Born and raised in Saint Petersburg, shaped by almost a decade in Toronto, and now anchored in Berlin, Clouzer’s journey has been one of constant evolution. His remix of Tessa Rose Jackson’s “Paris Minuit” is out now as the debut release on Distant Memories, a softer, song-oriented sister imprint to his label Distant Gaze.
It’s a genuine treat to go beyond the surface and get to know the person behind the music. In this interview, Clouzer opens up about how three distinct cities built his artistic foundation, balancing his personal life, music production, and work outside of music, as well as his candid take on AI. He also looks ahead to what’s coming next, including a deeply personal album years in the making.
You first heard Tessa Rose Jackson’s “Paris Minuit” with Berlin radio playing in the background and immediately wanted to remix it. What was it about the original that connected with you so strongly?
Yes, two years ago I heard CÓPAíNS and Tessa Rose Jackson’s “Paris Minuit” on Radio Eins, and I immediately fell in love with the track. I think it was Tessa’s voice that caught me most – it’s so soft and gentle. And the melody of the chorus – there was something very intimate and cinematic about it, and it simply gave me a really good feeling when I listened to it.
At the same time it made me curious about giving the track another touch. I wanted to make it a little more underground and dance-oriented, with a certain mood in mind – maybe not exactly midnight in Paris, but more of a sunset feeling, something like a road trip: very moody, beautiful and dreamy.
The remix took shape over several months, becoming a much longer journey than you initially expected. What changed during the production process, and was there a point when you felt the track had finally found its own identity?
Actually, the main idea came together very naturally in the first few sessions. It was already around 70% finished within just a few days.
What really stretched the whole process out was everything happening around. I got completely buried in work, the label, promised remixes and so on. Almost a year passed before I came back to that last 30%, which turned out to be much more challenging than the beginning, especially the bassline and hi-hats.
The bass sounded a little too mechanical. I even asked a friend to record live bass for me, but in the end I still preferred the original sound. I wanted to keep its electric character while giving it more of a human groove. The hi-hats felt as though they were pushing the track forward too much, while I wanted almost the opposite – something more laid-back. Finding that balance took quite a lot of time, and a big part of it was related to the final mix. My mixing engineer helped me a lot in getting that feeling right.
So the whole production took around a year and a half before the track was finally finished and properly mixed. Then it took almost another half a year to sort out the legal side and everything related, because quite a few people were involved in the original track.
That’s actually why the track ended up being credited, somewhat unusually, as “Clouzer feat. Tessa Rose Jackson.” Technically, that isn’t exactly what happened, but we had to find a way to release it.
And I’m really grateful to everyone involved for giving me the green light and making it possible to release it on my label.
Walk us through your studio setup. What’s your go-to gear right now, and what’s usually the first thing you reach for when you’re starting a new track?
My studio setup is pretty simple and straightforward. I have two synths: a Moog Sub 37 and a Virus. I also have a TR-8S, although honestly I use it less and less these days because programming drums in Ableton is simply much faster. What I still really love about the TR-8S is its groove. One approach I like is to build a pattern there, record it into Ableton, and then replace some of the sounds with more unique samples.
I also use Ableton’s native synths a lot. I’m not a huge fan of third-party VST synthesizers – I usually find what I’m looking for inside Ableton.
In terms of workflow, I almost always start with the bassline. One important thing is that I never start completely from scratch. I’ve found that the most productive approach for me is to take a drum loop from one of my previous tracks – something that is already mixed and sounds good – and use that as a temporary foundation.
I might keep the existing drum sound for a while, because having something that already feels solid helps me concentrate on the musical idea rather than immediately getting lost in sound selection. Later I replace most of the drum sounds – the kick and snare, and often the hi-hat pattern and percussion completely.
After that, there are basically no rules. I start looking for the main melodic idea, atmosphere and whatever else the track needs.
Effects are also a big part of my process. I use Guitar Rig, the Arturia FX Collection and Soundtoys quite a lot.
You grew up in Saint Petersburg before Berlin became home. How much of those early roots come through in your music, and how has Berlin shaped you as the artist you are today?
This is a huge question for me, and I’m actually really grateful for it. Nowadays, when there’s very little positive associated with Russia, I’m happy to talk a little about Saint Petersburg and what that city gave me.
Saint Petersburg had a huge impact on me – it’s an extremely cultural city. It was also the first place in post-Soviet Russia where electronic dance music started to develop in the early ’90s – first through squats and improvised clubs in abandoned apartments, such as Fontanka 145, and later through venues like Mama and Tunnel. I was too young to experience that first wave directly, and my own path started more traditionally, through classical art, museums and theatres. But growing up there, that alternative history and creative energy were always somewhere in the background, carried by the city itself and the people around me.
As a teenager I was actually much more into rock. I played in a band, and electronic music wasn’t really my world yet, apart from some drum & bass, The Prodigy and The Chemical Brothers. That changed when I started working in a music shop around the age of 18. My coworker Artem was heavily into electronic music, so we were constantly exchanging influences. Slowly I started realizing how deep that world actually was.
In 2004 I went to my first real rave – a psytrance open air called “Prostranstvo” in Kronstadt, near Saint Petersburg, with Astral Projection headlining – and that night genuinely changed my life. Within the next few months I left the band and went completely into electronic music.
At that time I became especially obsessed with UK progressive house and the Australian breakbeat scene. It was deep, dark and atmospheric, and very far from what “progressive house” later became associated with. I think you can still hear some of that influence in my music today.
Saint Petersburg didn’t necessarily give me a specific sound, because we were absorbing music from the West, but it gave me the culture around it – stadium raves, massive open airs, clubs, communities, and this feeling that electronic music could become an entire world around you. Even back then I already had my first thoughts about moving to Berlin.
But first, in 2009, I moved to Toronto, where I spent almost ten years and eventually became Canadian. That period shaped me in a different way. I started producing music there, but I was also working full-time in design, so music had to fit around office life. The scene also pulled me more toward deep house. I don’t regret that at all – I believe there are no bad genres, only good and bad music – but after some years I started to feel certain creative frames around myself.
Moving to Berlin finally removed those boundaries. Once I arrived, I felt I could make whatever I wanted without worrying too much about where it was supposed to fit. Around 2019 I naturally found my way toward darker synth-driven music, breakbeat, EBM and wave – still deep and atmospheric, but with a stronger sound that felt much closer to me.
So Saint Petersburg gave me the foundation and the obsession, Toronto gave me discipline and another perspective, and Berlin gave me the freedom to finally become the artist I wanted to be.
You spent part of last winter touring across Asia, including time spent in Goa and Thailand. What did playing out there feel like compared to Europe, and did anything you experienced (musically, creatively or culturally) stay with you afterwards?
Goa was probably the strongest part for me. I had some really good gigs there, people connected with my music, and I made a lot of new contacts very quickly. I even started getting offers here and there, and some people have already been asking me about returning this year, which I’m considering.
I kept thinking that I would have loved to experience it 15-20 years earlier, when Goa sounded like a dream place to me. But even now, the energy was great and the parties were really enjoyable. I also heard some very good local DJs there with great taste.
Thailand was a bit more mixed for me. Koh Phangan and Phuket felt slightly more mainstream – sometimes it seemed like people were gathering more for the social side of it than for the music.
But the final gig of the tour, at queer club Horn in Bangkok, was amazing. That really felt like a proper club night. People came to dance, and what was especially nice was realizing that many of them had actually come specifically to hear me play. It felt like the perfect ending to the whole trip.
Of course, compared to Berlin, everything feels different. Berlin is almost its own universe when it comes to nightlife, and we’re very spoiled here. But Asia has other amazing qualities, beside the music scene, that Berlin doesn’t have.
Between DJing, producing and now two labels, what does a typical week actually look like for you right now?
My typical week is very intense – my girlfriend probably hates me a little bit for it. On top of DJing, producing and running the labels, I also still work as a UX/UI designer, which is how I make most of my regular income. Add to that occasional events and endless hours of German bureaucracy.
My working day usually starts around 8 in the morning and can easily continue until midnight, with breaks here and there to spend time with my girlfriend, eat, watch something together or go out for a bit. When she’s not in Berlin, I can honestly work almost straight from 8 a.m. until midnight, with maybe one or two short breaks for food, sometimes without going outside for several days at all.
The label probably takes around half of my time. It’s much more work than people might imagine: preparing the next release or an event, listening to new demos, communication and so on. I’m also very involved with the artists – sometimes helping shape the sound, giving feedback on mixes, discussing artistic direction and the visual side too. Some releases can develop over years before they’re finally ready.
When I have paid UX/UI work, that probably takes another 40% of my time. And then my own production gets whatever is left. If I manage to get into the studio twice a week, I already consider that a good week.
That’s the funny contradiction in all of this. Everything I’ve built around music ultimately started because I wanted to make my own music, but the label and everything surrounding it often means I have less time to actually produce. My dream is that one day music brings enough income for me to leave UX/UI work behind and finally give much more time to my own production.
DJing fits into the week in a slightly different way. One advantage of working in design is that I can listen to new music almost constantly while I’m working. On a busy design day I might spend eight hours listening to new releases, and this approach sometimes helps me find real treasures.
Distant Memories is your second label. Can you tell us a little more about the inspiration behind it, and is there anything you learned from running Distant Gaze that you’re bringing into this new chapter?
The idea had been following me for quite a while. People were sending me music that I really liked, and technically some of it could fit on Distant Gaze, but it never felt completely right.
Distant Gaze already covers quite a broad spectrum, and I still want to keep it rooted in more underground, niche and dancefloor-oriented music. So from time to time I kept thinking that maybe I should create a sub-label, but for a long time it was just an idea without any real steps behind it.
This summer it was a combination of several projects happening at the same time – that finally pushed me to make a move.
“Paris Minuit” felt like the perfect first chapter because it was already finished and naturally represented this softer, more emotional and song-oriented side.
Once I decided, everything happened quite quickly. I spent a few days developing the logotype, some administrative setups and the visual identity was already forming in my head – dreamy, futuristic, atmospheric. You’ll see that side developing much more with the next releases.
In terms of what I’m bringing from Distant Gaze, it’s difficult to list every lesson individually because a lot of it is simply workflow now – knowing what is actually necessary, what isn’t, how to be more effective and how not to waste resources.
I’ve definitely become much more economical. Looking back at the early years of Distant Gaze, I can see places where I spent money that I probably wouldn’t spend today, and I could have reached very similar results with a more efficient approach. The music business is tough, and if you want a label to survive, you have to be smart with resources.
In your Distant Memories launch announcement on your socials, you described having a crush on sophisticated, vocal-oriented music. What does that actually mean to you, and are there specific artists, songs or records that capture it?
What I mean by sophisticated vocal-oriented music is still, in a way, pop music – but much more personal, distinctive and human. You can feel an individual voice behind it rather than a big team trying to reproduce whatever is working at the moment. The music can be soft, melodic and accessible, but still feel underground because it has its own character.
For me it’s more about individual songs than artists. It’s quite rare that I love everything one artist makes, but sometimes one song can hit me incredibly hard. It triggers a certain emotion or sense of beauty that I can’t really explain logically.
In terms of examples, there are a lot, but here’s just a quick list of the first tracks that come to mind: “Cruel Game” by Nouvelle Phénomène, “True Love Will Find You in the End” by Tessa Rose Jackson, “Trouble Always Finds Me” by Yellow House, “Winter’s Door” by Loveshadow, “Daniel” by Bat For Lashes, “A Reflex” by Vogue.Noir, “K.I.S.S.E.S” by Bent, “Blinking Pigs” by Little Dragon, and “Foreign Affair” by Mike Oldfield – which is actually another track I’ve been dreaming about remixing for a long time. I still don’t really know how to approach that one, but maybe one day.
They’re all quite different, but there’s usually this combination of personality, atmosphere, emotion and a beautiful (but not mainstream) melodic idea. They don’t feel like they’re trying to follow a trend – they just have their own world.
There’s been a lot of conversation in electronic music about the role of AI: in production, in mixing, in visual identity. Where do you stand on it, and do you see it as something that changes the landscape you’re working in?
This is a tough one for me because I’m genuinely torn. I see a lot of positive things in AI, and I also see a lot of negative things.
With music, I’m much more skeptical. If AI is used as a tool to speed up certain technical processes, or maybe to help with small elements of production, I can understand that. But generating melodies, whole musical ideas, or a complete track makes me uncomfortable.
A fully AI-generated track can sound technically amazing, but once I know there’s no real person behind it, something breaks for me emotionally. I need to feel that someone actually lived through the process of making the music.
With visual identity, I’m more open-minded, partly because I use AI myself more and more. But I have to say, this isn’t entirely because I think it’s wonderful – in some ways I feel pushed toward it.
What I’ve noticed is that the circulation of money between creative people has slowed down. People can now use AI to write text, make sketches, generate visual ideas, create videos, build websites, in general do parts of jobs they would previously have hired someone else for. That has a negative side.
At the same time, for someone like me, with a strong visual background and years of experience in UX/UI and graphic design, AI can be extremely useful. I already know what I want visually, and I know how to work with design software, so I can take an idea or sketch generated with AI and push it further until it matches, or almost matches, the vision in my head.
Sometimes that is honestly more efficient and less stressful than working with another person.
But if money were no object, I would still rather hire a brilliant designer whose work I completely trust and just say: I love what you do, please make something for me.
The reality of independent music is that a really good cover can easily cost €300-€1,000, while the release itself might never earn even half of that. So for a small independent label, AI can sometimes become less of an artistic choice and more of a survival tool.
Beyond this release, what does the rest of 2026 look like for you, both as Clouzer and for Distant Memories?
For Distant Memories, the rest of the year should be very active. I’m aiming for at least one, or even two, more releases.
The first one should be an album from an emerging female project from Norway called Serpens. This is actually one of those projects that could deserve an entire article on its own, because we’ve been working on it for more than a year. With this album I feel much more like a traditional producer.
Musically, it’s a very interesting record – ambient and atmospheric, sometimes with vocals, very beautiful and deep, slowly shifting into dream pop. I’m really excited about it.
I would actually love to release it on vinyl because I think it would be a beautiful record to own physically. But since this is the artist’s first release, I don’t want to take that financial risk immediately. That’s one of the lessons I’ve learned from running Distant Gaze. For music outside the club-oriented scene, it’s very difficult to sell vinyl if the artist doesn’t already have an audience. So we’ll start digitally, and if the album really connects with people, there’s nothing stopping us from making a vinyl edition later.
After that, there’s a very good chance of another EP or album from my friend Mike Sacchetti. He recently sent me some demos that I really love – not dancefloor-oriented at all, more like cold wave / new wave. Dark but beautiful, with catchy vocals and guitar melodies. It fits the Distant Memories world really well.
For Clouzer, things are more complicated. I currently have material for two different EPs. One is more dubstep-oriented, while the other moves toward deeper techno territory.