Queer the dancefloor
Over the past two decades, Northern Irish DJ CORMAC has steadily built a reputation as one of queer clubland’s most enduring and vital figures. Following the launch of his own imprint Polari Records, he’s recently released ‘Queerly Beloved’ – an essential new podcast series featuring always frank and often funny conversations exploring queerness, identity and music with an impressive line-up of fascinating guests.
Interview Adam Mattera Photography Christian Trippe 
Vintage T-shirt Beyond Retro, Jeans Levi’s, Bicep strap FetishDaddyGear
We need to start with your new podcast ‘Queerly Beloved’ – where did the seed of the idea for the show get planted?
It was during the pandemic. I was noticing a lot of discussion around identity online, and alongside that a lot of division within the LGBTQIA+ bracket – people saying they can't go on the same march with each other. And that's to our detriment, because we have enough outside negative attention on us – we really need to find commonality. And I thought music would be a great, universal way to bring these conversations together – to tell our individual stories, and then find our similarities.
It’s obviously really connected with people – it’s already made the top 10 music podcast chart after just a handful of episodes. I think because you’re willing to be so open and honest with your guests it really brings out that same quality in them, and the audience can really relate to that.
Well thanks – to be honest I don’t know any other way to be. I don’t consider myself a professional interviewer or anything like that. It’s important we have these conversations – there’s a lot of isolation out there. I think maybe as queer people we learn to become very self-reliant emotionally, or we try to be.
“As a kid, when I was vulnerable that often brought me shame, because that would be seen as feminine, as a negative thing. And maybe the continuation of that is that we're not always comfortable with our vulnerabilities as queer people.”
Or maybe we have to be.
And maybe there's a mistakenly continued self-reliance in that. As a kid, when I was vulnerable that often brought me shame, because it would be seen as feminine, as a negative thing. And maybe the continuation of that is that we're not always comfortable with our vulnerabilities as queer people.
Sleeveless denim Goldsmith Vintage, Shorts Rokit
Actually, I wanted to talk about your childhood. In one of the episodes, you referred to yourself growing up as ‘a flamingo in a duck pond’. Something like that – a flamingo was definitely involved!
Probably! (Laughs) I grew up at a dangerous time in Northern Ireland, at a very religiously segregated time. My parents did an amazing job at keeping us neutral and open minded. But it was hard, and they were quite religious, so me arriving as this all-singing all-dancing flamingo kid, I think they just weren't ready for that. So it didn't feel like there was much support at home, emotionally. And with Section 28, there was no support at school. So there's a lot of loneliness in that situation. Armistead Maupin made a good comment on this kind of thing – for queer kids, as much as they love their parents, and their parents love them, sometimes that love doesn't feel very useful because you can't lean on it. You can't go home with a broken heart. You can't go home with the bullying. You’re not sure if your parents are on your side.
“I grew up in a dangerous time in Northern Ireland, in a very religiously segregated time. My parents did an amazing job... but it was hard, and they were quite religious, so me arriving as this all-singing all-dancing flamingo kid, I think they just weren't ready for that.”
What were your earliest memories of music back then – what really had an impact on you?
One of my older brothers was really into Kate Bush, and I remember when she went a bit more electronic with Hounds Of Love – that was massive for me. And Depeche Mode’s Violator - I remember putting that record on and something jumping in my chest – that 909 drum machine sound really hit me hard.
So from a young age that connection with music was always there?
Definitely. Plus the music came with a lot of fantastic visuals. There was this sense of possibility there. If you're a theatrical kid and you feel ashamed because of it, and then you see these fabulous creatures on record sleeves who are living their best lives, it’s like a beacon of hope.
Do you remember the first record you went out and bought for yourself?
Oh, God this is a real cliché, but it was Madonna – the You Can Dance album.
Of course it would be You Can Dance – that makes complete sense!
That music really was a lifeline to me. There was a real message of self-reliance in her music - a sense of ‘I’m going to be okay.’ I guess kids nowadays have it with Lady Gaga or Kim Petras. Plus it was the first time where I heard dance music mixed together – there were some great Shep Pettibone and Jellybean remixes on there. So that was kind of prophetic for me. I still love that album.
Clown suit Smiffys, Boots Dr Martens, Socks Nike
Fast forward to your teenage years… tell me about your first foray into the club world and your realisation of the possibilities it could offer.
That was when rave culture suddenly became a thing in Northern Ireland. That was the first time I saw two men hug. Probably a lot of that was chemically fuelled, but that's not altogether a bad thing either. That was definitely an awakening for me, it was one of those signposts to keep going. That there's another world out there.
You moved to London in your early 20s – was that all about running off to find your gay Mecca?
Well my father had passed away at that point, and my mother was kind of reluctant for me to go at first. But then I came out, and sadly she asked me to leave… So I was between London and my university in Derry for a while, then I ended up staying with a friend in South London, and kind of made London my home.
So your coming out and then suddenly being in the heart of everything was really accelerated, it wasn't like you had a moment to get your feet wet.
No, it was a rude awakening for sure. When you’re working the night shift in Comptons café, dealing with all these older queens, you learn really fast. But the thing I had was that I was angry, I wasn’t going home and I was fearless. I turned a lot of my anger in on myself prior to that, and was really depressed. And then with my mum throwing me out, I got really angry. And I think that was a blessing. If I’d come to London depressed, I wouldn't have survived. I had this feeling that I was going to do something, I just didn't know what yet.
So naturally you gravitated towards the bright lights of clubland…
I was a bit of a club ornament for a while – it was always in places like Heaven and then Trade at the weekends. Then I started working at The Ghetto. I did everything from cleaning the floors to pulling pints. Some friends of mine started a club there called Nag Nag Nag that suddenly became very trendy and I ended up doing the door. Not long after that I started DJing there occasionally on a Friday night at The Cock. Actually, I chatted with Romy from The XX on the podcast, and her first DJ gig was there too. That was kind of crazy.
“You know how in London, everybody says, ‘What do you do?’ before they ask you what your name is? And I would say, ‘Oh, I'm a DJ’. And as soon as I started to say that people gave me gigs.”
Leather jacket Ilaria Lepore, Suspender trousers Brais Albor, Boots, Jeffery West, Rings Rat Betty
How long did it take before you became a full-time DJ?
It took a while. You know, in London, everybody says, ‘What do you do?’ before they ask you what your name is? And I would say, ‘Oh, I'm a DJ’. And as soon as I started to say that people gave me gigs. Quite early on I was getting booked to play in Brazil and Japan. I think people wanted a slice of that electroclash energy that was happening in London. I feel like DJing was waiting on me to find it, to say it out loud.
You've been very open about your own drug experience – while it’s intrinsic to club life, often people don’t have an honest conversation about it, at least publicly.
My drug and alcohol use were really fun for a long time. They really were. I think it's important I say that, because it’s the truth. But I always had a sense when I took drugs that I was getting something slightly different than my friends – that it was fuelled by self-medicating. But somewhere in there, I had enough common sense to tell me to stop when it was no longer working. And actually, I would say the DJing was a big momentum for that, because I finally found something that I really wanted to be good at and I didn’t want to fuck it up. But it took a while… my friends saw me as quite healthy, because I’d have these big health moments of stopping and getting into exercise at the gym, but I would always come back to it.
“Friends of mine like Fat Tony went to rehab. I got sober going to AA meetings and then going to my gigs and finding a way to learn how to DJ sober.”
“I’ll meet you at the juice bar, just going for a run!”
Totally. It was “Let's get wasted at the weekend and meet for yoga on a Thursday.” But that’s very typical of addiction, I think, or at least it was for me. It was all or nothing – I couldn't have a middle. I think part of recovery is learning to be in the middle somehow. Friends of mine like Fat Tony went to rehab. I got sober going to AA meetings and then going to my gigs and finding a way to learn how to DJ sober.
Vintage shirt, Cormac’s own, Trousers Adam Frost, Shoes Dr Martens, Rings, Rat Betty @ratbetty
Something that’s particularly refreshing about your podcast is that you’re willing to discuss this stuff – I’m thinking about your conversation with Fat Tony for one. It enables a much deeper dialogue, it’s more than just a routine chat.
I think those are the conversations that I naturally navigate towards having. I don't have any sense of embarrassment around my using or any regrets. I mean, I can only tell my story and I want to hear other people's stories.
“Peaches is a fascinating person… they're kind of a landmark for non-binary people and queerness before maybe we had that language.”
I particularly enjoyed hearing Peaches confess to her deep love of Barbra Streisand. When you think about Peaches, singing Don't Rain On My Parade in Yiddish isn't the first thing that springs to mind.
I think that's the power of music as well. Because when we talk about things we're passionate about, we end up talking about feelings and that’s something we can all connect to. Peaches is a fascinating person… they're kind of a landmark for non-binary people and queerness before maybe we had that language.
Before you go, I must ask about your label Polari Records. I love the fact you’re using it to platform, not just for the artists making the music, but also different queer visual artists to do the artwork and videos. Your last release – Leather ’N Lasers – was especially fun with all the Tom Of Finland references.
Well, first and foremost, it's a record label. So the music has to come first, but it's been natural for me to reach out to people who have a more visual understanding of the world than I do. It’s a great way to bring in a more queer element to it, and also to pay homage to the times that I find inspiring in music, like hi-NRG, and people like Divine and Patrick Cowley, but also to be very now and keep moving forwards.
It feels like you’re having this real burst of energy right now - what with the label and the podcast. What do you put that all down to?
Well, getting in recovery has been – and I hate this word – a journey. Should we gay it up and call it a voy-age? (Laughs) This is going to get very cliched, but I've been doing a lot of therapy and a lot of healing. I've always had a love of music and a love of club spaces. That's my family. And those two loves have kept me buoyant and alive through some of my darkest times. But I think what’s happened is, now I've finally started to love myself, those things have just taken off in a different way. It’s like I finally understand what it is I do and where I want to put my energy. Maybe that sounds a bit cheesy, but I think it’s true. I am happy now.
Clown suit Smiffys, Boots Dr Martens, Socks Nike, @nike
Queerly Beloved is now available on Spotify and all other platforms
Team credits
Interview Adam Mattera
Photography Christian Trippe
Styling Sian O’Donnell
Make-up Claudine Blythman
Grooming Cathy Ennis
Videographer Lucian Koncz
Photography Assistant Ezra Evans
Location Electrowerkz
Cormac Management Melissa Tailored Communication
We created a playlist for the day of the shoot with Cormac – listen to it here
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