Max HeyraudWe spoke to Moving Still about his genre-blending sound, fusing vintage Arabic influences with fevered house & italo sounds—a journey that has earned him critical acclaim, international recognition, and a reputation for pushing boundaries on & off the dancefloor.
Moving Still has spent the better part of the last decade carving out his place in Irish club culture. From his debut With Oud to his latest release Close to the Shams, he has always thrived on tearing up the rulebook—pushing boundaries both locally and beyond. His distinctive fusion of vintage Arabic sounds with high-energy house and electronic music has propelled his name to new heights, earning support from Palms Trax, a spot on Mixmag’s Ones to Watch for 2025, topping Rush Hour charts, and landing on key playlists like Altar and Future Pioneer.
The Saudi-Irish DJ and producer, born in Saudi Arabia and now based in Dublin, is behind high-impact tracks like Cheba Yamina’s Sidi Mansour. Now signed to Bordello A Parigi, his catalog spans tastemaker labels such as Cooking with Palms Trax, Orange Tree Edits, Dar Disku, and Disco Arabesquo. His productions—woven with oud-laced melodies and hypnotic rhythms—leave an unmistakable imprint on dancefloors, airwaves, and beyond.
At the core of Moving Still’s rise is his relentless consistency and refusal to settle for the expected. While club culture often claims to push boundaries, few artists genuinely challenge audiences with genre-defying sounds and cultural crossovers the way he does. By seamlessly integrating heritage into the dancefloor, he’s not just making electronic music more inclusive—he’s reshaping its very fabric.
How are you feeling at the minute? You seem to be riding a good wave of positivity at the moment—from being tipped as an artist to watch by Mixmag for 2025, to a successful release party at Fidelity, running club shows again in Tengu, and more.
Hey Four Four, I’m feeling good—almost like I’m about to be handed my flowers. It’s been a beautiful ride, and it feels like everything I’ve worked on has led to this moment, with so much more ahead.
One of my biggest goals has always been to properly plant my feet at home and focus on the things I love—whether that’s running my own club night, creating opportunities for newcomers, or pushing the sound I’m passionate about here. I guess I always knew getting to this point wouldn’t be a straight road, but the bumps along the way have only made it more worthwhile.
Congratulations on your recent EP Close To The Shams—a great body of work. How are you feeling post-release? It feels like a bit of a breakthrough EP for you.
Thank you! This is the first time a release has come out so soon after making it. I only sent the demos in November, so seeing it on shelves just four months later is wild to me. It also means I’m still deeply connected to the music as it reaches people’s ears, which is a really special feeling. I’ve been incredibly lucky that the response has been amazing—it’s honestly exceeded the vision I had for this EP. Feeling very grateful for how it’s all landed.
Would you consider your music, or more specifically this EP, to be conceptual?
Every EP I’ve put out has always had a story—though I don’t always get the chance to share it in full, the emotions behind it tend to be felt on the dancefloor.
This EP, in particular, is packed with emotion—fear, excitement, anger, and love—all intertwined and expressed through the genres I love to make. On top of that, it was written as an ode to my newborn daughter and the love I have for family. Getting to press something so deeply personal onto wax is an incredible feeling.
I want to talk about all the tracks, but my particular favourite is Bang Of Luban. I’d love to delve into the process of creating this—where do you dig for your samples, how do you choose what to use, and how do you mould it all together?
Haha, it’s been a real pleasure seeing everyone connect with different tracks on this EP. Bang of Luban holds a special place for me too.
Luban, in this case, refers to chewing gum—specifically frankincense resin, which is a natural gum. When it’s not burned, it has a very distinct scent that takes me right back to my childhood—whether it was my aunties giving it to me or my dad buying it outside a mosque.
The track itself carries a mix of melancholy and anger. I wrote it in the lead-up to my daughter’s birth, a time when I was absolutely shitting it about becoming a dad of two. I was also deeply worried for my wife after her traumatic experience with our firstborn, and I felt a lot of anger. I wanted to channel all of that into this track.
I built it around a break sample I got from Ambient Babestation Meltdown, who had sourced it from Don’t Be Afraid label owner Benji. I chopped it up, and it started taking on this cathartic energy—exactly how I was feeling at the time. Sonically, I wanted to nod to my earlier productions, layering pads, acid arpeggios, ravey stabs, and big buildups. To tie it all together, I brought in a Luban-flavoured lead to bridge Arabic and Western motifs.
In the run-up to my daughter’s birth and when she was born I was wearing a Luban perfume and that is exactly why I called it Bang of Luban—‘Bang of’ is such an Irish phrase, and Luban is so distinctly Arabic. I always try to find that middle ground between something that feels Arabic and something that, to my ears, also feels Irish. It’s a challenge, but that sweet spot is what I’m always chasing.
Was there ever a time when you made electronic music that wasn’t influenced by your Arab heritage, or have the two always run simultaneously?
I was only starting to think about my cultural identity when I started producing. So in the beginning, my music was all over the place—ambient, house, disco, techno, hip-hop. I hadn’t really found a signature sound yet.
By the time I put out my first mixtape on wherethetimegoes, there was just one track with an Arabic touch. It wasn’t a dominant influence yet, but it was the first sign of me experimenting with that as part of my sound. It wasn’t until I was writing my first EP “With Oud” that it truly became part of Moving Still. In a way, it was a form of acceptance—realising that my identity isn’t just one or the other, it’s both.
At some point, I realised I didn’t have to keep them apart—that I could merge the sounds I grew up with and the club music I love. Once I started doing that, everything clicked into place, and my music became more personal, more me.
What other artists have helped inform your current work?
Sampling is what got me into production—hearing producers flip sounds made me reflect on what I loved in music and pushed me to explore my own. Early on, Jaylib, J Dilla, and Débruit showed me how Arabic influences could weave into beats. Dark Sky’s Gaddagive was a turning point, shifting my whole approach.
Ahmed Fakroun, Ihsan Al-Munzer, and the energy of Dabke and Mahraganat all played a role. Then artists like Omar Souleyman, Rizan Said, and Fatima Al Qadiri pushed me further, from rhythm to futuristic Arabic sounds.
Beyond that, Joker (purple dub), Laurent Garnier, and Four Tet got me into production. Looking back, it’s all led to what I do now.
Prior to the interview, you spoke about “mending your young self” in relation to your identity as an Arab. Do you find music as a creative pursuit to be a form of therapy?
I had a very tough relationship with my cultural identity growing up—feeling like I didn’t fully belong to either my Irish or Arab heritage. Living in Ireland, it often felt like I had to choose one in order to be accepted. The post-9/11 era created so much racism toward brown people that it made it difficult to comfortably share my background, so I used to avoid it altogether.
That took a toll on me. It created a sadness that I carried for a long time, but I was lucky to find music as a way to heal. It allowed me to reconnect with my inner child and mend the fractured identity that both society and I had constructed. Of course, therapy played a huge role in helping me embrace and merge both sides of who I am, but music gave me a space where I could express that journey.
I’ve always hoped that my music would inspire others to bring their heritage to the forefront of their sound—to own it unapologetically. And beyond that, I hope it helps challenge the negative image of Arabs that Western society has created. At first, I didn’t think anyone would care about this aspect of my work—it was something I was doing for myself. But seeing how people have connected with it has made me realise just how important it is
You recently played in Cairo—a gig quite close to your heart. What was the significance of this show?
Cairo has always been on my bucket list, and there was no better way to experience it than playing with the SceneNoise crew. Beyond just the gig, it was a huge compliment to hear from them that my music has inspired so many in the Arabic club scene. That meant a lot to me—it felt like a way of giving back to a community that has embraced and pushed this sound forward.
This trip was even more special because I hadn’t been to Cairo in over 20 years—the last time was a year after I had moved to Ireland. So being back after all that time, and in such a meaningful way, felt surreal. My grandmother is Egyptian, and my grandad’s mother was Egyptian too, so in a way, it felt like I was reconnecting with a part of my heritage.
It was honestly one of the best 24 hours I’ve had—landing, playing an incredible gig, finally meeting friends I’d been in touch with for years, and then having a super rich Egyptian meal. Everything about it was perfect. The SceneNoise team are doing incredible things, and I’d gladly come back to play again.
How did you first come in contact with Palms Trax? He’s been a big supporter of your music.
Ahh, Jay aka Palmsy! Honestly, I can never thank Palms Trax enough for the support he’s given me over the years.
I knew of him for years, but the first time I heard of him playing one of my tunes was when he played my edit of Sidi Mansour during his closing set at Dekmantel. That moment was huge—the track kind of went viral after that, and it started to put me on people’s radar a bit. From then on, he was always happy to hear my music, playing it out regularly, including for the Beatport x Rockstar Games collab which was sick because it means my track was featured in GTA!
When I eventually released Ouddy Bangers Vol. 1, he was a fan and asked me to send a demo for his label, Cooking With Palms Trax. That was such an honour, and in 2022, I put out a six-track release with him. He even invited me to close White Hotel in Manchester for one of his nights—another surreal moment.
Honestly, the lad is just the soundest and has always been a true supporter. What’s mad is that, despite all of this, we’ve only met once in person—for about an hour—while I was playing! He is such a humble guy and looking forward to working with him again.
Your Ouddy Bangers edits series is going down a treat and has been rightfully introducing your work to a broad spectrum of people. Can you explain the idea behind this, and more importantly, when can we expect more?
Ouddy Bangers is essentially my self-released edits series. The name Ouddy comes from a term I coined to describe something that’s absolutely stinking of the Arabic scent Oud.
The series is all about showcasing rare Arabic tracks from the late ’80s to early ’90s, whether they were overlooked, never made it to the top, or were sadly neglected and never got the push they deserved. I generally look for disco-inspired tracks or songs that carry a specific feeling. I’m especially drawn to catchy lyrics and a disco beat that you just can’t stop listening to.
From there, I flip the track while respecting its original essence, enhancing it in a way that makes it more playable in a club setting. It’s about keeping the heart of the song intact but giving it the lift it needs to work on the dancefloor.
It was great to put out a second volume, but the hardest part is always finding the right tracks that fit the bill. That’s what takes the most time—it has to feel right.
As for when to expect more? Good question—even I don’t know the answer! But generally, once I’ve found three or more tracks that feel right and I have the time to edit them, then it’ll be time for Vol. 3. Keep an eye out on SoundCloud!
Obviously, most people who come to your shows understand what they’re buying into. But at festivals—say, Electric Picnic—you’re often playing to people who may be unfamiliar with your music and even challenged by it. Does this play on your mind, and how is it generally received?
That’s a fantastic question! For my own shows, people generally know what they’re getting, but at big festivals, it’s a different story. That said, I’m unapologetic about what I play. At the same time, I don’t just play an hour of Arabic music—I move through different styles, making sure it all makes sense for the gig itself. I could play a remix of The Cardigans and blend that into an Egyptian Mahraganat song, and it would still feel natural in the set.
I always come prepared with enough music to gauge what might work and what might not. A great example is when I closed out Rave in the Woods at Electric Picnic. There were over 10,000 people, and I’d guess at least 80% had no idea what they were about to hear. But I brought all sorts with me—trancey bits, Dabke, Arabic percussion, Piano Vocal House, Italo, Habibi House, and Techno. For people unfamiliar with my sound, they won’t really know what to expect until they experience it.
I know my sound is a little different, and maybe that makes some promoters unsure of how it will land. But I always trust what I do, and from experience, it’s well received. I read the crowd, adapt where needed, and focus on making sure people are engaged.
I’m not just throwing styles together for the sake of it—I’m not a fusion restaurant trying to mix things up just to be different. Everything I play is connected in some way, whether through rhythm, energy, or feeling. At the end of the day, people just want to dance—so that’s what they’re gonna get.
I’d like to jump back to 2018 and your debut record With Oud, specifically the A1 track Al Disco Haram. This was actually the first track I ever heard by you. Can you give us an insight into the sample used here and maybe point us toward more music in the same vein?
Ah, Al Disco Haram—still one of my favourite tracks that I’ve produced. This one came together during a pretty rough time—I was on high levels of Tramadol recovering from a back injury, which probably added to the slightly hazy, dreamlike feel of the track.
At the time, I was listening to a lot of Apron Records, and I kept imagining what that kind of raw sound would feel like if it came out of Cairo instead of London. That’s how Al Disco Haram was born.
It all started with a frequency shifting Rhodes MK8 progression, setting the foundation. Then I found this beautiful break, chopped it up to bring in that disco feel, and layered it with heavier drums to give it some punch. But the real magic came when I dug deep into an old CD collection searching for the right Arabic sample. When I finally found it, it just clicked—it felt like it was always meant to be there.
I even resampled the mizmar sound to create an instrument and bending the notes until it felt like its own instrument. What really tied everything together was the off-time arpeggiator—the drums were straight, but the bassline wasn’t, which gave it that super fun rhythm.
It’s a track that still means a lot to me, and seeing how people react to it when I play it out just confirms why I love it so much.Two songs that spring to mind that I heard a few years after I released Al Disco Haram are Mamermaids by Mameen 3 and Haze by Anunaku & DJ Plead. Haze, although not exactly the same, carries a strong blend of cultures that is really present in both of them
I want to point you in the direction of a comment on your Boiler Room: “God, it’s amazing, listening to your set while missile attacks on Ukraine… It really helps to forget and distract for 50 minutes.” How does that make you feel?
It’s heartbreaking that war is still a reality in this world. The war in Ukraine is devastating, and so is the ongoing occupation and destruction of Palestine—the land, the history, the culture—alongside the ethnic cleansing of Palestinians. Both are tragedies, both should command the world’s outrage, yet the responses to them couldn’t be more different. The double standards are impossible to ignore—there’s no veil to hide behind anymore, just pure injustice and indifference.
Reading a comment like that—a reminder that someone is living through a nightmare and turning to music as a form of escape—is a hard pill to swallow. It really puts into perspective how much people rely on music for comfort, even in the darkest moments.
Knowing that my music, even for a brief moment, can offer someone some kind of relief—it’s a bittersweet feeling. No one should have to rely on music to escape war. No one should have to live under bombs, invasions, or occupation. People should be free to live without that fear in the first place.
How was the release party for Close To The Shams? The videos looked great.
It was absolutely class! I wish it never ended! I didn’t want the release party to just be about me—I wanted it to be about local talent and the different styles we all bring to the table. We decided to go three-for-three all night long, and honestly, it was so much fun.
This is exactly why I started DJing in the first place—being among friends, pushing each other musically, and watching the madness unfold on the dancefloor. From people breaking into Dabke to hands in the air, the energy was unreal. What made it even more special was seeing so many different walks of life in the crowd—it really captured what Dublin is all about.
Playing alongside mates who all share a natural synergy in what we do—that’s not something you can rehearse. It was just madness, and I couldn’t have asked for a better night.
What does the rest of 2025 look like for you?
I’ve been building Sukar for a while now—it usually happens at Hen’s Teeth—and the idea was always to create a SWANA-inspired night that brings music, art, and food together. More than just a club night, it’s a celebration of a broader cultural experience. The last two sold out, which was unreal—it really showed me how much people connect with it.
Now I’m taking it a step further with Klub Sukar, which is all about the dancefloor. No distractions, just rhythm, movement, and high-energy club sounds. It feels like the natural next step, focusing purely on the music and the energy of the night.
For the debut, I’m buzzing to bring Nooriyah over for her first-ever Dublin show, alongside some amazing local talent. She and I haven’t played together since that Boiler Room set, so this reunion is going to be something special—proper heat in Tengu. The goal with Klub Sukar is to bring in international artists while also giving local talent a platform, and personally, it’s important to me to have something closer to home where I can keep growing this community.
That’s all kicking off on April 19th, and I’m gassed for it—Nooriyah, me, Nora Moon, and Masha all on the lineup. And what makes this one really special is that it’s the first show I’ve fully produced myself. So yeah, I think it’s going to be one for the books!
Beyond that, I’m heading to Paris, and diving straight into festival season! I keep my socials updated, so if you want to catch me live, keep an eye there for all the latest.
