Is there a higher tier of humanity—a Viking-esque übermensch?
Who, mere weeks shy of turning 49, can not only headline his own day-long festival at the Coburg Velodrome but then roll straight into a 1-4am set at The Bottom End for Xe54 without breaking stride?
In Pacha — a place that’s watched Solomun ascend over the past two decades from a DJ’s DJ to a global electronic icon—he traditionally doesn’t start until nearly 3am. Maybe it’s his constitution, or maybe it’s the sheer confidence he exudes, but there’s an effortless ease to his presence that turns the idea of late-night revelry into an aspirational lifestyle.
Solomun doesn’t challenge you to keep up; he invites you. He makes it seem so natural, so cool, that you start believing you, too, could still be clubbing on the brink of 50. Because in his hands, even Ibiza isn’t just a hedonistic playground. Under Solomun’s stewardship, house music always evolves into something more profound: mature, artistic, and transformative.
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Of course, doing this kinda thing at 50 is easier if you have a bit of pedigree behind you. In the vast galaxy of electronic music, there are stars, and then there are supernovas—beings whose gravitational pull reshapes entire scenes. Solomun is the latter. From his pulsating basslines to his knack for reading crowds like a clairvoyant, the Bosnian-born DJ has become a bona fide legend, dragging house music into a new golden era while redefining what it means to be a DJ in the 21st century.
Solomun’s biggest strength – and perhaps his greatest legacy in electronic music – is his mastery of the long, slowly evolving set. If you’ve ever been lost in a trance in a nightclub dancing for hours on end – or seen a nine-hour set billed on a poster and thought, what the fuck? – chances are, you and whoever’s playing owe something to Solomun.
It’s his particular blend of house music that allows this ebb and flow to take place so naturally over the course of hours. His sound straddles the line between deep house and melodic techno, a concoction of lush synths, emotive builds, and those fat, rolling basslines that sneak into your chest and set up shop. Tracks like Kackvogel or his remix of Lana Del Rey’s West Coast are textbook examples of his alchemy: atmospheric yet visceral, intimate yet dancefloor-dominant. His own productions straddle that invisible line between dancefloor accessibility and layered IDM nous, but his sets are always accessible. They’re exceptionally easy to dance to without ever becoming repetitive or corny.
They’re like your traditional novel. There’s a beginning, a middle, and an end, with a couple of unexpected twists but mainly, a focus on satisfying emotional payoffs. At the beginning, especially, there’s a lot of crescendos. But as the set wears on, he knows when to strip things back further and further, sometimes to just a single haunting melody. It’s this ability to craft an emotional journey that’s made him an act Melburnians will line up for hours to see.
It’s all about pacing: he’ll tease you with a low-key groove, let the tension simmer, and then—bam—a euphoric release. In the early 2010s, when EDM was flooding the airwaves with bombastic drops and cheesy vocals, Solomun was busy championing a deeper, more soulful sound. His label, Diynamic Music, became a sanctuary for artists who wanted to push boundaries without sacrificing the groove.
He, more than anyone else, led Ibiza’s transformation into melodic techno, a move that’s since seen the likes of Tale of Us and Anyma make melodic techno an EDM-scale, Tomorrowland-esque experience. Before Solomun, the island’s club scene was dominated by big-room anthems and superstar DJs.
Interestingly though, he has evolved as well. He wasn’t always this mature and effortless, there was a time when he was considerably more Ibiza. It’s hard to imagine Solomun posing topless holding a crown these days, for instance.
But the global house music scene has evolved markedly in the 21st century. 20 years ago, DJs were the shadowy figures behind the decks, faceless and enigmatic. Then, there was an awkward adolescence of sorts. Today, they’re rockstars, cultural influencers, and, in Solomun’s case, tastemakers with global clout. But what still sets Solomun apart is that he’s always put the music first. He’s not about pyrotechnics or gimmicks; his sets are about connection. In an age when many DJs churn out predictable, festival-ready tracks, Solomun keeps things fresh, unearthing hidden gems and reworking classics in ways that feel both nostalgic and cutting-edge.
So the next time you find yourself on a dancefloor, lost in the moment as a bassline kicks in, tip your hat to Solomun. Without him, the scene wouldn’t just look different—it would feel different.
Follow Solomun here and Xe54 here.