Words by Eleni Leokadia
Edited by Valerie Aitova
Navigating the tree-lined carriageways of Finsbury Park felt less like queuing for a festival and more like being led into a hidden arena. Three wristbands later, I found myself in the artist area, where Krankbrother were hosting Berlioz Presents: Deep In It. The beige canopy was underwhelming, but I downed a shot for the nerves – editor’s orders. Above, the clouds cracked and rumbled; instead of killing the mood, they made the bass hit harder.
Laurence Guy was unfazed. Plaid shirt, filter dangling from his lips, rolling a pre-roll with the calm of someone who’s been doing this a long time. He exuded a quiet confidence – the kind that knows a crowd will move whether it rains, shines, or pours. His stage was a simple triangular fort, more Midsommar than Mykonos. And it made sense when you looked at the crowd: a sea of heads swaying, losing themselves in a set that felt like a private ritual – part rave, part liturgy.
Away from the photographer pit, the artist passes, and the thousand eyes counting down to his set, Laurence is simply a genuinely nice guy. “I’m a DJ and producer from London,” he says matter-of-factly, as if that simple description could contain years of obsessive experimentation and late-night vinyl hunts. “I was like 12 or 13 when I started, and I had a program called Hip Hop Ejay that came free with Windows back in the day, and from there it just never stopped. I got some really cheap decks and then, yeah, just carried on from there.” His beginnings may have been humbled, but his records are anything but, overflowing with the most unexpected cuts.
He samples like a historian with a sense of humour, layering jazz, funk, and even prog rock into house tracks. “A lot of inspiration comes from the records I sample,” he explains, and it shows in the breadth of his influences. Whether it’s his NTS Radio spins or his Rinse FM residency, every set is sprinkled with sounds spanning Daft Punk, Session Victim, Pépé Bradock. “I like making all of it,” he says. Over time, his approach has become almost autobiographical – a direct translation of thought and feeling into music. The track titles function like diary entries: a way to look back and know exactly how he felt, what was happening in his life that year.
His last album, Living Like There’s No Tomorrow, But Killing Yourself in the Process, embodies that ethos. “That was just a phrase I had going around in my head for a while,” he recalls. “I was heavily partying at that time, realizing that the things you think are living life to the fullest – like going out a lot, staying up all weekend – are fun, but maybe that’s not really living because you’re slowly damaging your health. It’s like two different things at once.” He adds, “You don’t have to have this party lifestyle. I’ve always done things to the full – I just enjoy it.”
That same all-or-nothing intensity doesn’t stop at the studio. When he’s not producing, he’s climbing. Rock climbing has been his counterbalance since working in a climbing shop for ten years, starting at 16. “I need things that totally absorb me,” he says. “Otherwise, I can’t function.” That focus carries into collaborations, too. His session with Jean Carter, who wrote an entire song within an hour, is one of his proudest moments. “We’ve got a few more tracks that haven’t come out, and we’re 100% working together again,” he smiles, a cheeky exclusive for our interview.
On the topic of collaborations, his dream co-producer list is lengthy. “There’s loads,” he laughs. Pépé Bradock, Myd, Salute – if the stars align. From UK artists? “I’ve made stuff with Barry Can’t Swim, and I’d like to do more with him in the future.” Given their past work, here’s hoping they cross paths again soon.
Next up is an album recorded at a friend’s studio in Mallorca. “London’s too distracting, too noisy,” he explains. He contrasts that with writing in Mallorca: “As basic as it is, in Mallorca it ends up more summery, happier. I think the album will be more uplifting, positive, but still emotional.”
Laurence Guy is immersed in his craft, from choosing the most niche beat to sample to relocating overseas for inspiration. His nuance, craftsmanship, and intent shine through, transporting listeners whether they’re running for the tube in London or dancing at Amnesia in Ibiza. For now, though, all eyes are on Mallorca, the promised land set to shape an album entirely different, yet unmistakably his. Laurence isn’t chasing trends or cutting corners; he’s constructing another ritual, as he always does. The studio may change, and so may the beat, but the soul remains the same: eclectic, multifaceted, unforgettable.
