HUJUS: Staying in Motion

The easiest way to misunderstand HUJUS is to look at the labels surrounding him. Techno artist. Producer. DJ. Label owner. None of those descriptions are wrong, but none of them explain why his work has found an audience at a moment when electronic music is becoming increasingly divided into scenes, algorithms and simplified identities. Spend enough time with him and another picture emerges, one shaped less by genre and more by patience, observation and an unusual resistance to certainty.

That attitude appears immediately when the conversation turns to the current state of techno. Over the past few years, a new generation of listeners has arrived through harder, more commercially visible styles, creating new definitions and expectations of what techno is supposed to sound like. The result is a landscape where language often moves faster than history. Terms are invented, adopted and repeated long before anyone stops to question where they came from.

One of those terms is groove. What was once understood as a fundamental characteristic of techno is now regularly used online as if it were a separate category altogether. For HUJUS, the distinction reveals less about the music itself.

“When someone would call my music just ‘groove’, it tells me more about their listening context than about the music itself. From what I hear and see around me, I can tell that many new listeners discovered techno through mainstream styles, which is often now called hard techno. Personally, I feel that many of those new styles have moved quite far away from what techno originally was. If someone’s reference point for ‘techno’ is peak-time, high energy music built around aggressive kicks, big drops and constant intensity, then I can understand that ‘proper’ techno feels like a completely different species.”

The observation is not driven by nostalgia. HUJUS is quick to acknowledge how production techniques, sound design and technical knowledge have transformed the music over the years. What interests him is the way certain foundations have remained intact despite those changes. Rhythm, movement and continuity still sit at the center of the experience.

“The only thing that is different now compared to back in the day is all the new production techniques, the quality of sound, crazy new sound design, and the knowledge about sound systems, acoustics, etc.”

Ask him what defines techno, and he avoids the language of rules or purity. Instead, he describes a relationship with time. Unlike genres built around dramatic peaks and predictable drops, the music he loves operates through momentum. The groove never disappears, even as the details around it continue to evolve.

“For me, techno has always been about a constant groove that carries the whole set or evening rather than the break, build-up, drop cycle that a lot of EDM genres rely on. Of course, there are moments of tension and energy shifts but because of the layering and more subtle changes over time, the main groove will always stay present. That continuous groove is what makes techno so powerful to me. This way the crowd can step out for a cigarette or a quick pee break, come back, and instantly reconnect with the flow of the set.”

That philosophy runs directly into his own productions. HUJUS rarely builds tracks around obvious impact. The energy emerges gradually, often through repetition, pressure, and small adjustments that become meaningful over time. It is a method that asks listeners to participate rather than simply react.

“When the music evolves more slowly, people stop waiting for certain hit tracks or anticipate specific moments, and instead get pulled into a continuous flow. That’s where I think my personal taste in techno becomes the most powerful. If everything were intense all the time, the effect could disappear quite quickly. But when you build pressure more gradually, even the smaller changes can completely shift the energy in the room.”

The language he uses often returns to the physical experience of the dance floor. Not the spectacle surrounding it, but the subtle moment when individual movement becomes collective movement. Every DJ recognizes it, even if few can describe it precisely. It is the point where a room stops observing and starts participating.

“That kind of tension and release feels much more rewarding to me than relying on constant impact. And you can really feel when the crowd starts moving as one with the overall flow of the set. It’s hard to describe exactly, but as a DJ you can really sense when the room collectively enters that shared state of immersion.”

That same dancefloor experience becomes much harder to communicate online. Social media has become unavoidable for artists, yet the culture HUJUS belongs to was built around duration, immersion and physical presence. A twenty-second clip can generate attention, but it rarely captures what actually happened. The contradiction remains unresolved.

“It’s difficult to capture the feeling of a great dancefloor experience in a short 20 second clip without relying on some ‘wow-factor’ moment. Because some moments that feel amazing in the club can come across as weak or boring and vice versa. That’s also because most of the tracks are built for the dancefloor and large sound systems, not for iPhone speakers or quick online consumption.”

Rather than fighting that reality, he tries to work within it. His focus remains on sharing music rather than manufacturing moments. If listeners understand the sound, they can often imagine the environment around it for themselves. The connection may be indirect, but it remains meaningful.

“Even if people online can’t fully experience the moment itself, they can still imagine what the moment would feel like if they reference it with dancefloors they’ve experienced before. That’s why I mostly focus on sharing my own productions online and showing what my music actually sounds like. I think that gives people online a better impression of my musical identity without having to rely too much on viral club moments.”

Experience has also taught him that certainty is often an illusion. A track that feels perfect in the studio can disappear entirely in front of an audience. Another can unexpectedly become the defining moment of a set. Those experiences have changed the way he thinks about music itself.

“Sometimes I’ll have a very clear expectation of how a crowd will react and then in real time it gets almost completely ignored or it doesn’t have the impact I imagined at all. But another time, in a different setting, I’d play the exact same track and suddenly the crowd reacts even crazier than I had imagined while creating it.”

The lesson extends beyond production. Context shapes everything. Timing, sound systems, room dynamics and crowd psychology all influence how music is received. A track never exists in isolation, regardless of how carefully it has been produced.

“Especially in techno, where music can be more minimal and repetitive, the smallest contextual difference can completely change how a track will be experienced on the dancefloor. We all had this moment where you Shazam a track because it sounds so sick, but when you listen to it the next day on your phone for example, you start questioning your own music taste.”

That awareness may explain why HUJUS has never felt entirely comfortable belonging to a single camp. He describes himself as existing somewhere between underground credibility and wider visibility. It is a position that can sometimes create limitations, but one that has also protected his independence. Rather than adapting to a scene, he has spent years refining his own instincts.

“I think being in that ‘in-between’ position has actually helped me stay focused on what I genuinely want to make musically, instead of adapting too much to one specific scene or expectation. Nowadays, people tend to place every artist in a specific genre or sub-scene, but I’ve never really felt the need to fully belong to either side.”

That resistance to simplification becomes even more relevant in an industry increasingly obsessed with branding. Artists are expected to communicate their identity quickly and clearly. One visual language. One sound. One sentence capable of explaining everything. HUJUS has little interest in that approach.

“I just focus on making, playing and doing what genuinely feels right to me. And if you stay consistent with that over time, then that certain feeling, sound, or identity starts to form naturally by itself. Not because you forced it into one simple concept, but because it reflects who you are as a person and artist.”

The same mindset eventually led to the creation of PACE Records. The label emerged from practical frustrations as much as creative ambition. Release schedules shifted. Artwork missed the mark. Decisions were made through other people’s perspectives. Over time, the appeal of controlling the entire process became impossible to ignore.

“One of the main reasons I started PACE Records was because I wanted more control over how my music is presented and released. When you release through other labels, the artistic vision doesn’t always fully align. An A&R might hear an EP differently than you do and decide that they want a different track as the title track, for example. With my own label, I can make decisions more intuitively and keep everything connected to one clear vision.”

The long-term vision for PACE extends beyond music. HUJUS talks about community, shared identity and the feeling that certain labels create around themselves. The examples he admires most are not simply release platforms. They become environments in which artists and audiences recognize something larger than individual records.

“That’s also what I’d like PACE to become over time. Not just a label that releases music, but something people could connect to through sound, community and feeling. But at the same time, I think it’s difficult to fully predict what that world will become, because a community naturally shapes itself as well. You can guide the vision, but in the end, the people give the meaning and energy to it.”

The final contradiction arrives through the name itself. Hujus Pace is connected to the idea of inner peace, yet the music he creates is often driving, physical and relentless in its movement. The contrast disappears once he explains what that calm actually means to him. It has very little to do with silence.

“As a full-time overthinker or someone who is constantly busy in his head, there’s something very calming about completely surrendering to music and movement. When I’m fully immersed in the flow of the music, it almost feels like the movement that normally happens in my mind gets transferred into my body instead. That’s where I experience a kind of inner peace.”

The answer feels revealing because it reaches beyond music. Throughout this conversation, HUJUS repeatedly returns to movement as a way of understanding the world around him. Not movement towards a destination, but movement as a state of being. In a culture increasingly focused on speed, visibility and instant definition, his perspective offers something less obvious. The value of staying in motion long enough to discover where your own rhythm leads.