© 2025 True Underground. All rights reserved. Sirus Hood’s relationship with house music began before he knew what to call it. Long before genres, platforms, or scenes, there were cassette tapes. Chicago house recordings passed hand to hand, some captured live in clubs in Algiers, complete with DJs speaking over the mix. No internet. No mentors. Just repetition and imagination. “I was listening to Chicago house without knowing what it was,” he recalls. “No internet, no mentors. Just tapes.” Those voices and rhythms planted a vision early. “I used to imagine myself in his place.” Raised between Algiers and Paris, contrast became instinctive rather than disruptive. Different cultures, different energies, coexisting without hierarchy. That duality never demanded resolution. “It taught me contrast very early,” he says. “Different cultures, different energies. I never felt the need to choose one side, I learned to move between them.” The ability to navigate between worlds would later define both Sirus Hood’s sound and his career. Paris provided the historical map. Through Daft Punk, Sirus traced the lineage backward, uncovering the Chicago foundations that shaped everything he was hearing. That curiosity eventually led him to the architects themselves. “If you’re from Paris, you grow up knowing everything about Daft Punk and how Chicago house shaped their sound,” he explains. “Through them, I discovered the house legends I would meet years later, like Paul Johnson, DJ Deeon, and DJ Sneak.” What began as distant influence became direct dialogue. At 18, he bought his first vinyl turntables and taught himself how to DJ by ignoring the rulebook entirely. “I never learned the ‘right’ way,” he says. “I trusted my ears first, and I still do.” That decision preserved something essential. Freedom over formality. Instinct over instruction. It is a thread that runs through everything he has done since. While peers chased visibility, Sirus moved deliberately against the current. Social media held little interest. “I was more interested in records than profiles,” he says. “Social media came later, the music was already there.” The focus stayed on digging, producing, and playing, allowing recognition to arrive as a consequence rather than a goal. His sound reflects that refusal to sanitise. Raw, analog, sometimes deliberately rough around the edges. Perfection rarely survives his filter. “If it feels too clean, I usually skip it,” he admits. Sets are built in real time, guided by emotion rather than structure. “I like to stop overthinking and get into a flow state. I follow the emotion I want to feel in the next few minutes.” Risk matters. So does tension. “Something that feels alive, not perfected.” That philosophy crystallised with Mood Child, the label he co-founded with Manda Moor. The intention was never to define a genre or chase a trend. “We wanted to build a space where emotion comes first,” Sirus explains. “Not a genre, not a formula.” Mood Child became a framework for identity rather than sound, allowing artists to express a state of mind without compression. The label’s album projects, from Groovy Moods to Trippy Moods, are constructed as journeys rather than collections. Once the emotional direction is set, the process unfolds organically. “Once the direction is clear, the universe seems to deliver what’s needed,” he says. “Tracks appear, connections form, and the story builds almost by itself.” Sequencing becomes intuitive, each track finding its moment within the wider arc. During the pandemic, that same instinct produced Mood Edits. Temporary, urgent, and intentionally fleeting. “Mood Edits were about urgency,” Sirus says. “No strategy, no permanence.” The concept echoed his childhood experiences of chasing rare tapes, reinstating value through disappearance. The response was larger than expected. “Not at all,” he says when asked if he anticipated the impact. “I think people felt the honesty behind it. In a digital-heavy scene, rarity still has weight.” International moments arrived early and decisively. Brazil and Ibiza, around a decade ago, delivered clarity. “That’s when I realized the music could connect instantly,” he reflects. “Far beyond language or context.” Since then, Sirus has carried his sound across continents, adapting without diluting. “I don’t change who I am, I change how I tell the story.” Environment becomes collaborator. “If I play in nature, I play with nature.” Looking ahead, a Chicago-inspired album sits on the horizon, shaped by reflection rather than nostalgia. Work on a documentary around Chicago house reframed his perspective. “It reminded me that this culture is alive, evolving, and meant to exist in the present,” he says. That understanding feeds directly into the project, grounding it in continuity rather than revival. In the booth and the studio, the pursuit remains unchanged. “Losing track of time,” he says. “When thinking stops and instinct takes over.” Outside of music, clarity comes from absence. “Silence. Travel. Being disconnected long enough to hear things clearly again.” For the next generation, Sirus Hood’s advice is direct and unsentimental. “Focus on your homework, not the reaction,” he says. Learn the culture. Understand the origins. Study sound design and the physical reality of music. Integrity is not performed. It is built, slowly, through depth and attention. Tracklist Subrosa – Sometimes You Just Feel It GruuvElement’s, Ollinobrothers – Off The Op Geeeman – Wanna Go Bang (Catz N’ Dogz Interpretation) Subrosa – Baba Ali – Cog In The Wheel Subterrain Records – C’est Le Rhythm Kevin Yost – Dancer Dancer (Original Mix) Marian, Sterium – 2010 ID – ID Eden Burns – House Non Stop Ramoss, Taylor Crane – You Givin’ Me Afain – Forest Sunset Figio’s, Çesc – Movie Cycle AJ Christou – Bang Bang Ruso Eyh – Mamaeyh Jon Cutler – Flut-ie Pebbles Check out the ONE podcast archive here. The post Sirus Hood: Tech House & Soulful Groove Studio Mix | ONE Podcast (#102) appeared first on True Underground.
