FORDAL: Why the Best Electronic Music Has Always Been About Feeling, Not Formula

FORDAL did not discover electronic music so much as arrive at it fully formed. The foundation was laid long before any club or record, by a father who was a working saxophonist sharing stages with Jimi Hendrix and Rod Stewart, which means music in that house was never a hobby or a phase. It was simply there, in rehearsals and conversations and the particular way a musician listens to the world. That upbringing left a mark that is still audible today.

Growing up in the North East in the 1990s put him in rooms most people now talk about with reverence. Renaissance. Cream. The Arena in Middlesbrough. Watching Laurent Garnier, Sasha and Digweed at exactly the right age. He will tell you that being outside London meant you had to really want it, and that wanting shaped the respect he has for the music.

Before he was known as a DJ, he was running Binary Records in Middlesbrough from 1998, which tells you a great deal. Record shops of that kind were not retail operations so much as curated arguments about what mattered. That instinct, does this mean something, does it belong, never left him when the shop closed in 2001.

Then there was the Weatherall moment. Watching Andrew Weatherall play techno at Turnmills, and understanding for the first time that a DJ set could be a point of view rather than a playlist. It reoriented everything.

He returned to formal education later in his career, enrolling at Point Blank Music School to close the gap between what he could hear in his head and what he could actually build. Since then the production work has accelerated considerably. Alleviate reached number one on Beatport. Collaborations with Lexicon Avenue, Dave Walker and others have followed, and the Forensic Records co-ownership alongside Chris Scott places him inside a label that was part of his own musical education.

The Fordal sound sits somewhere between emotional and driving. There is always a melodic core, but it earns its place in a room rather than simply decorating one. His sets resist easy categorisation, moving through progressive house, melodic techno and deep into Afro house with an emotional sensibility that owes as much to New Order and Depeche Mode as it does to the progressive canon he came up through. The thread holding all of it together, as he will tell you himself, is feeling

This is Fordal, in his own words, and in his mix.

So let’s go right back to the beginning. Your dad was a working saxophonist sharing stages with Jimi Hendrix and Rod Stewart, which means music was never just something you discovered, it was just always there. Do you think that changes how you actually hear and feel music compared to someone who came to it from the outside, and can you trace any of that Jazz DNA in the way a Fordal set is built?

Yeah, it probably does shape it in a way you don’t really question when you’re young. Music wasn’t something I “got into,” it was just there—rehearsals, gigs, conversations, all of it. My dad coming from that Jazz world meant you’re hearing structure, but also freedom at the same time. There’s discipline in it, but there’s also this sense that you can move around inside the music. I think that’s the bit that stuck with me. When I’m building a set, it’s not rigid. It’s about flow, tension, release… letting things breathe. You might not call it Jazz, but that DNA is definitely in there somewhere.

Growing up in the North in that era, you had access to something pretty special. Nights at Renaissance, Cream and Middlesbrough Arena, Sasha and Digweed and Laurent Garnier coming through all of that landing on you at exactly the right age. How did that shape you, and do you think coming up outside of London gave you a different relationship with the music than if you had grown up right in the middle of it all?

We were lucky, really. People sometimes overlook what was happening in the North East at that time, but it was serious. Nights like Renaissance, Cream coming through, the Arena in Middlesbrough—those lineups were world-class. And because it wasn’t London, you had to really want it. You’d travel, you’d commit to the night. It made it feel like something important. I think that gives you a deeper respect for the music, rather than just something that’s always on your doorstep.

Before any of the DJing really took hold, you were running Binary Records in Middlesbrough from 1998. Owning a record shop goes well beyond retail, it is about taste, community, and obsession. What was that world like from the inside, and how much of what you learned curating music for other people still shows up in what you do today?

Binary was everything for a while. It wasn’t just a shop—it was where people came to talk music, argue about records, discover things. You’d get deliveries in and spend hours going through them, deciding what deserved space. That process of curation never leaves you. Even now, whether it’s a set or a release, you’re asking the same question: does this mean something? Does it belong?

And then Binary closed in 2001, which must have been a difficult moment. The digital shift was changing everything and independent shops were taking the hit everywhere. Looking back though, do you think losing it actually freed something up in you, pushing you further into performing and producing in a way that might not have happened if you had stayed behind the counter?

At the time, it was tough. No way around that. You put everything into something and then it’s gone.
But yeah, looking back, it probably did free me up. I think if the shop had carried on, I might have stayed in that world longer. Losing it forced a shift—more focus on \DJing, more focus on creating rather than just selecting.
Sometimes those moments push you where you’re supposed to go, even if it doesn’t feel like it at the time.

There is this moment people talk about: watching Andrew Weatherall play techno at Turnmills. Weatherall had this rare quality where you felt like the music was coming from a very specific place in him—nothing borrowed, nothing performed. What happened in that room for you, and how did it change the way you thought about what a DJ is actually capable of doing?

That night changed things, honestly. Watching Andrew Weatherall… it wasn’t just a DJ set, it was a point of view. There was intent behind every record.It made me realise that DJing isn’t about playing what people expect. It’s about taking them somewhere, showing them something they didn’t know they needed yet. That stuck with me in a big way.

So by this point you have the Jazz upbringing, the North East club education, the record shop years, and Weatherall as a kind of north star. When did it all start coming together into something you could actually call your own sound, and what were the records or moments that felt like you were getting closer to it?

It didn’t happen all at once. It’s layers over time—what you grow up with, what you hear in clubs, what you discover on your own. There are moments where you feel closer to it, though. Certain records you play or make where you think, “that’s me.” Not because it fits a genre, but because it feels honest. That’s usually the marker.

Your sets have always resisted easy categorisation: progressive house into melodic techno into deep house into Afro house, with an emotional sensibility that seems to owe as much to New Order and Depeche Mode as it does to Sasha and Digweed. How do you hold all of that together in a way that still feels like one coherent thing, and does the industry pressure to fit a neat description ever get to you?

I’ve never really thought in genres. It’s more about emotion and energy. If something fits the moment, it fits—whether that leans progressive, melodic, deeper, Afro… it doesn’t matter. The thread that holds it together is feeling. If it’s honest, it works. There’s always pressure to label things neatly, but I’ve never found that helpful. The best sets I’ve heard—and the ones I try to play—don’t sit in one box.

At a stage in your career when most people would have been happy to keep gigging, you went back to school and enrolled at Point Blank Music School to properly develop your production skills. That is quite a move. What drove that decision, and what did it genuinely unlock for you when you finally had the technical language to match what you were hearing in your head?

I got to a point where I knew what I wanted to hear, but I couldn’t fully translate it. That’s frustrating.
Going to Point Blank was about closing that gap. It gives you the tools, the language. Suddenly ideas that were stuck in your head become something you can actually build and refine. It just opens everything up creatively.

Since then the production work has really accelerated. Alleviate going to number one on Beatport, Push with Lexicon Avenue, The Calling, the Quantum Verse EP with Dave Walker. How would you describe where the Fordal sound sits right now, and what are the things you keep gravitating back toward when you are in the studio building something from the ground up?

Right now, it sits somewhere emotional but still quite driving. There’s always a melodic core, but it’s not soft—it still needs to work in a club. I keep coming back to feeling, again. Atmosphere, tension, progression. Tracks that evolve rather than just loop. That’s usually the starting point when I’m in the studio.

There is always that gap between what something sounds like on headphones at two in the afternoon and what it does on a proper system at four in the morning. How do you work to close that, and does it actually change the decisions you make during the build?

That gap is real. What works in the studio doesn’t always translate. So you’re constantly referencing—different systems, different environments. And yeah, it does affect decisions. You think more about space, about how elements sit, how things will hit at volume. It’s about building something that holds up wherever it’s played.

You have played Ministry of Sound, EGG London, Turnmills, The Arena back in Middlesbrough. Every room is different and every crowd reads differently. When you walk into a venue for the first time, what is going through your mind, and is there a night that still stands out as the one where everything came together exactly as it should?

First thing is always the room. The sound, the layout, the crowd—how it feels before you even play a record.
Every night is different, but there are those moments where everything aligns. The crowd, the music, the timing… you don’t really control it, but when it happens, you know. Those are the nights you carry with you.

Now, the Forensic Records story is a fascinating one. Founded in 1997, built through Sasha, Digweed, Dave Seaman, Danny Howells, a genuine piece of progressive house history. And now you are co-owner alongside Chris Scott. How did that actually come about, and what does it feel like to be looking after something that was part of the soundtrack to your own musical education?

It came quite naturally, really. Through conversations, shared vision, and a respect for what Forensic represents. I had some music Chris and Peter (our other partner) were interested in. I started working with Chris in the studio, eventually they both asked me to be a partner in the company. It wasn’t just about a financial investment, more the time and love of what we were doing! To be involved now is a privilege. It’s a label that played a part in shaping my own taste, so there’s a responsibility there—to honour that history but also move it forward.

When you and Chris are sitting with a record trying to decide if it belongs on Forensic, what is the conversation actually like? Is there a checklist, or is it more of a gut feeling, and can you articulate what it is you are listening for?

It’s more instinct than anything. You know pretty quickly when something connects. Ultimately we both know what’s best for the label and its future and were both invested in pushing it forward. We challenge each other, of course, but always in the spirit of moving forward. We’ll talk about it, of course—how it fits, where it could sit—but it usually comes down to a feeling. Does it have depth? Does it say something? That’s what we’re listening for.

Progressive house and melodic techno are clearly connecting with a younger audience right now and there is real energy in the scene again. How do you feel about that, and do you find yourself thinking differently about who is in the room when you are playing or releasing music?

It’s good to see that energy again. There’s a new generation connecting with the sound, but also bringing their own take on it. I don’t think it changes how I approach things too much, though. You still play the room in front of you. If anything, it just adds another layer to who might be there and how they respond.

You are carrying a lot at once: DJ, producer, label co-owner—all of it feeding into each other. Where does Fordal go from here, and if a young kid in Middlesbrough or Newcastle is reading this right now and just starting to find their way into this music, what would you actually want them to know?

Just keep going, really. Don’t rush it. Take time to understand the music, not just play it. There’s no shortcut to developing your own sound—that comes from years of listening, learning, and making mistakes. If you’re doing it for the right reasons, it’ll find its way.

With all of that,  what’s next?!

Well I have my new release out now on Plastic Fantastic’Cyber Lights’ EP. Two tracks from this release are only exclusive mix. There’s lots to come from Forensic Records of course, including our next release from Jon Towell and Dave Lazenby ‘Steel Yard’ which also features in my mix. Finally lots more music from myself, I’ve included some brand new material hot out of my studio in my Decoded Mix enjoy

TRACKLISTING

Vincent Inc – Geshalt (Original Mix) – Manuscript Records 

Amber Stomp – Fillim (Extended Mix) Thunderlab Collective 

Brunello, Hilel Lev – Apathy (Original Mix) – Melloe Circus Records 

Tim Green, PROFF – Sophia (Extended Mix) – Anjunadeep

Amber Stomp – 330×14 (Volen Sentir Extended Mix) – Thunderlab Collective 

HAFT – Kaleidoscope – Movement Records 

Federico Barga – Way Out (Ulises Espindola Remix) – Venture Records 

Fordal – Glader (Dowden Remix) – Plastic Fantastic Records

Hobin Rude – Slow Escape (Rolasoul Remix) – Friday Island 

Kamilo Sanclemente – No Regrets (Mayro Extended Mix) – Univack 

Zuccasam – Open Arms (Vocal Mix) – District Records 

Sasha, Franky Wah – Get On My Level (Dub) – Last Night On Earth 

Jon Towell, Dave Lazenby – Steel Yard (Gowzer Remix) – Forensic Records 

ID – ID

Hobin Rude – Then and Now (Paege Remix) – Inspired by Trees Remix) 

Marc Romboy, Bodai – Evert Day (Original Mix) – Bedrock Records

Shane Robinson – Visions – MNL

ID – ID

Zuccasam – Flip No (Original Mix) – Selador 

Fordal – Cyber Lights (Zuccasam Remix) – Plastic Fantastic Records 

Dougal Fox – Mothers Love (Moshic Remix) – Ray of Light Records

New Order – Temptation (Fordal Rework)    

by Paul Andres

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