Before EDM, before techno, heck even before house music was a twinkle in Frankie Knuckles’ left eye there was Carl Cox. The 55-year-old can measure his life in music.
that soundtracked his parents’ house parties in south London. Back then, of course, the idea of making a living out of being a DJ was ludicrous. Only the cool kids understood the critical role DJs – the original sonic curators, lest we forget – had in developing and defining a sound and the attendant youth cultures that accompanied those sounds.
To the regular man and woman on the street, a DJ was one of two things: either a larger-than-life radio personality more interested in cultivating his brand and image rather than the music they happened to spin between their anodyne chatter; or a mobile DJ who would play the latest
pop smashes at school discos and weddings.
Today, prompted by a musical revolution that Carl was at the center of 30 years ago, things are entirely different.
DJs are feted as artists in their own right. In some cases, the money they can earn for just one night’s work goes beyond astronomical. The music we call dance is now big business.
And Carl has witnessed every change in the scene – both good and bad – at close hand. We spoke to Carl at his Melbourne home and quizzed
him on the six best business decisions of his career. The avuncular Cox spins a mesmeric and entertaining tale that takes in his humble south London roots to his home in Australia, via Ibiza, motorsports, and his new career as a producer of high-quality grass. No, really…
- Last Night a DJ Saved My Life (1985) After leaving school, Carl worked in the building trade and DJed at weekends. In the mid-’80s he reached a crossroad. His choices? Carry on in construction – by now he was earning good money managing scaffolding gangs – or give his musical dream a proper shot.
“In 1985 I decided I wanted to be a self-employed DJ. At the time there was no template for success as a DJ, unless you were on the radio national radio. I had no inclination of being a radio DJ. It wasn’t my forte. My forte was getting in front of a crowd and playing music to people who
appreciated the selection I was creating. “I basically thrust myself into that world without knowing which path I was going to take. Maybe I could have been the best wedding DJ of all time? Who knows? I enjoyed doing any party that was put to me.
“My dad was like, ‘You’ve got to be kidding. You’re earning good money and you want to chuck that away to earn £60 over a weekend?’ And that’s before beer and petrol and food. And I said, yep. I did it against all odds
because there was no real profession as a DJ at that point, unless you were very lucky to get a residency at a club. I went for it. I had to believe in my ability. I had to have the confidence to make others believe in me.”
This self-confidence, allied to the joy he got – and still gets – from playing the music he loves, meant Cox stood out. His unbridled passion and euphoria became intrinsic parts of his performance. It was a smart move.
“You see a lot of DJs today and they get behind the turntables or a computer and they don’t even look at the crowd. They’re so shy; they just look at the mixer. They might look up a couple of times and wave to a couple of people but primarily they’re looking down all the time. It’s an element of performance but it’s not the performance. “People want to see what you are feeling. How you are connecting with people. How happy you are to be there.
When I see moody DJs and artists I wonder why they bothered to come out of the studio. I’ve never been like that. If you look at most of the photos of me DJing I’ve always got a big cheesy smile on my face. That’s what gets me out of bed every morning. Whether it’s playing to 50 people, 500, 5000 or 50,000, the smile is always the same.” Today, he states that leaving the building trade was the best decision he ever made. “I couldn’t see myself scaffolding at 55, earning more money than I’m earning today. It was a difficult decision then because I was earning good money but I knew it probably wouldn’t get a lot better for me. I was going to get older. It was going to be more dangerous. I thought about the long-term affects of that.”
- Getting a Manager (2001) Throughout the acid house explosion, the rave boom that followed and the rise of dance music and the superclubs
during the ’90s, Carl managed himself. Appearing on UK tV show Top of the Pops – one of the first DJs to do so – promoting his crossover hit I Want you forever in 1991; the release of his definitive 1995 mix album F.A.C.T., and the long-running success of his Ultimate Base night in London were all decisions that he had to take, ultimately, on his own.
By 2001, however, he needed someone else to shoulder the burden. Hence hooking up with Lynn Cosgrave, a relationship that lasted 16 years until a parting of the ways earlier this year.
“Throughout the acid house and rave era I was calling all the shots. It was crazy. We weren’t earning a lot of money in those days – maybe £100 to £150 [$130 to $190] per rave.
As far as the promoters were concerned we weren’t worth any more than that. Maybe we were, maybe we weren’t. But one thing is for sure; we put bums on seats.
“This is where it got difficult. When you’re asking for more money based on how many people you’re attracting to an event, it’s hard to put
a worth on yourself. Someone else can. They can say he’s worth £1000 or whatever. It was hard for me to say at that time what I was worth. There needed to be guidelines, and a manager was the best person to set those guidelines, in the sense of contracts, deposits and all that kind of stuff.
In the early days we were all learning. We were all learning until things got a lot more professional. “I used to run my own management company. But it got harder and harder. Eventually, I realized I couldn’t maintain
the management side so one of the best decisions I made was to hire a manager. And that was Lynn Cosgrave. We’re not together anymore because it’s not necessary; it’s not needed. But between us we tripped the light fantastic. We created some amazing events and played at some
amazing parties. She was by my side for all of it. So having a manager who could take away all the things I didn’t need to be worrying about and to concentrate solely on what I needed to was one of the best decisions I ever made.”
- Starting his Own LabeL (1999) Sensing which way the wind was going to eventually blow, Carl started creating music early. He was originally signed to Paul Oakenfold’s Perfecto imprint – responsible for the release of I Want you forever – and he subsequently hooked up with Edel in Germany, through which he created his own label, Worldwide Ultimatum Records. However, when Edel rejected a Carl Cox solo album he was left
without a record company. His response? Set up his own. He named it Intec. “Starting my own record label was a great decision. Well, I don’t
know about great because having a record label these days doesn’t mean squat because no-one makes any money out of records any more. That was in 1999. And we’re still putting out music to this day. It meant I could call the shots. From what the records looked like, what artists we signed, getting the records cut and what have you. Because we had the management company, I could bring artists into the fold.
We used to run the label from my office.
“Around about 1996/’97 all the way up to 2001, I was basically creating an empire. Yes, I was DJing; yes, I was in the studio; yes, I was signing people to the label… I had 25 artists and three live acts signed to the management company and then me being co-managed by Rachel [Birchwood], my executive PA. I was really learning the business hard and fast at that time. And I was very successful. But I was giving away so much energy in creating that business that I was forgetting about my own career. So I sold everything to the relevant people and carried on with my life as a DJ solely.
“All the records I was given were not getting signed elsewhere. I think at that time people were a bit scared of that sound but I was feeling it. I thought if I created a label it would be a great outlet for this music. I was getting music from South America, Spain, Italy… we get music from all
over the world. My philosophy was that if I couldn’t play it I couldn’t sign it. And that’s how Intec was born.
- Heading Down Under (2004) Carl first played in Australia in 1991. He was immediately seduced by the country’s quality of life. By the turn of the millennium, and with the need to get a better work-life balance, he took the decision to move to Melbourne.
“All the time that I was living in the UK it was mainly about being accessible to the rest of Europe and the world; I had no real life. If I was in my house it was to change my clothes before getting another flight. It got to the point where I realised I needed a better quality of life. I just couldn’t see myself retiring in England. I thought I’m gonna get to the grand old age of, say, 60, hang up the turntables and end up down the local pub telling people I used to be a top international DJ. I didn’t want to be doing that.
“I liked Australia – the beach, the wineries, it had the quality of life I wanted. There are a lot of things I’ve done since I moved here. I’ve started my own motorsports team, Carl Cox Motor Sport, and this has enabled me to have a completely new outlook on my wellbeing and way of life. I’ve been able to take everything I learned in the music business and apply it to the motorsports industry.
“If I lived in England none of these things would have happened. The opportunity is far greater here. It’s given me a whole new lease of life.”
Living in Australia has provided Carl with a renewed sense of purpose. Fundamentally, it’s given him an outlet with which to pursue his other passions and get off the music industry rollercoaster ride.
“Most people who are in the music industry are pretty frustrated about one thing or another, whether it’s the music changing or the business changing. And if you’re in it the whole time, you just think there’s no out. You’re in a tumble dryer just going round and round and round. It does affect you but I’ve got something else to concentrate on that I really love. I’m learning new things and maybe what I’m learning, I can then reapply in the music industry.
“Once you’re inside something you don’t see the effects of being in the vortex. So sometimes less is more. The reason I do fewer parties today is so I can apply myself to my life. If other people had the same ideals or an outlet then maybe the industry would be better. But because everyone wants to take so much out [of the industry] it becomes frustrating. That’s why with the kids coming into it today, they want everything because that’s all they see.
“Just look at Avicii; once he had everything he had no choice but to come out because of all the anxieties. I have never felt like that in my nigh-on 40 years of being in this industry. I think one of the ways I’ve dealt with it
is by moving to Australia and seeing if it works and then doing what I’ve done with the motorsports team. I go back into the music industry with a clear head. I’m much more forceful because of it.”
“When I see moody DJs and artists I wonder why they bothered to come out of the studio”
- Streamlining Ibiza (2017) An indicator of Carl’s newfound less-is-more approach came in Ibiza this year. He had been synonymous with
Space for two decades but after its much-publicized closure last year, the last thing he wanted was another residency on the island.
“I was at Space for 15 years and I was constantly worrying about what we’d do next. And then it finished. We had the rug pulled from beneath us. So what did I do next? I did five parties in Ibiza – two parties at a club that has been dormant for the last 15 years, Privilege, one afterparty
at Bennimussa Park and then two parties at Amnesia. Each one of those parties was absolutely jam-packed. The two parties at Privilege won an award for best event on the island. It was a massive accolade for us.
“There are still people that don’t want to let go of Ibiza. I’ve given so much of my life to Ibiza but I just want to move on. I don’t want to be there doing 18 parties a year anymore. Me moving on was doing less, and by doing less it became more. And I’ll be doing the same – if not less – next year.”
- The Grass Is Greener Carl has always been good with his hands but Carl Cox, the grass farmer? And before you get any nefarious ideas, it’s
not that type of grass. Having purchased a 40-acre farm to house his studio and his ever-expanding collection of cars and bikes, he was persuaded to grow grass on the land. But not just any old grass, of course.
“I grow a certain type of grass, it’s called lucerne grass for racehorses. A friend of mine looks after the farm and cultivates the grass. This grass takes at least three years for all the nutrients to properly develop to the stage where it’s ideal for thoroughbred racehorses. There are no weeds or pesticides added. It’s the caviar of grass; if the horses eat anything less they don’t run well. It’s funny; it’s not something I shout about too much because of the nature of it, but yes, I am a primary producer of grass for
Thoroughbred racehorses.”
