Pioneering DJ collective and production duo Elliot and Orny, AKA ‘FAFF’, are energising London’s queer party scene with diverse sets and high-octane sounds. Previous residents of Big Dyke Energy, the avant-garde “queer rave with no rules”, the duo have been notorious for elevating the dance music space for the past five years.

Providing pulsating beats and high-camp mixes within hedonistic spaces for queer women, non-binary and trans partygoers, their work has given London’s queer scene a much-needed refresher. From their first release ‘The Last Piglette’ in 2021 to their most recent 2023 EP Crappy Hardcore, they remain true to their mantra “we never want to be limited by a genre or style,” with their mixes encompassing house, techno, disco, funk, soul and pop.

With a working relationship as tight as their sets, FAFF’s upcoming performance at this year’s winter Body Movements festival on February 3 is both an eagerly anticipated celebration of their presence in the scene and a testament to their dedication to creating work fueled by love. We caught up with FAFF to chat about the upcoming performance, anxiety dreams and Mogu Mogu.

What does Body Movements’ motto ‘queer bodies in electronic music’ mean to you?

Elliott: Platforming and providing a much-needed space for queer people to unite and dance together. 

Orny: Also giving smaller artists a platform to perform. 

How can we advance the representation of queer individuals within the broader electronic music scene?

Orny: The queer electronic scene thrives as a unique subculture, which presents a challenge in navigating the fine line between embracing mainstream expectations and capitalisation without selling your soul. Having promoters and venues promoting inclusion to keep mainstream events diverse helps. 

Elliott: There is a huge part of the queer community that is anti-capitalist. A lot of these scenes are born from that sentiment. However, simultaneously, artists need to be paid for their work and to be able to live off their art which comes from having that element of exposure. It’s on the bigger promoters to pull their head out of the sand and do the work to listen to upcoming DJs, new mixes and to listen to music that isn’t solely backed by major labels. It’s important they create varied line-ups and don’t just overuse the same acts on rotation.

This is why Body Movements is providing such essential work within the music industry, as it is supporting artists through their emerging DJ competition, where artists have been invited to submit their mixes and have the chance to perform for potentially the first time. 

How does your relationship shape your musical collaboration?

Orny: We’re not together, but we are soul mates. 

Elliott: We’re life partners. It’s important to have such a profoundly deep connection with a music collaborator, it’s necessary to have an immense level of trust and honesty for constructive criticism. A certain level of intimacy is essential to comfortably share and exchange musical creations. 

Orny: We complement each other, but we are also contrasting in a lot of aspects, which allows some crazy mixes to develop. It’s not something we could do on our own, and having that mutual respect on a friendship level makes it significantly easier.

Meeting at the ‘queer mothership’ – AKA Dalston Superstore – while working together behind the bar must have been quite an experience. Can you share any wild stories about this iconic East London venue?

Orny: Once we saw a customer taking a shit in the fire exit. 

Elliott: There’s also a LOT of funny CCTV footage of many a fall from the top bar. 

Could you walk me through your approach to preparing a set? Do you organise your tracks based on the venue’s vibe, or do you craft your set according to the genre and energy you aim to convey that night?

Elliott: It’s 50/50. We individually prepare a selection, but mostly we assess the line-up and the crowd. Actually, the best sets we’ve done have been the ones that we have been the least prepared for. Keeping it spontaneous and going off the cuff has worked well in our favour. 

Orny: It’s always a messy mix anyway as we play a large variety of genres. It’s important for us to keep it varied, playing new or an alternative variety of tracks in every gig, and even though it can be messy, we endeavour to create a seamless flow and consistently engage our crowd. 

What’s your favourite corner shop snack?

Elliott: Yours is probably a protein bar. 

Orny: No, no, no, I’m not having that, absolutely not! Walkers Salt and Vinegar crisps. I just love the way they feel. 

Elliott: I’m really into Mogu Mogu. They’re these radioactive-pink-looking drinks, with little chewy bits inside. It’s probably for five-year-olds, but I’m proper into them. 

What conspiracy theory are you quite into actually? 

Orny: The ‘Year 2000’ conspiracy, where everyone freaked out over the date changing to the new millennium and that it would cause computers to crash, society would crumble and everything would be fucked. 

Elliott: Mine is whether Princess Diana was murdered. 

Any recurring dreams? 

Elliott: I’ve had my fair share of the sleep paralysis demons, and falling. 

Orny: I wouldn’t say I’ve had repeating dreams. I do lucid dream, however. I’ve even made music in my dreams before and it’s actually quite sick. I tend to have a lot of anxiety dreams, such as being naked in a club, not being able to drink water or not being able to piss. 

Elliott: Yeah, anxiety dreams are a common occurrence before gigs. There is this one dream I kept having, where we’re DJing a set, and whenever I tried to grab a record for you, it just kept getting smaller and smaller. It was a record-shrinking nightmare. 

What adjective would you least like to be described as? 

Elliott: Probably something really mean. I guess no one wants to be described as a ‘horrible bitch’. 

Orny: Being arrogant or that we’re not humble. A knob. 

What do you put on your rider? 

Elliott: Lager and water. 

Orny: Or coconut water, when we feel like we can. 

Elliott: When we’re being boujee.

You encounter a hostile alien race and sound is their only mechanism for communication. What song would you play to them to inspire them to spare you and the rest of the human race?

Both: ‘Come Together’ by Primal Scream.

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