I wasn’t even trying to make a name as a DJ- I was planning on being a banker. I was just tryna make noise—tryna shake the room in a way that made people forget their bullshit for a few hours. It wasn’t about fame, money, or clout. It was about that rush. The energy. The connection. One mix at a time, one crowd at a time. And here's the thing, I didn't even start as a DJ, let alone want to be one. at 19 I was running a nightclub, watching DJs control the night like puppeteers. I soaked up everything—how to read a crowd, how to flip an empty room into a packed frenzy. That led me to promoting concerts and throwing underground raves, learning how to build something from nothing. But DJing? That wasn’t the plan. Then one night, the owner of my tiny club in my small Canadian city pulled me aside. "You should start DJing" he said. I laughed. I only cared about hip-hop, and this crowd? They wanted everything but that. But he kept pushing. So I caved. At first, I hated it. I felt like a sellout spinning pop records instead of the raw hip-hop I loved. I’d sneak them into my sets, hoping no one cool was watching. But then something shifted. The more I played, the more I started to respect the craft. Britney Spears, Backstreet Boys—artists I had written off—I started hearing them differently. I never thought I’d rock with them. Never thought I’d be touring with them one day. But the game had other plans. Just when I thought I had it figured out, life flipped the script. I graduated college. The club owner who put me on sat me down and fired me. Not because I was bad—because I was too good. "If I don’t fire you, you’ll be here forever. Move to Vancouver. If you keep going, you’ll be in Vegas one day." I thought he was crazy. But t.urns out he was right all along So finishing school meant moving to the big city Vancouver. And that became my battlefield. I honed my skills, learned how to destroy a dance floor in any genre, and figured out what separated me from every other DJ—the mic. While they were hiding behind the decks, I was controlling the room, making every night feel like a movie. And because I had played everything from hip-hop to pop to house, I could move between crowds like nobody else. Then came the craziest twist of my career—cruise ships. My hype man had his heart set on DJing at sea and wanted me to roll with him. And just like that, we were booked. Next thing I knew, I was spinning across the world, rocking international crowds, flipping small rooms into wild parties, stacking experiences most DJs would never touch. When I got back to Vancouver, I wasn’t the same DJ. I had leveled up. While other DJs were stuck in the same patterns, I was running laps around them. My sets were different—I had learned how to dominate any crowd, any club. And as my gigs grew, so did my haters. The city turned hostile. It wasn’t just industry politics; I was getting real threats. Dudes I didn’t even know had a problem with me. It got so crazy that I had to get out. Vegas was calling. But it wasn’t just luck. I had a secret weapon—my mashups. I was creating remixes that nobody else had, and when they started blowing up online, something wild happened. People across the U.S. and Canada started hitting me up for bookings. Suddenly, I was flying from Miami to Alaska, rocking clubs in cities I had never even stepped foot in. Then came the moment that changed everything—I got asked to DJ for Canada’s Super Bowl. And just when I thought it couldn’t get crazier, the call came. Jay-Z. Beyoncé. On the Run Tour. They wanted me. 2014, I stepped onto that stage as their VIP DJ. 2015, I was on The Weeknd’s Madness Tour. 2016, I was living the dream with Rihanna’s ANTI Tour. Every stage, every crowd, every night—bigger than the last. But I wasn’t done. I wasn’t even close.