Some people collect records. WarrenKo collects entire universes.
DJ, art director and cultural connector, WarrenKo moves between funk, fashion, objects and the Parisian night without asking permission to fit into a single scene.
His world runs on instinct, vinyl and an almost suspicious refusal to waste time.
Every record gets its moment.
Every object has a past.
Every night has at least three more nights hiding inside it.
For the first chapter of our new series spotlighting the artists shaping music and nightlife from the inside, we step into his universe, where the needle drops, the categories fall apart and the afterparty is never really the end.
You seem to collect worlds rather than just records: music, clothes, objects, images, places. What is the first thing that makes you want to bring something into your universe?
I think that’s exactly it: I don’t collect objects, I collect worlds. For me, art is a set of elements that builds a universe unique to each artist, a way of sharing their vision of things. It almost always starts with a feeling, something instinctive: I can tell within seconds whether something speaks to me or not. In a world where making decisions keeps getting harder, that instinct, knowing immediately what I love, is probably what defines me most.
Vinyl forces you to commit. You choose a record, put the needle down, and stay with it. In a culture obsessed with skipping, scrolling and endless choice, what does commitment sound like to you?
I feel like, as you get older, the most precious thing you have is time. I’ve always had a fascination with efficiency; it’s also how I work, and it comes down to not wasting my time. I’m hungry to work on many projects, and for me, commitment means dedicating time: to a project, to a relationship. My love of vinyl, beyond the object itself, is really about that: giving time to the music, respecting the artist who poured their heart into their work, and trying to take the time to understand the full scope of their creation.
Your work sits somewhere between music, fashion and art direction. Can a DJ set have a silhouette, a texture, a colour, a way of dressing, before anyone even hears it?
Yes, completely. Today, the way people experience nights out and DJ sets has evolved; people inform themselves, choose between a multitude of possible experiences, almost an overload of information, and social media has made that even easier. That’s why the universe you build before the experience even happens becomes part of the experience itself: how we dress, how we present ourselves, all of that feeds into the work that shapes a creative universe. When someone comes to see a DJ set, it’s no longer just about the music (unfortunately, maybe), they’ve already mentally built the universe, the relationships, the kind of music they’re about to experience.
Paris has always turned nightlife into a form of cultural identity. From your perspective inside the city, what is genuinely changing in Paris after dark, and what do you think people are only pretending has changed?
I think it starts from the end of the day, when you see everyone out on terraces; it’s something quite unique, and I love it. Relationships form, friendships get stronger. And then there’s this endless number of different options: restaurants, bars, jazz clubs, clubs… something for every taste, with some clubs bringing together every kind of social class. There’s also the sheer number of “nights within a night” you can fit into one evening.
For example, I was recently with a producer friend from London and his girlfriend: we grabbed a drink at Strasbourg-Saint-Denis, where the street was buzzing, then went to a jazz show with musicians from the collective Minor Proof jamming on a rooftop at Théâtre du Châtelet. We left around 2 a.m., and I wanted to take my friend to Au Pied de Cochon, a classic Parisian spot serving French dishes in an incredible setting all night long; the best afterparty in Paris, haha. For me, that’s Parisian nightlife: impromptu, unforgettable encounters and moments, shared with friends.
There is something intimate about the things we choose to keep: a record, a jacket, a chair, a photograph. What is the most meaningless object you own that somehow means everything to you?
I wouldn’t call them meaningless, because they mean a lot to me, but I keep a lot of Sri Lankan objects at home: masks, insignia… They’re like little fragments of memory scattered around my apartment. They’re worth nothing on any market, but they carry my origins, my family, the world I grew up in. Every time my eyes land on one of them, it’s a bit like a part of me coming home.
You move between very different scenes and audiences without seeming to belong entirely to one of them. Is identity more interesting when it refuses to be categorised?
Yes, absolutely, I’d even say I advocate for it, haha. For me, a creative person can’t be put in a box. The artists who fascinate me most are the ones who’ve managed to build bridges between different communities, different social classes. Music, to me, is capable of healing a lot of wounds. That’s why I love funk, for instance: it’s a musical movement listened to everywhere in the world, by every social class.
If you had to design a perfect 24 hours using only five things: one record, one outfit, one meal, one space and one person, what would your day look like?
Record: Patrice Rushen – Straight from the Heart
Outfit: A Good Morning Keith pair of jeans, a 1970s suit jacket, some Jacques Soloviere loafers and a 1980s pair of Lacoste aviator sunglasses.
One space: Les Puces de Saint-Ouen.
Meal: My mom’s Sri Lankan curry.
Perfect day at my place in Paris: a bit of exercise in the morning, a trip to the market, a great lunch, some time with my dogs, a quick nap, a coffee, then a walk through the Saint-Ouen flea market for inspiration, hunting for clothes and vinyl; a jazz club in the evening, then a club, and finishing it all off cooking an afterparty meal, surrounded, of course, by the people I love.
LETTER TO YOUR FUTURE SELF.
Imagine you find a record you bought today ten years from now. What would you want the person you’ve become to remember about the person who put the needle down?
That it was a passionate person, with the soul of a child, very curious and always ready to discover new things, driven by love for the people close to them, enriched by their relationships. Oh, and that he had a real problem: vinyl and funk, an addiction he never even tried to cure.
CREDITS
Photographer: Stan
Photo Assistant: Khalil
Brands: Good Morning Keith, DYNASTY vintage, Hunky Dory Vintage Brick Lane
Photo Editor: Giulia Calbi