Tribal trailblazer Steve Lawler invites us to his San Francisco hotel to discuss his residency at Twilo, the magic of the Terrace at Space Ibiza, and his Nubreed and Lights Out releases with Global Underground.
Originally aired on December 21, 2021. Transcribed by Juan Aristizabal.
Super Progressive: Welcome back to another episode of Super Progressive, and for our debut episode of season two, we are joined by a dream guest. We have Steve Lawler here with us. Thank you so much for joining.
Steve Lawler: You’re welcome.
Super Progressive: When we made the drive seven hours up from Los Angeles this morning, we were obviously stoked for the interview. Obviously excited to see you play, but the one thing we’re really excited about is seeing you perform in front of a San Francisco audience. In your documentary The Art of the DJ, you said that this city means something special to you, and from our research, we know that San Francisco is an important city in the history of underground dance music. What’s your relationship with San Francisco and why is the city so important?
Steve Lawler: Around the same time I had my residency at Twilo in New York, which was around 2000 or 2001, I would fly to the States and play on both coasts. I’d land on the West Coast, do Release in San Francisco on Friday, and then fly to New York to play at Twilo on Saturday. I’d do this once a month, so I had residencies in both places. While Twilo is often talked about as one of the most infamous clubs in electronic music history, people don’t always realize I was also in San Francisco during those weekends. Back in those days, I’d play at least eight-hour sets. So, picture this: I’d fly from the UK to San Francisco, play an eight-hour set, not sleep, then get on a flight, try to grab a couple hours of sleep on the way to the East Coast, and then play a 12-hour set at Twilo before heading back to England. That was proper hard work, and it was all on vinyl. I’d travel with an entourage of four or five people. Those were great times.
My relationship with San Francisco really developed during those years because I was regularly playing at clubs here. I became good friends with people working at the venues and the regulars who attended. To this day, I still have a whole crew of people in San Francisco that I’ve known since then.
What’s interesting is that over the years, I’ve returned to perform at other venues in the city. I’ve always had a strong connection to San Francisco, more so than to other places. I have both an older and younger crowd here. The younger crowd is drawn to my affiliations with my brands, Warriors and Viva Music, which resonate with them. Then there’s the older crowd that used to come to my residencies in the early 2000s. I still have that connection in San Francisco, which makes it an amazing place to perform.
Super Progressive: Definitely. Well, considering you’re probably going to be on stage and we’ll be on the dance floor in about an hour from now, we don’t have too much time. I wish we could dive deeper into your whole documentary, but there are a few parts I’m really keen to ask you about. Nothing in your story is worth skipping, but for the sake of time, I’d like to jump ahead to your residency at Space Ibiza. This is especially interesting to me because, one, I’ve never been to Space Ibiza, but I think I speak for many people my age when I say that we know Space Ibiza is a special place. We just don’t necessarily understand the magic of it. Watching your documentary, I saw Carl Cox call you the king of the Terrace, and I wanted to ask you—what makes the terrace at Space Ibiza so magical?
Steve Lawler: Well, first of all, Carl called me the king of the Terrace because he couldn’t use the phrase “king of Space,” a term rooted in Ibiza’s club culture. Just wanted to clarify that! But you know, anything that becomes an important, pivotal moment in your life usually happens completely organically. So, when I first played at Space, the DJ booth was actually behind the bar. There wasn’t even a DJ booth on the Terrace. The club itself was an after-hours venue; it opened at 7:00 AM and ran until about 10:00 or 12:00 PM. The Terrace was originally just a place with tables and chairs where people could take a breather, and then they started playing music. They set up some decks behind the bar, and I think the first time I played there was in ’99.
At that time, the music inside was predominantly techno, and the club was run by Pepe, a Spanish guy, but he had a German team running things. One of them, Fritz, handled the bookings. The vibe inside was all techno, but outside on the Terrace, with the sun shining, people started playing more house melodies. Suddenly, people were dancing on the tables. The tables and chairs weren’t even being used anymore—they were just standing on them. So eventually, they moved the tables and chairs, and the Terrace became a proper dance floor. That’s when it really took off.
I was there when the terrace was born. A promoter named Darren Hughes said to me, “I want you to be my resident for this event I’m starting here.” I began playing in the afternoon, and the response from the crowd was so incredible that, whenever the guest DJs came on after me, the vibe would drop. The promoter noticed that right away, and by the end of the season, I was closing out the Terrace. It went from being just a few hours in the afternoon to me closing out the night, all within a single season. That shift happened really fast.
By 2004, it was my room. Everyone knew it. Every DJ who came—David Guetta before he became a megastar, Carl Cox when he’d play on the Terrace—everyone played before me. It was my job to close the Terrace because the promoter knew that no matter who came after me, I’d always end the night on a high. From that moment, the “king of Space” moniker became more widespread. It wasn’t just about playing there; it was about owning that space and creating something special. And by then, every magazine wanted me on their cover. Those four years, from 2000 to 2004, were the most hedonistic time of my life. It was crazy. I didn’t even know how to handle it. If you watch my documentary, you’ll understand what I mean.
I went from being nobody, playing at Café Mabo in ’97, to suddenly being on the cover of most dance music publications, flying in private jets—and I was only about 23 years old. So, I dealt with it the best way I knew how at the time. As I mentioned, if you’ve seen the film, you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about.
Super Progressive: Definitely. Definitely. One of the highlights for me watching your documentary, because it’s an era that we’re so fascinated by, and it was actually an introduction to this era of DJing, is your work with Global Underground.
Steve Lawler: Yeah.
Super Progressive: Now, my question is, by the time Nubreed album came out, which was a part of the Global Underground label, known for its iconic DJ mix compilations that showcase the best of underground dance music, you had already been a resident DJ at Cream at that point, which in my opinion is one of the top jobs you can have in DJing. Why? What were you seeking from this project and why was the Nubreed album such a big deal for you if you kind of already had accomplished so much?
Steve Lawler: At the time, I didn’t feel like I’d accomplished that much. So, when I got the residency at Cream in Liverpool, my role was mainly to warm up and open the rooms for other DJs. As the residency progressed, I was given better slots, and eventually, I remember closing the Courtyard after Paul Oakenfold on New Year’s Eve. That was only my second gig at Cream, and I was just 19. Back then, Paul Oakenfold was the biggest DJ on the planet, coming off the success of his Goa Mix—it was huge. For some reason, Darren Hughes trusted me. He knew I could handle it, even though I didn’t feel that way. I remember thinking, “What the hell am I going to do here? This is Paul’s room, 2000 people, and it’s New Year’s Eve.”
I was shaking so much I could barely place the stylus on the record, but moments like that are a challenge you either rise to or get crushed by. For me, it worked out really well. It ended up being one of the best sets of my life, and after that, I was made a resident. But my job as a resident was always to make sure the music in the club was just right. Over time, though, Cream started bringing in more trance and commercial DJs. I didn’t fit there anymore. That’s when Darren told me he was opening a club in London and asked me to come with him. I said, “I’ll come, but only if I can have my own night and do something I believe in”—and at the time, it was that same sound.
This is where Global Underground comes in. I know it was cheeky of me to ask for such a thing at that point in my career, but I really believed in myself. I was confident that if I just had the right platform, people would see what I was doing. So, I moved to London, went to the club Home, and started my own night, Deep South. At the same time, I put together a compilation series called Dark Drums to showcase the sound I had developed. It was influenced by places like San Francisco and New York—tribal, deep, druggy, percussive music I picked up while record shopping at places like Siesta Recordings.
I was hooked. Nobody in the UK was doing it except one DJ—Craig Richards. The funny thing is, Craig started his residency at Fabric around the same time I started mine at Home in London. Quickly, the sound I was developing started to catch on. The Dark Drums album did really well, and off the back of that success, Global Underground contacted me to do a Nubreed compilation. It turned out my Nubreed was their biggest-selling one. I’ll never forget a conversation with James Todd—my album was one of the best-selling albums they’d ever had.
At this point, I was on cloud nine. My heroes—Deep Dish, Tenaglia, Sasha—had all put out successful Global Underground albums, and now mine was right there with theirs. I was flying high, thinking I’d achieved all of this by staying true to what I wanted to do—something that was my own. I didn’t have to cater to someone else’s idea of what was cool. It was just me. The interesting part came when Global Underground came to me after the success of Nubreed and said, “We want to put you on the main series. Where would you like to do it?” To this day, it’s crazy, but my response was, “I don’t want to do the main series. I want my own series.”
Global Underground told me, “We don’t give DJs their own series.” I replied, “I know, but I want my own series.” That’s how Lights Out was born, and honestly, I didn’t think they would do it. But they did. I was hanging out with James at the time and just put it out there as something I really wanted. Little did I know, they would actually make it happen. To this day, it still blows me away.
Super Progressive: I want to talk about Lights Out a little bit because you made it very clear in the documentary that it was inspired by the vibe Danny Tenaglia.
Steve Lawler: Hundred percent.
Super Progressive: Now, beyond just the name Lights Out, what about Danny T’s residency? Were you trying to bring into the atmosphere of your Lights Out concept?
Steve Lawler: Well, the Lights Out concept was based on something that Danny did. He did Lights Out before I even thought of it. I was at a party of this, actually, at Space, the original Space in Miami. And there was a moment in the night, and I’m standing there, and I’ve got Clive Henry to one side of me, Dj Rocky from X-Press 2 to the next. The dance floor was just full of industry and culture, and Danny’s going up into techno and then down into house, and he’s all over the place musically, but it works perfectly. And all of a sudden, the lights just go off. And then these two huge torch lights come on, which Danny was famous for. So the only lights in the whole of the club were Danny’s Torch Lights. He had the big, huge lights that you’d have on a ship. That’s awesome…. and I’ve told Danny this, and Danny gets kind of shy when I tell him how much he means to me.
Super Progressive: Oh, he’s such a humble guy.
Steve Lawler: He’s so nice. He’s very humble. Danny is a beautiful human being, truly. And for me, that was amazing because meeting my hero and having him turn out to be such a nice guy meant the world to me. Sometimes, when you meet your hero, they can be a complete asshole, and it just destroys everything. It’s crushing, right? But the opposite happened with Danny. He was an absolutely incredible human being, and when I mentioned this to him, he got a little shy about it. I don’t think Danny fully realizes just how much he’s meant to people, me being one of them.
It was at that moment that I had the idea for Lights Out. I realized that when you take away one sense, another one is heightened. All of a sudden, I’m in this room, and the lights are becoming a part of the experience. It’s not just about the music anymore—it’s almost theatrical. This took my experience of the music to another level, and it heightened my perception of what I was playing by everything else happening around me. That was the birth of Lights Out.
When I explained this to James Todd from Global Underground, I also talked about Danny’s parties, because Danny had such a huge gay scene as well. You would see the most extroverted, amazing club people—Kama Gimps, gimp suits, and transvestites. And it wasn’t just about that; it was about everyone coming together as one. It was such a special moment, one that we don’t really see anymore. These kinds of parties don’t happen these days. But there, every colour, every race, everyone was coming together as one. It was almost a theatrical experience, much like what Junior Vasquez was known for. I wasn’t a big fan of his music, but he definitely had that dramatic element to his shows.
That was it. That was Lights Out. That’s where the whole idea came from.
Super Progressive: It’s really awesome.
Steve Lawler: It meant something, right? Doing a compilation wasn’t just about wanting to put 15 tracks together. There was a reason for this, and this is why I honestly believe that Global Underground jumped on board because it wasn’t just another idea. There was a whole concept here, and we toured with it and it did famously well.
Super Progressive: How long did you take to curate the tracks that you were thinking of including on the compilation?
Steve Lawler:
And remember at that time, it was all done by vinyl, so I’m not ashamed to admit it. Each mix that would end up actually being released, I might have done 5, 6, 7 or 8 times because it wasn’t like now where you run it all through a computer and you can make it perfect. I mixed it with vinyl and I wanted it to be perfect. So if I did a mix and it really didn’t work out or it came out, or it just fucked up at that last minute, I’d be like, no, stop. Got to do it again. And that would be the case then. And so there was one particular mix on Lights Out One where I slowed one track down to bring in a track that’s at about 110 BPM, like a breakbeat record, a German electro record. And then to come out of that, I had to speed up the two vinyl decks together, like this, literally hand on hand on decks, no computers involved. So the tempo, and you’ll hear it in the album, the tempo rises, but you can hear the mix just slightly come out just a bit, but then it goes back straight back in. That’s just unheard of. And it was a very difficult thing to do, and I had to keep redoing it because as soon as you start to touch these, the mix can break down very easily. So yeah it was a difficult album to do and I spent about six months doing it.
Super Progressive: Dude. Awesome. So I want to be respectful of your time. The last thing, I’m going to take it back to the beginning of the documentary, Birmingham, you were intrinsic in the Birmingham scene, and do you recognise who this is?
Steve Lawler: Yeah Tony De Vit.
“Tony De Vit was a key figure in shaping the hard house scene. If you’re curious about his music and legacy, check out more about him here.”
He used to buy records from me. I worked in a record shop in Birmingham. That’s how I first got to meet Tony. And he was a really sweet guy. What people don’t realise is that he was playing at a club called Tin Tins, which was just a gay club in Birmingham. He was the first DJ that Sunday Essential, a promotion company in Birmingham, got behind. I thought this was interesting because I’d seen similar things happen in the United States, where the gay scene and the straight scene started coming together. But in England at the time—late nineties, mid-nineties—the two scenes were completely separate until Tony De Vit. He was the first person I saw who brought these different crowds together, playing normal rave parties that attracted a big gay crowd as well.
He single handedly created what almost became the hard house scene in England, by merging those two crowds together. And that’s not really talked about, because I don’t think people saw that part of his journey. Before he became a megastar, he was a resident DJ at a gay club in Birmingham, which was amazing. Everyone talked about it, saying, “You’ve got to go there.” Straight people wouldn’t go because it was a gay club, but all of a sudden, he was playing at straight clubs, and it kind of merged the scenes.
And that’s one of the best parts of the scene in general: when you get that mix. That’s where the magic is on the dance floor. The number one thing, the most beautiful and important thing about music, essentially, is bringing people together. Right? From the earliest days of prehistoric man, where they banged two rocks together, people would stop, turn around, and look. And all of a sudden, they’d walk over to the guy banging the rocks together. He knew that by making that sound, he was drawing attention, bringing people together. Music has always had that one common purpose worldwide: it brings people together. And it’s a great way to end this, because it’s never been needed more than it is today. We need music now more than ever in these current times than ever before.
