the many dancers that can’t be overlooked when mentioning queer events. She partnered up with London-based promoter Clayton Wright because they ‘were so bored and annoyed of looking at events that label and market themselves as ‘gay/queer’ club nights, but ran by straight people and straight-owned companies who are here to profit from and commodify our community’s identity, sexuality and culture.’ That trust resulted in a festival that was sold out within days, highlighting the importance of its meaning once more.
Pinkwashing and ticking boxes
‘A lot of people come and pinkwash our scene. They use the queer community to benefit themselves without doing the work. Because we already had a lot of history within the scene and the trust there, people got on board quickly. It’s not about ticking boxes of diversity; your team also needs to be representative. Everyone on our team, from people doing the artwork to people working on our social media or working for the welfare team, is from the queer community, so people feel safe within the events and know that it was coming from people who understand them.’
Body Movements created its own niche in a way. Where a lot of queer events would be focused on pop or disco, or harder techno on the other side of the spectrum, this festival had more of an ‘underground’ music quality, which was not seen before. ‘The programming is fundamental. Since we have the trust of queer people, we can go even more underground and program less big names. I keep my ear to the ground when I go to events and constantly try to find new music for my sets. Meeting people in different kinds of communities helps. I have to stay connected to the dance floor.’
Get out there!
Doing the work also means that an event should stay accessible, which is why Body Movements does a considerable number of tickets for lower incomes. Saoirse speaks about underrepresented groups that could have trouble paying ticket fees, and mentions people with creative professions because they generally make less money than other professional groups. It’s one of the ways she tries to keep the festival sustainable. Tickets are only sold to people who’ve bought tickets before or signed up through their mailer, so the people attending know which world they’re entering. ‘We keep making clear that it’s a queer space, and if you come as an ally, you have to be aware of the space you’re entering.’
Starting something as successful as she has should never be the initial goal. But if you do want to make a difference, start by being authentic. 'Building community is super important. Make sure that you're going to the events that are representative of whatever minority you may be in. It's just like building friendships with people who have the same values as you. A lot of those people can be found in these events. So, reach out to people about potentially starting your own thing, whether it's a label, club night, or whatever it might be. Don't expect it to happen from your bedroom; you've got to get out there, and you have to show your face in these events for people to know that you care.'
Get out there!
Doing the work also means that an event should stay accessible, which is why Body Movements does a considerable number of tickets for lower incomes. Saoirse speaks about underrepresented groups that could have trouble paying ticket fees, and mentions people with creative professions because they generally make less money than other professional groups. It’s one of the ways she tries to keep the festival sustainable. Tickets are only sold to people who’ve bought tickets before or signed up through their mailer, so the people attending know which world they’re entering. ‘We keep making clear that it’s a queer space, and if you come as an ally, you have to be aware of the space you’re entering.’
Starting something as successful as she has should never be the initial goal. But if you do want to make a difference, start by being authentic. 'Building community is super important. Make sure that you're going to the events that are representative of whatever minority you may be in. It's just like building friendships with people who have the same values as you. A lot of those people can be found in these events. So, reach out to people about potentially starting your own thing, whether it's a label, club night, or whatever it might be. Don't expect it to happen from your bedroom; you've got to get out there, and you have to show your face in these events for people to know that you care.'