One sunny afternoon in August 2019, Momoko Goto, AKA Powder, played the final edition of Nachtdigital festival at Bungalowdorf Olganitz. As she stood behind the decks, dancers cooled down in the lake, bathed in the glorious sunshine, and soldiered on after a night of partying. Goto provided the perfect soundtrack to this woozy scene, masterfully navigating between mind-melting rhythms, ethereal vocals and plenty more besides.

Talking to Goto, it's immediately clear how much she cares about the experience she creates for her dancers. Frequently before a gig, she'll visit the city to get a feel for her surroundings. She always spends time on the dance floor before her set to see how the music feels from the dancers' perspective. On occasion, she's even gone back to her hotel from the club to reselect songs after analysing the vibe of the dance floor. For anyone who has seen Goto DJ, this may come as no surprise. Her style is subtle, toying with groove and melody to provoke the desired emotions in her dancers.

It was only five or six years ago that Goto first emerged on the scene. Today, she is one of the most cherished and respected DJs on the circuit. We exchanged messages over the past few months, speaking about her rise, the parallels between touring and working a nine-to-five, and her DJing philosophy.

Let's start with Powder In Space. It's one of my favourite mixes of the past few years. How did it come about, and what was your creative process for putting it together?

Tim [Sweeney] told me one day that he was beginning a new Beats In Space mix series and kindly offered me the opportunity to be the first one. It was also a way for me to celebrate the 20th anniversary of the radio show. I worked on two original songs over a couple of weeks when I had returned to Japan between tours and then mixed all the songs on my laptop while I was on tour. Thankfully, all the licensing went smoothly! Although it's unusual for me to create a mix this way, it might not be very exciting to further explain my process of working on a laptop. I listened to it many times, in various locations and various postures while touring. I especially looked for places where I could lie down to listen: airports, fields—testing it in different orders and at different volumes, and adjusting until it felt right.

I've noticed a lot of your mix releases since Powder In Space are live recordings. Was this a conscious decision or natural evolution?

I imagine any DJ mix must have been a live recording back in the day, but nowadays, you can work on a mix on your computer or an app… So things feel like they are moving backwards again. Like some kind of trick to replicate the magical experience of the dance floor, I not only use my line recording from the show but also sometimes mix in field recordings from my Tascam recorder. This reflects my set as heard from the floor, and also the crowd's voices and various ambient sounds at the club.

So how does this compare to when you first started DJing?

When I started DJing, I recorded my live sets in my room to CD-Rs and listened back to them in the car as background music while driving. When I moved to Tokyo, my room was too small and too close to neighbours, so it was impossible to play music loudly. Naturally, I started to use my headphones to make mixes using Ableton Live. Although I didn't have a car in Tokyo anymore, I had a smartphone by then, so I could still listen back to mixes while travelling. I uploaded my mixes to SoundCloud and listened to them when I went to work.

After I started touring, I was moving around all the time, so I continued making mixes in the same way on my desktop. It just fit my somewhat nomadic lifestyle back then. However, these days I feel what a DJ does seems to be replaceable by computers, so I intentionally began to keep my live recordings.

It's technically the same thing, what I'm doing now at venues and in my hometown bedroom, but it's interesting to know people feel something new from it. At the same time, I feel a bit strange when I see or hear my live recordings on the internet without information about where or when or how I played or for who. I think it's nice to have a small memo of what the mix is about or its context to enjoy it more—the songs you enjoyed at a big festival don't always have the same effect in small local clubs or at home, right?

In relation to this, I began something called remotejoint. It's a mix series that anyone can join to practice making mixes for specific situations.

Powder · Passing it clockwise (0:00 - 5ive & Powder)

How did you get into dance music and going to parties?

As a teenager, I used to visit a rental space inside a building where local bands and DJs played anything they liked to play or wanted to share. I began listening to dance music when I started going to a small club in Sasebo. Many of the DJs and visitors worked at Sasebo Port, so I think imported dance music was introduced to me quite naturally from that environment.

How did you learn to mix records?

I listened to mix CDs that many local DJs handed me at various clubs. It was very common at the time for DJs to pass around mixes to promote themselves, and these were always stacked up on the dashboard of my car. I began practising by trying to pick up how to mix by using my ear, cutting into the next song by counting beats, using the crossfader for any kind of song. I wasn't allowed to play music loudly at my place, so I listened to music in my car, built an image in my mind, and then practised quietly at home. It's a little bit similar to how I work on things now when I'm moving around.

I usually quietly work on things where I stay, but it always takes a bit of courage for me to push play and work on music in a bland hotel room, so to get my brain started, I put my earphones on and go for a walk. If I find a good space, I lie down there and look at how the clouds move while listening to something. I also like playing music on low volume to be mixed with sounds of surroundings or people's existence far away.

Anyway, when I could mix for 70 minutes without a mistake, I recorded to a CD-R and made my own mix CD to pass around. One club owner happened to listen to the mix and offered me a chance to play once a month at a Mexican-themed bar that he also owned in the same building as the club.

So that's how everything started?

When I think back, yes! I made my own flyers and dropped them off at the rental shop that I used to work at, so the people who I played for that night were just curious people who came to check out how the "night shift person" plays on the decks, or were people who were clubbing downstairs coming up to relax for a bit.

When did you feel you could consider DJing as a career?

I never imagined DJing as my profession. Even after I started getting asked to play overseas, and it slowly became impossible to work at a company and tour, I still worked as an accountant remotely. Over the course of a day, I realised that the pay seemed to be reflecting what I was doing, and I felt some responsibility and awareness to aim to be more professional as a DJ. Still, people around me always help me out, but it's been fine so far!

Was there a particular release or gig that helped launch your music career?

There is no specific gig that I can think of, but usually, the people who kindly ask me [to play] have seen me play somewhere before.

What is your preferred DJ setup at the moment?

I haven't found my "ultimate" setup yet, but I currently use Technics turntables and a Vestax PMC-06 at home. Since I can't go back home to reselect records while touring, I do use CDJs at clubs. Before playing, I make sure to ask the club for their equipment options, and if there is anything I already know I like to use, I usually choose that. However, I trust in the sound engineer's opinion at each venue, so I often ask for what is recommended and go with what they say.

So how does your Vestax PMC-06 and turntable setup at home compare with what you typically find in a club?

I use what I am used to at home as I really enjoy the sound through my PMC-06. I'm not really aware of the latest setups, but at the same time, I do enjoy playing around with the different equipment I try out at venues.

Once I'm on tour, it's a bit difficult to practice. However, as I play at different places, and the setup always changes, I don't feel much of a necessity to be very used to one particular setup.

Do you have to adapt your technique or change the type of music you play when you're constantly changing your environment and being presented with different setups?

I listen to music on any possible device available—cassette player, cheap earphones, a rent-a-car stereo, etc. This doesn't mean that I'm looking for a "magic song" that can match any environment, but it's just fun to know how each song feels in different settings. While listening, I also imagine how it would sound on the dance floor—I try to make a reference by hearing how it sounds on the lowest listenable volume.

When I communicate with the sound engineer at the gig, I always tell or show them the range of the lowest and the loudest volume I want to play during the set. When the systems are over-compressed or have a limiter controlling the sound, it can take away the dynamism of the music and also limit what I am capable of. In this case, I just use music from my backup folder under the filename "Funktion One" and try to adjust myself differently. Once I get to the booth and start playing, it takes a little while to adjust and feel comfortable until the volume of the monitor speakers and the sound coming from headphones sounds right together.

I was lucky enough to see you play at Nachtdigital Mint back in 2019 for a daytime set on the Lake Stage. It was outdoors on a beautiful sunny day, with dancers in the shallow waters of the lake and on the wooden decking. Take me back.

Oh yeah, I saw the sun coming through the clouds, so I played Arthur Russell's "Let's Go Swimming," and the dancers got naked and started swimming!

You must love those weird and wonderful scenarios that only occur at summer festivals. It must have been a very different setting to playing in clubs around the world in the early hours of the morning. How do you adapt your style to different situations, and in particular festivals versus clubs?

For a club set, I usually visit the city prior to the gig date if I can. I like walking around and learning the feeling of the city. Although I usually go straight to the venue from the airport when it's a festival, I still try to walk around inside the space or dance before my set to channel the mood of the event. I structure a DJ set based on what I feel from these visits to wherever I'm at.

However, once I'm in the booth, I clear my head. When I'm playing, I operate in a way like an audio visualiser, translating the sounds I hear in my head into something to relate to what the dance floor is hearing or feeling. I want to hear what people are hearing, so the preparation on the dance floor is essential.

So you spend some time on the dance floor before your set to feel out the mood?

Yes. Since I'm only able to hear sounds through headphones and the monitor speakers while I'm playing, it's very important for my body to have this input of how it sounds and feels on each dance floor. I don't have a fixed playing style, but I get inspiration for what to play from feeling the people there or the atmosphere of the space. I sometimes go back to my hotel to reselect songs after getting hints from the dancer's movements or even the tone or rhythm I feel from the people who are talking.

How do you find new music?

I used to listen to DJ mixes on SoundCloud and any music that caught my attention. I like to do further research to see the related releases of those songs to find new things. These days, I just go to record shops or thrift stores when I feel like it or walk through Bandcamp. There are many ways I look for music, but I realise that when friends share it, it always stays as a strong memory.

Once, 5ive gifted me a record—Deee-Lite's "How Do You Say... Love"—and then Sonic Weapon also gave me Deee-Lite's "Good Bea." Both said, "It reminds me of you!" And yes, I very much enjoyed both of the Pal Joey remixes. I never listened to them growing up, but it's also interesting to discover a new side of myself without searching on my own.

Sharing music between friends is always a great way to discover new sounds and artists that you wouldn't have found otherwise. Do you have a particular strategy when digging for new music, like looking for colourful artwork, particular labels, or do you ask for tips from someone that works in a record shop?

I don't think I pay too much attention to these elements. I also don't look to see if the music is well-known or unknown. I prefer not to know too much about the labelling around the music, but I understand it's difficult to be completely detached from that.

While I am conscious of maintaining my sensibility to always be open to new things, I also look for inspiration from things that come to mind that day, and my imagination branches out.

I was listening back to your RA.700 mix the other day, and early on, you played Hashman Deejay's remix of "Planet Be," at least a year before it was officially released. How do you use touring as a chance to test out potential label releases?

From time to time, I felt like listening to that remix on the dance floor, so I thought it would be nice to have the record. Although I neither asked him to remix the song nor gave him any stem of the track, one day, he just emailed me with a simple subject: "Planet 909." Maybe it was a holiday gift from him… It's still a mystery.

I like looking for stuff but also enjoy picking up random things that naturally come to me, and I hope this carries on by being in the right place at the right time.

The crescendo at the end of RA.700 with nisennenmondai's "B-1 (You Ishihara Mix)", followed by the sudden switch up into Captain Mustard's "Quiet Move (Special Dance Mix)" is masterful DJing. How do you know when to raise or lower the intensity of the music in the room?

It depends on the situation. If it's early or in a well-lit place, I pay attention to volume and start with music that people can still talk quietly to each other. Of course, I slowly turn the volume up during the night; if I notice people still busy talking, I like to change the sound to something that will make them feel like they'd rather dance. However, the bursting dance floor energy can sometimes overwhelm me, and it affects the set and the mood, so I try to subtly guide the emotions on the floor.

When you are listening to [my RA] mix on headphones, you may feel the strength or the intensity changing at that point; it's just on the dance floor that the distance of sound is balanced in a different way. It's impossible to know how each person hears the sound, so I try to observe how they feel from each body's movement.

Can the crowd's reaction to the music you play either reinforce or change your opinion?

My experience in music is a continuous process of unwittingly being drawn to something I don't understand, but as I gradually understand something, I realise what I'm missing or what I really like. But I still don't understand a lot of things, so I have no single topic I want to discuss through music, but I am interested in each person's different take on it. Before any musical ideas or opinions, I see myself first being imaginative in visual terms or as a feeling. To explain: I get an image in my head and then try to deduct what I don't feel is true to myself—kind of like carving out an image from a block to present what I am capable of expressing at each moment. I see myself more clearly by deducting things rather than adding.

This mindset slowly got stronger after I got bored of feeling during tours that I had to create a musical relationship with everyone in the audience or make everyone happy—but this slowly felt like I was fading out and disappearing. It was painful.

Overthinking what hundreds or thousands of dancers want must be overwhelming. How does this feeling compare to when you are producing music?

As I mentioned, I do like thinking of how people feel from the music, but when I'm making music rather than DJing, I'm free from thinking about people's minds—I try to imagine the listener's heart instead.

As a DJ or when I think more of the dance floor while making music, it gets a little more complicated because dancer feelings get added, including the body and its sexuality. When I think of a dancer, I pay attention to various body shapes moving on the dance floor, and I enjoy seeing the sexuality of each individual getting very unstable by dancing, like in the way that waves of feelings come and go to find a perfect balance for each person of who they are. And for myself, too, I naturally use this somewhat multi-sexual, unstable floating energy as a DJ. Sometimes I feel I'm lacking in sexual elements, but I also see that as my own balance.

Do you ever worry about losing dancers when you change up the vibe or throw a curveball in the mix?

I'm not so worried about dancers disappearing—I more wish that everyone would enjoy the long night, so I think it's very natural and even more fun for things to not stay at the same level during the set. I also think that if people sometimes feel turned off by the mood transition, it can be a useful sign for a water break.

When I see the time flow through the transformation of a dance floor, I sometimes feel sad for a moment, but after that, the perception of time feels much slower than it was. I always want to share this time-bending feel with everyone, but when I get too conscious of the ending time, it usually doesn't work as well, so I try not to look at my watch too often.

I see the time on the dance floor, similar to how the sun moves. I get the same feeling when I try to adjust my body clock when touring through changing my schedule of eating and sleeping in a more primitive sense. I started this adjustment as a technique to control my energy consumption to avoid getting too tired when touring. Interestingly, when I do this, I also get very sensitive to music and light—like the sun is trying to bring me back to normal life.

I read a review of your set at Nowadays in 2018 that describes how skillfully you traverse between genres. Has this always come naturally to you, or is it something you've learnt over time?

I've always prioritised records for listening, so [when I started mixing], I was never as prepared with "DJ ready" records. My current style of mixing different kinds of music was built by trying to put together a whole set with a limited selection of records when I first started out, so it wasn't intentional. Thankfully, this somewhat undefinable style led me to play at all types of parties and experience many things as a DJ. However, just focusing on playing music from various genres one after another can end up amplifying the mismatch of uncomfortable sounds—this becomes more apparent when the soundsystem gets bigger.

There was a time when I played similar-sounding music that suited a certain type of soundsystem, but soon I felt no joy from playing this way. After lots of trial and error, I slowly understood the relation of sound and space and got more precise with mixing things carefully. Now I enjoy mixing quite different qualities of music together by adjusting it by hand. Once I got used to doing this, I was able to see all kinds of connections between different music made at different times or in dissimilar places. Of course, I sometimes just mix stuff that feels like it fits the moment.

For me, mixing various types of music is just about making careful adjustments on the mixer, equalising. I used to think a little further into my sets, but since I've started to take more time to mix, I now focus more on what I hear in the moment.

And how do you use the EQs to control the energy in the room?

When equalising, I used to mix a song by separating it into a few layers and then mix in a way to come in and out of that layer. But when I started to make my own tracks, I got too used to the visual of how I see a track on screen: layered lines of track stems, the waveform going left to right, etc. These visuals began to bother me during my sets, thinking of each track as what I see on a monitor, so since then, I've tried to change my method by closing my eyes and focusing on the sound right there.

It's a little abstract to try and explain this concept in words, but now I imagine mixing as a space of sound being transformed into another space of sound, connecting the dots and points of sounds in the air in an unexpected way. It's a bit like trying to adjust the air in the room. I feel the space changing its shape throughout the set, and I use the EQ to balance this unstable atmosphere. I'm constantly adjusting the EQ, not just when I'm mixing records. For example, using this idea, I enjoy replicating an open-air-ish space in a closed club or building a smaller space inside an existing bigger bubble of space.

Your record "H" was inspired by your experiences at the Cocktail d'Amore parties in Berlin. This sounds like a connection on another level. Why is Cocktail d'Amore so special to you?

The first time I went to their party, I was just one of the visitors in the summer of 2015. Mascaras was playing the closing set, and I remember clearly Griessmühle's perfect sound quality and the lighting. The following year, I began to DJ again after taking a break, and the first gig of my first tour turned out to be Cocktail d'Amore. They let me play a four-hour set before closing—I was surprised since I had no recognition, but I'm very thankful for that opportunity.

I also relate a lot to their way of finding charming things among ugliness, and I feel I connect and fit in with their party like sauerkraut in a hotdog. Their party is completely surreal, and I can think of many funny stories and eye-opening encounters when I think back… But maybe I won't go too deep here.

What was your experience of living alone in Tokyo, and how did this shape the music you create and play as a DJ?

At first, I was quite confused in Tokyo—how the people talk, its culture and daily life—every detail had a subtle difference from where I'm from, and it took time to get used to it. Before I moved, I felt all the words or topics in the media were based on big cities, but when I'm actually here, it feels like I'm inside a TV or internet world, and it feels quite surreal. I still don't know if that impression of Tokyo is real or not.

My interest in music seems to be similar, too. I hear many manufactured, inorganic sounds in Tokyo. This is part of its tone, and it's strong but feels like it's missing some misinterpretation or accents. Maybe it's because we mostly speak one language here. I feel I'm out of tune with this tone in terms of DJing or making music. The sounds people listen to are very similar, so I try to be a bit off from this tuning when I make music or DJ.

How do the clubbing scene in Japan differ from European cities like London and Berlin?

When I'm playing in Europe, my set becomes very spontaneous and flexible according to the moment, situation or people's reactions. I notice that each place in Europe has its own idea of how to perceive seasons, and each has a different perception of time and moves at different speeds. I like playing music not only to match the feelings of each of these places, but also to play mismatching sounds to see people's reactions.

I enjoy London and Berlin, in some ways it really feels like I'm in a city of music. It feels natural to enjoy a musical event in daily life, but I've noticed that clubs in big cities are getting more similar to each other every year. I still feel like I'm touring around in an extension of my first booked show, so I don't have a full grasp on what the whole dance music scene is like—I'm just expanding a circle for myself bit by bit.

The dance floor is a great place to meet new people and always produces some fun stories and memories. What was your first show in London like?

The first show I played in London was a party at Rye Wax with the crew Body Motion. They booked me through a SoundCloud message when few people knew about my release. After the show, we spent time relaxing, hanging out with people and listening to music together, and naturally became friends through sharing things. They took me to squat parties and even Notting Hill Carnival. We still share music even though we can't meet up for real. Sometimes I notice they get interested in very hardcore, extreme music, but even then, I still relate to their feeling. I have a similar relationship like this with many people in various areas I met through my tours.

Since clubbing was not so accepted in my social circle, I used to secretly go to clubs alone to dance, but I feel this alone time made me myself. If you are able to follow some rules, it is possible to play quite freely in Japan, but it can be difficult to find the groove point in this rigid structure. Sometimes I don't know what to play for people who just listen to music with their arms crossed, but these days I slowly find people who I can dance with till the end.

What are your other favourite places to DJ?

In Portland, Oregon, people use workshops, bookshops and other local, everyday places and turn them into dance floors. Although I never experienced such a thing when I was young, it somehow felt nostalgic with the custom-made soundsystems. I also really liked the feeling that after they clear up, it goes back to a daily setting as if nothing had ever happened to that space.

For festivals, I enjoy the feeling of Braille Satellite in Lithuania a lot, and I always return annually. To name some clubs, I think Good Room or Nowadays in New York City, or Closer in Kyiv, have soundsystems that fit my way of playing music. Many of the promoters who invite me don't have a residency at a club, but I'm always impressed that they somehow find a place to make the night happen and always come up with an interesting place to play. Sometimes clubs and spaces close, and I can't go back to the places I enjoyed, but they always stay in my mind.

What did you do for work in your previous life?

I worked at a CD rental shop and also did some seasonal work for a futon shop, visiting churches to sell futons or supplying sheets to sailors' lodges. I also did dishwashing. For day-to-day jobs, I did many random things!

Have you found any parallels between your jobs before and working in music?

They seem like two separate worlds, but I feel quite a strong connection when looking at them from different points of view. The company where I used to work was making the micro metal powders used in condensers that are essential for any computer or synthesiser—so basically any of the musical equipment I am currently using!

That's a cool parallel between completely different worlds.

Yes, I experienced seeing people connected with different purposes, from different points of view, while I was making tea or entering data. On the one hand, you'd have people moving around checking each bit of data, and on the other hand, there'd be an engineer trying to make the quantity of powder as small as possible. I'm thankful for this work. It led me to think about things like sharing enough power with each person or wanting to change people's perception of time or various other things I work around through music now.

5ive seems like a critical part of your journey in music. Can you tell us how you became friends, started running parties together, and now run your label, Thinner Groove, together?

5ive is the best travel partner: an experienced driver and very good at lighting a joint on a windy day. I met the people who now release on my label, Thinner Groove, through his Cos/Mes party, Some Song Teachers. The venue Aoyama Oath is no longer in the same location, but it was an interesting setup where people could go outdoors if they wanted to relax a bit, and the party often went on until noon the next day. I was very excited by every song played and enjoyed hearing the music through the door while the sun got stronger.

Although we are from very different musical backgrounds, when we listen to the same music, the same parts tend to catch our attention. We always listen to music together. When I used to listen alone, I was always interested in indefinable sounds, but since we share music in a space together, I now react more to an indefinable feeling—a feeling that we are not sure of what we are listening to.

Community and unity are running themes in your interviews, and even occasionally in the lyrics of the music you play (International Music System's "Dancing Therapy"). Is there a deeper meaning behind all of this?

Because I can't make everything on my own, and especially because I don't sing much, I often borrow voices from other music with vocals. However, this doesn't mean I'm trying to let them speak for me. For me, I deal with voices more as sound, but I'm happy for anyone to decide how they want to feel from what they hear—some can take it as a positive message or just as a voice in their sleep.

Is there anyone else in your music community you'd like to shout out?

I would like to introduce my friend Andry! He made me a touring tracksuit, and now I don't have to worry anymore about what to wear when I play. We recently made some music together, along with 5ive, recording our first song "Today" after a party in Vancouver in 2019. We worked on it at the Mood Hut studio, and the track has now been released on a Future Times compilation.

One final question to wrap up: what advice would you give to aspiring artists out there?

I don't feel in a position to advise much, but I think using your intuition and going your own route with no rush always helps. I'm not musically trained and also not so good at reading text or understanding waveforms or parameters. I continued doing what I wanted to do without actively doing any research about it, but maybe I have always listened carefully to the music I like.