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T. R.
30. 10. 2018

The 28-year-old Belgian DJ and producer is completely unstoppable right now.

On social media her every post, video and pic is met with rapture. And, especially, they bring gifts to her shows: from bunches of sunflowers to local football shirts with ‘Amelie’ on the back (she has 10 so far), a pillow in Serbia, a big flag with ˝you are always welcome in our country˝ on it in Uruguay, artwork by the score, from drawings to a hand-painted jacket with her picture on the back to a painting of her cats (she couldn’t cart the frame around South America so she cut the canvas out and has it proudly displayed on the wall at home), toys for her cats (in Belfast), a ring with a cat on it, “really touching letters” and a whole lot more.

Amelie said:

˝It’s really unbelievable. Especially as most of the things people do or give are things that I really like. It’s as though they actually know me. I think I read somewhere that I’m the loved and most hated DJ ever, and I thought, it’s true, I am.˝

The criticism, that somehow her success is ˝unreal˝ or ˝unearned˝, cuts her deeply – particularly when it comes from those she looks up to – but she gets it. Older DJs grew up in a different time, whereas she had fans in countries she hadn’t even visited yet, thanks to social media. Lens commented: ˝It just happened so fast. So I understand. It’s going to take me ten more years to prove myself, but I’m going to do it.˝

Amelie has gone  from relative unknown to techno’s hottest property in the past two years. The 28-year-old has played massive stages at festivals includingAwakenings and Drumcode, released multiple EPs, including three on Pan-Pot’s Second State, and started her own imprint, Lenske. She has hundreds of thousands of fans on Instagram and Facebook who follow her every move. And, as we learn over a few hours wandering around Antwerp, her storming ascent has been a combination of extremely hard work and a few cosmic strokes of good luck.

Techno first grabbed Amelie when she was just 15 years old, attending Belgium’s renowned Dour Festival.

˝My friends had a list of things they wanted to see, but I didn’t really care,˝ Lens said.

Lens, an independent spirit from an early age, was wandering around Dour by herself one night when she walked into the techno tent. She doesn’t remember who was playing, just the feeling that came over her as the beats hammered out of the speakers.

She said: ˝It was just so dark and loopy, there were no breakdowns. I was like, ‘What is this?!’ and I loved it.”

Techno had Lens at ‘hello’, and she would spend the rest of her teenage years crossing Belgium by train by herself to attend gigs“I didn’t go there to talk, so I wouldn’t really meet anyone,” she says. “I just went for the music.”

She remembers getting home at 10am the morning after a Boys Noize gig. Her grandmother, with whom she lived, was worried sick. When Lens went to Dour, she told her grandma she was going camping.“I was a horrible teenager,” she laughed. “My poor grandmother!”

A lot of her fans are familiar with her grandmother, having seen footage of the 80-year-old dancing to Amelie’s set at Pukkelpop Festival in August last year.

˝She didn’t really understand what I do,˝ Amelie said; ˝she would tell her friends I was travelling the world singing.˝ So she decided to show her.

The festival turned it into a vlog, which caused some to accuse Lens of pulling a publicity stunt. ˝It couldn’t be further from the truth,˝ said Amelie.˝She’s one of the most important people in my life.˝

When Amelie was only 5 years old, her 32-year-old mother, who had raised her on her own, died of a sudden heart attack. Amelie was there when it happened. For the next 6 years she was carted between her aunts’ houses as they tried to deal with their own growing families and a troubled little girl. She was then sent to live with her grandmother when she was 11.

˝In hindsight, those first six months after my mum died were crucial, but no-one ever told me what happened; we didn’t really talk about it. My aunt told me she went to heaven but I didn’t know what that was. I was so confused. I became “cold and closed”, too scared to get close to anyone in case something happened to them. I didn’t sleep well, I didn’t eat well, I was pretty fucked up,˝ Amelie said.

But the trauma of losing her mother also made Lens the person she is today: relentlessly ambitious and squeezing every last second out of life.

As well as walking into the techno tent, another thing happened at Dour that would have a huge impact on Lens’ life. On the way out, the gangly 15-year-old was scouted by a modelling agency.˝I was not the pretty girl at school, I was the tall skinny one. I was like, ‘Huh’?˝ she said.

But after an early job for Levi’s proved lucrative, Ameliw saw a way to help her grandmother make ends meet. ˝People give me a hard time about the modelling, but everyone had a job before they were DJs,˝ she said.

˝Before I modelled, I was cleaning toilets. Of course I was going to choose modelling over cleaning toilets.˝

She didn’t particularly enjoy her 10 years of modelling, especially being told what to do, but like everything she applies herself to, she became good at it. She spent a lot of time in Paris and was a favourite of Jean Paul Gaultier, who called her ˝Ma petite Belge.˝

 But the agencies always knew that DJing was her first love˝They found me at a music festival, so they knew,˝ said Amelie, who also used to make soundtracks for fashion shows. One clothing brand that she never modelled for flew her to Beijing to play at an event, but when another client asked her to play pop songs in Berlin, she turned it down.

˝I told them, that’s not what I do,˝ said Amelie, who was well into darker house music and techno at that point.

Three years after she fell in love with techno, she started learning to DJ and produce tracks with the help of SamThe two met in a club on the night of her 18th birthday and bonded over their shared love of the same music.

˝I went in the studio with him so many times because I could learn more easily from him. Instead of watching YouTube videos I could see how it worked. I started making edits for myself, like old-school tracks with a different kick, and that’s basically how I started to produce˝, Amelie said.

They started a party series in Antwerp together called Matterhorn and Lens began DJing under a variety of aliases, including Soren, with Rosalie de Meyer (they would end up playing a party with DJ Hell in Munich), and Renee, which was her mother’s name.

And, while still modelling, DJing and producing, Amelie and Sam launched an oatmeal company, Baerbar. Amelie is very health conscious.

˝I hate seeing mums buy their kids junk at the supermarket. At first I wanted to make health bars that could be sold in schools, but we ended up going with oatmeal in a cup.˝ Amelie said.

The couple bought a three-story house in Antwerp. They made oatmeal on the ground floor, their music studio was on level two and they slept on level three. But almost instantly, the oatmeal was a hit. Their house wasn’t big enough to keep up with the demand for Baerbar.˝We would do everything ourselves – I remember crying with exhaustion one night while I was putting fruit and oats in the cups,˝ she laughed.

By this point, Lens had started DJing under her birth name and created an accompanying Facebook page and SoundCloud account where she posted podcasts. And one day, after months of sending her tracks to labels without a reply, Italian label Lyase told her they wanted to release the tense, atmospheric ‘Exhale’, with Lens’ trademark breathy vocals prominent in the mix. Berlin duo Pan-Pot heard the record and wanted to sign it too, only Lyase beat them to it.

So they approached Lens and told her they’d like to sign her next record. They were taken with her “rough but fresh sound”, says Pan-Pot’s Thomas Benedix. “In my eyes, Amelie was bringing back the old acid sound from the 90s. I totally forgot how fun it was to listen to this kind of energised, fast techno from back in the day, and I love how she combines it with her own fresh influences.”

˝I cried on our first Skype call, I was just so happy,˝ said Lens, who describes the Pan-Pot guys as ˝a family˝. ˝Exhale˝ found another famous fan, too: Maceo Plex.

˝I was still playing really small gigs back then,˝said Amelie, ˝and someone messaged me [with a video from a Maceo gig] like, ‘Hey, isn’t this your track?’. I started crying. Sam came in saying, ‘What’s wrong?’ and I just said, ‘Look’!”

When Lens turned her full focus on music, she rose staggeringly fast. Richie Hawtin remembers seeing her at a showcase at ADE 2017 and being blown away:

˝I saw that she was surrounded by a bunch of mostly male DJs and delegates all just stood there watching her. I know how much I hate it when you’re trying to play and there are people just standing motionless behind you – it’s so annoying! So I decided to go on the dancefloor and dance. I couldn’t see Amelie from where I was and was sucked into the music she was playing, a mix of old and new strong techno records, tough but not hard, fast and throbbing, hypnotic and energised. Honestly, it was really refreshing to hear a techno set that wasn’t too abrasive and didn’t make you feel like you should be marching instead of dancing. It was definitely intense, but there was an underlying groove that made it fun and infectious.˝

Adam Beyer, who was reeled in by her work on Pan-Pot’s label, describes her as having “a unique pure form of timeless techno. You can feel the passion when watching her – there are only a few DJs with that energy, that ‘it’ factor.”

The pressure Amelie puts on herself is enormous. She is forensic about researching which artists are most popular in each city, modifying her sets to suit; she asks venue owners about the best ever night in their club.

She wants hers to be better. That means preparation: researching who’s playing before and after, and the club’s layout and history; tailoring her set to the time she’s playing and even spending at least 20 minutes studying the crowd before she steps up to the decks. Nothing is left to chance.

In Antwerp, as her set finishes, the people at the front of the packed club are sweating; there are no lulls in Lens’ sets, just constant incentives to keep dancing. Her last, unreleased track combines steely drum clatter with rocky guitar lines and a vocal that competes with deafening cheers and whistles, hands raised overhead and faces that are the human embodiment of the ‘heart eyes’ emoji, as it fades out.

The DJ flashes a megawatt grin back at the crowd. Amelie Lens, self-confessed control freak, is having the time of her life – and it shows.

That smile is real. Amelie Lens is real, and nobody can not stop her now.

 She will release her new EP ˝Basiel˝  on Lenske in November.

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