Life Beyond the Booth

March Cover Story: Deborah De Luca

The Deborah no one talked about. Her rise in the world of techno is a story of hard work, resilience, and an unyielding commitment to her craft. In this conversation, she offers a unique window into her psyche—revealing the creative highs, the inevitable burnout, and the passion that fuels her. She reflects on the sacrifices she’s made, from time lost to the relentless demands of touring to the personal struggles that have shaped her along the way. But beyond the music and the stage, she delves into the psychological and emotional dimensions of her journey, sharing thoughts and experiences she’s never voiced in an interview before. She opens up about the battles she’s fought within herself—the need for control, the weight of expectations, and the moments of vulnerability that often remain hidden behind success. Success, she makes clear, isn’t just about talent but about persistence, independence, and staying true to your vision, even when self-doubt creeps in.

Hard Pop Volume 2, your album released on March 21st, is a remarkable evolution of your signature sound—melding raw rave energy, evocative pop melodies, and innovative studio techniques, all while honouring your Neapolitan techno roots. Could you share some insights into your creative process for this album? How did you balance the traditional elements that have defined your sound with the new experimental approaches, and were there any unexpected breakthroughs that reshaped your creative vision?
First of all, I think this is a great question from someone who has truly listened to my album, and that makes me very happy. Usually, I get questions like, “Where did you get your inspiration?” and that’s it. So yes, in this album, I am still present, but in evolution. If you listen to the previous album, you can understand how I have—not changed—but evolved with the times. Music has become faster, sounds have become harsher, but my signature, everything about my musical essence, is still there. That essence is what my father taught me—with his vinyl records, his pop melodies from the ‘70s, ‘80s, and ‘90s. Everything is there, so you can hear it all in my music. It was almost automatic, like a natural direction to take. Though sometimes, like in life, I still carry a bit of nostalgia for the past. And I discovered—oh my—I discovered that I had so much to say and give. That’s why I made 25 tracks in a two-volume release. That’s a lot—it could have been four albums.

When you have one day completely disconnected from music, your career, and your public image, how do you spend it—from morning until evening?
Actually, I’ve learned to keep my work and private life very separate. On Sundays, when I come back, a little hungover, having barely slept and taken flights to return home—let’s not even talk about that. But Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday are my normal life days. Those are the days when I stay with my dogs, cook pasta with tomato sauce, relax on the beach, take my dogs for a walk with friends. I don’t go out much—we always eat at the same two restaurants, which are just a kilometre from my house. Otherwise, we just stay at home, chilling on the couch, goofing around like normal guys and girls.

Deborah, I have to say what everyone thinks: your radiance is truly timeless—you look even younger now than you did 20 years ago! It almost seems like you’ve made a secret pact with the devil. Could you share some practical beauty tips—whether diet advice, luxurious creams, indispensable supplements, or must-have treatments—that you swear by and that keep your glow effortlessly ageless, making the most difference in your well-being?
Thank you so much! I’m not very good at receiving compliments, but I’ll try to make an exception. To be honest, I would never go back 20 years. Mentally and physically, I feel much, much better today—probably because experiences have made me stronger. And when you’re strong on the inside, maybe you become strong on the outside too, I don’t know. But I have to say, I used to think, “If I just do a lot, I’ll be fine.” But in recent years, I’ve put in the work. I have an amazing trainer, Carmine Menna from Torino, who coaches me and puts up with me. I try to drink more water, take tons of supplements—I even pre-pack them in little bags, a month at a time, so everything’s ready for each day. I take everything from Omega-3 to tons of vitamins and supplements. I drink a lot of collagen. I take good care of my skin. As for expensive creams, let me tell you this—on Amazon, there’s a snail slime cream that costs 30, maybe 32 euros, and it’s amazing. Just amazing. And it costs less than 30 euros!

Scampia and Naples are imprinted in your soul—shaping you, fueling you, and challenging you. How much of who you are today comes from what the city gave you, and how much from what it took away?
Scampia gave me so much—it gave me grit, strength, the fearlessness to take risks. It gave me character, a lot of character. It taught me that nothing is given for free, and that I had to work and struggle to earn everything—whether it was a bike, a house, or a job. And what did it take away from me? It took away the fairy tale. As a child, I saw things—I didn’t fully understand them, but I saw them. And today, looking back at what my Scampia was like when I was 15 or 16, seeing it portrayed in shows like Gomorrah—which tells the real story of what was happening 25-30 years ago—it kind of takes away that fairy tale. It takes away the magic of Naples a little bit. But let me repeat—this was 30 years ago. Scampia hasn’t been like that for a long time.

If young Deborah from Scampia could see you now, what would shock her the most about the woman you’ve become?
I was just a girl trying to survive, doing small jobs to afford a t-shirt or a pair of pants, so I wouldn’t burden my parents. I was a girl who took on a lot of other people’s problems—problems in general. So no, I would have never believed I would get where I am now. Never. And sometimes, I wonder… if my grandmother, who passed away when I was 17, is proud of me when she looks at me. And I wonder what she would think of me.

You built yourself from the ground up—with no blueprint, no safety net—turning dreams into reality, from buying a house for your parents to living by the sea. Yet, even with all you’ve achieved, are there parts of this journey that still feel unresolved? Are there moments you’re still trying to make peace with?
Honestly, I’m really happy to read these words because you’ve understood the most important thing: This career was built without any safety net behind me—no one to catch me if I fell, no one to push me forward. Yes, I’ve done a lot, but sometimes I still feel like I’m at zero. I’m never satisfied with myself. I always want more. But not because I crave success or fame. I want more because I feel like I haven’t given enough.

Do you have any unusual superstitions or rituals before a show?
Well, I have this little pouch for my headphones, and it’s stuffed full of things—like little drawings, a keychain someone gave me, a bracelet, a piece of paper, a lollipop. I never empty it. I never remove anything from it. Those things belong in there, and they have to stay there. It’s like if I took them out, the magic would disappear.

The stage is electric, the music is euphoric—but when the lights go out and you’re alone in a hotel room at 5 AM, what does that silence feel like?
You’ve touched on an issue that most people probably don’t understand—only those who live this life experience it firsthand. The transition from being surrounded by loud music and people shouting your name to suddenly being alone in a hotel room, far from home—that’s tough. Some will say, “Oh, but you make money, so why are you complaining?” No, I’m not complaining at all. I’m incredibly privileged. But honestly, I think that when you start living this life, you should get psychological support right away. Going from the excitement of a crowd to the isolation of a hotel room can cause a mental short-circuit. It absolutely happened to me, and not just to me—to everyone I know in this industry.

What’s a widely accepted ‘rule’ in electronic music that you completely disagree with?
Well, good question. If you listen to some people, there are a lot of rules—too many. I believe that the word “techno” is a container, a label that says, “Okay, this isn’t opera, this isn’t pop—it’s techno,” meaning kick drums and bass. And I also believe that there are influences and contaminations. I think I was one of the first to do what I do now. Others are doing it too, but I’ve been doing this for 16 years. When I started, people weren’t very accepting of it. Some say that techno is just bass, kick drums, and a few electronic sounds. I disagree—I think techno has a core foundation, and from there, it can evolve and be shared. Personally, I even did a remix of Karol G, and I’m really happy I did it, even though I haven’t released it yet. But I enjoy playing it, especially because it annoys certain people.

Rebellion seems to be woven into your DNA, yet it often stems from deeper pain or unresolved emotions. Do you believe your need to break the rules is rooted in something more profound—a way to reclaim control or express what you’ve yet to fully heal?
I don’t break rules. If anything, I write new ones. Because I think some rules need to evolve along with life. I have a lot of things in my life that are unresolved, but I don’t agree with breaking rules—it depends on the rules. My own rules, I never break.

You’ve never followed industry norms—no big agencies or traditional labels dictating your sound. What’s the biggest risk you’ve taken in your career that people don’t know about?
No big label, no big agency backing me—for 11 years. Then I joined Analog. But I never compromised. There was this unspoken rule that to reach a certain level, you needed a particular kind of backing. It cost me a lot—A LOT. It took me 15 years to reach places like Time Warp and Awakenings. And I know there are still a few venues I’ll probably never play at because of the path I chose. So yes, I paid a very high price.

We often romanticise the grind, but success can be a heavy burden. What’s something you had to sacrifice along the way that you wish you hadn’t?
The thing I gave up—but shouldn’t have—was my time. For so many years, I spent almost 20 days a month away from home because my career was more important. Not just because it mattered to me, but because it was the only thing keeping me going, even during difficult times. So, blindly and stubbornly, I kept walking my path, spending 20 days a month away from home. I sacrificed my time. If I could go back, I would manage it differently.

For most of your career, you worked independently—with total control over every decision. Now that you’ve started working with a team, you’ve had to loosen that grip. What was the hardest part of surrendering some control, and what did you discover about yourself in the process? Do you think true growth comes from mastering control or from learning to let go?
Well, in some ways, it was a surprise to realize that I could let go of some burdens. That there were people who could handle things for me—like not having to talk to promoters, not having to deal with clubs—a whole set of responsibilities that I used to handle myself but then abandoned. Letting go was difficult because my need for control used to make me want to be everywhere, to be like a fly hovering over the people making decisions for me. But on the other hand, it was absolutely necessary. Because I needed to continue growing as a person, and I couldn’t do that if I kept controlling everything. At first, it was hard. But then, when I saw how much I was gaining—not just as a DJ but as a person—I finally let go.

You’re constantly creating, performing, and giving energy to others. Who gives energy back to you, and where do you find refuge when you need to refuel?
Honestly, my home. My home is like a giant solar-powered charger. I live on the beach, so all it takes is coming back home on a Sunday morning with my suitcase, putting it down in the music room, taking off my shoes, and I immediately start recharging.

Rescuing dogs is a huge part of your life. What is it about these animals that heals in you something that music cannot? Do you think this drive for activism and protection is rooted in a moment from your past, perhaps when you needed saving yourself? Where does this unwavering need to care for the most vulnerable come from?
This thing about me—this sensitivity—I don’t really know what to call it. But I don’t want to tie it to being particularly kind, because it’s not that. It’s something deeper, something physical. If I see a dog, if I see someone in need, I have this physical need to fix things. It’s as if I feel this urge inside me to save the world. And when I have emotional breakdowns, it’s often because I’m facing something I can’t do anything to change. Yes, I think it comes from my childhood, from when I needed to be saved but had to save myself. My grandmother passed away when I was a teenager, right in the middle of my adolescence. And that left a huge void, because for me… she was my mother. So I never want anyone to feel the way I did.

Do you believe that dogs choose us, rather than the other way around?
I don’t know if dogs choose us or if we choose them. I believe that, just like between people, there’s a kind of love, a special connection with dogs too. When you adopt a dog, when you visit a shelter and go for a walk, sometimes you just fall in love with a pair of eyes that are different from all the others. I don’t know… but I do believe that anyone who has a dog is incredibly lucky. We should worship them because they bring love and positive energy. If you have anxiety, they help ease it. If you struggle to sleep, they help you rest. They make you feel safe. Honestly, dogs are the most beautiful thing in the world.

Deborah wears total look ANOESES, earrings ASK&EMBLA, body jewels ANTICHITA PETRONE

Do you believe in creative burnout? How do you combat it?
Of course, I’ve experienced creative burnout. I’m going through one right now. I put so much into my last album, so much in that direction, that now I feel like I need to go in another direction. So I’m stuck in between, and this burnout is definitely happening. How do I fight it? I just let it pass and hope it does.

What’s a belief you once held deeply, but now no longer feels aligned with who you are nowadays?
I was convinced I would stop playing music at 40. I was so sure of it that I probably would have signed a contract in blood. I’m turning 45 this year, and I’m still here.

Imagine a world where music no longer exists. How would you describe the silence?
Sometimes, we need silence. When I’m in the car—whether it’s my driver picking me up or when I’m driving—I never play music because sometimes I just need silence. But silence is also a gift, something that needs to be balanced. A world without music is a world without emotions—no emotions at all. No emotions—a sad world. I’ve noticed this: people who don’t listen to music, like my mom, who has never really listened to a song, they lack that spark in their eyes, that glimmer that fills you up. Music is a part of life, like oxygen.

If your music were turned into a scent, what would it smell like?
Well, you’re talking to someone who doesn’t really love perfumes. I prefer the natural scent of people’s skin. All these chemical fragrances on the skin—like when you kiss someone and taste the artificial scent—it bothers me a little. But there are some smells that drive me crazy, like talcum powder. It’s not natural, but it reminds me of my childhood. I love the smell of talcum powder. I also like coconut, even though the coconut scent we use in detergents isn’t actually the real smell of coconut—it’s artificially created. But yeah, I don’t know, probably talcum powder because it reminds me of when I was little. My grandmother used to put talcum powder everywhere, even in drawers.

Is there something you’ve always wanted to try but never had the courage to do?
Well, something I’ve always wanted to try but never had the courage to… oh god, well, aesthetically, bangs. But then I would have had to lock myself away for six months until they grew out. Maybe skydiving—yes, that.

If you could relive one memory forever, which would it be and why?
Oh, I’m already tearing up… this is a tough one. I know the rule is to pick one, but I have two. I wish I had said more to my mother—there were so many things I left unsaid. I was going through my teenage crisis, so I didn’t tell her much. I wish I had told her that I was honored when she believed I carried the soul of her five-year-old daughter who had passed away. I was honored by that thought. And the other—I wish I could tell my dog, Penelope, who passed away two years ago, just how good of a dog she was.

What’s one thing you wish people understood about you that they currently don’t?
Everything I’ve done has always been clear to everyone—I’ve never hidden behind anything. I’ve always been honest about my journey. Some people think my path has been easy because they assume I’ve only been around for three or four years. But I’ve been doing this for 16 years, so no, it hasn’t been easy. If anything, staying on the sidelines made people think I was a bit of a b*tch. In reality, I was just protecting my personal life and my normal self. Plus, I’m actually really shy when it comes to these things. So, more than being cold, I’m just shy. Haters—one comment I always get is that I only succeed because I’m hot. That actually makes me laugh because, at the end of the day, if people say that, it’s kind of a compliment. But I’d love for them to see just how much work is behind what I do. Those two little moves I make while playing? That’s not me showing off—it’s nervous energy because I can’t stand still. It’s like a tic. My job isn’t just performing—it’s everything I’ve built, everything I’ve sacrificed. People don’t see how much psychological energy this job consumes. I do it out of pure passion—because music is passion for me.

What’s something that still scares you, even though you’ve already faced much bigger challenges?
Absolutely, yes—flying. I’m terrified of flying. When I get on a plane, I start sweating hot and cold, I put my head between my knees, and I fan myself with the safety instructions. I’m scared of flying. But every weekend, I get my ass on a plane. Because it’s not courage if there’s no fear. And so I fly. I fly.

What’s a part of your journey that no one has ever asked about—something you’ve carried silently?
Well, in reality, everything I’ve done is clear to everyone. I’ve never hidden behind a finger, I’ve always told the truth about my journey. Let’s say someone thinks I’ve had an easy journey, because they think I’ve been out for 3-4 years, in reality I’ve been doing this job for 16 years, so no, it hasn’t been easy. Some people think I’ve had special connections or influential boyfriends, but the only person who remotely introduced me to this world was the one who taught me how to use Ableton and make music. He wasn’t famous or influential at all. No, I’ve never had a boyfriend, a lover, or a friend who pushed me, took me, made me do something. On one hand, it didn’t help me either, in fact, because being a bit on the margins of knowledge, I even thought I was a bit of a bitch. In reality, I was just protecting my private life, my normal life, and also because I’m very shy about these things, so more shy than a bitch.

Deborah wears total look PROJECT HOPE MILANO

Life Beyond the Booth / Deborah De Luca

Credits:

Artist: Deborah De Luca / @deborahdeluca
Styling&Interview: Anca Macavei / @ancamacavei
Photography: Thom Rever / @thomrever
Makeup: Marika Costantino / @makii.up
Hair: Michele Luciano at Vogue Hair Lab / @voguehairlab
Editor: Marco Giuliano / @marcogiulianoph
Editorial assistant: Irina Klisarova / @its.irka.bitch

Soundscapes vol.105 | Eli + Fur

Music | Soundscapes
“Songs that have inspired us as well as some of our own tracks that we love the most. Most of these are vocal based and tunes we love to listen to in times of nostalgia, on the road and on the dance floor." A selection from DJ and electronic music producer duo comprising Eliza Noble and Jennifer Skillman, hailing from London, England.

Darklands / WGT 2018

Art&Culture | Spotlight
Report and diary from Wave-Gotik-Treffen 2018, the World's biggest dark festival.

Watergate 20 Years Anniversary

Music | Spotlight
Berlin club institution Watergate celebrates its 20 Years Anniversary with a birthday compilation on Watergate Records in November, Watergate X Irie Daily fashion drop in October and festival showcases in Berlin and internationally.

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