Kiki Wesselo just does her thing—which reads as a nondescript introduction. But it’s actually quite telling. More commonly known by her DJ name, KI/KI might play hard trance or acid at Amsterdam’s iconic queer-party-turned-club one night (where she’s a beloved resident-slash-community member), and go B2B with Armin Van Buuren the next. Hand in hand with Dutch music festival Draaimolen, she programmes huge stages, pushing for acts the already diverse festival would’ve never conceived of booking. Other times, she ponders how – given the chance – she can soak more queerness into the namely straight, mainstream festival landscape.
She goes on cycling holidays to small Dutch villages. She tours the world. She literally dreams up her tracks—or produces them mid-car ride (with what must be an admirable lack of carsickness), only to drop them during a festival set three hours later and whip the crowd into a frenzy. Sometimes, she gets so consumed by the vibe of her eight-hour set that she just doesn’t leave the decks at all (nor, does the audience leave the dance floor), bodily needs be damned! Other times, she meticulously asks her Instagram followers which unreleased track they’d like to hear in a pending set – as is the case with her upcoming live set at Draaimolen. In short: there are few things KI/KI wouldn’t do. And—considering that her razor-sharp sound and unstoppable energy have catapulted her to something like superstar DJ status—there are very few things she can’t do. But she’ll always do them the KI/KI way.
Let’s start by digging into a fascinating piece of trivia about you; the first track you released came to you in a dream while you were on a cycling holiday, right?
That’s true! When my head is stress-free, I get these music dreams. I’ve had many since, but that was the first. Back then, I thought it would be relaxing to cycle somewhere. I bought this racing bike from a friend and cycled to Biddinghuizen, to the home of my grandparents, who were away on holiday. It took five hours, I slept there for a few days, cycled everywhere and cleared my head. I could look at everything from a distance: find solutions for things I didn’t even know needed solving, you know? That’s also when I dreamed Leave it to the vibe.
What happened in the dream?
I was standing in Berghain with this guy I was dating back then. He came to me in the dream, like: Whoa, this is such a sick track! What’s it called? And I was like: I don’t know. I don’t think it even exists! Then, I woke up and started recording the vocals and drums on my phone. And then I just made it the next day.
And you’ve released more tracks since, including 5 Mins Of Acid, which was already iconic on the dance floor before its release. What was that process like?
I made 5 Mins Of Acid in the car, on the way from Melbourne to Pitch festival. To be honest, the arrangement and everything, it’s not a very complicated track. So I played the first demo version when I arrived at the festival. Playing it right away was a pretty bold move, but people responded great. Because, in my opinion, the track was so simple, I just played it in my sets for a long time without a release plan. But then, a year later, I was like, why not?! So I made a full EP around it.
Do more producers take this approach, teasing tracks and working on them in sets for a long time? Or is that unique to you?
Maybe. The amount of time I take is unique, but teasing tracks and playing them out is common. It’s a good way to test the arrangement, how it sounds, and what elements need adjusting. It works well to test it, work on it, test it again, and then release it. But I wouldn’t recommend to wait a year!
I feel like there’s a certain playfulness to your music—whether it’s a cheeky vocal or a certain beat drop. Is that a conscious move?
When I first started playing, I had this mindset that music is about fun. I even wanted to make people laugh with my sets. I used to play a lot of New Beat, which can be so ridiculous, and I love that because people can sometimes take music a bit too seriously. Over time, I shifted to playing more melodic, steady tracks. I did go through a phase where I, and the people around me, wanted to become more ‘credible.’ Or rather, I felt like I was being pushed in that direction, and I was pretty young, so maybe influenced by that too much. But it wasn’t me.
Now, I just want to do my own thing again. I don’t want anything to feel forced. It’s about having fun, releasing, and processing things. Sometimes, sets can be therapeutic for people, which is beautiful. But I don’t want to overthink it. So I’m back to embracing the craziness a bit more.
Now, I just want to do my own thing again. I don’t want anything to feel forced. It’s about having fun, releasing, and processing things. Sometimes, sets can be therapeutic for people, which is beautiful. But I don’t want to overthink it. So I’m back to embracing the craziness a bit more.
Set-wise, you often play very long, high-energy sets. How do you keep that spirit up for five-plus hours?
Of course, the approach with these all-nighters is different. People come for your sound, so you can pretty much play what you want. Even when I’m playing slower or deeper sounds, there’s always a high-energy situation going on. It’s such a nice feeling when people don’t want to leave the dance floor. You know that feeling? When you have to pee but you don’t want to stop dancing? I sometimes don’t, even when playing for eight hours, just because I’m enjoying the vibe so much. That’s probably not very healthy (laughs).
“When I first started playing, I had this mindset that music is about fun. I even wanted to make people laugh with my sets.”
An eight-hour office day is already a lot. I can’t imagine playing an eight-hour set.
Honestly, an eight-hour office day would drain me. But playing for eight hours is different; it’s all adrenaline.
DJing does seem like a demanding job, in terms of sleepless nights, travel, long hours, and the constant need to perform. How do you balance all that?
First of all, I literally love my job so much. But it’s also really tough. Like you said, there are sleepless nights, travel, anxiety, and times when you’re sick, and it’s not like you can call in sick because you have to perform for thousands of people. Keeping the balance is about talking to people. If the travel gets too heavy, I tell my agency. I have a tour manager who takes good care of me. And now, I’m getting to a point where I can hopefully be more selective on my schedule and where I’d like (and wouldn’t like) to play.
On that note, you have been a resident at queer party Spielraum for some years. And you still are at their recently-opened club. But you’re headlining major festivals: Sónar, Melt, Draaimolen… What’s this vibe shift like?
The queer community, Spielraum, and everyone around it, they’ve always been there for me: from the very beginning, no matter what I did. Unlike people who wanted to box me into a certain image, they never tried to control or judge me. I discovered that I was into girls while hanging out with them as well. So, they’ve done so much for me, personally and musically.
Now that I’m moving towards bigger stages, which aren’t typically queer spaces, I still want to represent the queer community. I want to educate people who aren’t familiar with it. I know it might be a bit unrealistic, but I want to show them how things can be different.
Now that I’m moving towards bigger stages, which aren’t typically queer spaces, I still want to represent the queer community. I want to educate people who aren’t familiar with it. I know it might be a bit unrealistic, but I want to show them how things can be different.
Do you have any ideas on how you’d do that?
At first, I thought I’d never play at one of those big festivals that doesn’t have a diverse line-up. You know, where you’ve never seen any trans or non-binary people on the main stage? Where it’s mostly just straight guys and, as of recently, some women? But now I’m thinking – if I ever got the chance – I’d try to influence the line-up towards more diversity. Instead of refusing to play because they aren’t diverse, I’d try to make a change from within.
So let’s talk about Draaimolen (which, disclaimer, isn’t one of those non-inclusive festivals). You have played there for some years, right?
Four times in total. Twice back-to-back, once at Draaimolen’s Holy Pink and a live show.
How has that relationship developed over the years?
Milo [the festival’s organiser] is one of the people who has supported me, pretty much since the beginning. My first-ever live show was at Draaimolen. Back then, I hadn’t even released any music. So it’s super sick that they trusted me and just let me do my thing. Over the years, Milo and I became quite close, and I really enjoyed playing there. And now I’m on the main stage!
And you’re not only playing there. You’re actually in charge of it, as the host and curator. From what I understand, this is an approach Draaimolen takes with their other stages too. How did that process go, musically?
It was an interesting journey. Because if you take the general sound of Draaimolen and mine, we’re a bit different. The line-up and programming were about finding that balance. We dug deep into my musical history. Oliver Lieb is a good example. He’s been such an inspiration for all my productions. And it’s so sick to book him now for a live show. Plus, Draaimolen likes to go for that surprise effect, with the secret B23 and special B2B combinations and everything. So we’ve booked acts I’d never thought of booking and other acts Milo would’ve never thought of booking, but together they make perfect sense!
“It’s such a nice feeling when people don’t want to leave the dance floor. You know that feeling? When you have to pee but you don’t want to stop dancing? I sometimes don’t.”
And how involved are you in the other aspects, like lights or stage design?
We discuss everything together. So you can be as involved as you want to be. We had a few meetings about how the stage should look, where I gave my input. I had a few things I wanted – for the crowd to surround the DJ and for them to have this wow-effect. They have a super creative production team, so they took those ideas and now the stage will look super sick.
Your stage, aka the main stage, is called Str/Obe. Can you share a thing or two about the concept?
I’m not sure how much I’m allowed to tease. But let’s put it this way: the name has something to do with the design of the stage…
And what can we expect from your live show?
I just shared a post on Instagram, I have so many unreleased tracks. My last live shows were very much about the party, very high-energy. For Draaimolen, I’m adjusting that setup, making it way more break-y. We’ll work with visuals too, which is sick. Sure, there will be bangers. But it will also be more experimental because Draaimolen is the perfect place for that.
Taking place September 6th and 7th, KI/KI is hosting Draaimolen’s STR/OBE stage and will play there on September 7th.