Kicking In
Lost Keys: Performance Room: #01 “Kicking In”
Warning: Strong Language
Introduction
This mix wasn’t planne, it just happened while I was pretending not to make it. What was meant to be a quick birthday set somehow turned into weeks of unconscious collecting, looping, and avoiding, until I finally admitted I’d been building something the whole time.
I actually had two mixes on the go:
The “proper” one I thought I was crafting, and the other; a stash of tracks I kept returning to just to feel grounded and feel something.
Eventually I realised the real emotional arc wasn’t in the deliberate project at all, but hiding in the one I made without trying or even thinking about. That’s the ADHD magic. When I focus, it’s forced, when I don’t, something far more honest appears. (I plan to explore this further as has been an enlightening process).
These Track Notes capture that chaos. The headspace, the anchor tracks, the accidental breakthroughs, and the constant question of “is this therapy or procrastination?”
It’s a snapshot of where I was at the time = messy, honest, grounded, and louder than I meant it to be.
The good kind of loud.
Behind the Mix
Where was I when this mix started forming?
Honestly? I was kind of avoiding it.
I’d said yes to playing a set for a mate’s birthday, because in the moment I knew I wanted to, but I also knew I wasn’t in the best place at the time. My Dad hadn’t long been diagnosed with cancer, and it kind of takes you ‘out of life’ as it were, just felt distant from everything and everyone drifting in an out of moment, some good, some not so good.
I had said yes to my mate, on the basis that i knew this would be something that i would jump at the chance to do normally, so agreed thinking that well when the time comes it will be fine.
Of course the roster was put up and then a group of about 4-5 DJ’s then start to agree types of music and set times. Of course everyone was being polite letting everyone pick what time slots they wanted. As usual, nobody wants to go first on the warm up, and nobody wants to go up for the graveyard shift. So being somewhat disconnected from myself at the time, I went straight in with a demand for the headline time of 11pm-12am or 12am - 1am (I think the place shut at 2am or 3am) so prime slot.
The reality was, one half of my brain was telling me yes, give me headline, I’m in… but the other part was saying, I don’t even want to go out, don’t want to see anyone.
So as the date got closer, I avoided thinking about it let alone any preparation. But the ADHD kicks in and suddenly its all i can think about, its all i want to do, and then the obsession and planning, searching for music, building out ideas kicks in and takes over.
ADHD can be helpful sometimes in getting stuff done, though i’d question some of the priorities some of the time.
At the time, I was listening to some Franky Wah (The Revival), a bit of Daft Punk, Carl Cox, and Frankie Knuckles on occasion as well as Fred Again (Actual Life 1 & 2). Leaning in to a log of break beat and melodic techno, just seemed to be what i was feeling at the time. Energy and fragility, especially in Franky Wah’s music, it just spoke to me and was a sound i would actively listen to and it helped me.
And instead of actually working on the set, I was convincing myself that thinking about working on it counted as “progress.”
But this is the thing I’ve realised about myself - avoidance is often my pre-production stage. The calm before the storm. The procrastination before the panic.
And somewhere in all that avoidance — the trawling Beatport, Soundcloud and Mixcloud for inspiration, the "I'll start working on this tomorrow" bollocks - the mix quietly started forming behind my back.
I wasn’t building a set… I never really am. That doesn’t work, not for me. If i put too much forward planning and intent in to the mix itself i lose the creativity and ability to build something that i feel connected to.
As i said, i wasnt building one, I was subconsciously assembling one.
What mood or moment does this mix capture?
This is me, this is what I want.
It was a real energy of showing up as me. Playing what i wanted to share, and what connected me with that moment, in that moment.
You know that moment on a night out, you’re with your mates everyones having a right laugh, you’d had a skin full now you are ready to get on it and maybe hit the dance floor and get stuck in. Thats what i wanted to capture.
I knew ahead of my set, i would be in the mixer with my mates all having a laugh and getting on it. I knew at some point i was going to have to leave them to it and step up behind the decks and this was my chance to get a particular vibe and mood to kick in. Hence the name.
It’s the exact point the room shifts — lights feel warmer, music hits deeper..
It captures movement. Lift. The moment the emotional fog lifts and the excitement takes over — not reckless excitement, but the kind where your shoulders relax and you actually feel present again.
What track or sound is the emotional key to the mix?
There was this relentless energy running through the whole mix.
The sort of momentum where, once I hit play, good luck trying to get me to stop. It felt a bit like running a race I didn’t knowingly sign up for, I’ve started so I am going to finish and win.
If I had to pin the emotional anchors, there were 3 pillars holding the whole thing up;
The Jorja Smith “High” remix, “Stayinit,” and a dose of Guy Gerber there in the middle. Those tracks weren’t just fillers, they were the places to breathe.
Each one has this strange space inside it. Not empty space, but supportive space. The kind of musical pause where you find yourself going quiet, and just closing your eyes for a moment, or looking around seeing you mates faces in the zone. You smile inside, because you feel it too.
Even though the mix sits at a pretty steady at 124–128 BPM, it somehow feels like it’s constantly pushing harder and faster than it actually is. There’s tension in its bones, pressure that never quite releases enough, so those anchor tracks became the emotional equivalent of leaning against a wall mid-run and pretending you’re “just stretching”.
“Stayinit” especially is not exactly a lie-down-and-relax record, but there’s something grounding in it. Lil Yachty’s vocals have this almost introspective quality, like he’s saying something simple but quietly profound if you actually let the words land. It’s raw, steadying, and weirdly comforting.
And that’s exactly what I needed while building this.
Something that kept the energy up but still held me in place long enough to feel what was actually going on inside me.
Whilst building this, it felt like I had all my shit together and this mix was the end result. That external evidence that confirmed I had my shit together and I knew what I was doing.
Even if in reality, i didn’t. But for a moment, it felt like i did.
What memory or feeling does this mix take me back to instantly?
It takes me straight back to the version of me that actually loved DJing, but in a completely different light.
This kid buzzing off his nut mixing tunes he genuinely cared about, not the disheartened man walking around the club looking for some fictional bloke named Tony for his £100 fee and praying no one makes any more requests straight out of their NOW95 playlist.
It reminds me of the shift. The moment I stopped trying to please everyone by playing what other people wanted and started playing what I needed.
It’s nostalgia, but in a “thank god I didn’t give up” kind of way.
It also takes me back to all those nights where one perfectly-timed transition made everything make sense again. When the music clicked before I did, and carried me along with it.
There’s pride in this one, and a lot of joy.
Playing this out and having mates around me, cheering me on and wanting more was a real moment.
But also relief — that the joy is back. Properly back.
The hangover the next day was also something else…. I try not to think about this too much, but rather the night that made it happen.
What was happening in my life when these songs mattered most?
Chaos, mainly — and if you’ve made it this far, you’ll notice that’s becoming a bit of a theme with me.
Not all chaos is created equal though.
This wasn’t the dramatic, external, life’s-falling-apart chaos.
This was the internal kind — the classic ADHD cocktail: pressure, procrastination, panic, hyperfocus, revelation… shaken, stirred, and served as a metaphorical kick up the arse whispering, “You’ve got six hours, mate, good luck.”
It’s the cycle you don’t choose, but definitely get dragged through on a daily rotation.
I was trying to juggle work, life, responsibilities, moods, thoughts, inspiration, emotional weather patterns, and whatever else my brain decided needed urgent attention that day.
Trivial shit like:
-What do I wear?
-What do I pack?
-Where do I park?
-Do I bring my laptop?
-How many USBs have I backed up?
-Did I remember to book the hotel?
-Have I even told my wife we’re going?
And all of that, obviously, would have been about 30 minutes before leaving the house.
So with that as my mental backdrop, instead of organising my life like a functioning human, I did what I always do… I built music libraries, obviously.
To anyone who doesn’t know me or fails to understand the connection, I would kind of imagine to anyone else this might feel like deciding to make the bed before waking the kids in a house fire. Kind of feels like the priories are out a little.
But to me, well it makes absolute sense.
These are safety nets. Emotional toolkits for “Future Me” when I inevitably feel like I’m failing and slipping behind again. These tracks became stabilisers. Anchor points.
Little pockets of familiarity and nostalgia when everything else felt 400% too loud and twice as fast as I was ready for.
Music was the pressure valve. The release.
The one thing that made everything feel like it might be alright — even if only for three minutes and twenty seconds at a time.
What might this mix mean to me in 5 or 10 years?
Probably the moment where everything started shifting back into place.
Where Lost Keys really formed.
Where DJing became mine again, and the joy came back with it.
It was the point where I stopped suppressing creativity and just let it show up whenever it felt like it — usually uninvited, usually at 1am, and usually when I was meant to be doing something else entirely.
In five or ten years, I’ll probably see this mix as a turning point. The start of a run of projects that came from honesty instead of expectation. From feeling, not forcing.
But I’ll also laugh, because this set was absolutely born from procrastination, anxiety, and a handful of emotional support tracks. And, of course, the ghost of Disco Tony — who, 15 years later, still hasn’t paid up. Cunt.
These track notes are here so I don’t forget the madness around it. There were too many funny moments from that night that deserve recounting briefly (so i don’t forget);
“Ah, I wish I could live with a DJ?”
Some lad (mate of a mate) said to my wife how amazing it must be living with me, having me DJing at home (like this) all the time. Rose, bless her, just said, “He doesn’t do this at home.” The mental image of me doing a full sunrise set while the kids eat cereal or get ready for bed was absolutely hilarious. But not as funny as the look of disappointment on his face when he realised we didn’t live in ‘Drumsheds’.To the lass who wanted to know “How long I was going to be”
She came up to the booth to ask me this, I took my headphones off, and said “Why, do you wanna go?” Completely deadpan, she looks at me and said, “No, but my boyfriend wants a go” - seriously.
Mind you, what made it funnier was that I hadn’t even played out the first track yet. I must have been playing for 2 minutes, 3 max.I just looked at them both and turned the music up.
The hyper lad from the bathroom
As I finished he bursts out of the toilets, arms up for a high five, wet hands, buzzing off whatever disco crumbs he’d found in there. Starts telling me how amazing it was that I was a DJ and that he “had no idea I was keeping it a secret”. We had never met before. At all. He was utterly convinced i was clearly someone else.And then, in peak friendliness, he asked if I wanted to share a “bean” with him, and not the Heinz variety. Lovely bloke. Looked like the beans were working for him, too.
I’d love to have witnessed that conversation with him and his actual mate the next time they meet, trying to tell him he saw him DJ at the weekend… face blank, like WTF, no i didn’t?
Technical & Production
Production
Let’s talk about the arc for a moment…
The production arc of Kicking In is a careful push and pull between tension and release, movement and reflection. The BPM moves between 120–130bpm, yet sometimes the mix feels bigger, faster, and more dynamic than the numbers suggest.
Tracks are positioned like emotional anchors, creating breathing spaces where needed, and moments of movement where necessary. The narrative isn’t linear, it’s subconscious, layered, and alive, reflecting a process that was as much about internal navigation as musical construction.
Ultimately, the mix says: there’s momentum in chaos, clarity in reflection, and lift in persistence… all sounds very deep. Yeah? Ok.
In other words, basically, it just bangs. You get lost in the rhythm, carried by the energy, and then suddenly something clicks. You can’t explain it, but you feel it. The music hits you somewhere you didn’t expect, and it moves you in more ways than one. Like I said, it just bangs.
From opening grounding to mid-section reflection, through peak intensity and into release, the arc mirrors an internal journey I was living, making the production itself a map of emotion, energy, and presence.
The mix opens with Franky Wah’s How It Feels, immediately setting the tone: subtle, introspective, yet propulsive. It’s a cautious step into the space, those tribal rhythms pulling you in like a primal call. Caveman’esque, if cavemen were in Ibiza and replaced chest beating with subwoofers.
This was very much a moment of grounding before the energy fully arrives. Those early tracks laying down a gentle lift, subtle motion, and just enough tension to hint at what’s coming. It feels like stretching before a run - measured, intentional, setting emotional footing before the real momentum kicks in.
As the pace rises, the energy shifts. The BPM climbs, synths open up, percussion sharpens. Tracks like Forgotten One and Turn On The Lights become emotional anchors, pulling the mix from calm momentum into something more urgent - more bass, more thump.
There’s a subconscious acceleration here, a sense of being swept forward before you’ve fully realised the pace has changed.
Midway, the mix hits its reflective core. A cluster of melodic, vocal-led cuts creates space within the intensity, allowing tension and introspection to sit side by side.
This mid section is nostalgic and vulnerable, textured with hooks and atmospheric layers that make you pause while still keeping you moving. It’s the emotional heart of the journey: weighty, human, and quietly cinematic. Jorja Smith, Gorgon City, and Guy Gerber nail that feeling.
Then comes the peak. The shift into Panic Room and the chaos of STAYINIT marks full ignition. The kind of rhythmic and emotional push that demands presence. Breakdowns tighten, drops hit harder, layers collide and a breakbeat rhythm takes over.
It’s controlled chaos, the sound of internal pressure translated into movement. Every element is designed to sustain momentum while giving just enough release to keep you breathing.
The back half eases into resolution. Warmer house cuts, back to 4-4 and more open, melodic selections soften the edges without dropping the energy. Keys widen, textures breathe, and the mix lifts emotionally even as the tempo stays grounded. Piano rhythm from Gregory Porter, bring that warm energy and familiarity, like a hug mid crisis.
Tracks like Glue, I’ll Never Change, and Comme Si carry that sense of exhale, the moment the night shifts from intensity to glow. You want to keep going.
The closing stretch brings it all home. With the weight and punch of Rumble, like a farewell bass digger. The emotional lift of Sister by TSHA, and the catharsis of Roze, the mix ends elevated yet grounded — a final sweep of movement, meaning, and release.
It leaves you with that post-club clarity: buzzing, reflective, and weirdly at peace.
Kicking In isn’t just a lineup of tracks; it’s a journey. It’s always a journey.
Warm-up, rise, reflection, peak, release, resolve — a full emotional narrative shaped in sound.
Messy, honest, high-energy, and very human. Exactly the headspace it came from.
Equipment
I recorded this one in my home office-studio at the bottom of my garden.
My sanctuary of noise, cables, and half-finished ideas. Soundproofed away from the house, away from neighbors. Essential.
My Setup:
Pioneer XDJ-XZ Controller (master weapon)
DDJ-XP2 (button-mashing magic sampling box)
DDJ-400 (for sketching ideas out of the studio, usually in the house or on a sofa somewhere)
Sennheiser HD650s (emotional support headphones)
Laptop: Rekordbox, Discord, Ableton (DAW)
Everything recorded straight to USB — no edits, no patch-ups, no cheating. If you mess up, bin it and start again. Simple. High stakes on the longer sets, but good for practice. More screw up is more time on the decks.
Before recording, I vanish into Rekordbox and Discord groups like a digital hermit. I’m sure my wife suspects me of cheating with some AI chat bot or cam girls, but it really is record hunting - honest…
(clears browser cache), see told you…
Just music…
Recording & Mastering
The original plan was pure delusion… Record a 90-minute mix in the 20-minute gap between the kids’ bedtime and dinner time. Classic ADHD ambition; unrealistic, overconfident, and doomed before I’d even found the office keys (which took the entire 20 minutes anyway).
So the reality?
It was a fuck up. Delays because I was tired. Or hungry. Or doom scrolling Netflix becuase despite there being 100,000 things to watch you can’t ever find anything.
Or being halfway through recording the mix and suddenly fixated on whether I should put a shelf above the decks — genuinely a thought that derailed an entire take because I looking for the tape measure. That’s not even the best one, stay with me…
The peak disaster was recording 50 minutes in to the mix, only to suddenly be distracted by the clock in the studio hadn’t been put back for when the clocks went back. Obviously, you have to act IMMEDIATELY else that will bore its way out of your brain if you try and ignore it. So, out from behind the decks to start messing about with the clock and missed the important transition and the mix was dead. Start again. Shit….
Eventually, something clicked. The distractions faded, the overthinking dropped away, and the flow took over. The moment I stop thinking about it and stop treating it like surgery and just relax, it all happens naturally and you slip in to the zone.
Doubles, EQ work, nudging, steering — nothing flashy, no gimmicks, just movement and instinct. Muscle memory doing the heavy lifting while the sensible, over-analytical part of my brain finally shut up and let the music speak.
That’s when the mix actually happened — not in the planning, but in the moment I stopped trying to control it and just let it run.
Into Ableton for final mastering. The lightest polish possible, normalising volumes, tidying, enhancing what was already there. No fancy edits. No over-processing. I want the mix to sound exactly like the room felt on the speakers.
Performance Sessions get the clean treatment, very minor tweaks to ensure the sound hits when the volume gets cranked up.
The Moment
Introduction
Step inside a night out like no other. This isn’t just a recount of queues, drinks, smells, and sweaty bodies, it’s a lens on how music shapes the chaos, lifts the mood, and creates fleeting moments of euphoria.
From the first thump of bass to the room detonating when the lights hit and the track drops, the story captures how rhythm, energy, and sound guide the night, turning frustration and minor disasters into collective exhilaration.
This moment mirrors the mix itself: messy, unpredictable, and alive. Just like the tracks, the night moves in waves, from tension and anticipation, through bursts of intensity, to moments of release and pure joy.
Music isn’t just background noise, it’s the thread that ties people, places, and emotions together, turning everyday chaos into something memorable.
But there’s also something hilarious in the little absurdities we witness on nights out, the antics and mishaps that form the backdrop to sets like this.
It’s this stuff that brings the music to life.
The Moment
The queue’s massive. Always is on a night like this.
The WhatsApp group has been popping off for days, but suddenly ramped up another notch; countless memes, stickers, sonya’s fanny, 86 variations of “oosa cunt,” and someone dropping a sticker every eight seconds like their life depends on it.
Somewhere in that mess are the logistics for the meet up.
But you won’t need to find it, because that same mate will ask for it repeatedly, over and over.
It’s usually me, to be fair.
The stickers are a sign. This is how you know something’s brewing. Something good.
Inside, the bass hits immediately. The kind that rattles your sternum and reminds you your organs are only loosely stacked inside you like an IKEA flat pack.
Franky Wah and Disclosure are tag-teaming your insides and you’re not even at the bar yet.
Feels great though. Although probably a worrying sign of things to come, especially if your mate’s rugby pals are about. You might wish it was only Franky Wah and Disclosure.
You push forward. The room’s rammed. Sweaty bodies everywhere.
One bloke’s already doing that aggressive peacocking thing. Chest out. Shirt buttons clinging on for dear life. Hair gelled like it’s been varnished. One drink in and he thinks he’s the apex predator of this club’s ecosystem.
You ignore him. Well, you try, but you’re mesmerised at why someone is wearing sunglasses in a nightclub. At night.
Anyway, you move on. Head to the dance floor. See what’s occurring.
Then it hits. The smell.
What the actual fucking fuck is that?
A fully weaponised, biohazard-level “has someone just shat themselves?” situation. Chemical warfare.
You immediately sidestep out of the blast radius before someone points fingers and assumes it was you.
Someone always does it. And why is it always you that ends up smelling it?
You move on, now assaulted by that sickly perfume cloud people spray like riot control.
If you’re unlucky, some girl re-applies it without looking and you get it straight in the boat. Delicious.
The bar looks like a queue, but it’s not. Queues require rules, and rules died five pints ago.
You deploy the polite British “shove but apologise” technique. Lock eyes with the bartender. Victory…
Except no. She looks straight past you and serves the bloke leaning over your shoulder like you’re a coat rack.
Eventually, multiple drinks in each hand, you fight your way back to the group… and realise none of them are for you.
In the bedlam that was the bar, you forgot to order your own. Perfect.
Your mate in the expensive loud shirt, the one he keeps telling everyone how much he paid for it, drags you to the dancefloor.
You swim against the tide to get to the middle. He stops suddenly.
The universal signal for “that’ll do, I’m bored now”. Brilliant.
You’re wedged between strangers who smell like they haven’t been home since yesterday.
Sweat and drinks flying everywhere like the club installed a sprinkler system.
And then… magic.
A pocket opens. Lights hit. “Turn On The Lights” drops. The room detonates.
Arms up. Heads down. Sweaty hair in your face.
Someone’s fingernails slicing the back of your neck. Another lad hugging strangers like he’s running a mindfulness retreat. A mystery drink splashes all over your nice crisp kicks.
You should be annoyed. And you are. But it’s temporary.
Because the moment that bassline hits, everything aligns. All is forgiven.
Sometimes you clock the drink-spiller, and without saying a word, you can feel yourself calling them a cunt with your eyes alone.
Then you carry on like it never happened.
Until you see them again. And again. And again. Sorry, where was I?
Ah yes. The bassline… It forgives everything. Even that twat.
Every queue. Every £25 gin in a warm glass. Every shove, spill, dodgy elbow and suspicious smell.
Gone.
You don’t care. You just want more. You need more.
Though you have fully decided that the person who spilled that drink on your shoes is also the same bastard who shat themselves earlier. No proof required. You just know. A one-person plague. Pond scum.
But the night’s young. The floor’s alive. And you’re on a dopamine and whatever-else high.
It’s great. Which is more than you can say for some of your mates as you spot them on the dancefloor. Animals. Absolute animals.
But you love every single one of them.
Final Thought
This mix is what it felt like to come back to myself. To play for joy again.
To reconnect with music without the noise of expectation.
It’s messy and honest and full of life. The way all the best nights are.
Track List
Track Listing & Artist Credits
[Coming soon]
