D'Julz Yoyaku instore session  03 06 2025

Paris, early ‘90s. The city was a schizophrenic beast—half-glamour, half-decay—where raves exploded like molotov cocktails in abandoned warehouses and smoke-filled basements. It was beautiful chaos. Somewhere in the thick of it was Julien Veniel, better known as D’Julz, spinning records with the focus of a surgeon and the cool detachment of someone who had seen it all.
Then came New York, 1993. A city that didn’t sleep but didn’t really dream either, at least not back then. Veniel—young, hungry, and too talented to ignore—found himself in the depths of sweaty dancefloors, perfecting his craft like a prizefighter working the heavy bag. The kicks were tighter, the grooves deeper, and his sound—dub-infused, stripped-down, relentless—started to carve its way into the foundations of house and techno.
But Paris called him back. By 1997, he was behind the decks at the Rex Club, launching Bass Culture, a night that would quietly and ruthlessly become one of the most enduring parties in dance music. You could feel it in the air, heavy with smoke and sweat: something was happening. And week after week, D’Julz delivered. The music wasn’t just played; it was installed into your brain, a groove so potent it hijacked your nervous system.
The production side came next. 20:20 Vision, Ovum ,Circus Company. Robsoul. ,Rekids. Big labels, underground credibility. Tracks and remixes that hit like slow-burning dynamite—deceptively simple, brutally effective. DJs hoarded his records like they were holding nuclear launch codes.
Then there was Circoloco—DC10 . Ibiza’s sacred asylum for the beautifully deranged. D’Julz became a fixture for 7 years, a reliable madman behind the decks, controlling both the main room and the red terrace like a general marching his troops to the brink of delirium. His sets were measured doses of euphoria and dread, dubby basslines colliding with pulsing techno rhythms, all delivered with a sly grin and the calm of someone who knew.
By 2009, Bass Culture Records was born. A label as lean and unforgiving as its founder—no fluff, no filler, just raw, stripped-back house and techno that knew where it came from and where it was going. Over 70 releases later, it’s clear: D’Julz doesn’t miss.
Now, decades into this strange and relentless trip, D’Julz is still at it. The tour schedule is insane—Bali, Berlin, New York, and back again. Clubs and cities blend together, but the mission never changes: find the groove, ride it hard, and don’t let up until the lights come on.
D’Julz doesn’t care about trends. He doesn’t care about fame. He’s a purist, a craftsman, a man obsessed with the sound—the deep, pulsing, unstoppable sound. Three decades in and he’s still there, calm and unflinching, dropping records that hit like a gunshot in the dark.
If you want to understand D’Julz, don’t bother asking questions. Just listen. The truth is buried somewhere in the basslines.

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