Pauzewear's origins lie in the way I've always worked, and in what I've watched change over time.
I’ve spent most of my life around music. DJing for over thirty years teaches you how to listen properly — not just to records, but to people, to rooms, to moments. You learn patience. You learn timing. You learn that meaning doesn’t come from volume, and that forcing something usually strips it of what made it special in the first place.
I started out on turntables, and that’s where my love for DJing really lived. Vinyl wasn’t just a format to me — it was part of the experience. The weight of a record in your hands, the physical connection to the music, the way it sounded through a speaker. Vinyl always felt deeper and fuller to me. It had more soul. It demanded attention, and it rewarded it.
When DJing became digital and controllers took over clubs, I didn’t move with it. Partly out of principle, and partly because it didn’t feel the same. I understood the convenience, but the connection wasn’t there for me. Using a controller never gave me the same satisfaction as working with turntables. Once that feeling went, the enjoyment started to go with it too.
Looking back, I can be honest about that choice. Not adapting sooner probably limited me moving forward in club spaces. The scene changed, and I stayed where I felt comfortable. By 2016, I stepped away from playing clubs altogether. I didn’t feel like I belonged in that environment anymore. The culture had changed, and so had I.
Radio felt different. The pace was slower. The purpose was clearer. I did use digital there, of course, but the focus wasn’t on performance or keeping up appearances. It was about selection, depth, and letting music breathe.
The Unique Reggae Mix Show started weekly, then moved to fortnightly, and eventually to monthly. As the music went deeper into roots reggae and dub, rushing it felt wrong. These weren’t playlists designed to fill time. They were meant to say something. Slowing down wasn’t stepping back — it was a way of protecting meaning in a world that was moving faster and listening less.
Pauzeradio grew from that place. It became a way to document the work properly, to keep it intact rather than constantly reshaping it to suit changing demands. The website still exists, and it represents years of consistency and care. But I also recognised that I was changing alongside it.
Over the years, the way music is consumed changed completely. Streaming replaced a lot of what DJs used to do — selection, discovery, guidance. What once felt curated became automated. Speed replaced depth. Output became more important than intention. Voices didn’t disappear, but many were softened, buried, or pushed to the edges if they didn’t fit the system.
That shift mattered to me.
At some point, it became clear that I didn’t want to keep chasing systems that reward speed over substance. I wanted to put energy into something tangible. Something slower. Something built with intention, outside of constant optimisation and approval.
Pauzewear grew from that decision.
It isn’t about reacting to trends or keeping pace with a culture that moves on too quickly. It’s about choosing how to work when attention is short and meaning is often diluted. Doing things properly. Letting ideas take the time they need. Accepting that not everything needs to be loud, fast, or endlessly repeated to matter.
I don’t need to define what comes next with radio. The work exists. The history exists. What matters more is staying honest about where I am now, rather than forcing myself to keep producing within systems that don’t value depth.
Pauzewear exists because I still believe in care, in patience, and in work that holds its shape even when the environment around it keeps shifting.
For the progress we all need to see
Unity is the key that will set us all free
This isn’t about rejecting change.
It’s about refusing to disappear inside it.
