By Alexander Cheves
Later this summer, the Seoul-based DJ and club owner Marcus L will release something very special: the first-ever masterclass on DJing with reel-to-reel tape.
Filmed with Seedj, a Europe-based music education platform, the class will walk viewers through a method that hasn’t just been forgotten—it was never widely taught in the first place. Marcus L isn’t just revisiting an old technique; he’s doing something no one else is doing right now, performing hard, high-speed techno sets using vintage tape machines from the 1970s.
“There’s no one else in the world doing this with techno and reel-to-reel tape,” he says. “It’s been done with house music, which is a bit slower, but not like this. I have to beatmatch, layer, and adjust everything manually. It’s different. It’s faster. Very difficult.”
This all seems very Marcus. For transparency, the other members of the Hinterhaus team and I know Marcus well—he’s a friendly face, a familiar presence in Berlin clubland.
Some members of the Hinterhaus team have even visited him in Seoul. We’ve watched him evolve. This new project might be the boldest—and best—thing he’s ever done.
Why take on this new challenge?
Marcus L likes to push himself—he’s a creator who takes an intensely studied, serious approach to music and clubbing.
While DJs often perform with pre-quantized tracks, waveforms, and sync buttons, Marcus L is gutting old tape decks and building sets on spools of magnetic tape. He’s repairing machines himself, marking tracks manually, and beatmatching with decks that drift unpredictably because of 50-year-old motors.
“I’ve been around,” Marcus says. “I grew up with tapes. I’m familiar with them. I had to learn how to rebuild the machines and adapt them. It wasn’t easy, but I love the challenge.”
He spent over half a year teaching himself how to fix, load, and mix on these machines. He bought second-hand decks across Korea, disassembled them, and taught himself how to fix mechanical issues. His first reel-to-reel set at Seoul’s Faust, the techno club he owns and manages, went well—but his second set almost fell apart.
“I was completely off the beat. If I were using CDJs, I could’ve fixed the music in a second. But with reel-to-reel, I had to stay in it. I worked it back into sync, and when it landed and I finally brought it back, the room screamed.”
With reel-to-reel, there’s no cueing, no space between tracks, no screen—just magnetic tape. Marcus beatmatches using pitch control and a mechanical time counter, marking transitions with pieces of white tape.
“I have to memorize the timing. There’s no visual cue, like there is on vinyl. So I use the tape counter. I know exactly when each track ends and the next starts. I mark the reels by hand. That’s how I keep track.”
His eyes light up as he tells us this story: “I’m getting goosebumps!”
He says the crowd was waiting for the music to come back into sync, and as it did—slowly—it felt like the whole club was holding its breath, which resulted in a huge, euphoric release when it finally matched again. “Everyone cheered! And I think they understood why it happened. It’s reel-to-reel. It’s a very analogue way to make techno music.”
Is anyone else DJing this way?
He’s not the only DJ who has experimented with reel-to-reel mixing—the American DJ, record producer, and house music pioneer Kerri Chandler famously makes music this way—but Marcus L says he’s the only one right now using this technique to play the fast, high-energy techno he’s known for.
Why the challenge?
“Everyone says yes—I say no,” he says. “I’m not trying to be a pioneer. This existed before. But no one’s doing it anymore. The younger generation forgot. I want to remind them. Maybe this is what I will leave behind.”
What exactly is this technique?
Think of Marcus’s setup as DJing stripped of every digital shortcut. Instead of USB sticks or vinyl, he records each track onto open-reel tape—the kind you thread by hand between two exposed reels on a 1970s deck.
In the booth, he runs two or three of these machines, nudging their pitch knobs to match beats by ear because there’s no sync button, waveform display, or cue point.
He marks the start of each track with bits of white leader tape and memorizes each runtime, watching a mechanical counter so he knows when the next transition is coming. Old motors drift, so he’s constantly riding the speed to keep everything in time; if a tape snaps or a deck stalls, the room goes silent.
Why do you love this old-school, unforgiving method?
“Every set will be different because there’s such room for error. And error makes it different each time.”
As I talk to him, his reasons become clearer: Marcus L is doing this for the challenge and excitement—he’s mastered digital DJing and needs to push himself to a form that’s insanely hard. And he likes the danger: with reel-to-reel, every set becomes a high-stakes performance piece that never sounds the same twice.
Now, he’s turning the whole process into a video masterclass. It’s part craft revival, part personal dare, and completely unique on the dance floors of Europe.
Let’s talk about your backstory. Who is Marcus L?
Marcus L was born in Seoul in 1981. As the oldest grandson in a large Korean family, he grew up under considerable pressure.
“In the 80s and 90s, sons were highly valued,” he says. “I grew up with a lot of responsibility. It was very competitive at holidays and family gatherings at my grandmother’s house. Parents compared their children’s grades and achievements. I felt so much pressure.”
He had one younger brother and around ten cousins. “Among all these cousins, you’re always compared. As the oldest male, I had to take care of them and make sure nothing went wrong. If it did, the blame would fall on me. I was a good older brother!”
His mother had a huge collection of vinyl and CDs—mostly classical music. He played the piano and flute, sang in a choir, and transitioned from classical to acoustic guitar when he became interested in pop songs. “Then, when I was about twenty, I was in a rock band in the U.K. It was fun for a bit.”
Let’s talk about your years as an English teacher.
At 21, he moved to the UK to study English and eventually earned a Master’s degree in linguistics from the University of Leicester. Back in Korea, he became an English teacher and quickly gained a following. “I became kind of famous, or at least well-known. I did private lessons and lectures and made good money!”
Military service is mandatory in Korea, so at 29, he joined the Navy and worked as an interpreter. “In the military, there were strict regulations on outside work. Even so, I ran a club during my service,” he says. “At first, I bought CDJs and mixers, started mixing music at home, and invited people over for house parties. Then, I opened an English language club. We practiced English during the week and had parties on the weekends.”
How did you discover Berlin?
He discovered Berlin in 2011 after moving here to help a friend improve their English.
That didn’t work out—but Berlin did. He started clubbing, bought a sports car, and made his rounds at Tresor and Berghain.
“At that time, not many Koreans were in Berlin clubs, or Asians in general. I once heard someone say, ‘Who is this Chinese guy in a sports car?’ There was racism in the UK and racism here, but Berlin club culture *mostly* welcomed me. The music won people over.”
“People liked my music.”
His first gig was at Mein Haus Am See. “It’s really more of a bar, not a club. In time, I got to know people in the scene and started playing at Suicide Circus on the weekends.” (Suicide Circus, near Warschauer Brücke, is now called Lochshuppen).
Eventually, he moved back to Seoul and opened Kammer—a tiny one-room club tucked away inside a pub.
“It was so small and so dark. When you danced, you could accidentally kick someone lying on the floor because they were drunk.”
It’s closed now, but the experience of running it taught him everything he needed to do his next huge project.
Let’s talk about the nightclub you run, Faust.
Later came Faust, which he opened in Seoul’s red-light district despite some friends advising against it.
In designing the club, he prioritised comfort and sound quality. “I made Faust for DJs because I’m a DJ—I wanted a space that was comfortable and functional. I think about Faust all the time. It doesn’t feel like work. Everywhere I go, I see things and want to know how they work and where they are made. All this curiosity goes back into Faust.”
He chose gear from Berlin’s own Kirsche Audio because he noticed Berlin’s best clubs used it. “During my early visits here, I noticed the best sound equipment didn’t have a written logo on it, just a picture of a cherry. So I found the brand, Kirsche Audio, and when I opened Faust, I knew our audio equipment had to come from them.”
In 2014, Marcus L founded the music label Ameniia Records and Kammer Radio & Records. At Faust, he hosts artists from across the world. One resident is Berlin’s own local legend, Boris Dolinski.
With all these achievements, Marcus L has become one of the defining figures of the Korean club scene, shaping its reputation to ravers across the world.
What is the private life of Marcus L like outside of music?
“I think my parents are proud,” he says. “Since I left home at 21, I’ve been financially independent. I can help them now.”
“At one point, my dad knew I was struggling over what I wanted to do with my life, and one time, he talked to me about it. He said that I would play with Lego bricks in my room when I was little, and they could not make me leave. They had to force me out for meals.”
His dad gave him important advice that day—advice he would like to pass on to any DJ or any kind of artist—and Marcus L passed it along to me:
“Find something in your life that inspires intense focus. Find things you can be like a child with, things you enjoy so much that you can’t leave them alone. Whatever that is, that’s what you’re supposed to do.”
I ask him about the deeper stuff—about happiness, creativity, love, and his goals for the future. But in conversation, Marcus L keeps the focus on the music.
However, on the subject of happiness, he returns to his dad. During another father-son talk—about the future, life—I told him that I want to live like a shadow, and that is really the word I used. What I meant is that I don’t want to be shiny, like a lawyer. I want to be underground. I want to live like a shadow.”
Follow Marcus L on Instagram and Resident Advisor, and listen to his music on SoundCloud.
Words: Alexander Cheves
Pictures: Mara Menzel, with additional images provided by the artist
