The Maltese underground electronic music scene of the early noughties marked the tail-end of a time when liberation and community stood as unspoken fundamentals. Still deeply rooted in 90s rave culture, the club was not…
The Maltese underground electronic music scene of the early noughties marked the tail-end of a time when liberation and community stood as unspoken fundamentals. Still deeply rooted in 90s rave culture, the club was not just a venue but a necessary melting pot for music lovers to release whatever tension had built since their last visit. Over the years, commercial parties and preferences saturated the island and heavily diluted the sentiments of the preceding decades — a pattern seen the world over. Today, however, there are a handful of local artists and promoters working to revive the underground clubbing community in Malta that once was and MATO, this month’s Sundowner guest, is one of them.
We sat down in his newly opened record shop to talk about his journey as an artist and promoter who has spent nearly two decades organising off-location raves and parties across Malta. MATO delves into his career's unlikely beginnings in Panama and his 10 years spent living between Berlin and Malta, before fully moving back to the Mediterranean during the pandemic. There, his journey seems to have naturally cultivated itself into an endeavour to bring his experiences of diverse dance floor culture back home and create the space for Maltese artists to get the exposure they deserve. Since his return, MATO has used his record shop as a place to nurture the local community, as well as hosting an array of international artists to join local lineups, most recently including: Hamish & Toby, Sugar Free & Fonte, and Christian AB.
Being from Malta myself, this conversation was a special one.
What was your introduction to electronic music like growing up in Malta?
Since I was younger, there's always been a good scene here if you’re willing to look for it. Although we’re such a small place, there have always been certain people holding up the torch in the local music community. I started going to a club called Liquid when I was about 14 where there were already a lot of cool underground electro acts being booked — it was quite a heavy electro and techno scene back then. Artists like Legowelt, Alden Tyrell, Orgue Electronique, all these really significant electro artists were playing; and then later even bigger names came to Malta, like Dave Tarrida, Vitalic, David Carretta, The Hacker, DJ Rush, Ben Sims, Space DJz. There were also a lot of good local DJs playing with these guys. My introduction to that was at Liquid, it was like our little Berghain. You would go and always find the same people; very friendly, everybody sharing anything they had — a proper dance floor culture. That's what I’m trying to re-create now by starting to organise parties more regularly here. I’m trying to bring back that energy we once had, re-educating people on what I feel it means to share a dance floor.
What do you think stunted the evolution of our underground clubbing culture?
The older generation who were connected to clubbing culture didn't need to be taught how to party. It was a release. It was: I’m going out because dancing is my release or therapy. There are all my friends around, or people who are going to feel like friends. You didn't need to explain to people that you need to do this or that, or behave in a certain way — it was just the norm. I think in time things just strayed away from what the essence of club culture actually is. Initially, there were about four main people doing underground parties and then, all of a sudden, everybody started to organise events. With social media, parties became more commercialised, and people did it to be ‘cool’, or to be seen, or to get laid — all things that used to happen before, but they were secondary. The first thing was always: I'm going to release, because I need to dance, maybe indulge in some goodies, and have some fun. People would hang back after the party to speak to the DJ. Back in the day, we used to get them to sign everything. There was just a community of underground music. There's still that sort of community in the more techno scenes. With the house scene, it's been a bit harder.
When you were 16, you moved to Panama. Was it difficult to leave this community so soon after discovering it?
Yeah, my parents had decided they wanted to move to Central America. My dad used to run a small restaurant and one day this guy came in and he told us about a really cheap piece of land in Central America. It sparked an idea and we moved the next summer. I wasn't happy about it at all. I had already started clubbing, I was very much into electronic music in Malta. Liquid was our sanctuary and we had just started experimenting, I also had a girlfriend at the time. So moving to Panama was not at all something I was happy to do. Moving to the other side of the planet to live on a Caribbean island now sounds amazing but, as a 16 year old in 2006, it sounded like hell.
But you managed to start DJing over there, right?
We lived on an island called Bocas del Toro. It was quite a surfer island and there was mostly reggae and reggaeton. There was this one DJ who occasionally played a bit of electronic music, but apart from that there was never any electronic music on this island — ever. But back then they used to give out gifts, like CDs or books, in cereal packets and I had found one that had a virtual DJ sort of thing. So I started downloading music and somehow got myself a gig. They would pay me in alcohol and I would always be very, very drunk by the end of it. All my gigs ended with me throwing up, but that's how it started.
When I came back to Malta in 2007 I met a guy calledNick who was also into music. He had a pair of CDJs and we just started mixing together. Six months later, we started doing illegal parties, which we called Sick Bird — a word play on ‘illegal’. We did three of four of them. Those illegals sparked off Perpendicular — a weekly party we organised witha couple of friends. We were all young, everybody was free, everybody was coming to dance and to party. It was pre-social media. I used to have my proper flip camera for videos. And in the beginning, Perpendicular was dress-up, so people would dress up all weird and wacky. People got really invested. Perpendicular ran for 11 years, man. At our height, we were hitting 2,300 people for three local artists. We were always trying to find different off-locations; from 18th century prisons to junkyards. That was our thing. I knew from a young age that this was what I was going to do, I was already out of school by 18 and had started throwing my first parties.
How did it feel to choose the path of music in a culture as conservative as ours?
I mean, I had been listening to house music for a long time. My best friend’s uncle is who is, for me, one of the dopest house producers in our scene. I also grew up listening to my friend’s dad mixing with, a local house hero, at after-hours. We would wake up and just be looking through the window. So my ears got to listen to good music from a very young age, I was very lucky. Plus, my mum and my dad are very supportive people. My mum's Maltese and my dad’s French. My dad's very French. He is laid back, traveled and open-minded, not rigid at all, and very supportive. I spoke to my dad about everything and he treated me as an adult from a young age. My mum was also super supportive, but at the same time used to question the whole process a lot. Although I had never asked my parents for cash or anything since I was 18, I still felt there were many times where she was concerned because I had no structure. I could do what I wanted when I wanted. I then also started to live in Berlin for six months every year.
How did that rhythm start?
Well, in Malta we had already hit a plateau with Perpendicular. We were reaching really high numbers and I knew that it had reached a limit. I wanted to progress musically, I needed to be around people who were going to push me to dig more, to learn more. I originally wanted to move to Barcelona after having a great time at off Sonar, but when I came back to Malta, I met this German girl. I explained to her what I wanted to do and she was like, "if you really want to develop a music career you should move to Berlin”. And just like that, it wasn’t even a question anymore. It’s Germany, it’s dark, it’s cold, I didn’t know anybody — zero, and I was so far from speaking the language. But it was a decision I made, just like that. I thought I was ready for it, I thought I was going to take Berlin by storm. But then I arrived and I was like, “whoa, okay I really do have so much more to learn". I was 21 years old. Slowly, I was introduced to some people and then Berlin just flowed. I always knew I was going to come back to Malta for the summers, because that’s when I made most of my money here through events and gigs. My first gig back in Malta would be at Earth Garden festivaland that was always a super special gig. That’s how I would kick-start the summers. I also organised Prime Time every Friday — a club night we ran for about nine years.
You lived between Berlin and Malta for 10 years, What made you decide to fully move back to Malta a few years ago?
It was decided for me. COVID annihilated my pockets. I had no idea what I was going to do or how I was going to pay my rent. I had no backup plan. COVID came and one month passed, two months passed, then three months passed — then we had no idea what was going on. Parties in Malta opened up for a month in July and we managed to host and make some other bookings. So I flew back, knowing that I could spend some time at my mum's place without paying rent. And then I knew that it was time. In Berlin, I was always very shy, very insecure. I felt like I was always a student, always learning. So I never really put myself out there for gigs. But that was okay because I felt like when I landed in Berlin, I was learning for six months and then I would come to Malta and have my practical exam. It was always like that.
You created Big Ron’s two years ago now, one of the first second-hand digging spots on the island. You’ve also created it to be an active social hub. People are here for drinks every Friday, you invite local and international DJs to play. In what way has this helped evolve the community?
From a party perspective, it's obviously good to be active. This keeps everything constant. Here, you’re meeting a lot of people who are into music. I don’t do big advertisements for my parties and events, it’s mostly word of mouth, so there’s a large demographic of people that I never get to reach. I’ve been throwing events here since 2006, but I never felt 100% included in the Maltese community of DJs on the ground level due to the fact that I was always abroad, I was just coming back for Perpendicular and Prime Time. But moving back and opening Big Ron’s means that now, more than ever, I feel part of this local DJ community, which is the nicest thing for me.
It must have helped your reintegration to Maltese life hugely. Emotionally, how was the move back?
Moving back to Malta was tough, especially because I had different views on COVID than like 95% of the people here. I was under quite a lot of stress, I wasn’t making any money. I wasn't getting any money from the government, because I had never been involved. I was throwing parties at home to make a living. That was my only income. I also felt less inspired here. In Berlin I'd spend 30 hours in Berghain, and then come home and I'd be so charged that I'd spend another 15 hours in the studio. Here, you generally need to find inspiration from yourself and it can tire you out. I was in quite a dark hole, I would say, from last September until about June. Probably the lowest I've been, due to the fact that I was not able to spend much time on music, and then I was questioning the whole thing. Not prioritising things that I need. Like, I need to go to a festival, I need to be around other people who I can relate to in different ways. Obviously, the first year opening a business is tough as well. And for me, I went from never having a normal job, to having a full-time job with people working for me, and if you don't find somebody to work for you, you have to be here every day. But now that things have settled and the stability and beauty of the place is there, and so many people love it — it's all definitely worth it. I wouldn’t change anything for anything.
Are there any plans for the future of Big Ron's?
Once we drop down a wall and we have a bit more space, I hope to be able to start bringing down more friends from abroad to Malta and keep Big Ron’s as a hub for people to listen to different kinds of music. There are many things down the line. We would love to open a club at some point, which would make total sense. We are also in the process of opening a DJ agency. There are no DJ agencies in Malta. We have some really good quality artists; there are so many artists that could be travelling the world and don’t because they’re not seen, nobody's representing them. People like Owen Jay or Melchior Sultana are beyond capable and are DJs of the highest order. So I would love to create a DJ agency, which would have a select few Maltese people. And then a little label. Big Ron's agency, Big Ron's label.
Aside from organising regular parties on the island, MATO is set to be behind the decks at Sunny Side Festival and Dimensions this summer.
