Thelma: Feeling First

becomes less performative, more internal, as if the music has shifted from something external into something physical. THELMA builds her sets for that moment. They do not chase peaks or obvious release. Instead, they hold tension in place, allowing it to stretch until the room settles into a shared rhythm that feels less like a crowd and more like a single organism.

Her trajectory into that space has been fast, almost disorienting in its acceleration. Viral success, international touring, major festival stages all arrived within a compressed timeline. Yet the speed has not translated into instability. There is a consistency in how she approaches music that resists the pressure of scale. The core remains anchored in something quieter, something that does not depend on visibility to exist.

That consistency comes from a clear internal compass. While the sound has evolved in tempo and complexity, the emotional architecture has remained intact. The intention has never been about impact in its most immediate form. It is about creating a space where people can step outside of themselves, even briefly, and feel something that lingers beyond the track itself.

“The driving element for this whole project is and always will be emotional expression. Although I am an artist playing in dark, sweaty clubs at 6 in the morning most weekends, I want my music to be an escape for people. It has never been about playing the heavy hitters and getting everyone’s hands up in the air. It’s about making people truly feel something when they listen. Melodies have always been key in my production process and sets. I have built every single one of my tracks around them. Sure, the BPMs have dropped significantly and the tracks have become more sophisticated, but those nostalgic melodies will always remain.”

The origins of that approach were not calculated. They emerged from limitation rather than intention, from a lack of technical knowledge that forced instinct to take the lead. Early production was defined less by control and more by immediacy. What mattered was the idea, not the execution. That imbalance shaped something raw but direct, a quality that carried through even as her skills developed.

The response to that early work arrived faster than expected. Visibility expanded before understanding could catch up, creating a gap between what was being asked of her and what she felt equipped to deliver. That gap introduced pressure, but also clarity. It forced a decision about direction before there was time to settle into comfort.

“‘TRACK ID’ is one of the first tracks I ever produced on Ableton, so it’s safe to say I had no clue what I was doing. The overly saturated kick and lack of a true bass were due to my limited knowledge of sound design at the time. It’s amazing in a way, with the little tools that I had, only a sampler and a melody idea stuck in my head, I was able to create something millions of people enjoy today. The track was going viral thanks to TikTok and people were expecting more. ‘When’s the next release?’ I was getting asked in the comments. Meanwhile I still didn’t know how to master a track or properly upload it onto Spotify. I think the scariest part was pivoting from my once faster and harder sound to music that has more depth and substance. I had to make a choice. Do I want to go down the safe route and continue making what people are expecting of me or do I take the risk of producing what feels true to me, even if it means losing some fans?”

What followed was not a rejection of the past but a reconfiguration of it. Influence began to operate differently, less as something to follow and more as something to reinterpret. The shift was subtle at first, but it changed the way she approached both production and selection. The focus moved away from fitting within a scene and toward building a language that could move across them.

Early exposure to underground artists expanded that language. It introduced a way of thinking about music that prioritized intention over approval. The impact was not just sonic. It reframed what a set could represent, not as a sequence of tracks but as a position, a statement that did not need to be explained.

That perspective opened the door to older sounds, to textures and structures that existed outside of current cycles. The pull toward Detroit electro and early techno was immediate, but it was not nostalgic. It was functional, offering a different way to construct rhythm and atmosphere.

“The first DJ I felt truly inspired by was DJ Mell G. Watching her sets back in 2022, I was stunned because I had never heard anything like that before. At the time I lived in London and most club nights consisted of UKG, breaks and some techno. Detroit electro was completely foreign to me and I was drawn to it instantly. Her track selections told me the most important thing about her: she wasn’t playing to be admired or to gain approval. Her music was quite the opposite, it symbolized an act of rebellion. That’s when I became intrigued by the underground scene, I knew there was much more there for me to explore.”

The technical process developed alongside that shift. What began as digging through samples evolved into a deeper understanding of how those sounds were constructed. The relationship to production became more deliberate, but it never fully abandoned its initial instinct. There remains a sense that the idea comes first, and the technique follows.

Maintaining that balance requires distance from the present. Constant exposure to new releases risks flattening identity, pulling it toward what is already established. Instead, her reference points remain personal, rooted in earlier experiences that exist outside of current expectations.

“When I didn’t know how to sound design at first, I would dig through 90s hip hop, techno and breakbeat samples for hours on end. I think that’s how every producer starts learning, building a collection of samples that feel true to them. Later, once I had a greater grasp of music production I found myself emulating those very samples in plugins like Serum and Diva. Listening to the quality of the sound and learning to replicate it by ear was the greatest learning curve for me. I try as much as possible to avoid constantly listening to new music that’s coming out in the scene. It’s easy to fall into the trap of copying what’s trending when we’re constantly exposed to it. I spend a lot of time listening to the music I loved when I was a teenager, before people told me what I should listen to and what was deemed cool. That has without a doubt influenced the tracks I make now, almost like an ode to my younger self.”

That approach inevitably creates tension. A sound that moves between genres resists easy categorization, and the industry rarely accommodates that ambiguity. The expectation to define, to simplify, remains persistent. It appears in conversations, in booking decisions, in the way artists are positioned within lineups.

THELMA’s response to that pressure is consistent. She refuses to reduce the project into something more easily understood. Identity, in this case, is not about clarity. It is about recognition that operates on a different level.

“The tension between versatility and recognisability is pretty much all I ever think about. I remember a conversation with my old agent, he warned me: ‘Everyone is confused Thelma, what music do you even play? We can’t book you for techno shows because you play too housey but can’t book you on house lineups because you play too much techno. You’ve got to make a decision.’ After some reflection, I disagreed with his statement. Some of the greatest artists of our generation have done quite the opposite. They might have a hit record but they don’t let themselves be defined by it, they move on and attempt something new. The biggest compliment I’ve heard in recent years is ‘This track is so you’ or ‘This is such a THELMA track, I can’t explain why but it just is.’ It is so heartwarming to know that without even being able to place it, someone just recognizes my artistic imprint.”

That same resistance to definition carries into her DJ sets. They are structured, but never fixed. Preparation exists as a loose framework, something that can be abandoned the moment the room demands it. The relationship between control and instinct remains fluid, shifting in real time as the set unfolds.

What she looks for is not reaction but immersion. The most meaningful moments are not the loudest. They are the ones where the room disappears into itself, where movement becomes less conscious and more instinctive. Those moments cannot be forced. They have to be built gradually, through pacing and restraint.

Touring has expanded that understanding, exposing how different environments respond to the same approach. Each region carries its own rhythm, its own expectations. The UK remains foundational, but other places have introduced new variables, reshaping how she navigates a set without altering its core.

“This is my favorite part about this job, the privilege to experiment. As thrilling as it is to have thousands of people singing your lyrics or chanting a melody back to you, it’s a whole other feeling when you can take the crowd on a journey. Watching people become completely engrossed in the moment, dancing with their heads down as though no one is watching them, those are the shows that I live for. In terms of preparation, I think it’s important to strike a balance. Too much preparation will paralyze you just as much as a lack thereof. Judging by the lineup or type of event, it’s best to narrow down a playlist of tracks that are sure to be the right fit. Most of the time, these playlists serve more as an outline, rarely do I ever play exactly the set I practiced.”

The shift from smaller clubs to larger stages introduces a different kind of challenge. Scale changes perception. What works in an intimate space does not always translate directly to a festival environment. The adjustment requires a recalibration of selection without compromising the underlying intent.

That balance sits at the center of her current position within the scene. She exists between spaces, not fully aligned with one or the other. The lack of a clear category becomes both a limitation and a strength, allowing for movement while resisting confinement.

“Preserving that underground sound when you step onto a festival stage is no easy task and I’d be lying if I said I don’t struggle with that. Digging for records that bridge the gap between commercial and obscure is key. There are certain tracks I would never play to 6000 people because they would be too far fetched and consequently would kill the room. It’s about finding a middle ground, something that is still accessible but also experimental. It allows people to discover underground music they might not have looked for themselves, but they are just dipping their toes in. I want to open their eyes to new genres they might not know of, without entirely scaring them away.”

The trajectory continues to expand, but the focus has shifted inward. Early momentum was driven by visibility, by the urgency to establish a presence. That urgency has softened, replaced by a more deliberate approach to craft. The emphasis now sits on development rather than acceleration, on building something that holds over time rather than reacting in the moment.

There is a recognition that the process is still in its early stages. The foundation is there, but the work remains open. What comes next is not defined by milestones, but by how far the practice itself can be pushed. The intention is not to arrive, but to continue moving without losing the thread that has held everything together so far.

“When I started out as a DJ I was only 22 years old. There was a lot I didn’t understand about the scene and its roots. I never learned to play on vinyl or the art of crafting a progressive set. I was more focused on producing and promoting myself on social media as much as possible. The perspective I have on this career has evolved massively within the last year. I no longer want to play it safe. In a scene that is slowly being taken over by headline acts and top 40 songs, I want to challenge that. I’m honing in even more on the skill and craft, layering with multiple decks, learning how to prepare live sets, recording my own vocals. These are not requirements but rather goals I am setting for my own fulfillment. There is far more to learn about music and I’ve barely scratched the surface. That is truly exciting to me.”