Interview by Alexei Obolensky | Photography by DJ Falcon (unless stated otherwise)
The moment where I first met DJ Falcon is forever etched in my memory.
It was 2015, the world premiere tour of Kai Neville’s sublime tour de force, Cluster. With a double-headed weekend of Friday night in San Sebastian and Saturday night in Barcelona, what could’ve possibly gone wrong? So, of course, everything went wrong. I overcooked it, got locked out of my Airbnb, a drunken mess, dutifully missing my flight the next morning—a predictable Greek tragedy of an evening.
This was night one of Wasted Talent, our first event. I hated it; I was hooked.
“DJ Falcon has invited us to an afterparty, we gotta go…” Brendon Gibbens tells me with breathless excitement.
After a 6 hour drive with my legs folded into the back of a Seat Ibiza, I turn up for night two of this now nightmarish premiere tour a broken man. No, no, I do not want to go to a fucking afterparty. At this moment in time I had no idea who this bird of prey-inspired DJ was. But the beers flowed, and to the club we went.
Those who know Barcelona know that Apollo is an institution, but on the list we were not. Suddenly, a now instantly recognisable brilliant flash of silver hair—DJ Falcon appears at the door. With a a sly grin and a French accent, he says: “They are with me,” and we’re in. Champagne showers on stage, a green room of dreams, a nightclub on fire on a musical journey through electro, with hints of French nostalgia and yet so very in the moment, so on trend, so impossibly fucking cool.
Since then, the fates of DJ Falcon and I were somewhat intertwined. Turns out we are nearly neighbours in Biarritz. We run into each other at parties. On flights. In restaurants; the last time I saw him, he was dining in Biarritz with Vincent Cassel. Vincent fucking Cassel. We’ve run into each other in London, Paris, and again in Barcelona. He would tell me tales of Japanese Train Spotting, of calling Sébastien Tellier to get music for Modern Collective, of the men behind the masks of Daft Punk. Never one for a public persona, always in it for the music. Conversing freely in English, but switching to French when the French, as it has a habit of doing, has a far more expressive subtlety. Eyes twinkling mischievously, under that shock of silver hair. A man whose eyes tell you a story–but you know behind them lie a thousand more.
And yet, I felt I barely knew him. I had to know more…Who the fuck is this guy?
Enigmatic, in every sense of the world, so without further ado: Hello my Name is DJ Falcon.
So where did this all begin?
It all started with skateboarding. I started when I was 10 or 11, everything came from skateboarding, I think, you know, like, when you make good friends through skateboarding, it’s powerful. I was skating a lot with Pedro Winter (known as Busy P), who’d started a label and was the manager of Daft Punk. We all grew up together and discovered music together.
So where did this link between skating and electronic music start to connect for you guys?
So Pedro was my best mate and roommate (kind of)—he lived in front of my apartment. I went through this whole process, like going from skateboarding to music, because of him. I made a brand when I was 17 or 18; I used to get sponsored to skate. So at the time, I was sponsored by Street Machine—the skate shop in Paris. I got an opportunity to have a showroom in a big trade-show called Who’s Next. So this all got Pedro really excited, discovering a new world, this new world of fashion. And from that moment, he got into throwing parties and then into managing Daft Punk. So it was just a back and forth between me and my friend, trying to discover new things. This constant bouncing between skate, fashion and music. It’s all connected.
So before the explosion of French music in the late 90s and early 2000s and French electro…what were you guys up to leading up to that?
We always had an open mind, which I think comes from skating and having that skateboarder’s outlook on the world. When we discovered electronic music, it was so different at the time. Everybody got really, really excited. I guess we found it had this real connectivity with skateboarding, as electronic music at the time was super anti-establishment. It was so connected to the rave scene, so underground. It was rebellious; as skaters, we were always looked at as outsiders from society, and we felt it was unjust as we weren’t doing anything wrong. We were 16 or 17 years old and we felt we were being pursued as criminals for skating, for music; that music really spoke to us, we felt part of a group. It felt right.
How do you go from being these anti-establishment, on the fringes of society kids who are skating and into electronic music, to the early 2000s where the scene that you are all heavily so involved in is now the reference in electronic music from Miami to Moscow.
First of all, when this is happening around you, you don’t realise that’s it’s happening until afterwards. That’s when you can see it clearly.
In 1998, France won the World Cup for the first time. We never won anything and suddenly there’s this massive spotlight on the whole country. The world just couldn’t get enough of France; suddenly it’s all about the French touch and everybody loved us around the world. I don’t know how it struck such a chord, maybe it was also connected to French elegance, you know, the fashion industry and everything, just the excellence, with food and wine – it all just clicked but I don’t know if it it’s just that it came naturally, somehow. France was just in Vogue, and we were making music at that time.
Then Daft Punk hit the big time. And suddenly the whole world was like, ‘What’s next? Who’s next? Who’s the next Daft Punk?’ There was a massive investment into French music, specifically electro.
But we had no idea that was going on. I was 24; I had just released my first record. I got invited by Daft Punk to do so promo in Miami at the Dance Conference, and I was just loving it—loving the travel, loving the whole thing. We didn’t know what was happening to us, that this was defining an era of a certain part of music, it was just happening.
How would you describe the dynamic between yourself, Daft Punk, Phoenix, Justice—all these amazing musicians and artists being based in the same city at the same time?
I think the fact that nobody cared about French music internationally, and suddenly we have this big light on us and it was like, ‘Wow, we can’t mess this up,’ so it really pushed us to be the best we could be.
What I’ll say with Daft Punk, Caissus and Phoenix is that we’ve all been collaborating for a long time and we’re really demanding on each other. When I say demanding, I mean pushy with each other—we pushed each other hard to achieve, to make the best music we could. We were tough on each other. We weren’t in it for the fame; look at Daft Punk wearing masks. We didn’t really want public personas. We were in it for the music.
There’s always this kind of danger, the danger of being too commercial. You can lose respect from friends and artists if you’re on the more commercial side of things. At the time, we always wanted to be extremely exigent about what we were doing, to be protective over the quality of music we were putting out there. It’s the legacy of Serge Gainsbourg, of high quality, well-produced music but crossing over into pop and commercial – I feel Serge is a really good example of that line between being high quality music and ‘making it’ internationally.
You’ve long been a champion of using analogue equipment. How does that play into your creative process?
It’s more of a challenge, but more rewarding. With analogue equipment, you’re really in touch with the equipment—you’re not spending your time in front of a screen.
Certain analogue equipment makes you make music in a certain way, especially with the limitations of that equipment. Most big hits in electronic music during that time were made with a sampler, where you can only record 10 seconds at a time. So we had to find tricks to extend that time. So for example, we were sampling the vinyl on 78 BPM to make it record a lot faster and when we put it at the right BPM it just created a sound, an artefact that is now kind of cult, and even the plugins nowadays that try to replicate that, they can’t. Analogue is more true to real life— everything is not as symmetrical, there’s faults everywhere.
We know that you’ve been touring with your cousin [DJ Falcon’s cousin, Alan Braxe, is a legendary French producer] as well as releasing tracks and remixes under your own name. Where are you at right now artistically?
I just turned 50, and I’m more excited than ever about this challenge of releasing more music as well as spending my time all over the world, enjoying all my passions—surfing, photography and skating. I’m really privileged you know, to have this lifestyle. But this new challenge of releasing more music, it’s pushing me intellectually. It’s stimulating.
To be honest, the context right now is really good for us. I am exactly where I want to be with this project with my cousin, we got signed on Domino Records so we have really great support. I feel lucky that a lot of people appreciate what we did in the past, especially my cousin who released a lot of big track like Stardust, Music Sounds Better With You—that got a lot of respect from a lot of guys in the industry which puts us in a good position now. We’re also working with Phoenix again and have a track with them coming out which is super exciting.
From the audience at shows recently, I’ve been feeling a lot of warmth, a lot of kindness—a lot of love. It’s as if for them we represent a time that they’re nostalgic for. I feel like we represent a pre-Covid kind of glory days, especially in France, where everything was easy, where you didn’t have to worry. It was all…lighter. So it’s all love, you know, you put more love into the machine and you get more love out. It feels amazing; I want to release more love.
What’s your relationship with surfing and where does that stem from?
It was so natural. I starting having trouble with my hip after so many years of skating—it’s just so rough, so violent as a sport compared to surfing, so it felt like a natural curve for me to go into surfing. And then also moving from Paris to Biarritz, it all made sense. I’m obsessed with travelling, so surfing felt so right, discovering all these places off the beaten track. Travelling, exploring, meeting people.
When I met Kai Neville and Dion Agius (the crew from Modern Collective), I felt we had a lot in common. They were also curious—curious to discover new things, cultures and experiences. They liked electronic music, and we really connected over our curiosity—mine for surfing, theirs for music. They wanted to explore beyond surfing and I really respected that, they were so ahead of their time
I remember calling Sébastien Tellier to help them get one of his songs, saying ‘You gotta be in this video, these are the coolest guys; they are trying to do something really different.” It was a really classic moment. We still keep in touch. I still feel connected to them.
How does your photography weave into all this?
It was always there, I always had a camera with me. I kind of regret that I didn’t take it more seriously earlier on. I felt it had a cool link with skateboarding—you are constantly analysing the city around you, the curb, the steps—it can all be skated. I feel it’s the same with photography, you are always looking around you. Light, composition, something going on. I really found that exciting, I like that idea that you are constantly on a search. It’s the same with music, there’s always something new. In music, I use a modular synthesiser. It’s designed so that you have these ‘happy accidents’ and I feel that kind of feeling really translates across both skating and photography. Surfing as well. You can check the forecast and it says one thing, but you never know how it’s going to be until you get there. Maybe the wind stops and there is no one out, and you are excited; that feeling of the unexpected is beautiful. I try as an artist to put myself in those situations, to find that excitement. I’m obsessed with the unexpected.
Tell us about your upcoming book photography book, Falcon Quest.
Yes, it’s a quest. A search.
It’s funny when you travel around the world taking photos and you reach the point where
you have to sit down and make that selection of imagery. I feel from making the selection I am learning…learning to make my own little world. So maybe this quest, Falcon Quest, was to create my own place, my own world. And I hope that inspires people to go out and create theirs.
And what does the future hold for DJ Falcon?
It’s funny. We’re all on this planet looking for the same thing—a bit of security, a bit of comfort, a bit of love. Comfort depends on what your perception of that is but it’s all the same premise. And I think I am no different, but yet I’m obsessed with this question of perception, how we all see the world differently, even though ultimately, we’re looking for the same basics. Security, comfort and love.
I think that’s it. I like beauty. I like poetry. I made the choice to see the world in a positive light. I think it’s the role of the artist to draw people’s attention to the things of beauty of the world, to give hope.
