Max HeyraudBryan Kearney reflects on his iconic career, the evolution of Ireland’s trance scene, and his powerful connection to club music, opening up about everything from his no-phone policy to emotional tributes to his parents.
Bryan Kearney is an Irish trance stalwart whose storied career embodies the high-octane energy and euphoria associated with Ireland’s club landscape. His career has been shaped by his formative experiences during the golden years of Dublin’s trance and techno scene, with iconic venues like The Temple Theatre and The Point playing significant roles in shaping his approach to music today.
As an artist who has achieved success that many could only dream of, it’s truly commendable that Bryan remains deeply connected to his roots, continually drawing inspiration from those early years on the other side of the booth. Not only does he honour these influences, but he’s also actively passing the torch to the next generation of Irish trance talent, ensuring that the flame burns brightly for the future, not just for himself, but for a scene that he treasures.
We caught up with Bryan in the lead-up to his highly anticipated Kearnage Put Down Your Phones Party 2.0 at The Telegraph Building in Belfast. Kearney is introducing a strict no-phone policy for the colossal venue, a bold move for a space of its size. For Bryan, this isn’t just about nostalgia—it’s about reconnecting with the raw, undistracted energy of the crowd in a world that’s constantly glued to screens.
In this interview, we also dive into Bryan’s journey, exploring both the highs and lows of the industry, and reflect on the deeply emotional moments that have shaped his recent performances. Included is an unforgettable tribute to his late mother—a moment that’s raw and deeply personal. Bryan Kearney is open, real, and unfiltered here, leaving everything on the table in this candid conversation.
Let’s start with your upcoming Kearnage Put Down Your Phones Party 2.0 at The Telegraph Building. What inspired you to introduce a no-camera policy for this event?
In recent years, I’ve noticed crowds just aren’t dancing like they used to. Some shows are exceptions, but overall, dance music has become more of a stance. People stand around, holding their phones, filming, and lacking energy. I started clubbing in a pre-social media era, so I can compare. I don’t think everything was better back then, but the goal was to merge the energy and presence of the past with today’s production and technology, deepening my connection with the audience.
Belfast was the perfect place to debut this idea—it’s supported me a lot in recent years. The crowd was a mix of ages, giving older fans a chance to relive their glory days while introducing the new generation to something different. We’re all addicted to our phones and social media, but I wanted to encourage people to be present, focus on the music, and enjoy the moment with their mates.
The response was incredible—it was our fastest-selling show ever, selling out 10 days in advance with over 1,200 people on the waiting list. We recorded everything for the audience, with high-quality visuals and audio now available on my YouTube and SoundCloud. Demand was high for another, so we’re back at The Telegraph on May 17th for Put Down Your Phones 2.0.
You’re also playing for five hours, which is quite unusual for Ireland. Do you prefer longer DJ sets, and what makes an extended performance more special for you?
It all depends on the crowd. There are only certain places where I will play longer sets. The Telegraph in Belfast has become an annual event for me to play an Open To Close. I love the venue, the sound, the production, the space, everything about it. It allows me to play the entire night, and to build it from start to finish in my way. I’ve always said that I’m a DJ who makes music, not a producer who DJs. There’s a big difference.
I have a wide & varied taste in music, it’s been my life and obsession for as long as I can remember, and these longer sets allow me to showcase my love for what I do. Argentina is another place that I always play for longer, because the crowd is so good, so much passion & energy. We feed off each other. I played for four hours, two nights in a row, in Buenos Aires last year for our Kearnage Argentina event. The longest I’ve played for was a 7-hour Open to Close at Ministry of Sound at Kearnage London back in 2023. I didn’t leave the DJ box once, not one toilet break. It’s mentally & physically draining, and there are certain times during the set where you will hit a wall, but as long as the crowd is with you, they give you the energy to keep going.
This set will be built around audience requests, which is a really unique concept. Where did the inspiration for this approach come from?
I’ve done this before in Argentina, during the first night of the Kearnage Weekender 2024. Rather than playing a similar set two nights in a row, I asked the crowd for track suggestions—songs they’d heard me play before in Buenos Aires. It was all about deepening that connection.
With our second Belfast event in four months, we had to switch things up while keeping the no phones concept. I spend countless hours digging through SoundCloud and Bandcamp, searching for tracks I’ve never played before. For this show, I want to take audience requests but challenge myself to find different versions of tracks I’ve played before—maybe layering vocals from one over another. I’ve also promised to remix a requested track and debut it on the night. I’m excited, and there’s a lot of work to do before then.
Shifting to your label, Kearnage, how did you first discover Modeā? He recently released with you—how did you guys first meet, and what has it been like working together?
I first came across Modeā in 2022 when I heard his track Era of Rave. Curious about who he was, I looked him up on Instagram and was surprised to see he was already following me—and even more surprised to learn he was just 21 and from Donegal. He’s incredibly talented. That year, he had the biggest track of the summer with Shine, a genre-crossing anthem played by everyone—a true mark of a special song.
Modea’s production blends emotion and energy in a way I connect with. I always try to support the next generation, especially Irish artists, because I’ve been in their shoes—chasing a dream in the dance music scene. He remixed my track Shine A Light, supported my Kearnage Belfast event in 2024, and recently released Chemical Love on the label—one of my favorite tracks in recent years. I believe he has a bright future, and I’ll continue offering guidance wherever I can.
You’ve been a part of the Irish dance music scene for many years. How would you describe the state of the scene right now?
Honestly, I don’t know—I’m out of the loop with what’s happening in Dublin and across the country. What I do know is that the industry is neglected, and those in charge have no interest in supporting it. So many nightclubs have closed in recent years, which isn’t a good sign. There was talk of extending Ireland’s opening hours, but that no longer seems to be a priority.
I have huge respect for Sunil Sharpe and the Give Us The Night team for continuing to push the issue. The contrast with Northern Ireland is stark—up there, dance music is nurtured, celebrated, and encouraged. Gigs happen there that would never get the green light down South. They understand how vital the scene is, not just for nightlife but for bringing people from different backgrounds together.
For such a small island, Ireland has produced incredible talent across all the arts, not just dance music. It’s frustrating that the government doesn’t recognize or support that.
You’re playing B2B with trance legend Mauro Picotto at Index on Easter Sunday. What’s your relationship with Mauro? Was he an inspiration to you, and what does it mean to share the decks with him?
Mauro is my idol—no one has inspired me more. Getting to know him over the past few years and becoming colleagues has been surreal. I’ve been obsessed with dance music since I was a kid, but Mauro was the first DJ who made me want to turn it into a career. I loved how he fused melodic moments with dark, pounding sounds—that balance has shaped my style, always sitting between melody and beats, darkness and light.
The Temple Theatre nights were legendary—ask anyone who was there. The energy, the stage presence, the unpredictability—you never knew what was coming next. He was loved in Ireland then, and still is now.
Last year, I found out we’d be playing back-to-back at Dreamstate in California. I couldn’t believe it. It went really well, the chemistry was there, and now, the upcoming back-to-back at Index on Easter Sunday is a dream come true. I’ve wanted this for years, and I can’t think of a better place for it. The response has been incredible—it’s almost sold out—and I’m beyond excited. It’s going to be special.
On Instagram, you wrote: “He’s the man that properly ignited my passion and desire to pursue music as a full-time career, ever since I saw him play at the Temple Theatre in Dublin when I was 17, sneaking in with a fake ID.” Can you take us back to that time? What was Dublin’s club culture like back then, and was trance dominating the scene?
I’m grateful to have grown up in the era I did—the last generation before phones and social media took over. Dublin was incredibly vibrant. The Temple Theatre was the first club I went to at 17, sneaking in with my photo cello-taped onto someone else’s license. It was rough around the edges, but that gave it character. The door policy was relaxed, and it was full of mad bastards. I went every week for over two years—the atmosphere was unmatched.
At the same time, pirate radio stations were thriving, and I started my own Saturday night show. I’d do my set, have a few cans, then head to The Temple. Eventually, I got to know the owner and started my own night downstairs in The Crypt.
There were massive events at The Point Depot with Gatecrasher, Godskitchen, and Cream on rotation. Festivals like Homelands and The Winter Party in Mosney were legendary—the latter was a circus tent in a freezing November field with Sasha, John Digweed, and Darren Emerson. I went to Judgement Sunday at The Point three days before my Leaving Cert. I’d have done better if I skipped it, but there was no way I was missing Picotto’s first gig there.
Creamfields ran in Punchestown for three years, and everyone I knew went—it wasn’t just a select few. The Red Box had Deep Dish, Carl Cox, Paul Van Dyk, and Dave Clarke, while Temple Bar Music Centre (now Button Factory) hosted Chris Liebing and DJ Rush. Gigs happened every week, and much of that music still holds up today.
I wouldn’t say trance dominated—we loved all kinds of gigs. Moving into the 2000s, you had Melodica, Acii Disco, and the legendary day parties at McGruders on James Street. It was a wild, hedonistic time—probably too much partying—but the memories are priceless.
We’ve spoken a lot about the past—now let’s look ahead. What DJs and artists are exciting you right now? And more generally, what’s inspiring you about music at the moment?
The most exciting thing about dance music right now is that genre walls have come down—it’s hard to box anything into a specific category anymore. Everything is blending, crossing over.
A couple of artists are inspiring me at the moment. Benwal, a Dutch DJ, is one. I found one of his sets last year and have had it on repeat since—very ’90s-inspired but with a modern twist. Entasia is another artist I’ve been playing a lot. His sound is also heavily ’90s-driven, full of Korg M1 Piano melodies, but with top-tier production and massive energy.
One thing I’ve noticed about the new generation is how open they are with their music. I messaged both of them to say how much I liked their tracks, and they were happy to share unreleased tunes—completely different from my generation, where people tend to guard their tracks.
SoundCloud statistics suggest trance is having a massive revival this year. What do you think is driving this resurgence in popularity?
Again, this comes down to genre walls no longer existing. In recent years, melodies have made a major comeback, BPMs have increased, and high-tempo, melodic tracks are often labeled as “trance.”
I think this shift traces back to lockdown—18 months without clubs made people nostalgic. Everyone started revisiting older music, yearning for the past, and that bled into the productions of many artists. The sound today is heavily ’90s and early 2000s-inspired.
The track that really kick-started this was Calvin Harris’s Miracle—a 143 BPM euro-dance vocal track that dominated the radio. More tracks followed suit, and the trend has only grown. Artists like Marlon Hoffstadt are massive now, pushing this high-energy, melodic sound. As the SoundCloud stats show, high tempo and melodies are in fashion, and long may it continue.
On Instagram last year, you reflected on your journey: “Back in 2006, I was working 12-hour days on a building site as an apprentice electrician. I hated it. All I wanted to do was play & make music.” When you made the leap to pursue music full-time, how certain were you? What ultimately pushed you to make that decision?
I always wanted to do this full-time. After school, I spent two years at Ballyfermot College earning a diploma in Sound Engineering, but the course focused on bands, which didn’t interest me. I worked as a cleaner, then started an electrical apprenticeship—something I never wanted but did to keep my parents happy and fund nights out.
I didn’t start DJing regularly until 2006 in the UK & Ireland. Over the next few years, things took off, but I was still an apprentice, dreading work every day. The Star newspaper’s “Clubmix” section covered the dance scene, and I was in it nearly every Friday. The lads at work would read it and ask why I was on a building site. I even took two weeks off to tour Australia. In 2008, I was temporarily laid off and found myself playing for 12,000 people with Tiësto in Poland—still technically an out-of-work apprentice.
I promised my parents I’d finish my apprenticeship before going full-time with music. I was laser-focused. In April 2009, I walked off the building site and never went back. I didn’t even collect my qualification—found it at my Ma’s recently and threw it out.
I became a full-time DJ/producer at the worst time—the height of the recession. Friends emigrated, my best mate moved to Australia, and I had to give up my apartment, moving into a box room. I was broke, living off savings, and partying too much. It was tough, but it pushed me to get my act together. The fear of a “normal job” kept me going—and still does. I even have recurring dreams of being back on-site, and they terrify me.
Now, with three young kids, I’m as driven as ever. The best part of my job? I get to be a full-time father while doing what I love. I have 5% of the time I used to for music, but that makes me even more grateful. Life is hectic, but this is how it has to be.
Your set at A State Of Trance in Rotterdam ended on an emotional note with a tribute to your mother. You wrote: “Instagram & social media is usually about portraying the perfect version of yourself & your life, but it’s tough at the moment, and still very raw, but I know that I will be ok. It’s not about being perfect, it’s about being human.” Can you share more about that moment and the backstory behind it?
My father passed away from pancreatic cancer in 2016. It was a shock—he died just three weeks after being diagnosed. My mother had been battling cancer since 2022, and in February of this year, she lost her fight.
After my dad passed, I wrote By My Side and played it for the first time at A State of Trance in 2016. When my mom passed, my first gig after her funeral, just five days later, was also A State of Trance. I had spent so much time with her in the hospice, and on the long drive home, the Spice Girls song Mama kept playing in my head. That’s when the idea hit me—taking the vocal from Mama and blending it into By My Side as a tribute. It turned out both tracks were in the same key, and they fit together perfectly. Maybe it was meant to be.
I made a tribute version to play that night in Rotterdam. It was one of the hardest gigs I’ve ever done. I held it together as best I could, staying professional throughout the set, but as the final track approached, the emotions overwhelmed me. I burst into tears—I couldn’t hold it in. The crowd was incredible, offering me so much support, and I’m truly grateful for that.
So many people reached out before and after the show, sharing their own stories of loss. That moment was all about being human. Losing a parent is one of the hardest things we go through, and standing on a stage doesn’t make anyone immune. The grief is still raw, and I know I haven’t even fully started to process it yet—but that will come in its own time.
Finally, what advice would you give to up-and-coming artists trying to break into the industry?
The first bit of advice I always give to up-and-coming artists is to learn how to make your own music. This will help you stand out from the crowd. Be patient—it takes time to learn how to produce, but it’s never been easier than it is now, with endless templates, tutorials, and resources available. When I started, I didn’t have these luxuries.
Don’t expect things to happen overnight. It can take years of hard work and dedication. Don’t compare yourself to established artists on social media; stay focused on your own journey. Be respectful and build relationships—get to know as many people as you can. Reach out to promoters, DJs, and anyone in the industry. Consistency is key.
One thing I really want to emphasize is the importance of looking after your health, both physically and mentally. This industry is tough, and the pressures can be overwhelming. Drink and drugs are part of the scene, but after partying hard for years and working on my own mental health, I can’t stress enough how crucial it is to prioritize your well-being. Your health is everything, and you only truly realize that as you get older.
