PEGASSI | NL 2025 #03

There are rare moments in music journalism when the artist in front of you isn't just a hot booking or a trending name — but someone who seems to be reshaping the entire conversation. Meeting Pegassi felt like one of those moments. In a world saturated with noise, his clarity was striking. He’s not chasing streams. He’s building systems. Not just playing to crowds, but opening doors for others to do the same. What started as a few viral tracks has morphed into a full-blown movement, and I wanted to understand the sound and the soul behind it.

Pegassi is one of those artists who moves fast but thinks deeply. His rise has been steep and sudden, from uploading tracks to SoundCloud while working a 9-to-5, to headlining festivals and launching a sold-out party at Fuse under his label, Sweet Nothing. And yet, when we spoke, there was no bravado. Only humility, gratitude, and purpose. He speaks with the self-awareness of someone who’s already seen how hype can fade — and is determined to build something that won’t.

Sweet Nothing isn’t just a label; it’s a sanctuary for misfits, newcomers, dreamers, and those trying to carve out a space in an industry that often feels more like a machine than a community. Pegassi’s mission is radical in its simplicity: make good music, empower real artists, and keep the intention pure. That ethos runs through everything he does — from how he mentors his signees to how he protects his peace in an increasingly chaotic life on the road.

What struck me most is how Pegassi balances it all — the noise, the love, the expectations — without losing touch with himself. He lives surrounded by trees. He makes music that evolves but stays honest. He tours the world, but returns home to quiet. And somewhere between the high of a massive stage drop and the solitude of a walk in the woods, he’s writing a different kind of success story: one that’s not about domination, but connection.

This is Pegassi — raw, reflective, and rooted. Not just a breakout star, but a builder. Not just a performer, but a pulse. His story is a blueprint for how to rise without selling out. And Sweet Nothing, in all its contradiction, might just be the most honest name for it all.

At the heart of Pegassi’s artistic mission lies Sweet Nothing, a platform that’s as much about music as it is about mentorship, belonging, and cultural contribution. He describes it as more than a label or party series — it’s a full creative ecosystem.

"Our core aim is to offer a platform for both emerging and established talent to release music they truly believe in. Sweet Nothing is about offering a space where talent can breathe. So many labels today are fixated on hits and formulas. We’re more interested in discovering raw talent and giving it room to grow. When I was coming up, there weren’t many labels doing that. Sweet Nothing is my way of giving back — not just a label, but a collective centered on good music and real community."

Pegassi’s deep investment in new talent is tangible. He doesn’t simply scout artists — he stewards them. Those who release on Sweet Nothing don’t just receive a catalog number and a Spotify link — they’re welcomed into a full ecosystem of support.

"We’re also bridging the gap between releasing music and playing it out. New artists on the label get their first bookings at our events, support from DJs, and the content they need to grow. It’s not just a release; it’s the beginning of a journey. We push each other forward. It’s a full ecosystem."

This approach is refreshingly pragmatic and emotionally intelligent — his idea of mentorship rooted not in gatekeeping or ego, but in demystifying the often opaque mechanisms of the music industry.

"Mentorship is key. When I meet artists in real life, I share tips on everything — from branding and social media to how to get tracks into the right hands. A lot of these things might seem obvious, but for new artists, they’re often a mystery. We also try to take care of the infrastructure so the artist can just focus on the art, not the admin."

Sweet Nothing exists in a complex ecosystem, where labels are increasingly pressured to become content farms dictated by algorithms. Pegassi, however, has found a rare solution: by funding the platform through his career, he preserves its creative freedom.

"We’re in a privileged position because Sweet Nothing is artist-driven. Pegassi is doing well, so I don’t need to treat this as a financial venture. We fund it through my shows — that’s how we run the label and events with full passion. The intention is pure. For me, it’s just an extension of being an artist, and I love doing it."

Pegassi’s ascent hasn’t come without personal cost. The transition from an introverted life as a graphic designer to the high-octane demands of global stardom brought emotional whiplash — something he meets with introspection and humility.

"Last year, I struggled with it a lot. Everything exploded so quickly — I went from a quiet life with a 9-to-5 to meeting new people every day and touring nonstop. As someone more of a semi-introvert, it was a lot. I wasn’t used to social media and often felt insecure about it. But I’m not one for self-pity. I’d rather adapt. At home, I reflect a lot on how to manage it."

Rather than glamorizing burnout or numbing the intensity, Pegassi chooses to reframe the pressure as purpose.

"I finally have the life I’ve always dreamed of. Yes, it’s intense — but everyone has their battles. At some point, you have to let go of that pressure and just focus on contributing something meaningful. I want a long career built on music I love. That’s what gives me peace — not chasing relevance, but trusting myself."

Touring is both an artistic rush and a psychological test. Pegassi is acutely aware of that paradox.

"Humans aren’t made for this level of exposure. It messes with your head. Playing your music to thousands of people is like a high — but the moment it’s over, you’re backstage and life moves on. Then it’s meet-and-greets, conversations, and more energy output. It’s a rollercoaster."

What keeps him grounded? Conscious choices and a tight-knit support system.

"My circle — friends, family, my girlfriend, my team — they keep me grounded. They remind me I’m just a guy who happens to make music people vibe with. I also chose not to live in the city. I’m surrounded by nature, trees — that gives me balance."

Pegassi resists being pinned to a single genre. His versatility is not trend-chasing — it’s spiritual evolution.

"I grew up on hip-hop, DnB, hardstyle, dubstep, ambient — a mix of everything. Over time, those influences blended into what I do now. The sound evolves, just like I do. I used to chase trends, pre-COVID — I’ll admit that. But now that I’m part of a genre that’s trending, I just focus on staying true to my style."

"Reinvention is part of the process. And touring helps — I’m constantly exposed to new cultures, clubs, sounds. That inspires me to find new ways to tell stories in my sets."

His honesty about the emotional whiplash of sudden success is disarming and refreshingly unfiltered. Many artists shy away from admitting how jarring the shift from a quiet, creative life to public-facing fame can be, but Pegassi leans into that discomfort. He doesn’t pretend it’s all smooth or glamorous; instead, he reflects on it with maturity, admitting insecurity while still choosing growth. There’s something deeply human about his ability to hold space for both the chaos and the gratitude — he’s not romanticizing the grind, but he’s not bitter about it either. He just seems real.

It’s clear that Pegassi isn’t chasing hype — he’s chasing depth. He talks about purpose, about building a long-term career based on music that moves him, not music that simply performs well. That clarity of intention gives his words weight. It’s easy to get lost in an industry built on constant noise, but Pegassi seems to have found a way to stay anchored — through nature, through his inner circle, and through trusting his instincts rather than trends. That’s not only admirable; it’s essential for longevity.

Some careers begin in studios, others on stages. Pegassi’s began with a €50 bet and a gut feeling.

“When I put out ‘No Type,’ it did okay on SoundCloud,” he recalls.

“I was broke, still working a day job. I found this guy on TikTok who made meme-style videos with dance tracks. I asked him, ‘What would it cost for a video?’ He said €50. I stressed all day, talked to my friends — they thought I was crazy. After a few drinks, I just sent it.”

He fell asleep, unsure. By the next morning, the video had 500,000 views. That one moment — impulsive, hopeful, slightly desperate — kicked everything into motion.

“I quit my job. That’s when I felt like an artist. No more office rules. I went all-in,” Pegassi says. From that point, his rise has been unstoppable — viral tracks, international bookings, a set at Paradise City Festival so wild the stage almost collapsed from the crowd.

It’s the kind of origin story that feels both cinematic and authentic — a reminder that sometimes, all it takes is one instinctive leap. For Pegassi, it wasn’t just about virality — it was about betting on himself. And the payoff? Still unfolding, louder and larger than ever.

Pegassi’s explosive sets may now echo across the globe, but his foundations are unmistakably Belgian.

“It started when I was around 12,” he says. “Jumpstyle was massive in Belgium, but I was too young to go to clubs like Complex. My brother went out a lot, so I heard it through him. That was my first intro to harder styles.”

Later, a school screening of The Sound of Belgium lit the fuse.

“I had no idea how rich our music history was. I’ve seen that doc four times now — and met most of the people in it. It’s amazing.”

His sold-out Sweet Nothing night at the iconic Fuse club wasn’t just another booking — it was a full-circle moment, bringing his journey home to the heart of Brussels nightlife.

“Playing our own Sweet Nothing night at Fuse — and selling it out — felt like a full-circle moment.”

Now, with Australia behind him and a U.S. tour on the horizon, Pegassi’s trajectory is global, but the soul of his music remains deeply personal.

“Touring takes you places you’d never reach as a bedroom DJ. Australia, for example — there’s so much raw talent there. Playing Pitch Festival inspired me. It made me rethink how I play.”

Every show becomes its chapter: orchestral intros at Tomorrowland, crate-digging tributes at Awakenings.

“At Tomorrowland, I might open with an orchestral intro from ‘227 Kilo’ — something to match the fairy-tale vibe. At Awakenings, I dig deep into my crates and honor the event’s legacy. Every show needs its storytelling.”

But when the crowd fades and the lights dim, Pegassi reclaims his stillness.

“I live a very quiet, private life — that’s essential. It keeps the balance. I don’t want to be stuck in a constant rat race. Unplugging is necessary.”

Pegassi is exactly the kind of artist the electronic scene desperately needs right now. In a landscape often cluttered with hype and fleeting trends, he’s managed to carve out a space that’s as authentic as it is impactful. What sets him apart isn’t just the music — it’s the vision behind it. He’s not chasing clicks or viral moments; Pegassi is building a community, a platform, and a legacy. That takes courage in a market that rewards speed over substance, and it’s why I’m watching him closely.

What hits me about Pegassi is his humility amid success. Transitioning from a graphic designer with a quiet life to a global star is no small feat, and the emotional toll he’s candid about isn’t just refreshing—it’s necessary. Too many artists burn out because they pretend everything is easy or glamorous. Pegassi doesn’t sugarcoat it. Instead, he leans into the chaos with reflection and purpose. That balance between vulnerability and drive is a rare combo that’s impossible to fake.

His refusal to be boxed into one genre is another breath of fresh air. Pegassi’s sound is an evolving narrative — a mosaic of influences that mirrors his personal growth. He’s not just producing tracks; he’s telling stories, adapting, and reinventing himself on the fly. In an industry obsessed with labels and “scenes,” that kind of fluidity is an act of defiance and a sign of real artistry.

But what truly seals the deal for me is his commitment to nurturing others. Sweet Nothing isn’t just a label; it’s an ecosystem, a launchpad, a real home for artists who might otherwise get lost in the shuffle. Pegassi’s approach to mentorship and artist development is practical and heartfelt—he’s giving back in a way that moves the needle, not just lip service. This is the kind of leadership the electronic music world desperately needs to thrive sustainably.

In the end, Pegassi feels like the future — a reminder that success doesn’t have to come at the cost of your soul. He’s navigating the madness with his eyes wide open and his feet firmly planted. Watching him grow isn’t just exciting; it’s inspiring. If this is the new blueprint for electronic music culture, then sign me up.