Toma Kami has been making the waves during the last years with a signature sound that lies in idiosyncratic rhythmic patterns an all-goes blend of genres like rap, jungle, techno or dancehall. Part of the fast-paced dance music movement but not a victim of the 4×4 160 bpm, he has made a place for himself both in DJing and in production, with releases on labels like Livity Sound or his own mb studio. His sets don’t fall into predictability or easy banger formulas (though a little banger never hurts nobody), and come out as an energetic whole that brings the crowd’s arms up in the air more often than not.

Claudia: Your choice of tracks is very diverse but your sets tend to have a coherent sense of continuity. How do you approach building the narrative of a set?

Toma: I like to keep a certain tension throughout. Ideally the crowd locks in enough that we can explore a range of styles and tempos together. I try to keep a sense of human feel in my mixing by playing around with EQs, fader chops, etc. I once read Andre 3000 talking about a sense of emergency in his music that really resonated with me. I’ve always had an instinct for that sort of edge. I love it when I can hear a DJ almost fucking up their blend and then saving it, or making bold moves with their selection.

Those moments when the DJ and crowd are challenged together are usually the most galvanising, it’s in those instances that creativity spikes up and people are subconsciously reminded that the journey is actually being led by a human.

Your sound has a slightly ironic take to it. Serious bangers laid out with a smirk. What’s behind that side of your self-expression at the decks?

I suppose it’s an eternal DJ pattern of trying to replicate powerful moments that you once experienced on the dancefloor and that changed your musical DNA. On many occasions those unexpected shifts in intensity with a touch of irony were the elements that created said moments to me, so I suppos that tainted how I approach things. I like that my sound can become synonymous with unpredictability. But I don’t think it’s all so intentional.

From your earliest releases on Livity Sound to the widely-acclaimed last EPs you put out through your own label one can easily identify your specific and recognizable sound. What’s been the path of self-discovery that has led you to this point?

I started producing at like 23 years old, which to me felt mega late at the time. But it was instantly fun and addictive. Coming from a filmmaking background where the process is more collectively driven, it was incredibly liberating in terms of creativity to be able to do this virtually wherever, whenever I wanted.

It’s always nice to hear others consider your sound recognisable, because it’s something that I strive for even though I have no control over it. Whatever comes out of you when you’re creating comes out, and the more I’ve learned to accept that dynamic rather than try to control it, the more honest the output usually is.

Influences are too broad and evolving to mention but, if we’re talking early days, I was always inspired by artists with more organic sound palettes whether it be Timbaland (the king) or Shed. Matthew Herbert, DJ Sprinkles and post dubstep era producers like Joy O were also big influences for me when I started. And Andre 3000 of course.

You recently gave a change of look to your label. Formerly known as Man Band, it now stands as mb studio. Can you tell me a bit about that shift? Could you provide me with a bit of background to the original idea and later development of the label?

When I first started the label I wanted to sign a pool of artists that I would release regularly within the context of a recognisable sonic identity, like a lot of the labels I grew up listening to. I have huge respect for imprints who begin with a specific direction and manage to keep it relevant over a long period of time, but I found out that approach just wasn’t for me.

My taste is always changing and I want a more neutral platform to release my own music as well as other artists’ without the need to follow certain guidelines or a common thread in the sound. I also wanted to stir it away from the more conventional label / records framework that I started off with. Quitting the vinyl format and all the constraints that came with it was also a relief and a factor in this change of direction. And the name wasn’t ageing well, it felt overly masculine to me. It was never intended to come across as such but that was a reality.

Tell me a little bit about your move to Paris a few years ago and your thoughts about the scene there. Must’ve been quite a jump from the UK scene.

It’s definitely a great place to be right now. In Paris, and more broadly across the French scene, I think there is an abundance of talented producers and collectives doing super exciting stuff at the moment. It’s definitely less cliquey and closed off than the UK scene can be at times. And I was mostly in London, which I felt was too big to get a real grasp on local scenes.

My only frustration here is the club landscape. Don’t get me wrong, the nightlife isn’t dead, far from it. But we are lacking spaces with good sound systems, consistent art direction and better standards in general. It’s kind of weird considering our contribution to electronic music historically, but I suppose that actual club culture was never as strong here as it’s always been in places like the Netherlands or the UK. But still, you think we would have more established venues by now.

The last couple of years have been quite a leap in your career. How have you taken in such success and increase in visibility?

I just feel very lucky that I managed to reach a certain level in what I’m doing and that it’s been resonating with some people. Even something you love starts to feel like work when you’re spending countless hours on it, so it’s been a great feeling to tick some stuff off the bucket list. There is still so much I want to do, but an increasingly exciting prospect as I move forward with my own career has been new opportunities to include other artists.

I’ve started my own night this year through my first residency at my beloved Post Bar in Helsinki, and I’m so pumped to take on the role of a curator and to be able to give a platform for artists to express themselves in a quality environment. Bringing over miel and Rhyw for the first one was very special to me.

This week I will also give my first DJ workshop in Shanghai while I’m touring China. I’ve always wanted to teach and it’s something I’m hoping to integrate more in my schedule whenever I’m travelling for longer periods of time. I think it’s cool to explore other ways to use that free time in between weekends when you’re touring, and try to give something more than a club DJ set if you can.

Since the image of the DJ has become a bit deified and centralised, divided opinions have arisen about what the DJ role is: central or not, a service or rather an art… What’s your take on it? How seriously do you think DJs should take themselves?

One problem is that a lot of DJs quickly think they’re the shit because they’re touring internationally and getting all this attention, but the reality for a majority of artists in this circuit is that most people in the club aren’t here to see you, they are here because the promoters did a good job at keeping that club a space where people want to be, and at maintaining their local scene alive and curious.

You’re contributing to this as part of a collective effort to make something special, don’t take all the credit as if the 500 people in that room literally came out just to see you. Another reality of this career path is that it is short lived for most, so if you’re lucky enough to experience it you might as well enjoy it while it lasts and stay humble.

It’s brought me so much and I can hardly think of something better to do than travelling to some of the most exciting places in the world to play music (and getting paid for it). And yes I believe that DJing is an art form in itself, and I love to be able to express myself in a context that facilitates moments of human connection, but I’m not saving the world, and I’m aware of how incredibly privileged it is to do this even without being a top tier DJ earning major pay checks. I think it’s important to understand this and be real as your platform gets bigger, rather than feed the delusional, self-entitled, apolitical bullshit that this industry promotes sometimes

Many complain the hard, fast-paced techno is a sign of a new generation unable to understand the dynamics of a night, while others argue that it’s just a necessary stage for them expressing themselves. What’s your take on the evolution of the approach to dance music that followed the pandemic? How do you think that period affected you creatively and how did you approach the stage that followed it?

I think this is a non-issue. Older generations have always complained about whatever the newcomers latch onto. When I was younger a lot of the electronic music I was listening or partying to was considered garbage by the older crowds, it’s an eternal cycle.

Ultimately this current phase will be their gateway to other genres and scenes, and it will fade out as the next new trend settles in. I think it’s great that the newer generation is brewing its own thing, I don’t need to get it to appreciate it.

I personally think the switch has been positive in many ways, post pandemic crowds have been some of the best I’ve ever played to. They have less preconceived ideas and they’re just finding their own marks, I think it’s made for a very open minded rave / club environment.

Bangers: do or don’t? Where do you stand on the use (or abuse) of edits? And what makes an edit ok?

It’s a very subjective topic. I think edits work best when they have that element of surprise. I need to build up to that point in a set, like it’s something that I need to earn. Sure, there are more edits floating around than ever and some can easily sound over the top and irritating, I’m very particular with the ones I like. But there are no rules, if you fuck with it then play it. Just don’t overdo it I guess. A set that relies on any one-trick formula quickly gets boring so, yeah, everything in good measure.

Hit me up with a closing track.

“60% of the time it works every time.”

Toma Kami plays Deviant’s 5th anniversary on April 19, 2024.