With more than 15 years in the underground music scene, Hassan Abou Alam has built a voice that comes from experience rather than theory. His journey with music began at school and, despite countless moments of doubt and thoughts of quitting, never truly stopped.

Hassan’s approach is uncompromising. He plays only what he genuinely believes in, a position that took years to grow into and defend. In this conversation, he speaks candidly about the shifts within the DJ and electronic music landscape, the importance of staying true to his sound regardless of trends, and the very real limitations the post-COVID era has introduced to the profession.

And there is more: Hassan is set to play at the Mini Festival hosted by Vinyl Souk on February 1 at 25hours Hotel. Consider this a personal introduction to the artist whose sound you will soon be experiencing live.

— Was DJing something you always imagined as a career, or did it develop naturally?

— It developed very naturally. I have been making music since high school, even before I started DJing. Back then, it was mostly about playing at house parties with friends and experimenting. I never imagined music becoming a full-time career, but over time it slowly grew into one. Today, everything I do is still music-related — DJing, producing, scoring films, creating jingles, and working on sound for art installations. One of the most special projects I worked on was an installation for the American University in Cairo, created in collaboration with a Lebanese light artist.

— After high school, did you ever consider a different career path?

— Yes, I did. I studied management and business at university and completed my degree. I think it is good to have that kind of foundation, but I always knew it wasn’t what I wanted to do long-term. Music was the one thing I kept coming back to — it is just who I am creatively.

— You have often said that Egypt, and Cairo in particular, has influenced your sound. What do you mean by that?

— Egypt is home, and that alone changes how I work. It is hard to explain, but when I am here, the music just flows differently. I feel more focused, more productive, more creative. Even when I am touring, it doesn’t inspire me in the same way — I always do my best work when I am back in Egypt. That is the emotional side of it.

Musically, it seeps in as well. Egyptian rhythms, especially drum patterns, influence my sound a lot, often without me even realising it. It is just part of how I hear and feel music.

— From what I have read, the United Kingdom has been another major influence for you. How have international scenes shaped your DJ sets?

— The UK scene influenced me a lot, especially early on. It is very bass-heavy, raw, and a bit dirty in a way that really gets people moving.

These days, I play a much broader range, but the focus is always on the crowd. I don’t plan my sets rigidly — I come in with the tracks I am enjoying at the time and read the room as the night unfolds. Overplanning can kill the energy. I want to feel like I am part of the party, not just standing there performing at it.

— How do you read a crowd and adapt your set to their energy?

— There are nights when everything clicks straight away, and others when it takes 20 or even 30 minutes to find the right rhythm. There is no exact formula — every night feels different. The key is to stay flexible and fully present, rather than trying to force something that isn’t quite working.

— One of your recent features described your sound as “industrial.” How would you explain that to someone unfamiliar with the term?

— For me, industrial music feels almost machine-made — metallic, raw, and slightly abrasive. It is organised noise, in a way: dense textures, rough edges, and a strong physical presence, as if the sound has been pulled straight from a factory floor.

That description applies more to my own productions than to my DJ sets. When I am playing, the sound naturally adapts to the space and the moment. In the studio, though, I instinctively gravitate towards those industrial, metallic tones — it is simply what emerges when I am creating.

— Several of your releases feature vocalists. How do you approach using vocals in your music, and how do you choose the people you collaborate with?

— I have always felt there is space for vocals in electronic music, whether you build a track around them or weave them in more subtly — it is really about finding the right balance. These days, most of the vocal material I use comes from one close collaborator, a friend I have known since school. We first worked properly together on vocals in 2022, on a release called Fasla, and that experience completely changed my relationship with vocal elements. I still use fragments of his voice in my music today.

That said, the foundation of my journey with vocals began earlier. A particularly important moment was working with the Red Bull Music Academy in 2017, when I was invited to travel to Luxor to find local musicians — both singers and instrumentalists — to collaborate with. I scouted artists there, brought them to Cairo, and together we created a 45–50 minute live set. The process was incredibly organic and became a defining moment in my creative journey.

— Do you ever use your own voice in your tracks?

— I do, but very subtly. I definitely don’t sing — I have got a terrible voice. You might hear traces of it layered into some tracks, but it is never obvious. It is more about adding texture than any kind of performance.

— Do you feel there is growing space today for more experimental sound, or does the mainstream still dominate?

— The mainstream definitely dominates, but I do think there is a growing curiosity around more experimental music. After a while, mainstream sound can start to feel repetitive — it follows familiar formulas and begins to blur into itself. I think many listeners eventually get bored and start looking for something different, something less predictable. That curiosity is what creates space for experimentation.

— Who usually creates the artwork for your releases, and how much creative freedom do you give the artists you collaborate with?

— My role is really just choosing the right artists to work with. Once that is done, I trust them completely and give them full creative freedom — I think that is essential. Everyone I collaborate with is talented in their own right, so it wouldn’t make sense to place limitations on their process. Restrictions tend to create discomfort, and when that happens, the work rarely comes out as it should.

— Do you feel there are limitations in DJ work?

— Yes, definitely. Not every audience is open to more experimental sounds. Some people want very straightforward, four-to-the-floor music, and when you step outside that, you can often feel it in the room. In those moments, there isn’t much you can do — it really comes down to personal taste, and that is probably the biggest limitation of DJing.

That said, I do feel very free now — but it took time to get there. I have reached a point where I am completely comfortable with my sound, and I don’t like to compromise on it. I can adapt to the energy of the room, of course, but I will never play music I don’t genuinely like — it simply wouldn’t be on my USB in the first place. For me, compromise can create an internal conflict, almost an identity crisis, because the music comes out the way it does for a reason. I don’t want anyone interfering with that process. Even if that level of freedom doesn’t work for everyone, it works for me — and that is what matters most.

— You have mentioned an identity crisis — have you ever experienced that as an artist?

— Yes, definitely — especially early on. I started out playing much more commercial music when I was younger, then moved through all sorts of styles. There were countless moments when I thought about quitting altogether. I wasn’t happy with the music I was making at the beginning — honestly, I think a lot of it was pretty bad — but that is part of the process. You have to move through those phases to understand what you don’t want before you find what truly feels right.

I have been doing music for over 15 years, but I have only felt genuinely comfortable with my sound for the past six. For a long time, I was caught between what I wanted to play and what people expected from me, and that tension created a real sense of internal conflict. Eventually, it worked itself out — but it wasn’t quick or easy.

The turning point came around the COVID period. Being forced into isolation gave me the space to sit alone with my music, without external pressure. I finally had real time to experiment, refine my methods, and develop the approach I still use today. I wouldn’t say I am grateful for COVID itself, but I am grateful for that period of quiet — it shaped me creatively and helped everything click.

— You have been part of Egypt’s underground and club scene for over 15 years. How has it changed over time?

— The underground scene really peaked between around 2012 and 2016. Back then, people went out for the music — they were curious, open, and genuinely engaged. Since COVID, things have shifted. And this isn’t just an Egypt-specific issue, it is happening globally. People now tend to go out more to socialise and be seen, with the music often slipping into the background. I don’t necessarily blame them, but the change is very noticeable.

I would like to think things will swing back around, although, honestly, it sometimes feels like it is getting worse. That said, scenes move in cycles, so there is always hope.

— How important do you think the music community is for an artist’s growth?

— It really depends on the person. For me, it wasn’t essential. I am quite introverted, and I believe art has to come from within. Community matters in life, of course, but in art, too many external voices can sometimes pull you off course. No one understands your path better than you do — simply because no one else has lived it. Early on, those voices probably influenced me more than I realised, even if I wasn’t consciously reacting to them. But with time, I learned to stop letting outside opinions interfere with my process. These days, I focus on doing my own thing.

— With AI becoming more present in music, do you feel it is changing the DJ profession?

— Honestly, I try not to engage with it at all — and that is a very deliberate choice. I don’t want it influencing me creatively. For me, art, especially music, comes from being human: emotion, intuition, mistakes, and lived experience. Once AI enters that space, it starts to dilute the essence of what art is meant to be.

In very specific, technical situations, it can be useful. Stem separation, for example, can genuinely help. Recently, my laptop died and I lost a lot of project files. One of my tracks ran into an issue during mastering, and the engineer used stem separation to fix it because I no longer had access to the original session. In that context, AI solved a technical problem without interfering creatively — and that is where it makes sense to me.

— I know you have also scored films. How does that process differ from your other work, and what is it like to see the finished result?

— It is a very different experience. You start by watching the scenes without any sound and trying to work out what they need emotionally. It is also much more collaborative — you are constantly going back and forth with the director and, in my case, another composer, experimenting, removing things, rebuilding ideas, and seeing what works. It is a slow, detailed process, but a really satisfying one.

The timeline can vary a lot. My last project took around six months, from early spring to late autumn, and it was anything but linear — there was constant feedback and tweaking along the way. Watching the finished film is a bit of a rollercoaster: first it is exciting, then it gets stressful, and eventually it just feels right. Overall, it was a very fulfilling experience, and one I would happily do again.

— What can audiences expect from your set on 1 February at the mini-festival?

— We will discover that together, really. As said, I don’t plan my sets too rigidly. I usually turn up with the music I have been listening to that month and let the night unfold naturally. It is all about responding to the moment, the space, and the people in front of me. I am especially excited as it is my first time playing in Dubai, so I am curious to see where the energy takes us.