Beyond the Decks with HOVR
Berlin-based artist HOVR has built a reputation for sets that are bouncy, playful, and driving, yet emotionally charged beneath the surface. Touring across Europe, the Americas, Asia, and Australia, they move fluidly between underground spaces and major stages, always carrying a clear sense of intention: surprise the crowd, honour house music’s roots, and create room for real emotion.
Ahead of their upcoming show, we spoke with HOVR about storytelling, identity, mental health, and what they hope people feel when they leave the dancefloor.
Your sets have an instantly recognisable energy: bouncy, playful, and driving. What influences currently shape your sound and the way you approach storytelling in a set?
I get bored very quickly, so I naturally drift between different influences. Right now, I’m in both my Arab house and my UK house phase, so you’ll hear a colorful mix when I come to Byron.
You’ve toured across Europe, the Americas, Asia, and Australia. Is there a moment or dancefloor that stands out as a turning point in your artistic direction?
One of the most influential moments of my musical career was playing shows in Georgia. The one in Tbilisi was a deeply underground queer party and the beginning of an ongoing chapter in my life, one focused on finding identity through sound while honoring the origins of house as protest music and as a result of cultural cross-pollination.
What does a “perfect HOVR set” feel like to you, not technically, but emotionally and energetically?
I want people to smile, laugh, and cry. And my goal is for most of the crowd not to know most of the music I play.
I enjoy the occasional guilty pleasure, but I have the unique privilege of surprising people with unreleased tracks from myself or colleagues, or rare finds I discovered through friends or research. I want people to think, “That’s weird, I like it,” not, “They’re playing my favourite songs.”
And yes, I love it when my music makes people emotional. I’ve had gigs where people cried, hugged, kissed, jumped in ecstasy. Any raw emotion is more than welcome when I play.
You recently released your EP Clouds with Flow Music, which feels very personal and expressive. What was the emotional or creative thread behind that project?
Clouds is my favourite release from last year. It made me very happy to see the recognition it received.
The track deals with mental health and the relief a partner, friend or family member can bring in dark times. It’s dedicated to the people who help others see the light behind the clouds.
As a non-binary artist navigating the global scene, how does identity shape the way you experience dance culture and the spaces you perform in?
When I came out as non-binary, I actually thought there might be some advantage in being openly queer, since brands generally claim to care about visibility for LGBTQ artists. In reality, I’ve never heard of a booker actively aiming for balance beyond male and female, and even that is rare.
As someone who’s neither, that can be tough. At the same time, probably because of my proximity to mainstream electronic music, very few queer-focused event communities have me on their radar—and many regular club spaces feel bro-heavy, which makes it hard to feel comfortable. Politically, it’s not safe to be openly queer everywhere in the world. Hate messages still happen too.
So it’s a mixed bag. Finding “my spaces” isn’t always easy. But coming out, being true to who I am, and adapting my name was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.
What’s inspiring you outside of music right now, in art, places, people or ideas?
My biggest passion after music is surfing. In the water, my mind goes quiet and makes room for inspiration.
I love the long gaze toward the next waves and the adrenaline of being carried by something as sublime as the ocean. The first months of each year are usually focused on spending as much time in the water as possible to charge my soul for the rest of the year.
When people walk away from your set on Sunday, what do you hope they feel?
I hope they danced and smiled so much that they’re tired.
For HOVR, the dancefloor is not just a performance space – it’s a site of expression, protest, healing and release. Whether weaving together Arab house, UK influences or unreleased gems, their aim remains constant: create space for emotion, surprise the room, and let people feel something real.
