I didn’t grow up dreaming about turntables or superclubs. My DJ story didn’t start with a pair of Technics or an older cousin who taught me how to mix. It started at twenty-five, with a tiny DDJ-WeGO controller sitting in my bedroom in Dubai — and with someone telling me, almost casually, that I might actually be good at this.
That someone was Mr. Shef Codes — the DJ who heard me ask, while we were listening to a track in his car, why it couldn’t be mixed with another song. He looked at me like I had just revealed a secret talent I didn’t know I had. “You have a producer’s ear,” he said. “You could be a DJ.” That moment stuck. Funny enough, I’d been producing and rapping since I was sixteen, but I had never once imagined myself behind decks.
Bedroom Years, Fast Cuts, and Hip-Hop Logic
For a year, I lived inside that bedroom. Mixing hip-hop taught me everything I didn’t realize would become the backbone of my style: timing, scratching, confidence, and transitions so fast they bordered on disrespectful. Hip-hop doesn’t let you hide — if your timing is off, everyone knows. That pressure shaped my intuition. And it made me impatient as hell.
When I eventually got out of the bedroom and into my first real gig — Caramel Dubai — I brought that same mentality with me. Fast transitions. Crisp cuts. No fluff. Hip-hop forces you to make decisions quickly, and I carried that with me for years, even long after I shifted genres.
The Shift: When Hip-Hop Started Feeling Too Small
2018 was the breaking point. Hip-hop was starting to feel repetitive — same themes, same energy, same playlists. I found myself drifting into other genres: oldies, reggaeton, dancehall, bass music. It felt like I was sneaking out of my own house, experimenting with sounds my “hip-hop DJ identity” supposedly wasn’t allowed to touch.
The truth? I just wanted to mix more than one genre. Once that door cracked open, electronic music rushed in like fresh air.
Excitement Over Fear
You’d think shifting genres after years of building a style would be intimidating. Instead, it was exciting. There was a challenge waiting for me — something new to figure out, something unfamiliar to master. And I’ve always chased that feeling. Every DJ does, whether they admit it or not.
What My Hip-Hop Past Gave Me
I didn’t realize how much of my hip-hop foundation would follow me into techno, house, and everything in between. Crowd-reading took years to properly learn, but the instinct started forming in those early rooms. Timing? Still crucial. Confidence? Still essential. Even the impatience — my tendency to avoid long, unnecessary blends — is something people now describe as my style.
If someone asks me today what a “Megrov set” sounds like, the honest answer is simple: memorable. Not because I’m trying to brag, but because that’s what people tell me. And I know exactly where that comes from — the years of figuring out how to make a room react, not just nod along.
Electronic Freedom
Electronic music gave me the freedom hip-hop couldn’t anymore. It allowed me to be playful, instinctive, genre-fluid, and bold. It made room for the parts of my musical identity hip-hop alone couldn’t hold. And ironically, it was hip-hop — the discipline, the timing, the rawness — that equipped me to handle it.
I didn’t leave hip-hop behind. I brought it with me. Into every techno transition, every unexpected track drop, every moment I take a risk. The journey didn’t change me — it expanded me.