DJ LOSER

One must imagine Sisyphus happy with DJ LOSER

Everyone is a loser, according to Magdalena’s Apathy label head Pantelis Terzoglou, and that might actually be something quite liberating. For Terzoglou ego is not in the picture, only music. You might know him as the experimental ambient project Angel’s Corpse, or underground club legend DJ LOSER. NR spoke with him about creative needs, the importance of isolation in creation, and how to remain true to yourself without sacrificing your career, whatever that term means, today, for an artist.

As we were speaking off the record, you mentioned curating a soundtrack for a brand? Could you tell me more about that?

Yeah, it’s for a brand from Oslo, run by EriK Spanne, Duy Ngo and Tomas Silva. They’ve got this emerging brand called 1313 Selah, and their fashion show happened in late August. Me and Erik have been collaborating since before the brand officially started, mainly through music. They’ve connected with one of my sub-projects, Angel’s Corpse, which is more ambient, with elements of gabber and hardcore. It fits perfectly with their vision for their current collection.

Is this something that you’re really interested in, given that it’s a bit different from your usual, more club-oriented work?

Definitely. My initial drive was just to produce music and create audiovisual art, which is why I also started my label. My approach isn’t limited to club music, though that’s the most recognizable project of mine. My creativity spans different genres and styles, depending on where my inspiration takes me. Like, five or six years ago, I was into slower BPMs and more industrial soundscapes inspired by the late 80s.

So, while DJ Loser is club-oriented, my broader artistic vision goes beyond that. Projects like Angel’s Corpse let me explore those other sides. I’m not actively chasing career opportunities for this ambient direction, but if opportunities like this come my way, and I feel inspired, I’ll follow them.

Would you say that’s the same philosophy behind how you run your label?

Exactly, it’s a natural flow. When I started the label, it was just an outlet for a noise-industrial sub-project of mine called Magdalena’s Apathy. I was doing a few tape releases and eventually decided I wanted more control over everything — not just the music, but also the visuals and narrative around the releases.

I’m very much into world-building, so creating an all-encompassing aesthetic for my projects became essential. I even brought back CDs, because they fit my generation’s vibe and aesthetic. The label was initially just a personal project, but it’s expanded as more people connected with it. Now, I treat it like a platform for friends and people who resonate with what I’m doing.

So it’s more of an artistic platform than a business operation?

Exactly. I’m focused on being an artist first, rather than a ‘label owner’. Of course, I know how to handle the distribution and promotion side, but I don’t want to force anything or break the natural flow of the project. That’s how I’ve managed to make a living through music, by following what truly inspires me, rather than chasing trends or commercial success.Feels more fitting to my ways.

Where do you start when building a world around your music?

Most of the time, it starts with an emotional or aesthetic vision. I maintain focus for music that is about conveying feelings, not genres or styles. I aim to translate the way I feel & see things into sound, and then build the visuals around that. When I curate releases from others, I give them total creative freedom and then try to match their music with a fitting visual narrative. It’s about giving people an emotional and aesthetic experience, not just music.At least that’s my opinion on what a release should be doing. I think emotions and aesthetics connected in a personal direction lead to an impactful experience. A trance track can evoke the same feelings as an ambient track, a trap track or whatever. For me, it’s all about conveying those emotions, and that’s why my label and platform are not limited to a single genre. I want to capture the raw human experience in its many forms, whether it’s through club music, experimental sounds, or something more ambient.

What emotions would you say drive your music?

The need to express oneself is the biggest one. I’ve always felt a need to, and connect with people and society afterwards on a deeper level, beyond just words. Music allows me to express emotions and experiences that are hard to put into words. It’s not about social commentary for me; it’s more about creating a shared emotional space through sound. It’s my way of overcoming isolation and finding companionship too I suppose.

That resonates with me too. There’s an Italian saying that translates to “every translation is a form of treason,” meaning words can never fully capture the original meaning. Music, especially instrumental pieces, often conveys emotion more directly, without the barriers of language. How do you feel about talking about music — your own or in general?

Talking about music can be difficult. I can do it, but it’s tricky. It almost feels like betraying the core of what I’m trying to express or what music exists for. If I wanted to say what I mean in words, I’d probably be a writer, not a musician. Music is my language for things that can’t be fully expressed with words,or words distort the point.

I get that, I guess it’s also why even though I am an avid listener, I could never write music. Switching gears a bit, how do you view DJing in comparison to producing? Is that also a form of communication?

DJing is definitely different from producing, but it’s still a form of communication. It’s less introspective and more about connecting with people in the moment. When I DJ, I’m responding to the crowd and creating a shared experience. It’s like setting the vibe and guiding people through a moment together. I love the challenge of reading the crowd and helping them lose themselves in the music. It’s a great way to feel connected to others, in a more social way than producing music alone in the studio.

How’s the electronic music scene in Greece, particularly in your city? I visit Greece often—my aunt married a Greek guy and lives in Patras, so part of my family is there. But Patras is very different. I’m curious about Thessaloniki and whether growing up there influenced your approach to music, or did you feel more inspired by what was happening elsewhere? I grew up in Bari, which had a somewhat decent music scene, especially for Techno, but I was still more attracted to what was happening outside. So I was always online, searching and nerding out, and maybe that’s why I ended up doing what I do today.

Yeah, so I’m in Thessaloniki, not Athens, and there are definitely differences in both the quality and quantity of what’s happening culturally in the two cities. Thessaloniki has always had some presence of electronic music during my years here. It used to be bigger when I was a kid, based on what people told me, but from my experience, it was more about one big commercial event—your typical stereotypical, generic tech sound. At the same time, there’s always been an underground culture, which happens mostly in university spaces, raves, or small basement parties. I used to attend those places before I became a producer, and they definitely inspired me in terms of the nightlife. But when it came to the identity of the sound, I didn’t always connect with what was going on in the city. For example, when I was into more industrial and desolate sounds, Thessaloniki wasn’t offering that, so I had to go online to find what I needed. Now, the city is growing faster, especially because younger generations are more open and online, bringing new ideas. I’ve been to some gigs recently, and compared to 8 or 10 years ago, people are more open and much more up-to-date. But the biggest problem in Thessaloniki is the lack of good venues, and that’s what holds me back from being more active or bringing in artists. We just don’t have proper clubs with decent sound systems that can support creative ideas. So you either do something in a small bar that occasionally acts like a club, or you take the risk of throwing an underground rave—renting equipment and doing it illegally. But in Greece, it’s easy to get caught, and i’m not in the mood or age to jerk around honestly. Thessaloniki is a beautiful city, though. Honestly, Andrea, I’ve thought about moving to bigger cities like Berlin, London, or Copenhagen. But whenever I visit those places and stay for a few days, I find myself pulled into the social scene more than I might need to. My creative needs are fed in terms of input—there’s so much going on and lots of inspiration from people. But the downside is, I lose that time for myself, that alone time where I can focus on my own production and rhythm. My creativity thrives more when I’m isolated. I’ve come to realize that, as a producer, I work best as a hermit. When I’m in an environment that doesn’t necessarily feed my creativity, it forces me to search for inspiration from within more naturally. That isolation allows me to produce more original ideas. Does that make sense?

Absolutely. Living in Milan and working in Paris, I get it. I’m constantly moving between these two big cities, working with artists, musicians, and fashion brands. So I’m always in social contexts, bringing people together, meeting new people—but it’s not always real or deeply felt. Our conversation now feels more open and honest than many social interactions I have. My job requires a lot of writing and thinking, and I always feel this sense of fatigue, like I’m being pulled in different directions. It’s something I’m learning to embrace as part of maturing, while for you, it’s more about finding your own spaces. I think we’re both figuring it out, in different ways. How do you navigate the online world? On one hand, we have all these platforms where we can research and get inspired, but it’s easy to get lost because there’s so much content. How do you keep your identity online, especially as a label head or someone who curates for others?

For me, I’m very comfortable with the online lifestyle. I’ve always been into it. I grew up in internet cafes and was part of online communities from a young age, whether it was for video games or music. So navigating the online world for inspiration—whether it’s music, art, films, or games—doesn’t feel disorienting to me. I know how to find what I need and how to navigate it all. But social media is different. It’s much more distracting, and it creates this spiral of ego battles, comparing yourself to others. When I’m online in general, I feel fine, but after spending 5 or 10 minutes on Instagram or Twitter, I’m like, “What am I doing here?” It’s not about content; it’s about ego. So I don’t spend much time on social media anymore. I post what I need to post, read my messages, and then get off. Instagram, in particular, feels like a necessary evil—it’s important for people in our line of work, but it’s also incredibly distracting and can kill your creative flow. It feeds ego more than ideas, so I try to stay away as much as possible. People know they can reach me through other platforms, and I communicate more through email than social media regarding music and art. I find that’s a much better way to protect my creative energy and avoid distractions.

You’ve always tried to control your ego, right? How has that been, especially with the surprising success you’ve had?

Yeah, it’s been a journey. In the beginning, I didn’t get any ego boost from it—I was genuinely shocked that people were even interested in my music. I’m self-taught, no formal music education, just learning by ear and experimenting with software on my own. My first setup was literally in the same kitchen I live in now, with these basic Logitech speakers. So when my first tapes and vinyl releases came out, I was like, “What the hell is happening?” It felt like the endgame dream, but I never expected it. The tricky part nowadays is social media. When I’m out, meeting people, or navigating social circles, I don’t have any sense or thoughts of comparison. Whether I’m interacting with someone less known than me, someone much more famous, or a fan, there’s no ego clash. That’s just how I am in person. But social media, man—it makes you behave differently. Its made up this way that everyone ,even for a few moments, end up subconsciously judging people’s work based on their follower count, like giving more attention to someone’s work with 15k followers over someone’s with 500. It’s messed up. That’s why I actively try not to get caught up in it. I don’t want to let my ego be influenced by this false narrative.

Speaking of ego, what’s the story behind the ‘DJ Loser’ moniker?

Because I think that everyone is a loser! [laughs]

What do you mean by that?

Yeah, in my philosophical view, everyone is a loser because people spend their whole lives running, trying to create a life and memories centered around themselves—their experiences, emotions, all of it. But in the end, we die, and we forget everything. Nothing matters because of this absence of personal remembrance , but not in a nihilistic way. It’s more like, if you live with yourself consciously,, there’s a kind of inherent futility to it.

That reminds me of the Sisyphus myth.

Exactly. Both the actual ancient Greek myth was a lesson, and the Camus’ The Myth of Sisyphus’ was one of my favorite books when I was younger. It helped me deal with my thanatophobia—my intense fear of death. Camus talks about ‘philosophical suicide’ and that idea really helped me navigate my fears.

Thanatophobia? That’s fascinating. How does that impact your life?

It’s the root of all anxieties, honestly. Fear of death is the mother of all anxieties. It’s the only absolute truth, you know? Everything else—stress, worry or even ambitions—is just masking that fear.
And when you actually grasp it, it’s mind-blowing. You reach this point where you’re like, “What the fuck?” I get what the Stoics were saying, like “Death is where you aren’t, so why care about it?” But for me, that’s the literal problem. It’s about the absence of consciousness and memory. It can feel like torture technique, honestly, to live, enjoy life, then have it all erased. That’s the crux of my fear—not death itself, but the idea that I will cease to think,feel, everything, even the things I value most.

So your fear of death is more about losing memory than losing life?

Exactly. I’m pretty much convinced that death is like a dreamless sleep—there’s just nothing after. So what’s the point of experiencing life if I won’t remember any of it? It’s not about it being pointless, it feels almost cruel. We’re biologically wired to keep living, to pass on our genes, but in the end, none of it matters because we won’t even remember.

Does this outlook inform your creative process? Does art help you deal with that fear?

It definitely does. Trauma and personal experiences shaped me into who I am, and they’ve pushed me toward art as a form of expression. Music was never a conscious career choice—Doing music was a need and I’m lucky enough to be able to live the life I’m living. Music was Something I had to do to boost the need of trying to make sense out of everything. And it helps. I try to live as authentically as possible, even in this capitalist system. I know what I have to do to push my career faster, how to market myself better, but that’s not true to who I am. I want to live my life in a way that’s honest to me, without selling out or losing my identity in the process.

Let’s forget death for a moment. I think we might get into a downward spiral that, albeit extremely interesting, I would avoid for our readers. What’s next for you? Any projects or upcoming gigs you’re focused on?

Right now, my focus is on my side project, Angel’s Corpse. It’s less club-oriented,based on the traditional sense, and more esoteric, diving deeper into themes like thanatophobia. It makes me feel more comfortable with those heavy ideas. As for gigs, I had my second label night in Berlin in August with a lineup that’s pretty hot—Brodinski, Evit Manji, Van Boom, and 0111001101110100. Berlin’s nightlife scene gives me the chance to curate a night with my vision in mind, and that’s a big deal for me.There are more gigs coming in Europe this fall both under DJ LOSER & Angel’s Corpse projects.

On the label side, we’ve got releases lined up—some from U.S. and European artists, ranging from experimental ambient to what I call “emo trance.” I don’t force a strict release schedule though. Creativity needs space, so things will drop when they’re ready. My main goal is just to keep doing what I love and help others express themselves too.

For your label nights, do you aim to create a fully immersive experience? Like curating thewhole aesthetic?

That’s definitely the goal—to create a 360-degree experience from the venue design to the sound. Right now, I’m focusing on curating the lineup and sound, but eventually, I want to control every aspect of the night. I could see that happening easier somewhere outside of Greece,but it’s one of my goals to be able to hold a night like that here though.

Looking forward to seeing how it evolves. And perhaps meeting you over drinks so we can spiral a little bit more. [laughs]

Sounds like a plan!

All artworks courtesy of DJ LOSER.

Oldyungmayn

Strike

NR presents Track Etymology, the textual corollary to nr.world’s exploration of contemporary soundscapes: A series of short interviews delving in the processes and backstories behind the releases premiered on nr.world’s dedicated platform.

I did some digging on your previous releases while preparing for this interview. One aspect that I was immediately drawn to was connecting the threads between Strike and your earlier productions. Should we go over shared specifics and differences between this new EP and your previous works? I think it would make a great starting point for us to introduce and contextualize M.A036

I’ve been DJing for many more years than I’ve been producing, so my inclination  towards creating a track comes largely from the desire to play and mix it. Like many  DJs, I am always looking for new interesting sounds that I think will fit with my  ever-growing collection, and to discover tracks (and producers) that impress and inspire me. Learning to produce using software was equally an individual learning experience for me (initially instigated by the pandemic when I was still living in UAE), as it was an experience I shared with friends. Across the Middle East, there’s not as many people pursuing this sort of music production – for various reasons – and those that are, I probably know them. It’s a very small scene that extends across the whole region, and there’s a lot of collaboration by necessity as a result. My previous efforts, for example, with my close friend and producer Van Boom, channels much of our shared interests in experimental noise and power electronics, but shaved down into tracks we both enjoy playing during our DJ sets. My earlier solo productions are a good example of many hours of imposed isolation and experimentation – it takes time to learn how to produce a signature sound and really bring the final product to a point where you’re happy with it. In the most recent EP I’ve done with estoc, there’s a few factors at play and what made it what it is…firstly, she’s a friend, and we’ve spent many hours just chatting and getting to know about each other’s lives…this year has been very pivotal for both of us, and I think it has reaffirmed certain relationships with other artists. Like my previous collaborations, there was a lot of back and forth, but also a lot of trust and compromise.  B2B DJ sets are pretty common these days, but working on tracks together and  releasing them as well is much more challenging – it requires you to trust someone else  with your sound, it’s very intimate, but the results speak for themselves. I think this EP with estoc is different than my previous releases as we took our time and it was less impulsive. 

Since we are already speaking of connecting threads, your bio states that ‘your identity is layered through both productions and performances, navigating away from a Eurocentric focus, mixing a 90’s era rave musical lexicon and a wide spectrum of music from fellow Middle Eastern producers.’ How do you find balance in an approach that feels both respectful of its influences and liberating from those same traditions and sonic stereotypes?

I think that I play what I like listening to, and therefore my sets are genuine expressions of my tastes, first and foremost. I don’t play music that’s ‘trending’, and I certainly don’t do people favors either. Some DJs opt to play based on the (expected) tastes of audiences, which is fine, but for me that leaves little room for surprise. Not that my sets are totally unpredictable, but I like to throw in unfamiliar tracks, edits, unreleased stuff from people that otherwise would never be played in European clubs. 

“For me, getting away from the Eurocentric focus isn’t only about the sounds or tracks themselves, or where the producers are from, but actually avoiding the pressure to perform and operate as a DJ with these aforementioned ‘European’ standards.”

There’s quite a bit of pressure to conform and play what people might expect, and I don’t want to do this, because I am not European, I just live here. 

Is it a mindful process, a specific sound design choice, or more of something almost unconsciously ingrained in your process, a natural approach you have towards mixing sounds, pun intended, and expressing yourself through them? 

I think DJing, and really delivering a fun, energetic performance to your audience is experiences on and off the dancefloor. Some people have very acute skills, such as a very good ear for beatmatching and blends, where some people have simply spent so much time organizing events, listening to longer sets from start to finish, and dancing themselves that they just know what works for the crowd. It’s so important that people who are DJing can relate to the audience on a very intimate level, otherwise you’re left with this very obvious disconnect. I feel my audience is usually varied, and so are there tastes, as is mine. It’s really about making everything work together, and skillfully matching things up in unexpected ways. I’m mindful about it, but most of my decisions are made ‘in the moment’, so a lot of it stems from risk-taking and experimenting, largely tied to intuition, and that’s something which becomes sharper through your own.

The sense of self-exploration and experimentation behind your music reminded me of Underground Resistance and their ethos: relating early Detroit Techno aesthetics to the social, political, and economic circumstances they were facing. 

Music and its dissemination is situated. It resonates differently depending on who’s playing it, to whom and where, and when played in club settings, that extends to what it’s mixed with and why. Most people don’t pay attention to these questions when they are going out, and I don’t blame them…it’s not always a consideration that everyone has when they want to just go out and have a good time. Although, I think audiences these days are much more conscious and inquisitive, especially given the current climate…I think this sense of affiliation to common goals and social objectives is becoming more present, especially in regards to breaking down categories. 

Do you think that nowadays, as electronic music culture has become a global mass movement and club music has generally shifted from the underground’s hazy light into the media spotlight, such stances are still possible? Do you believe that creating sonic communities on the periphery of mainstream culture is still a viable form of sonic resistance? 

Is it really a movement? I’m not sure that’s the best word to use, as when I think of movements, I think of selflessness and fading individualism for the greater good…with club culture today, I still see a lot of self-centering, egoism, choices and strategies based around economic growth at all costs. As its popularity increases, so do its misinterpretations and its easy to lose sight of the bigger picture.

“Club culture, to a large degree, feels quite co-opted at the moment, so supporting smaller, independent spaces and promoters is more vital than ever.”

I touched on the concept of resistance because I feel that it is a central theme of our contemporary world, and I imagine it being especially, and painfully, close to you as a Palestinian. 

Many, if not all, Palestinian people both in Palestine and around the world would say that resistance is a tenet of our existence, if not a vital theme of how we get through each day.

“In the same way that all marginalized people suffer under oppression, Palestinians are resisting more than just occupation and violence – we are resisting our miscategorization, as individuals, as a population and as a culture, and of our being viewed as less-deserving of our humanity.”

Club music has always positioned itself on the thin line between pure hedonism and almost political defiance. How do you feel about this dichotomy during such complicated times? 

This is a very poignant question, and one which I’ve thought about a lot these days as someone living in Berlin. On one hand, this is both my passion and my preferred source of income – neither of which I want to give up, and this is requiring me to actively pursue and accept gigs. There’s been many occasions since relocating to Germany where I wanted to give up on DJing, simply because the hostile climate towards Palestinians (or Arabs, or POC, for that matter) was so present in the scene.

“It’s not like we are never booked, but it feels we are almost always optioned last, or doubted, or tokenized.”

With this in mind, my choice to continue playing and my presence is in itself political, even if it’s sometimes just a random booking. There are events which still cater to the hedonistic crowd (evidently in Berlin), but I wouldn’t say that it’s the only kind of events I like playing for. I’ve been lucky to play a handful of gigs in the last while which center around solidarity, community and togetherness – pretty much the opposite of hedonism, or at least these events offered various / multiple reasons for people to show up. I think at the moment, balance is key. Audiences, and people in general, are just becoming more aware and conscious of the world around them, more informed, and I think club spaces should also be operating in a more informed manner, and engage with their audiences who are ultimately the ones keeping their businesses running. 

Do you think this contradiction is something that needs to be resolved, or perhaps it is something we need now more than ever to internalize as both consumers and creators, to help us better navigate the contradictory landscapes we are facing today in music, culture, and social life? 

We all still must operate within capitalism and consumer habits have infiltrated everything. Consumption is engrained now to such a degree that value is attached to everything. I hate to say it, but I don’t really know if all of this will last very long if things keep going this way.

“I think we need to have a reassessment of ‘real’ values, and create more events, spaces and projects which operate away from economic motives.”

This is something that needs to be said, at this time especially, because it is really leading to a very watered down culture overall. Social media, I feel, has greatly harmed dance music and clubbing as an experience. Connection and responsibility feels short lived. Of course, it goes without saying, it has helped to platform, amplify and support many artists and their careers, but there’s a downside as well. Attention spans are so short and people can easily take an apathetic stance while making it seem like they truly have a position.

“I think at present, DJs should use their platforms to speak for those who can’t, and use their influence positively.”

One last question to complete this release backstory’s picture: what were some of the influences behind it? Musical and not. 

I really wanted to approach this in a totally freeform way and just have fun. Working on this with estoc let me take my mind off a lot of things… estoc is such a multifaceted artist and producer; she does tons of remixes and collaborations, and I felt inspired to be pairing up with her, and especially being able to get this EP out just before she will have her FFS*. It took a while going back and forth, as she was already back in the US when we really started to hammer things out. It was really a pleasure to get the remixes back as well from 3Phaz and Brodinski, and we’re really pleased with what they came up with. Both her and I have an obsession with punk and noise, and I think together this came through in the end. We like that it’s merging so many things all at once, and also fits to the label as well, which we’ve both been huge fans of since its inception. Myself and DJ LOSER really wanted to invite her out to Berlin to play at the showcase we’re doing at Ohm next week, but unfortunately the timing wasn’t right, so I am really looking forward to meeting up with her when she’s recovered and touring again in a few months. 

Order the digital album here from 01.02.24
Interview · Andrea Bratta
Photography · Mike D’Hondt
Follow Oldyungmayn on Instagram and Soundcloud
Follow Estoc on Instagram and Soundcloud
*You can contribute to Estoc’s fundraiser here
Follow DJ LOSER on Instagram and Soudcloud
Follow Magdalena’s Apathy on Soundcloud
Follow NR on Instagram and Soundcloud



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