The air is brisk as I strut down the gravelled pathway in front of the famous Binnenhof. Three vodka sodas in, and my arms are interlinked with my girlfriends’.
There’s a party at one of the (three) clubs in The Hague tonight. The TikTok reel promises the “littest night in Den Haag” — a Dutch guy sporting gelled hair as a helmet, mansplaining at the camera while the videographer pulses back and forth in what I can only describe as convulsion.
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As we approach, chugging the last of the Stelz we shoved in our jean pockets, my stomach drops.
Pounding in the damp air are the dembow beats of Daddy Yankee’s ‘Gasolina’ — one of the Dutch frat boy anthems. It’s then and there I know I’m done for.
As the bouncer lets us in, I catch a peek of the DJ in the corner of the room. Curtains of blonde hair, 190cm lanky build, Meller sunglasses on, Heineken in hand: a Dutch DJ.
@lollibus_dj did you guess it before the song reveal?? #rihanna #spiderman #dj #djmix #club ♬ original sound – lollibus_dj
The Dutch man DJs (loudly)
Despite the Netherlands being the motherland to world-famous artists like Martin Garrix and Tiësto, here’s a public service announcement: just because you’re a Dutch man doesn’t mean you should be a DJ.
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And yes, I know — “omg you just don’t like techno.” No schat, I just don’t like my eardrums ringing with tinnitus for a week because Dutch men believe there’s a direct correlation between decibels and the quality of their set.
Hey Siri, press shuffle on Spotify
Which brings me to the music itself. Where does one set end and the other begin?
The Dutch DIY DJ scene is suffering from a bad case of sonic monoculture.
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If you asked me to predict what gets played at a Dutch college “rave,” I’d go with the top 100, sprinkle in some early 2000s nostalgia, then slap on a filter of house or reggaeton — DJed, inexplicably, by white Dutch men.
@michabarenholzdj Put Your hands up 🕺 #dutchdj #dj #voorjou #viral_video #fyp #singleladies #traag #putyourhandsup ♬ Single Ladies X Traag by MICHA – MichaBarenholzDJ
That would be fine if it weren’t the case every single time. You cannot convince me these sets aren’t Spotify playlists, albeit with worse transitions.
Music and DJing are about meticulous curation and care — the latter something Dutch men lack in general, so I guess I can’t really act that surprised.
Introducing Pepijn: your 20-something-year-old Dutch DJ living in De Pijp
But let’s get to the real issue here, because it’s not actually all about the music.
POV: You’re leaning against a sticky bar in a gentrified pub in Amsterdam, waiting for your biertje. As you reach for it, so does a mess of floppy blonde hair.
In comes the Dutchman: Pepijn.
Pepijn thinks you’re cute. He asks where you’re from, gets briefly disappointed when he realises you’re not a Latina, but continues chatting you up because his friends aren’t here yet.
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While you twiddle your Hertog Jan — which you bought yourself, might I add — Pepijn whips out his phone.
“Ja, so I’m a DJ,” he boasts, “house x EDM x techno x acid type of thing — did you maybe come to my King’s Day set?”
Pepijn is wearing sunglasses indoors. He shows you his SoundCloud and TikTok. There’s this implicit expectation that you’ll be impressed.
You muster a “leuk!”
The TikTok DJ
Here’s the thing: being a DJ has become shorthand for a certain kind of cool. The headphones half-on, half-off. The performative nonchalance. The girls with phones in the air.
Social media has packaged this aura so effectively that the goal has slyly shifted from wanting to make people dance to simply looking like someone who makes people dance.
@lucajandolii ONE MORE TIME ANOTR #anotr #amsterdam #kingsday ♬ original sound – lucajandoli
And look, I get the appeal. But this is where Dutch directness curdles into something less sexy.
That famous self-assurance — the cultural allergy to hierarchy, the refusal to be intimidated by anyone or anything — means that a Dutch man who has spent four hours in GarageBand will back himself with the same confidence as Martin Garrix.
There’s no performance anxiety or “I’m just starting out.” It’s just Pepijn, sunglasses on, TikTok open, waiting for your reaction.
The unfortunate export paradox
But ultimately, I do feel for the Dutch men.
Because some of the world’s most impressive DJs come from the Netherlands, the bar is set extraordinarily high. Which means Pepijn’s TikTok set doesn’t exist in a vacuum, but in a direct, icky contrast to Martin Garrix.
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See, if I encountered these sets coming out of North Korea, I might be impressed.
But double standards make the world go round, and the Netherlands has spent decades building its reputation as an electronic music giant — a reputation it’s now everyone’s problem to live up to.
So to Pepijn, and to all the Dutch men currently filming their next TikTok: the bar is not on the floor. It is, in fact, quite high.
Misschien, just because you’re a Dutch man doesn’t mean you should be a DJ.
Do you agree? Tell us your thoughts in the comments.
