Can you quickly introduce yourself in a few words for our French audience? 

I'm Kiki, known as ÜBERKIKZ. I'm 28 and I am a DJ and producer, even though I still haven't released any track, which will be next year. I would say I'm known for rather hypnotic, raw, minimalistic techno.

You claim a very personal and authentic approach to creating music, where you share a part of yourself. How do you build a set that reflects your entire personality? 

I would say, it comes from feeling. Of course, I need a bit of a frame, some playlists with different categories : tribal, tooly, hypnotic, spacy… And I always prepare a deep intro, with vocals carrying a special message or just a track I like. I always want to give people space to get slowly into the journey. But the rest comes naturally during my set, driving by how I feel, how the crowd reacts. So this reflects my personality, a structured approach combined with a spontaneous part.

You said on social media that DJ is ideal for ambivert people. Can you explain why? 

Yes, I would say I’m very much in between introvert and extrovert. I love being surrounded by people, but I don't have such a high social battery. And being a DJ solves that because I can be at the center of a social event without having to talk to people I just met, or be socially available to everyone. And especially, I can truly communicate through music. So it’s the perfect role for an ambivert, you can be connected with a clear frame and some distance.

Recently, you talked about the freedom you took during the Unreal party, staying true to your universe even though the crowd came for hardtechno. Can you tell us more about that tension between expressing your style and adapting to the audience?

It's a big privilege for me to be booked on big stages but this tension is one of the core conflicts of being a DJ today. On one hand, you have your own artistic vision. On the other hand, you have a crowd that often comes with expectations: hard, fast, familiar and instantly stimulating sounds. But that’s simply not who I am as an artist. I don't identify myself as an “entertainer”, rather as a curator of an inner journey. 

Why do you think this is happening?

Because we actually live in a culture of short attention spans. People are used to skipping songs after 10 seconds, to scrolling and constant stimulation. Social media pressure to deliver viral and “wow” moments. For me, sticking to your own style in that environment is an act of self-respect, but it’s difficult because if you don’t deliver constant peaks, you might lose part of the crowd or be seen as less “marketable.” But my way of playing is not built for that, I believe in a tension curve, not in a flat line of 100% activation. I’d rather protect my artistic authenticity than shape myself around external expectations and validation.

Is this adaptation to the audience a danger in today’s scene? 

For me, if you follow the hype instead of your own vision, you might lose yourself in the process. Over time, that creates deeper consequences: loss of identity, anxiety, emotional emptiness, creative block, burnout. You become genuinely unhappy with the way your success is evolving, because it no longer reflects the artist you want to be. 

I know DJs who are trapped, because they got successful with a certain sound and now they don't want to play it anymore, but have to because they get booked and paid for it. This is a big fear of mine, but also a motivation: playing what I like rather than what people expect. The risk is when you do what you like and people don’t resonate with it, you can feel rejected. If you only please the crowd, you get only hype or validation in the short term. But it leads to a long-term harm, because you disconnect from your true artistic vision and identity. 

We often talk about positive crowd reactions, as support for the artist, widely shared and celebrated in the media. But we don’t talk too much about silence and less engaged crowds. Can you tell us about their impact? 

With social media, we’ve almost been trained to read loud reactions and phones in the air as the only valid form of success. But that’s a very limited perspective, because a quieter crowd doesn’t automatically mean disconnection. Sometimes people are deeply immersed and letting themselves feel the sound inside, instead of performing their excitement outwardly. Techno can be very introspective and I experience that a lot, that's why I enjoy both when people are going crazy then when they're calm. 

Sometimes, I receive heartfelt messages from people who tell me how special the experience was after. Some meaningful reactions are coming afterwards in private, where people start to process what happened. It's not always about instant loudness.

Do you think today’s scene can create a kind of dependence on feedback?

The hard part for artists is: when you’re constantly exposed to highlight clips and ecstatic crowds on social media, you start being used to it and measure your own value against that. Then a “normal” crowd can suddenly feel like a failure, even if it isn’t. That’s where the dependency comes in and I do think the current scene is creating a dependence on feedback. I talked to many of my DJ colleagues who feel this dependency but not everyone talks about it, because it's a bit personal.

You recently spoke out about the toxic trend, fueled by social media, of glorifying sold-out shows. What’s the impact on artists? 

The glorification of “sold-out” shows is a perfect example of how social media and capitalism reshape the culture of techno, while it was against it before. As techno becomes globally visible, it also becomes a product and numbers start to dominate the narrative: ticket sales, reach, followers. This creates pressure on artists and clubs. When every metric becomes public and comparable, it’s easy to internalize the idea that your worth depends on demand. That mindset pushes people into performance mode and the focus shifts somehow. This is so toxic because it can fuel anxiety, imposter syndrome and loss of artistic identity.

Is it becoming impossible to completely detach numbers from art in today's scene?

It’s difficult, because in our system artists are not financially protected. Most of us are self-employed and fully depend on our artistic income so we have to decide economically. Sometimes you play shows because they’re important for financial stability or reference, even if they’re not your ideal artistic scenario. But that’s completely okay and for me it's unfair judging artists for choosing the more economic option, because everyone has different responsibilities. 

How do you personally deal with that?

I think living from your art it's a big privilege so it's the price you have to pay somehow, but you need to find a middle path. That's what I'm trying, because ignoring numbers would be naïve in our system but I don’t want them to define my identity or dictate my artistry. I aim to balance sustainability with authenticity. Then I always come back to the point: why do I start to make music first? This always helps me to stay grounded and true to myself. 

In this industry, we often see support between artists. But you mentioned on social media how hard it is not to compare yourself, and the pressure of competition. What about that?

There is genuine support and solidarity in the scene, but the scene exists in a system that is structurally competitive and you are surrounded by toxic dynamics. The whole structure pushes artists into thinking of each other as benchmarks rather than colleagues. 

Actually, your entire career is presented on a scoreboard: who plays where, for whom, how often, who has the most followers, views, clicks, listens... Even if you truly wish the best to others, it's impossible to not compare because social media is just built for that. It’s a human reaction to get insecure when you see someone's getting a booking you wanted, growing faster, going more viral. And you start questioning yourself. 

How do you manage that?

By making distance from social media, because when you consume less, you create more. Because you compare less, stay focused on your own thing and have more space for this creative energy. I also always try to check in with myself: Does this feel aligned? Would I play this the same way in a room with no people and no cameras? It’s not possible to remove the comparison, but you can try not to let it drive your decisions.

Also, a lot of people envy the DJ lifestyle for the festive atmosphere, but you recently mentioned the hidden loneliness. Can you tell more about that? 

From the outside, the DJ life looks like constant social stimulation. Always at parties, traveling the world and meeting new people all the time. But everyday reality is often the opposite. You travel alone, sit in airports for hours, waiting for delayed flights which feels like a waste of lifetime. You have the opposite schedule to “normal life”, and less real interactions with friends and family because you work while they are free, this is really hard.

The emotional contrast can be very intense: one night, you’re on a stage in front of a packed crowd, with a lot of energy around you. A few hours later, you’re alone in a silent hotel room, in a city where you don’t know anyone. That switch can feel very empty if you don’t have a stable base outside of music. This constant up and down is very intense for the nervous system. 

How do you deal with these two extremes?

To cope with that, I try to build structures that have nothing to do with nightlife: things that ground me (sports, cooking, writing) or just having slow days without stimulation. I also try to be very honest with myself about my needs, because I can't live constantly in the “high” of performance and need slowness and emotional safety. Balancing those extremes is an ongoing process, not something you solve once and for all.

You wrote in one of your posts: "life is happening right now" encouraging people not to stay obsessed with “making it”. Can you develop? 

I've never been driven by chasing success, just started making music out of a very deep passion and that “inner fire“ was always enough for me. For a long time, I didn’t think in terms of growth or visibility. I just created. But the pressure only came after: once your name grows, you suddenly get confronted with algorithms and expectations. That was completely new for me, I had to learn how to deal with it.

How do you detach yourself from this?

By returning to my core. Whenever I feel overwhelmed, I remind myself of why I even started in the first place, this always helps me. For me, detaching from success is about staying rooted in the part of me that would still create even if nobody watched. When I give space to that feeling, the present moment becomes meaningful again, and I don’t lose myself in the pressure that comes with the job.

Many people envy the DJ profession because they idealize a job driven by passion. But you mentioned that it can sometimes come from suffering. Could you expand on that? 

Passion isn’t always something light and beautiful. Artistic drive born from intensity, which is often connected to pain. Many artists start making music as a survival strategy to process emotions. The risk is to associate creativity only with this chaos: you start thinking it is the most efficient way to create intense and meaningful music. I’m very aware of this dynamic and I try to separate my emotional depth and self-destruction. Passion doesn’t have to mean constantly burning, it can also mean commitment and discipline!

How do you avoid being consumed by it? 

For me, the key is emotional and nervous system regulation, also having a life outside of music that keeps me stable. I can still access darkness and depth in my music but I don’t let intensity run my entire life. I always remind myself that I’m a human being first and an artist second. If you destroy the human, there will be no art left. 

Also people associate creativity to freedom, but you said that it can also be chaotic. How do you maintain balance? How do you deal with lack of inspiration?

Yes creativity is connected with freedom but that’s true to a certain extent. Creating gives space to your imagination but is unpredictable. Sometimes it flows easily, and sometimes it just disappears without warning. When your job depends on being creative all the time, that unpredictability feels chaotic. For me, balance comes from accepting that creativity has its own rhythm. If I’m blocked, I don’t pressure myself into producing something “useful.”

How do you deal with lack of inspiration?

When I feel creatively blocked, I have two ways to deal with it. Either I just work on older projects, sort out my library or do something not so creative administrative stuff. Or I take distance and focus on real life, go outside, meet friends, do something that is not connected to music. This always helps me to get back, and inspiration returns always when you stop chasing it!

You’ve been a part of a mostly male scene for seven years. How has the industry changed in terms of inclusivity since you started? 

There has definitely been progress in visibility comparing to when I started. You see more women and more FLINTA* artists on lineups and the awareness around representation has grown. 

But representation is just the first layer and the deeper issues are more subtle: how seriously women are taken, what kind of comments they receive, how often their skills are questioned and how they’re spoken about backstage, their safety... And a lot of this hasn’t changed enough. Real inclusivity isn’t just putting women on line-ups, it's about changing the environment and conditions under which they work.

What are the main obstacles facing a woman DJ today?

One persistent obstacle is the stereotype that female DJs are booked primarily for their looks or their “image.” Even if you’re technically solid, you still hear things your male colleagues will never hear. And there’s a clear double standard: when a woman is confident and ambitious, she’s often labeled as “difficult” or “too much,” while men with the same traits are seen as strong and professional. These dynamics create a kind of invisible pressure that many people outside the industry don’t notice. So structurally and culturally, there’s still a lot of work to do. 

What would you like to see evolve to feel more comfortable in today’s scene? 

From a gender and safety perspective, I’d like to see more responsibility: safer backstage spaces, better travel conditions, clear protocols against harassment. FLINTA* artists shouldn’t have to choose between career and personal safety. 

I would love a shift from pure hype economics to a musical and cultural depth. I wish more focus on being real than going viral, with more patience for long and evolving sets.

On an emotional level, I wish for more honesty. Less pretending that everything is glamorous and effortless. More conversations about mental health, financial realities, and the pressure that comes with this job. The more honest we are, the more human the scene can become.

‍What are your plans for the future?

Artistically, my main focus is to keep shaping my own identity, as a DJ but also as a producer. I want to develop a sound that’s unmistakably mine, release music that feels like a natural extension of my sets: emotionally deep, intense and very human. 

I also want to surround myself with people who resonate with my work and share the same kind of energy, for having a grounded and conscious community where my music should just be the medium that brings people together. For me the goal is depth, not noise.

On a personal level, I want to find a sustainable way of living this life without burning out. I want a career that grows, but never at the cost of my health.

Can you give us three tracks that inspire you?

William Arist - La Selva

I could play this track in every set. It’s the perfect driving, tribal rhythm and also the vocals which tell about the deforestation which is a big problem. As I am also very aware about climate change and nature conservation. 

Zisko - Making of a Desire I love the lyrics!

“Losing all the time making of a desire, Nobody can’t hide without facing the fire, Trying to fake your life doesn’t make you stronger, We are here to dance and the vibes are higher.”

Jadu Heart - Burning Hour No Techno, but still a very beautiful and intense meaning.

Interview menée et rédigée par Alice Vasseur.