Brother boogaloo
Brother Boogaloo played at Amsterdam Vinyl Club for our first show at Wanakam, bringing an eclectic selection of soul, funk, punk and musical oddities to the decks.
An artist, musician and lifelong record collector, Brother Boogaloo approaches DJing with the same curiosity that drives his paintings, videos and bands.
Whether creating music or digging through crates, his passion lies in discovery – and in sharing sounds that audiences may never encounter anywhere else.
Brother Boogaloo played at Amsterdam Vinyl Club on:
Meet Brother Boogaloo on:
An interview with Brother Boogaloo
Tell us about yourself.
I’m an artist and musician. I make videos, paintings and drawings, and I also play music.
The music I make has links to punk, funk, exotica, jazz, Bollywood, soundtracks and baroque pop, but it’s never quite anyone of those.
I usually write my own music and invite people into the studio to create soundtracks and recordings together. So the music always moves in different directions.
I'm also in a band called The Soul Demons, which is very much music to dance to. But, just like my record collection, the music never stays in one lane.
That’s also how I DJ. In a strange way, I feel a bit like a preacher behind the decks. I want to play records nobody else has – and then make everybody dance to them!
How often do you DJ?
I used to DJ regularly at venues like De Nieuwe Anita and Maloe Melo, and occasionally at Paradiso for Amsterdam Beat Club.
Things changed a bit when venues developed new networks and programming teams, so I play less regularly now.
But honestly, I’m not really chasing gigs. My life is already incredibly busy with music and art projects.
If somebody invites me, I’m always happy to do it – but I already have more than enough to keep me occupied.
Can you remember what first attracted you to DJing?
Yes – and it involves some very strange music!
One of my earliest DJ experiences was at De Kring, the artists’ society near Leidseplein. At the time, they were trying to modernise the place and invited another DJ and me to play an evening of “weird music”. So naturally, we brought the weirdest records we owned.
Everybody hated it. At least at first.
Luckily, we had a few friends in the crowd who started dancing, and after people had a few drinks the atmosphere shifted. Slowly, everyone joined in.
By the end of the night, the dancefloor was completely alive – and we were still playing our strangest records.
That was the moment I realised what I loved about DJing: convincing people to enjoy music they would probably never hear otherwise.
What do you love about vinyl?
This might sound strange, but for me vinyl is spiritual mixed with materialism.
If I don’t own the music on vinyl, it doesn’t really feel like I have it. I want the record cover, the artwork, the lyrics and even the scratches and dirt. Then the music becomes part of my life.
If I own a record on vinyl, it becomes part of who I am – whereas having it on Spotify has no meaning for me.
Where do you usually buy your records?
There’s no single method, but I do love record shops.
I like seeing the sleeves and discovering things visually. Usually, if a cover speaks to me, I already know I want it – and most of the time that instinct turns out to be right.
King’s Day is also one of my great sources for records. I love finding unexpected treasures for almost nothing.
I once bought a record for a single guilder because the artwork caught my eye. Nobody I know seems to own it – it’s called 'Without Earth' by The Moon, and turned out to be this incredible beatless psychedelic rock-pop record from the 1960s.
It’s still one of my favourite discoveries.
More generally, I enjoy searching in places where you wouldn’t normally expect to find records.
And whenever I travel to another country, one of the first things I do is find out where the record shops are.
Those neighbourhoods are always the best. It’s simply a fact of life.
How do you store such a large collection?
With difficulty! I had a water leak in my house about six months ago and had to move my entire collection into another room.
That was when I realised just how many records I own – probably around 2,500.
After moving everything back, I made a deal with myself: whatever didn’t fit into the cabinets had to go. So I gave away about a metre of records.
Sometimes your taste evolves, and you realise there are records you simply don’t love anymore. It felt good to let them go.
People came to collect them and were very happy, so it felt more like passing them on than losing them.
Are there any records you’re still searching for?
Oh yes – there are always holy grails.
One I still want is 'Jelly Belly' by Nai Bonet. Every time it appears on Discogs it costs around €450, which is more than I’m willing to pay.
So I’ll have to find it another way!
Part of the thrill is that moment when you suddenly discover something you’ve been chasing for years and think: "Oh my God – here it is."
I recently found 'An Electric Storm' by White Noise from 1969, a record I’d admired for most of my life. Having it on vinyl now feels very special.
And then there are the records that disappear and somehow return.
I once lost 'Doob Doob O’Rama 1' – only about 500 copies exist. After ten years, I found another copy and genuinely convinced myself it might be my stolen one. That’s what records do to you!
