ODUMODUBLVCK at Patta Amsterdam

The Machine touches down in Amsterdam. For one afternoon only, ODUMODUBLVCK pulls up to Patta Amsterdam ahead of his headline show at Skatecafe. Pull through for a meet & greet and the chance to purchase the limited Patta x Odumodublvck T-Shirt, dropping this Sunday, November 16th at 14:00 CET, exclusively in-store. The first 5 purchases of the T-Shirt get free tickets to the show later that night at Skatecafe. Show up. Show love. Move with The Machine.

Words by Chris Danforth | Photography by Megan Jane SimonsLatoya Molly is the Dutch-Surinamese creative behind Geminis, a tooth gem business rooted in style, symbolism, and Surinamese heritage. Drawing inspiration from her late mother, her sisters, and her ancestry, she has transformed a niche beauty trend into a form of self-expression. Through styling, storytelling, and symbolism, especially with traditional Surinamese symbols like the pangi and the Mattenklopper, Molly invites a deeper conversation about identity, healing, and cultural pride. Geminis is a story of resilience, beauty, and the power of reclaiming one’s narrative, one gem at a time.Do you remember the first time tooth art caught your attention? What was happening in your life around the time you founded Geminis? I don’t remember a specific person with tooth gems catching my eye. But back in 2022, the hype around tooth gems was really big. At the time, I was working two jobs and going to school. One of the jobs that I still work is at the Patta store.My mom passed away in March 2022, leaving behind my older sister, me, and our three younger sisters. My sister and I took custody of them.For the first couple of months, I felt numb and in denial, so I was still able to manage work and help take care of our sisters. But eventually, the grief caught up with me, and the lack of structure became too much. One day, I came across a mini Snapchat series about a woman getting her tooth gems done in LA. It wasn’t really popular yet in her city, Atlanta, and that’s how she started. That made me realize how popular tooth gems were in Rotterdam, but there weren’t many people doing it in Amsterdam. That’s when I saw a gap in the market. I didn’t have much to lose, so I went for it. Fortunately, it worked out. “Geminis” is inspired by my astrological sign and the work I do with gems. It’s a blend of identity and craft.How do you incorporate Surinamese culture into your designs?I make sure Surinamese elements are present in every shoot. Beyond the work itself, I’m intentional with everything I organize, especially the locations. My first “big” shoot was in a Surinamese jewelry store. My second was in a Surinamese shop filled with cultural essentials.I also incorporate pangi in my styling. They’ve been worn as tops, skirts, shoulder cloths, or simply used as backdrops in past shoots. A pangi is a traditional Surinamese shawl—a long rectangular cloth worn around the waist, often reaching above the navel by women of the Maroon communities in Suriname.Jewelry is another important element for me. To me, it’s the finishing touch that brings everything together.Can you tell us about the symbolism of the Mattenklopper (carpet beater) and how you portray it in your art?Surinamese people disagree about what the carpet beater symbolizes, due to Suriname’s colonial history. Although it has West African roots, many associate it with the suffering our ancestors endured under Dutch colonial rule.Thankfully, many still embrace the carpet beater as a cultural and spiritual symbol, and that’s what I aim to express in my work. It represents values like purification, dusting away negativity, creating a clean path forward, friendship, respect, and necessity. When gifted out of love, it shouldn’t be passed on, because of those values. Some people wear it simply because they like it, but others wear it to honor the pain of our ancestors.Spiritually, the carpet beater can be seen as a Fanowdu—an essential item to integrate into your life.As an entrepreneur, where do your motivation and inspiration come from? How do you define success?My motivation comes from my sisters. They keep me going every day. My inspiration comes from our culture and from my sister, too. She’s the strongest person I’ve ever known besides our mom. She works in accounting, the complete opposite of me, but the way she takes on challenges is something I really admire and learn from.I define success as happiness and tranquility. I’ve always been a bit chaotic, and after my mom’s passing, that only intensified. I used to define success by how much money I wanted to make, but I’ve realized none of that matters if you’re not at peace or truly happy. And happiness isn’t something external; it has to come from within. 

Photography by Akadrestudio | Words by Nicolas-Tyrell ScottCultural exchange is a long-established practice that drives nuance and understanding globally. Consider the Windrush generation in England, through the soundsystem culture of the late-’70s and 1980s, their influence on genres such as jungle and garage, and later, grime music. In a globally charged, hyper-locally inspired 2025, driven by technological advancements and a rapid second stage of social media, everyone has access to one another, and the evolution of scenes and sounds occurs in real time. From drills migration across Chicago, London, New York, and now wider Europe and West Africa, even looping back to New York through ‘sexy drill’, to a contemporary class of artists from the Caribbean and West Africa talking to one another — see Moliy’s “Shake It To The Max” remix — uniting the world of dancehall and afrobeats regions are talking to one another, 25/8, on demand, our fingers are firmly fixed across each other's plates, yearning for hyper-connected realities. In this context, contemporary musicians are fearless. A collaboration between a South African and Thai act isn’t as shocking as it would’ve been 10-15 years ago — see the Tyla-assisted LISA release “When I’m With You”. A global cohort of genre-blurring musicians has emerged, ready to challenge pre-existing archetypes. For BXKS, BNYX, and Odumodublvck, each contorts BPM’s and experiences, creating blended musical backdrops in the process (more on this later). Odumodublvck firmly attributes his modus praxis to the environment he grew up in. He’d frequent the infamously busy roads of Nigeria’s largest city, the Lagosian way of life — constant hustle, on-the-go, and making it happen. “Lagos is just like London and New York,” he says quietly. “It sharpens your mind without you even realising.” Fronting this year's Air Max 90 campaign, the three acts, like the shoe, are locally global, with a footprint in Luton, Pennsylvania, and Nigeria as much as the world — call it (g)local.“We’re all confident, we’re all bold,” BXKS says of the trio, who, across a two-day shoot at Black Island studios in West London, put the finishing touches on the campaign's music videos. BXKS adds, “It’s natural when you’ve got people who are good at what they do.” Together, they do move as naturals in one another’s orbit on set. BKXS politely interrupts to ensure BNYX’s Nandos order is right, BXKS and Odumodublvck snapping out of their ambivert personalities into the larger-than-life-sized stars that their global profiles would indicate — pouts, smiles, grills, and poses to show for it. Outside of the Patta and Nike custom attire, or the gleam of their mouth jewellery, are thirsty creators, eager to float atop the industry's ever-changing surface.BNYXProducer BNYX grew up surrounded by God, the choir, and his father's gospel career. “I would play keys and the bass with my little brother,” he begins calmly. “My father would play piano or the guitar, and he would sing at church too.” In his purview, was a lineage of talent who would come from both his Philadelphia church and surrounding churches across the city, succeeding in the gospel and R&B. “A lot of the people who played for acts like John Legend and Mario growing up would have come from the Philadelphia church scenes.” The likes of Dave Tozer, behind early Legend material, as well as Musiq Souchild, help to corroborate BNYX’s claims. Born Benjamin Saint Fort, BNYX, would have little access to the internet and television due to lifestyle and religious influence. Radio served as a passage into the secular world and cultural migration through music. “I gravitated towards pop and rock,” he says eagerly, intentional about the cluster of artists leaving his lips. Leaning back into his leather black sofa, he lists The Red Hot Chili Peppers, Third Eye Blind, Sting, and Seal. “My father would also play the late ‘70s and ‘90s, smooth jazz, and we’d listen to gospel,” he adds, weaving together a mosaic of layered perspectives. “Doo-da-doo-da-doo-doo,” he croons, a series of tightly rhythmic clicks helping to manifest a Soul Train-informed production. As a cloud-rap, R&B, and hip-hop producer, BNYX slithers far away from his childhood references. His career includes Nicki Minaj and Travis Scott credits, an instrumental part of Drake’s For The Dogs, he produced “Slime You Out” and “Rich Baby Daddy”, the first and third singles released from the album. The impetus of his relationship with hip-hop lies months after his high school graduation. “I remember the first song I downloaded was 2 Chainz and Kanye West’s ‘Birthday Song’,” he laughs. A$AP Ferg’s Trap Lord would mark the first hip-hop album download.BNYX’s father, Felix Saint Fort, arrived in America as a Haitian touring singer, and developed local notoriety as a gospel singer, which led to the erection of a home studio to craft new music. He never left, laying roots in the area. Placing Benjamin in music theory programs from eight to 16, the producer navigated the difficulty of learning classical music, helping his father produce by night and on weekends. It was his junior year of high school, aged 16, that BNYX found a spare studio key at home, sneaking in and staying in the studio till late to create his own productions. Purchasing a second-hand MacBook in his sophomore year, his half-brother challenged him to start creating hip-hop beats. BNYX responded to the challenge by gaining a better understanding of the genre. It was only after dropping out of his product design degree that BNYX decided to formally explore music. Balancing the medium whilst working at a phone company, he sourced motivation from the stories he’d hear across YouTube interviews with Pharrell or Max Martin. “My manager would let me have my laptop on the sales floor,” he laughs wistfully. Leveraging social media “clout” — a word he now winces at — he remixed popular songs like RaeSremmurd’s “Swang”. “I wanted to remix pop songs,” BNYX reveals. “However, I wanted to stick to that challenge my brother had put on me.” Soon, juggernaut producer Charlie Heat found BNYX, the pair first working together on Ty Dolla $ign’s “South Beach”, it was his first major label credit and, more importantly, proof of viable career as a music producer. Developing his craft further,  BNYX’s profile began to soar during the pandemic. “Bigger artists had more time to work,” he shares eagerly. He moved to LA in 2020, and scored a recording session with Cardi B, BNYX then faced a personal milestone through his partner's surprise pregnancy. Shifting management, BNYX rebooted, finally able to live off his crafts in the studio, migrating back to Philadelphia to fulfill his father and now husband duties. As much as the past informs BNYX, so does the present. Through a mutual friend, and music enthusiast Dylan, he was able to share 100 beats with the British rapper Lancey Foux, who instantly wanted to work with the producer. “We stayed together for three days just cooking up songs,” BNYX recalls. One of their early productions speaks to BNYX’s attributes. A minimal trance beat pulses across the song's bassline, engulfing the ear into submission, the distortion of “Low It” feeling as dystopian as it is thrilling, a psychedelic imbued reality.BNYX’s work with Lancey led him to a slew of commercial successes in his work with Yeat. Finding out about the rapper through Discord, the pair DM’d, Yeat commending BNYX’s releases with the Foux. Flying to LA shortly after, the pair spent several days together establishing a dynamic. “Yeat just pulled up, brought out a mic, and a laptop, and began requesting a beat. I remember thinking ‘man this guy is different’,” he recalls. Scoring multiple credits across Yeat’s debut album Up 2 Më. “Stayëd The Same”, the duo has continued to collaborate as their respective careers bloom. “I’ll always respect Yeat’s ethic,” BNYX concludes.At 30, BNYX is maturing, leaning further into his Haitian ancestry and the Black diaspora at large; he’s not bound by the new-age hip-hop — and by association, trap — parameters to which he entered the industry. The kompa, highlife, and trap-infused “Where You Been”, serves as a bold example of this  — the tricontinental primed number instantly fearless, biting into the soul, marking it with groove, sass, and hypnosis, urging the body into movement. It also features rapper Len, a talent who will inevitably grace the pinnacle of British music in the years to come. “Man, I love the UK, I remember seeing that Darkchild came over here in his early career, and just worked with a bunch of UK cats,” BNYX begins. “I’m inspired when I’m over here, I want to continue moving forward with that.”BXKSBXKS never looked at London as a mecca or destination. Born and raised in Luton, by way of her grandmother's Windrush migration, the multifaceted artist was content with the suburban lifestyle she grew up with. “The only reason I stepped out of Luton was to go to house parties in South London,” she shares. Blaming ‘small town syndrome’, BXKS’ belief is that “if you make it out of Luton, you’re really special”. Dominating as a professional runner, BXKS attended a college dedicated to athletics in Hertfordshire, training alongside athletes gearing up for the Olympics. It was here, towards the latter half of her adolescence, that she made a decision to abandon the sport entirely. “I was coming not first, not second, but fourth. I think I was falling out of love with it. No one wants to be fourth best.” BXKS is unapologetic, and almost nonchalant in her exchanges, but not without intention, which helps to ignite the perfect equilibrium of poise. “I wasn’t winning, I wasn’t inspired.” BXKS’ induction to music pre-dates her running career. She grew up engulfed by gospel choirs and church, attending COGIC, one of the most prestigious Pentecostal institutions. “I’ve always known I’ve had a voice,” BXKS affirms. However, post-athletics, she would find herself freestyling during car rides with friends. When urged to pursue the craft by a friend, she grew enamoured with rap. “I thought, ‘why not? This is something new I could get into for fun’.” Atop one of her first freestyles on LinkUpTV’s infamous ‘Next Up?’, BXKS states that she spits grime but it isn't her purpose — Skepta cosigned the post across social media, an act she’s still grateful for. Addressing the 2018 freestyle, she notes that she sees grime as  “the UK starter pack of how to rap”. However, a quick peek at her discography and an electric range of musical references catch the ear — an ambiently pensive “Guestlist” in stark contrast to the percussion driven electronic, alt-rap, and dance infused “Wagheshi” — the glue, is BXKS’ quiet confidence that still manages to bind itself gracefully, and in intuitive fashion.  “I am confident, but I hate those people who take up rooms, who have to always assert their confidence,” she admits. She’s always had self-belief, and a will that allows her to know herself in any room that she steps into. “You can’t compare anyone to me,” she continues. “I’m doing my own thing.” BXKS taught herself to rap alone, studiously combing through hundreds of hours of Risky Roadz, Daily Duppy and Fire In The Booth recordings on YouTube. “At the time, AJ Tracey and Novelist were doing their thing, and Skepta was having a re-birth” she says. Curious about the technicalities that allowed each figure to thrive, garner a community, and maintain an overarching dominance, led her to the conclusion that “They all have immaculate cadence, and it’s taken them so far.”As she progresses, BXKS' music orbits an authentic brand of realism, the rapper reflexive of her persona and life outside of the booth. Take her latest single “Flashing Lights”. She’s cognisant of the new era that she sits within, even confident that she “might go clear”. The new era, or way of consuming music that she alludes to, is the class of British musicians doing things on their own terms. Due to the hyperlocal consumer, Gen-Z, Alpha, Beta and late Millennials, music doesn’t exist in a clearly defined mainstream and underground; both worlds converge now — a mainstream act like Dave cognisant and cosigning the likes of emergent British rappers like Fimiguero, and YT. The latter graced the top two of the UK’s Hip-hop and R&B Albums Chart. It’s a generational turnkey with unconventional rules, a climate that allows the likes of BXKS to chart her own course. “Guestlist”, another of her singles, also blurs local borders, ushering in the midas touch of new-age Nigerian-Dublin renegade Travy. “We’re all doing our own thing, and I’m glad our generation can move the needle again when it comes to regions,” BXKS admits. The dominance of London, and London-centric rappers still engulfs the British rap scene, but as generations go on, the regional diversity continues to weave itself into the future of the genre. London still dominates the British rap scene, but with each generation, regional voices are carving out more space in the genre’s future. Today, a Central Cee can sit alongside an Aitch, just as easily as a BXKS, Travy, M1llionz, or Jaykae — reflecting both the rise of local talent and the appetite for regional sounds in an increasingly globalised music landscape.Ultimately, BXKS doesn't look too far in her rear view; however, a carnivorous glare paints itself across her face as we reach the end of our exchange. “I don’t look at competition too much,” she starts. “My job is to get them out the way,” she laughs playfully, through the glare of her grill. “My only concern is to thrive on my own terms.”OdumodublvckFor Odumodublvck, adaptability was a trait embedded into his way of being since birth. Navigating the hustle-infused streets of Lagos as an infant, he’s able to embrace the chaos of any city with ease. “Lagos was easy to me,” he laughs. At seven, his family moved across the country to Nigeria’s capital city of Abuja, where Odumodublvck grew acclimated to a slower way of life by comparison. “Moving to Abuja gave me an edge, it’s slower, kind of like Texas, I was able to use my initiative, will, and sense of go to move faster there.” As a child, Odumodublvck was part of his school's choirs. “I grew up just enjoying music as a fan. I never wanted to become an artist or dreamed of being on stage,” he reveals. Throughout his adolescence, Odumodublvck’s ear was tuned to the globe, his musical intake composed of British influences. At the apex, sat Skepta, whose Blacklisted proved seminal to the artist. “Listen, ‘Same Shit Different Day’ that song went so crazy,” he shares. Odumodublvck’s passion for music eventually led him to manage his close friend, Ogunna, during his early twenties. “He dropped out of college and wanted to pursue music. I feel like it made sense to jump into management,” he rationalises. It’s there that he gained insight into studios, video shoots, and every other logistical and administrative role across music, what it took to build an artist and deliver music to the world. Ogunna eventually urged Odumodublvck to record a song of his own in 2017, sensing he had the artistic touch.Dubbed “Ikemefuna”, Odumodublvck found the creative aspect of music making invigorating. “I knew I had it,” he says, the deep bass in his tone confirming his self-belief in real time. “I was like ‘woah this song is sounding so nice.” Taken back to choir and the impact of melodies — a technical skill he’s carried across his career to date — Odumodublvck had found his true calling. Overcoming obstacles and living beyond demons and circumstances, the song speaks to a reality in which the rapper addresses authentic struggles that surround him.  “It’s about making it out of a jungle, that reality in front of you,” he says adamantly. Odumodublvck has labelled his music Okporoko, translating from ‘stock fish’ in Igbo. In his eyes, it’s an ingredient that’s not sweet; it’s harder to consume on its own, but everyone needs it in their food, particularly in Nigeria, where it forms the foundation of multiple dishes. “It’s bittersweet, it’s healthy, it’s needed, but it’s not necessarily tasty.” Laughing, he mirrors this with his crucial ruminations on life. Soon, releases like “Ex Gutter Man” and “Potor Potor” caught the eye of NATIVE Records and Def Jam, the labels signing officially in 2022, through Teezee, NATIVE Records’ co-president.At 32, Odumodublvck supersedes any expectation of what a Nigerian, or West African, is ‘expected’ to make, especially in 2025. THE MACHINE IS COMING, his latest mixtape, and album prequel, is a symposium of rock, afro-piano, soul, afrobeats, drill, and hip-hop, the pulse of an anthemic rapper-singer mesmerising a new generation of music listeners. The pulse, zest, and quirk of a “Ballon D Or” or “Toy Girl”, feels foreign to the menace and foreboding that orbits “Go Report”, all however, arrive with an overwhelming authority, the sound of a new reign. “The machine represents John the Baptist,” Odumodublvck shares. “It’s like a prequel to the album, the album is the industry machine which represents Jesus.” Still a believer in God, these analogies help him make sense of his worldview. A “Legolas”, the project's introduction, even utilising teachings of Jesus across Odumodublvck’s sentiments.Like his embrace of Skepta and UK rap, Odumodublvck is sensitive to British culture at large. As an avid Arsenal fan, it’s fitting that his 2023 single, “Declan Rice,” spawned success outside of Nigeria, cracking the Billboard Afrobeats charts' top 30. Teezee was instrumental in getting the song to Declan Rice before its March 2023 release at the BRITs that year.  “Teezee is a G, he’s more than a boss for that,” Odumodublvck says adamantly. “He supports me in other ways than a regular manager.” As Declan Rice was presenting that night, Teezee shared the prospective single after the festivities had ended. The midfielder liked it so much that he regularly shared it on social media upon its release. An ode to the player's power, and Odumodublvck exuding that strength himself towards any opposition, the song is a case-study in globalisation in action, its intersection with cultural production outside of home borders, it’s a contemporary cross-pollination of ideas that represents how modern consumption can happen anywhere, at any time.Like his music, Odumodublvck doesn’t operate in fear. Both his self-belief and faith drive his confidence in navigating every interaction and obstacle. “The authenticity that runs through my veins is what allows me to operate like this,” he says when asked what his legacy is. “You know, you never hear an Odu song where I'm trying to sound like an American rapper. I make hip-hop nice, and I want people to know. I want people to say that Odu was original.” The wait is over. ODUMODUBLVCK lands in Amsterdam for his debut Dutch live show at Skatecafe on Sunday, 16 November. The Abuja-bred disruptor shapeshifts between grime voltage and Afrobeat swing, forging Okporoko Rhythms, the sound that crowned him the voice of Nigerian drill.Fresh off his fifth album INDUSTRY MACHINE, ODU shows no signs of slowing down. The project, featuring heavyweights like Wizkid, Davido, Modenine and Skepta, cements his status as one of the most dynamic voices out of Africa, genre-blurring, truth-telling and impossible to pin down.The face of the recent Patta x Nike Air Max 90 campaign reinforces the bridges he has been building by finally delivering a live show for his Netherlands-based community. From the viral charge of “Declan Rice” to the chameleonic palette of EZIOKWU (The Truth), ODU’s pen stays sharp and his presence stays heavy. Expect highlife-laced hooks, drill grit and unflinching charisma. “Music for everybody: father, mother, son, daughter,” as he says.For this special night, Patta, Melkweg and Skatecafé join forces to make ODU’s first time in Amsterdam a reality. Tickets are available now. Limited capacity. Come early. Leave changed. Don’t miss out! The doors open at 18:00 o'clock. For this special night we’ve invited The Jollof Club to take over the kitchen. Serving up their signature smoked Jollof Rice with Fried plantain and Suya chicken or Suya Beet (v). Come early and enjoy some jollof with us.

Patta London is proud to finally welcome Living Proof to our shelves, featuring the legendary Boogie, a photographer who’s spent decades capturing the truth most people walk past.In NEW YORK IS MINE / I CAME AT THE PERFECT TIME, Boogie revisits his first decade behind the lens in New York City — 166 pages of unseen black-and-white work shot during one of the most defining periods for both the city and his career.Born Vladimir Milivojevich in Belgrade in 1970, Boogie grew up in the chaos of the nineties, where photography became a lifeline. From war-torn streets in Serbia to the raw corners of Brooklyn, his lens never flinched. He’s since become one of the most influential street photographers of our time — a documentarian of grit, honesty, and human reality. Living Proof shines a light on that legacy — and this issue sets the tone: uncompromising, unfiltered, and alive.“NEW YORK IS MINE / I CAME AT THE PERFECT TIME” is now available at Patta London.Step through, spend some time with it, and take home a piece of history.

The wait is over. ODUMODUBLVCK lands in Amsterdam for his debut Dutch live show at Skatecafe on Sunday, 16 November. The Abuja-bred disruptor shapeshifts between grime voltage and Afrobeat swing, forging Okporoko Rhythms, the sound that crowned him the voice of Nigerian drill.Fresh off his fifth album INDUSTRY MACHINE, ODU shows no signs of slowing down. The project, featuring heavyweights like Wizkid, Davido, Modenine and Skepta, cements his status as one of the most dynamic voices out of Africa, genre-blurring, truth-telling and impossible to pin down.The face of the recent Patta x Nike Air Max 90 campaign reinforces the bridges he has been building by finally delivering a live show for his Netherlands-based community. From the viral charge of “Declan Rice” to the chameleonic palette of EZIOKWU (The Truth), ODU’s pen stays sharp and his presence stays heavy. Expect highlife-laced hooks, drill grit and unflinching charisma. “Music for everybody: father, mother, son, daughter,” as he says.For this special night, Patta, Melkweg and Skatecafé join forces to make ODU’s first time in Amsterdam a reality. Tickets are available now. Limited capacity. Come early. Leave changed. Don’t miss out! The doors open at 18:00 o'clock. For this special night we’ve invited The Jollof Club to take over the kitchen. Serving up their signature smoked Jollof Rice with Fried plantain and Suya chicken or Suya Beet (v). Come early and enjoy some jollof with us!

Interview by Passion Dzenga | Photography by James EdsonIn the ever-evolving landscape of hip hop, two artists have been quietly but consistently bending the rules. Birmingham rapper Sonnyjim and Sheffield producer Morriarchi come from different parts of the country, but share a deep commitment to craft, collaboration, and keeping things unpredictable.Sonnyjim’s deadpan flow and razor-sharp wordplay have seen him move between underground cult status and collaborations with legends like MF Doom, Jay Electronica, DJ Premier, and Madlib. Morriarchi, meanwhile, has carved out a reputation as a beatmaker with cinematic vision — pulling from dusty records, global travels, and Sheffield’s DIY spirit to create soundscapes that sit somewhere between hip hop, trip hop, and leftfield electronica.Together, they’ve built a partnership rooted in trust, experimentation, and an almost playful refusal to fit into one box. Their forthcoming record is their most expansive yet — spanning smoked-out jazz loops, heavy funk flips, and unexpected cinematic turns.Get familiar with the duo as they talk about their creative chemistry, the UK’s shifting musical landscape, and how to keep building when algorithms and AI threaten to flatten the sound. What follows is a conversation about community, chaos, and finding your voice in a scene that’s finally getting global attention.You’ve both been making waves in UK hip hop for quite a few years now, but your paths are very different. For anyone new to your work, how would you describe your sound?Sonnyjim: How would I describe my sound? Recently I’ve been asking ChatGPT this and it called it “deadpan luxury.” Personally, I don’t know. People say it’s smoked-out jazz, drumless — which I don’t really agree with. It’s always a hard one for me. I feel like I don’t really have a sound. I just rhyme on whatever I like — funk, disco, soul, abstract loops. Whatever I gravitate toward. I try not to put it in a box.Morriarchi: I’d say something similar. It’s not rooted in one style because I’m a DJ and collector first. I’m into sprawling tastes, going in multiple directions. Some people have called it chaotic, but I like adding a cinematic edge too — I’m a big film head. In the end, it’s not really for us to decide. The listener decides.Sonnyjim: Exactly. To us, it feels varied, but if you ask my girl, she’ll say all my shit sounds the same.Since you both started your musical journeys, the landscape has shifted a lot. How would you say Sheffield shaped your sound, Morriarchi? And Birmingham shaped yours, Sonnyjim?Morriarchi: Sheffield had more of a DIY techno and dub scene. No dominant hip hop scene. That made us breed something else, move at our own tempo.Sonnyjim: Birmingham was always active. Even when UK rap felt dead nationally 20 years ago, there was still a scene there. Being the second city, rooted in Jamaican and bhangra culture, there was always MCs, always a competitive spirit. That shaped me from early.Sonnyjim you’ve cited UK legends like Skinnyman alongside US influences like Jay-Z and Nas. How do you reconcile those two worlds?Sonnyjim: To me, it’s all the same. I don’t look at UK vs. US. If a rapper raps good, they rap good. I don’t differentiate. It’s just good music.Morriarchi your beats have a dusty, cinematic quality — almost like short films. Where does that come from? Old records, movies, experimentation?Morriarchi: All of it. I sometimes think of it like martial arts — learning techniques and finding what works for you. Early on I wanted to make beats like DJ Premier or DJ Muggs. Being in Sheffield, Warp Records and trip hop were huge influences too. But over time you want to dig deeper, find sounds that haven’t been over-sampled.At the end of the day, it’s not just what you do with a sample but the personality you add. Sometimes I think I should have added more technicality, but Sunny’s like, “Nah, it’s done.” His voice becomes the final instrument. Trusting that process is key.You’ve both worked with artists from Blah Records and beyond. What do you look for in a collaboration?Sonnyjim: These days, it’s more about knowing the person. Me and Morri knew each other for years before working. If I don’t enjoy the process, it’s not worth it, no matter how talented someone is.Morriarchi: Yeah, sense of humor helps too. Those inside jokes, little samples or skits we find funny — even if the audience doesn’t get them — they make it enjoyable for us. And that joy comes through in the music.Sonnyjim on the record White Girl Wasted you had an insane lineup — MF Doom, Jay Electronica, Premier, Madlib. How did those collaborations come about?Sonnyjim: Honestly, just from being around so long. It’s six degrees of separation. With Doom, we sent the beat and he wrote off it. Once we had Doom, we reached out to Jay. He was the hardest to get — we didn’t have a link until I saw him post on Instagram about four people to contact. I hit them all, one got back, and the rest is history. Premier I already had a relationship with, and Madlib came through Egon. I was sitting on Doom’s verse from 2018. Didn’t release it until five years later when the album came together.Let’s talk about your collaboration. What’s the creative process like? Beats first, bars first, chaos?Sonnyjim: Bit of everything. I’m always writing bars. Morri’s always cooking beats. Sometimes he brings me something saying, “I hear you on this.” Sometimes I ask him for a vibe I’ve been inspired by. He’s got so many crazy styles I haven’t even touched yet.Morriarchi: Mostly we’d send folders back and forth. A few times we worked in person. There was one beat I had to really convince Sonnyjim to get on. Took some psychedelic assistance to finish that one [laughs]. But then you get magic, like with Peace Ar. I played him the record in a pub, and he wrote the rhymes the next time we were in the studio.Sonnyjim: Yeah, that was the last song we recorded. Came together so organically. Some of these tracks were fresh — not sitting around for years — which makes the album feel alive to me.Do you ever disagree in the studio?Sonnyjim: Nah, never that. For me, part of picking collaborators is about trust and learning from each other. Sometimes I’ll think, “That doesn’t sit right,” and Morri will see it differently. Later I might realize he was right. We never had major disagreements — just small details.Morriarchi: Yeah, like whether to turn up a dog bark in the mix. Minor stuff. For the sequencing, I handled it, and Sonnyjim trusted me. I think sequencing still matters, even in the playlist era. It’s like chapters in a film.Sonnyjim: And Morri mixes are part of the production. First time I’ve experienced that. The mix itself shapes the sound.Your bars, Sonnyjim, are often dense with clever wordplay, references, and imagery. Do you start with concepts, or do the beats dictate where you take the vocal?Sonnyjim: It’s always different. Sometimes I’m just writing and I’ve got loads of bars anyway. Sometimes I’ll be in the studio, just playing beats all day and writing fresh. Sometimes I’ll write something for one beat, then try it over ten others and see what it fits best on. You’d be surprised how often a verse ends up fitting a beat I never would’ve chosen first. I try not to overthink. I’ve always got dozens of beats and rhymes on the go.Even when I’m not in the studio, verses just come to me. Sometimes in three or four minutes, sometimes in hours. It’s like crate-digging for producers — they’re always hunting records, new sounds, flipping stuff. For me it’s the same with rhymes. You don’t stop. It’s ingrained in your mind.And for yourself, Mitch, how do you balance experimenting with keeping your music listenable?Morriarchi: I think now, because I’ve built up a bunch of different styles, I don’t even notice what I’m doing half the time. I’ll just start making stuff, then bring more intention to it later.Experimentation is necessary. Especially now — when you’re up against AI, you’ve got to stay unpredictable. Like, if someone asks for a mariachi beat, hopefully the machine won’t even know what to do with that. I’ve seen Terminator — I’m not trying to lose that fight.Fingers crossed this interview doesn’t make it easier for the robots.Morriarchi: [laughs] They’re coding it out already.UK hip hop’s finally getting more international recognition, with stronger ties to the US underground. Do you feel like you’re part of a bigger global movement, or is what you’re doing still very much UK?Sonnyjim: For me, I’ve always felt part of the global movement. I’ve never considered myself strictly “UK hip hop.” I just saw myself as a rapper in the world who happened to live here. If anything, I’ve felt more of an outsider in the UK, and more accepted globally.Morriarchi: It’s an interesting one. Here, “UK hip hop” almost became a dirty word for a while. But now it’s healthier, more varied. Social media also leveled things out — people in Paris or London or anywhere can connect with it.Blah Records deserves a big shout too. They built on regionality — Manchester, Liverpool, Sheffield, London. All those personalities became part of something global. Personally, I’m proud to be from the UK, but I don’t want to just be boxed in as a “UK artist.” I’d rather just be seen as an artist, full stop.Keeping on the international theme — I want to touch on the Pataka Boys. You’ve spoken about bringing in sounds when traveling. What was it like creating music that’s so culturally layered?Sonnyjim: Credit for that goes fully to the producer. If you listen closely, there aren’t actually that many Indian textures — it’s more dialogue, little sounds, the atmosphere. That’s what gave it the feeling. Plus we were rapping in Punjabi and different dialects. But the producer really had the vision.When we started, he was just a kid. About 19. He’d never worked with rappers before — had made like a thousand beats, all crazy, but no experience in structuring an album. He trusted me and Pav, so in a way we produced it together. Honestly, it wasn’t even meant to be an album. Pav was staying at mine, we had a studio, he started recording me. Then he jumped on some tracks too. A few days later we had ten records, then we went to India and added more. Super organic. Funny thing is, now he’s my engineer. He records me remotely from India. He knows everything now. Six years later he’s a beast.What have been some of your favourite venues or cities to perform in?Sonnyjim: Paris. Always shows me love. London too. Amsterdam. But Paris is number one.Morriarchi: For me, it’s walking into a record shop abroad and seeing my vinyl in the stacks. That’s incredible. Japan is always special — Osaka’s got this unique energy. And Slovenia too — I played there recently, and the knowledge the crowd had blew me away.With so much music out, do you ever slow down?Sonnyjim: I will soon. I’ve got seven or eight albums sitting, waiting. After next year, I’ll probably take a break.Morriarchi: I work in cycles. 2020–21 I released loads, then slowed down. Now I’m trying to be more intentional, give things longevity. But if projects pile up, I’ve got to get them out.The new record, will we see it performed live?Sonnyjim: For sure. I’m so proud of this music, at least half the album’s going in my live set. Can’t wait to tour it.Morriarchi: Same. This album was really special. Sonny actually came up with the title.Sonnyjim: Yeah, just something I saw online that resonated. Showed it to Morri, and we built from there.Morriarchi: I love world-building. Whether it’s microwaves or ’90s rap, it’s about having a reference point, a box of inspiration to pull from. That makes the whole process richer. 

Interview by Passion Dzenga | Photography by Najda StäubliMurkage Dave is a genre-defying artist and storyteller whose music captures the complexities of people and the world they navigate. Blending indie, electronic & R&B, Dave avoids traditional labels, carving out a sound that’s uniquely his. His songs are driven by a fascination with human behaviour, exploring motivation, identity, and the collective movements of people.An independent artist to his core, Dave approaches his craft with authenticity, reflecting his journey and ethos. Since releasing his debut album in 2018, he’s maintained a fiercely independent path, navigating the music industry’s shifting landscape while holding onto the freedom to tell his stories his way. Collaborations like his work with Caroline Polachek on "Awful Things" have pushed his creative boundaries and reaffirmed his belief in caring deeply about his art.Dave’s creative process is profoundly influenced by movement and place. He’s set up makeshift studios in kitchens, travelled across the UK, and sofa-surfed in Berlin, using his nomadic approach to escape the London bubble and absorb new environments. His experiences across cities and cultures enrich his music, with future aspirations to create in Ghana, Jamaica, and Ireland.Beyond the music, Dave is known for his genuine connections with his audience, engaging directly with fans and prioritising authenticity over the curated nature of social media. As a former DJ, he’s eager to return to the craft through projects like a radio show where he can share music he loves and spotlight his community.For Dave, independence is both a challenge and a reward. Funding his projects demands sacrifice, but it allows him to remain true to his vision. In an industry increasingly controlled by algorithms and major labels, he stands as a testament to the resilience and passion of the independent artist, driven by a commitment to telling stories that matter.You’ve described yourself as a storyteller with a fascination for history. How does this influence your music?I’d say I’m more fascinated by people—what motivates them to do what they do. All my songs are about that, whether I’m working something out about myself, someone else, or how people move as a group.Your sound blends Brit-pop, indie, and R&B uniquely. How would you describe your style, and what sets you apart?Genres piss me off, to be honest. My music connected with people when I stopped hiding parts of myself to fit in. Ironically, there is now pressure to categorise my music. In response, I’ll quote the great Ryan Leslie: “They tried to put me in a box. It’s impossible.”Independence seems central to your artistic identity. What are the key challenges and rewards?When my debut dropped in 2018, there was still this feeling that a kid making music in their bedroom could break through alongside major-label artists. Since the pandemic, big money has taken back control. The fight’s definitely back on, but that’s fine—I know how to fight. The hardest part is funding everything yourself, especially post-pandemic. But if it were easy, everyone would do it. The reward is full creative freedom. That’s worth more than any money to me.You worked with Caroline Polachek on "Awful Things." What was that experience like?Working with Caroline was such a relief. I care deeply about my work, but sometimes I feel like I need to tone that down in collaborations to avoid scaring people off. She pushed me to focus on the details and made me realise it’s cool to care. Since then, being able to text her for advice and get her take on my rough demos has been priceless.You’ve said travelling is key to your creative process. How does place and movement shape your music?In 2024, I noticed that most artists in London couldn’t afford a separate studio—it’s either set up in your kitchen or sleep in your workspace. I realised it was cheaper to travel and sofa-surf. All I need is to be left alone in a room, and I can write. It’s good to step outside the London bubble. For this new record, I’ve been across the UK—rich and poor areas, left-wing, right-wing—getting a real sense of what’s going on. I’ve also worked in Berlin, Amsterdam, Copenhagen, and the Danish countryside. I want to spend proper time creating in Portugal, Ghana, Jamaica, and Ireland in the future.In the digital age, how do you maintain authentic connections with your audience?I genuinely like people, even if I’m not fond of society. It’s just about talking to the people who care about my music and listening to them. Social media is becoming less relevant for selling music anyway—I think I’ll just use it for fun going forward. I’ve moved past that MTV-era mindset where an artist’s whole thing was about selling. Now I just focus on expressing myself and saying what I want to say.You were well-known as a DJ in the past. Would you return to that world?I miss DJing like crazy. I fell out of love with it when I was just doing club gigs to make quick money, playing the same hype tracks for people who just wanted to party. Once my music took off, I quit. But now, every time I hear a record I love, I’m thinking about how it would work in a set. I've started a radio show on Refuge Worldwide called 'The Outlet', where I play what I love and share music from my friendsWhat’s something you wish people better understood about being an independent artist today?The toughest part is self-funding everything. It’s only gotten harder since the pandemic, but that’s the price of creative freedom. For me, the ability to express myself in my own way, on my own time, is worth more than any paycheck. Murkage Dave has never fit into a box — and that’s exactly the point. His music lives where boundaries blur, where indie meets soul, and honesty cuts through noise. Every lyric, every beat, is rooted in human connection and the freedom to create without compromise. Now, Murkage Dave makes his striking return with ‘Swordfight In A Chicken Shop’, a vivid new single that captures the chaos and confusion of modern life. Produced by Tim London (Young Fathers), the track features vocals from Kayus Bankole (Young Fathers), Ellery James Roberts (WU LYF), and Lauren Auder, as well as Bournemouth Hope Youth Choir.“It’s a song about what my life is like. In the street and on my phone. The promise of the nineties and the noughties never came true. But yet I’m still compelled to play the game,” says Dave.Driven by a brooding, pulsating rhythm, ‘Swordfight In A Chicken Shop’ mirrors the cacophony of everyday existence. In the song’s haunting chorus, Dave trades lines with a children’s choir chanting his name, questioning his state of mind. It’s both satirical and sincere — a snapshot of millennial struggle, battling intertwining pillars of information overload, the horrors of the timeline, and the broken social contract that defines a generation. This March, step into Dave’s world. Join him for two nights of raw storytelling, rhythm, and reflection: March 19th, 2026 at Village Underground, London and March 20, 2026 at YES Pink Room, Manchester. Come witness what independence sounds like when it fills a room. Get your tickets now, bring your people, and be part of something real.

Interview by Passion DzengaRuff Sqwad's story begins long before the YouTube era—back when youth clubs had vinyl decks, pirate radio ruled the city, and a TDK tape could change your week. More than twenty years ago, a loose neighbourhood posse of about thirty friends tightened into a small music unit—Slix, Shifty Rydos and company—carrying the street name “Ruff Sqwad” into studios, stairwells, and transmitter rooms. Their early education was communal and hands-on: Ghanaian household sounds and pop radio at home, drum & bass and garage on the block, and hours spent DJing and MCing in youth centres that doubled as classrooms. Pirate radio turned that energy outward—bedroom recordings to Deja/Rinse FM reach—while pressing their own vinyl taught business before there was a blueprint. As Channel U/AKA beamed grime into living rooms, the crew condensed and professionalised, but the ethos stayed DIY: passion first, structure second. In-house producers pushed one another daily, forging a signature that’s emotional and militant at once—heard in era-defining instrumentals like “Together” and “Functions on the Low.” Two decades on, the landscape has shifted from subs to streams, yet the core hasn’t: community, craft, and the mission to move people at 140 BPM. This conversation traces that arc—from youth-club spark and pirate missions to national tours and international stages—and why, for Ruff Sqwad, the music still feels authentic. Take us back to the very beginning—how did Ruff Sqwad form, and who were the founding members? It started over 20 years ago as a big neighbourhood crew—about 30 of us hanging out and moving between youth clubs. From that, a smaller music unit formed: myself, Slix, and Shifty Rydos. We kept the larger crew’s name and carried it into the music—Rough Squad. We were about 12–13, learning as we went. Being together every day—DJing, MCing, messing with gear—turned friends into musical partners. For readers in the Netherlands who didn’t grow up with UK youth clubs—what were they like, and why were they important? Youth clubs were community spaces with pool tables, table tennis, and—crucially—music equipment. Many had vinyl decks or a little studio. If you had records or a way to get them, you could learn to mix; if you wrote bars, you could practise on the mic. One of my first memories is walking into Devon’s Road Youth Centre (The Linc Centre), seeing a young DJ blending two drum & bass tunes so clean it sounded like one—turned out it was Dizzee Rascal. Without those clubs, a lot of us wouldn’t have developed our skills or confidence. What sounds shaped you at home and around the ends before grime? At home: Ghanaian music and whatever was on national radio—pop, rock, chart hits. TV introduced us to the packaging of music—boy bands, pop acts—before wediscovered hip-hop, then UK sounds. In the area and at school we heard drum & bass and UK garage, which led us to grime. That mix—African/Caribbean roots, pop radio, and the UK underground—fed into our style. .When did you first ‘see yourselves’ in the music? For some of us, drum & bass/jungle came a bit earlier; for others, UK garage into early grime was the first time we saw people who talked like us, dressed like us, and came from where we came from—So Solid, Pay As U Go, that generation. In school, loads of MCs were Afro-Caribbean; it felt natural to step in. What did the first steps into pirate radio look like, and how did the crew name fit into that journey? We were making tapes in bedrooms—TDKs recorded at each other’s houses—long before radio. Hearing our first track “Tings in Boots” on air (shout to Triple S Crew on Magic FM) was magical. From there, pirate was the next level. Stations had hierarchies—Rinse FM and Deja Vu had huge reach—so moving from a smaller station to Deja felt like going from a 50-cap room to 1,000 people. Ruff Sqwad started as a street crew name; when radio came into the picture, the name was already established. What were those early pirate missions like—logistics, crews, and risks? We were kids travelling across London to abandoned flats or converted council spaces that hosted transmitters and studios. It could be risky—you’d hear rumours about certain areas—but the love for music outweighed it. We usually rolled five-deep at least, sometimes with non-musical friends in the entourage. Pirate radio took us out of our neighbourhoods and showed us the city. Was there guidance from elders, or was it self-driven? A bit of both. We were lucky: Dizzee, Wiley, DJ Target, and PAUG were from nearby, so those networks and youth clubs gave us proximity. You’d spit a lyric in a session, someone would clock you and invite you up. Early on, it was about being heard—getting a turn on the mic. When artists started getting signed, it clicked that this could change our lives. Talk us through your first vinyl—why press it, and how did you make it happen? “Tings in Boots” had heat on the underground—especially with a young Tinchy Stryder on vocals—so pressing it felt obvious. The model was clear from our peers: build a tune in the underground, get it on radio, cut dubplates, then press. We handled everything: booking studios, getting mixes, cutting dubs for radio, then pressing vinyl and hand-to-handing to shops. Some shops said no (and later those tracks became some of our biggest). Vinyl sales became our first legit income stream before proper shows and bookings scaled. How did distribution evolve once demand grew? At first, it was literally records in a car, shop to shop. As demand picked up, distributors stepped in to place stock across the country. It turned DIY hustle into a small business and taught us about the industry—production costs, timelines, margins—while keeping the streets involved. Looking back, what did that ecosystem—youth clubs, pirates, vinyl—give Rough Squad that streaming can’t?Access and identity. Youth clubs gave us skills and community. Pirate radio gave us reach, urgency, and a live feedback loop. Vinyl gave us ownership and revenue. Together, they made a pathway for kids from our ends to be heard—before algorithms—by sheer force of sound and consistency.Channel U/AKA put you on TV screens. How did that shift—from pirate sets and vinyl—change things?It condensed the crew. We started as 30 friends on the road, became 6–7 for the pirate era, and tightened further once TV rotation kicked in. When one of us started smashing shows nationwide with a bigger camp and then signed a deal, the spotlight widened. It felt strange at first—seeing your guy on other stations while you’re still doing your own sets—but it made sense and lifted the whole name. Tours followed, some of us jumped on those dates, and suddenly we’d gone from radio rooms to arenas of 10–15k.Mid-2000s grime went entrepreneurial—DVDs, tees, CDs, Star in the Hood, as well as exposure on commercial radio such as BBC Radio 1Xtra and Kiss FM. How did you keep the engine running as you moved from teens to young adults?Passion first, then structure. We lived together musically—woke up making tunes, passed houses to listen, hit radio twice a week, booked studio, pressed records. It wasn’t Google Calendars; it was brotherhood. Roles emerged: some of us organised sessions, deadlines and drops; others handled mixes, vinyl, videos. Because we were around each other 24/7, decisions happened in motion.“Together” still erupts clubs. What’s the origin story?Dirty Danger made the beat at around 14. It began as a loop—open, musical, cinematic. The moment it came through the wall, it felt special. He nearly binned it; we pushed him to finish it. In a later studio run (he funded the time), the hook got laid and the tune became a crew staple. It’s the clarity and space that let everyone paint emotion—that’s why it lasts.And “Functions on the Low”? How did that sound crystallise?Nothing was board-roomed. We had multiple in-house producers (each with a distinct palette) feeding off one another—same DAWs, different ears. Friendly pressure kept the bar high: if someone dropped four new riddims today, you weren’t showing up empty-handed tomorrow. We’d build a tune in a week to test it on radio the next. The overlap wasn’t formula; it was shared standards and constant iteration.Quality control in a big crew is tricky. How did you keep the sound coherent without boxing yourselves in?By listening—to each other and to the crowd. It wasn’t competition so much as catalysts: one synth line would spark another tune; a drum pocket would trigger a new flip. Because the workflow was relentless—five ideas a day at times—the weak fell away and the strongest ideas defined “the sound” organically.What’s changed in grime across 20+ years—and what hasn’t?DIY radio is gone, streaming is king, labels and platforms shifted the power a few times. But the culture cycles back: collaboration is up, the community feel is returning, and people are making grime because it moves them, not just the metrics. It doesn’t feel like 20 years because we never stopped.Grime’s international pull is real. Why keep bringing the sound to places like the Netherlands?Because the sound is bigger than us. It sits around 140 BPM, but it’s its own lane—recognisable, iconic, still evolving. We’re grateful to travel with it and rebuild, city by city. The Netherlands has long supported UK bass culture, and linking with local pillars only strengthens the ecosystem.If your music lived in a film, what genre would it score?Epic battle cinema—think 300 or Gladiator. Melodic, martial, high-stakes energy. It’s war music.On Saturday, November 1st, La Cassette take over MONO, Rotterdam presenting a crewnight. Bridging the gap between the Netherlands and the UK. Tickets are available now with party contributions starting at €14 and going up to €17.50.

Interview by Passion Dzenga  For our AW25 lookbook, we wanted every detail to reflect heritage, craftsmanship and modern storytelling — which is why we chose to style the collection with pieces from Fokko Juweliers. Known for their authentic Surinamese designs and deep cultural roots, Fokko doesn’t just create jewelry — they craft connection.As the largest Surinamese jewelry brand today, Fokko Juweliers is redefining what it means to wear tradition with pride. Their pieces blend ancestral craftsmanship with contemporary detail, honoring heritage while looking ahead. We caught up with the founder to get familiar with the story behind the brand — from humble beginnings on Facebook to becoming a million-euro company bridging cultures across the Netherlands and Suriname. Let’s dive in.First things first — how did Fokko Juweliers come to life? What’s the story behind the brand?After finishing my studies, I wasn’t quite sure what I wanted to do. Together with a friend, Remi’s Juwelen — a Surinamese jeweler in Groningen — I started selling Surinamese jewelry online via platforms like Marktplaats and Facebook. We had a one-week delivery time.Over time, demand started growing, not just locally but from all over the country. At the time, Surinamese jewelry wasn’t really available online, so I decided to start my own brand: Fokko Juweliers. I didn’t want to name the business after myself directly, so I used my middle name — Fokko, named after my Dutch grandfather. That was back in 2009.As the brand grew, I launched Fokko Design in 2011: my own line of Surinamese jewelry inspired by authentic cultural pieces. Today, we ship over 10,000 orders a year, with an annual turnover of more than a million euros, and have a team of 10 people working with us.That’s an impressive journey! What are the values that drive Fokko Juweliers?At Fokko Juweliers, we’re deeply rooted in several core values that guide everything we do. Authenticity is at the heart of our work — we’re committed to preserving the traditional Surinamese culture and craftsmanship in every single piece we create. Our jewelry is a celebration of heritage, and we strive to keep that spirit alive through careful, meaningful design.Craftsmanship is equally important. Every item is created with precision, care, and an eye for detail — high quality isn’t optional; it’s a standard. We also place great value on diversity, reflecting the richness of Suriname’s multicultural society, where different ethnic influences come together in harmony. Sustainability is another pillar of our approach. We use eco-friendly materials and ethical production methods to ensure that our impact is positive, not just culturally, but environmentally as well.Connection plays a big role in our mission. We aim to connect people with Surinamese history and culture through our jewelry, and we’re proud to collaborate with Surinamese businesses — from local photographers to marketing partners. Our photos are often taken in Suriname itself, reinforcing that connection.We also feel immense pride — in our heritage, our team, and in the ability to share Surinamese stories with the world. Through our blog, we strive to raise awareness and appreciation for Suriname and its unique jewelry traditions. Finally, creativity is woven into our process. We love innovating and creating designs that respect traditional elements while incorporating a modern style.You operate in both the Netherlands and Suriname. How do the markets differ?There’s a notable difference in production methods between the two markets. In Suriname, jewelry is often handmade or crafted using basic molds, which results in pieces that may not have the polished finish expected in the Netherlands. That’s why we’ve invested heavily in advanced machinery and in training local Surinamese talent. Thanks to these investments, we’re now able to produce Surinamese jewelry that matches Dutch standards in both quality and finish. We can achieve intricate details that wouldn’t have been possible by hand alone, allowing us to blend tradition with modern precision.What makes Fokko Design stand out from other jewelry brands?What sets us apart is the authentic cultural connection embedded in each of our designs. Our jewelry tells genuine stories rooted in Surinamese traditions and customs, whereas many competing brands often create more generic, commercial pieces that lack that specific cultural background — and often, any personal connection to Suriname at all.We also work with authentic Surinamese materials and traditional techniques. For instance, we use the original hand-blown Ala Kondre beads, while others opt for cheaper Chinese replicas. This commitment to authenticity is a defining aspect of our brand. But we don’t stop there. We offer more than just products — we provide a full cultural experience. Whether it’s through our blog or sponsorship of Surinamese events, we create a space where people can engage with and feel proud of their heritage.And importantly, our jewelry remains affordable. For us, it’s not just about profit. Our mission is to tell Suriname’s story — and we want as many people as possible to be able to access and connect with it. Each piece we create reflects Suriname’s rich history, traditions, and cultural diversity, allowing our customers to wear something meaningful and proudly rooted in identity.What kind of partners or retailers do you collaborate with?When we look for partners to carry our Surinamese jewelry brand, we seek those who align with our vision and values. It’s important that they have a deep respect and appreciation for the cultural heritage behind our designs. We want to work with people who can genuinely communicate that story to their customers, because in Surinamese culture, jewelry holds significant meaning.We also prioritize quality. Our ideal partners are committed to offering their clients high-quality, handcrafted pieces — not mass-produced products. On top of that, they should be passionate about creating a strong customer experience — one that’s personal, warm, and meaningful.We value collaboration and want to work with people who are enthusiastic about growing with us. We believe our jewelry is much more than an accessory — it carries stories, memories, and identity. So, any partner we work with needs to understand what they’re offering and why it matters.And who is your typical customer?Our typical customer is someone who’s not just shopping for jewelry, but looking for something truly meaningful. They value craftsmanship and authenticity and are often drawn to the cultural and personal significance behind our pieces. These are people who want to wear or gift something that tells a story — something that resonates with their heritage, or simply stands out for its uniqueness.When they visit Fokko Juweliers, they’re looking for more than just a purchase. They want to feel welcomed, receive expert guidance, and be inspired. Our customers appreciate the personal attention we offer, as well as the passion and care we put into every single piece. It’s crucial that our team has in-depth knowledge to match each customer with something that truly suits their style, story, and wishes.In short, they’re seeking a warm, trustworthy, and authentic shopping experience where they feel heard, valued, and understood.Looking ahead — what’s next for Fokko Juweliers?We’re always looking forward and evolving based on our experience and customer feedback. While we’re proud of our current collection, we’re also excited about its future growth. In the coming months, we plan to introduce new designs that bring together Suriname’s rich cultural elements with modern trends.Another key goal is expanding our network of retail partners, especially in Belgium and eastern parts of the Netherlands, so we can share our passion with even more people. But for us, growth needs to be sustainable. Expanding too quickly can compromise quality and our close connection with customers — something we never want to lose.That’s why we take our time. We’re focused on maintaining the high standards we’ve set, both in our jewelry and in our customer service. Quality will always come before quantity for us. Sustainable growth allows us to stay true to our values and ensures that we remain a reliable, thoughtful, and personal brand long into the future.What legacy do you hope Fokko Juweliers leaves behind?We’re proud that Fokko Design has become the largest Surinamese jewelry brand — and that didn’t happen overnight. It took years of passion, hard work, and staying true to our identity. We’ve built a strong, trusted name both in Suriname and the Netherlands, and our customers see us as a reliable and inspiring brand that honors Surinamese culture and brings it to life through beautiful jewelry.Our biggest hope is to continue connecting people to Suriname’s rich traditions, and to do so with authenticity, quality, and care. We want to be remembered not just for our products, but for the stories we told, the people we inspired, and the cultural pride we shared with the world.