Iconic house music DJ and drag racer Carl Cox on dodging bullets on the dancefloor, overcoming grief and why he’s the fastest DJ on the planet
Born in 1962, Carl Cox grew up in South London, moving to Brighton in his late teens. His DJ-ing career took off in the late 1980s as the rave scene emerged. Since the nineties, he’s been one of the most in-demand house and techno DJ’s in the world. On Millennium Eve he played two NYE parties on one night – in Sydney and in Hawaii by crossing the international date line. He continues to play at the world’s biggest festivals and nightclubs and has a four-month Sunday night residency this summer at UNVRS in Ibiza. He splits his time between London and Melbourne. He looks back on the moments that changed his perspective on work, love, family, money and health.
Before I became a DJ, I was a plasterer and then a scaffolder. I loved it. I started DJ-ing at the weekend and Nothing Going on But the Rent by Gwen Guthrie was my most played tune back then in 1985. When the crossroads moment between remaining a scaffolder or DJ-ing full time came my parents said, ‘Get a proper job. DJ-ing is a fantasy,’ but I ignored them. Music was a force of nature within me. My parents were proud that I made the decision to follow my own path in life, and that I found my vocation. They were wrong, and I was right at the end of the day.
Without King Charles I might never have become a successful DJ. Back then he ran the Prince’s Trust to encourage young people to start small businesses. They took me on and put me through business school to learn profit and loss in business as a self-employed person. When I qualified, I got a degree and a grand. The scheme gave me a purpose and paved the way for my career although Charles didn’t personally come down and give me a lesson on the decks.
It’s never been about the money. It was always about the opportunity. In my first year DJ-ing, I went from earning £18,000 as a scaffolder down to £12K as a DJ charging about £50 a gig. It was tough to survive, and I had literally no spare money. But I had faith and played the long game. I said to myself, ‘I’ll get to 45 then go back to scaffolding.’ Then, when 45 came, my career was still going. Then 50. And I’m still going now at 62 and I still love it.
I’ve played all over the world but only once have I experienced blood on the dance floor. I was in Caracas, where people are very passionate. At this particular gig the sound system was great, but the security felt a bit lax. Fireworks were going off for the first 20 minutes and then they just carried on, – and I realised they were gunshots. There was a local dispute, and his guy got in with a gun and he was shot along with his girlfriend and two other innocent people in the crossfire. I was told to get down but didn’t want people to think I’d been shot, so as I descended beneath the decks, I faded the music out gradually. It was absolutely crazy, and I was traumatised. I escaped to my family’s home in Barbados.
His father died during the first lockdown and he did a two-hour show in his honour (Photographer Dan Reid)
My core positivity stems from my family growing up in Barbados. It is such a happy place. Every year, they have this thing called Crop Over, to celebrate all the sugar cane that gets cultivated and sold off to the rest of the world. It’s a huge carnival where everyone comes together through the island’s Soca and Calypso music and everyone’s happy and that’s the attitude I take with me to my gigs.
In the middle of all the pandemic my father was trying to live with dementia. By the time he died, in the first lockdown, he didn’t know who I was, but his legacy was the music he helped me fall in love with, so I did a two-hour tribute show inspired by his music; every single record I remember him playing. It was a very difficult show.
My mum died eight years ago. The way I pushed through the grief of both of my parents passing was by knowing that they’re looking down on everything I do, knowing that this is exactly what I wanted to be doing. Their spirit is with me all the time and that gives me the strength to carry on.
I have two sisters but I’m not a father, so I’ll be the last of the Cox’s. I’m very happy not having any children because my job is very demanding. I could have had children but then I would have been pulled from pillar to post with those responsibilities, and I didn’t want to bring anyone else into the world if I couldn’t guarantee I’d be there for them.
I don’t smoke, I don’t drink, and I don’t take drugs. I’m in really good shape now. I’m healthy. I did a weight loss program four months ago. I had to do it because if I hadn’t done it, I probably wouldn’t be speaking to you today, because I would have had a heart attack.
For me it’s never been a problem saying no to a drink: I don’t want it. I love Gin & Tonic and red or white wine or an Old Fashioned or even a shot of tequila and everything is OK in moderation, but if you do a bottle of tequila or a bottle of champagne, then things start to go wrong. I can’t do what I do and be under the influence.
Motor sports are as important in my life as music. I have a collection of over 50 cars. I run my own motorsports team, and I love the danger. The fastest I’ve been in a drag car is more than 250 miles per hour in a quarter of a mile in five seconds, which makes me the fastest DJ in the world. I’ve had crashes at 180 miles an hour in my drag car. The parachutes didn’t deploy but the chassis of the cars and the protocols are strong, and I was able to get our pretty quickly, but it makes you realise that you could be here today and gone tomorrow.
Which is more euphoric: music or motors? It’s tough to choose but in terms of pure personal satisfaction I think the music. When I step on stage and everyone’s clapping and cheering it’s personal; it’s human to human. When you’re in a race car you’re in a race car that wants to kill you, and you have to tame it. The thrill there is surviving. Despite the danger I’m not planning to take up stamp collecting. Every time I get in a race car my main thought is, ‘I wish this thing would go faster’.
For tickets to Carl Cox’s Sunday night summer residency in Ibiza, visit www.unvrs.com