Every time an artist arrives in Dublin to play a Woozy party, the label's founder, EMA, gifts them a pair of Guinness socks, the beige cuffs resembling the creamy head of a pint. It's a silly, novelty present, but it's also EMA welcoming her guests into a scene that she's proud of.

In addition to running Woozy, EMA is a DJ and the programmer at Yamamori Tengu (let's call it Tengu, like the locals do), a club tucked away in the back of a Japanese restaurant in the North City district. I travelled to Dublin back in February to learn more about Woozy and EMA. But our conversations covered much more than that, because of how deeply she cares about her local scene.

"What holds everyone together is this crazy sense of community," she told me. "Someone always has your back. Also, the crowds are just… loud. There's a different buzz here. If you've got a busy night and a buzzy crowd, you can't match it."

On the night of Woozy, EMA arrived at Tengu for dinner after some last-minute flyering, her short white-blonde hair still slightly damp. She wore a purple zip-up tracksuit top and her nails were long and chrome with 3D textures (especially for this feature's shoot, she told me). She has a big smile, a hearty laugh and leans close when you talk to her. We quickly realised we have a lot in common—we're April babies, we get our nails done as a sort of therapy and we have a tendency to worry. When we spoke again the next day, she'd often interrupt her own flow to say she was nervous. She needn't have been: she was full of wise observations and ideas about dance music and the scene.

After a pit-stop at a nearby pub for my first-ever Guinness (okay, a half) and a game of split the G (EMA won), it was time for Woozy. Tengu's club space is small, around 250 capacity, with a bamboo bar, reddish walls and small Buddha statues around the room holding flickering lights. The rest of the lighting is minimal: just a red haze and the smoke machine. The dance floor is compact, but enjoys three layers of speakers—more than I've seen for such a small space before. When EMA came on board, one of her priorities was reconfiguring the room and beefing up the sound.

Through DJing and her party Woozy, EMA transmits a clear love for sound system music—a world typically underrepresented in Ireland.

EMA played first, leading with skeletal dubstep tracks like Sleeper's "Spread Out," the sub-bass causing the walls to shudder. A handful of people appeared to be attending Woozy alone, more than I would have expected, so I got the sense that it's an anything-goes, everyone-is-welcome sort of party. The crowd were of disparate ages and looks—fur coats and berets, sparkly halter tops, tracksuits, sunglasses and cargo pants. I met someone EMA referred to as "Dublin's most supportive resident raver." He'd had a wholesome day visiting farms and cleaning his car, but he couldn't miss Woozy.

By the time EMA handed over to dBridge, she'd moved in a considered fashion through classic dubstep, techno-dubstep hybrids and percussive workouts. She finished with a beautiful 140 track by Ago called "Your Eyes," all warm pads and swirling arpeggios. dBridge's opener was a cinematic intro that reset the room. It didn't take him long to speed through the gears.

At one point I spotted EMA by the booth shaking the decorative plants, and later, in response to an edit of Joy Orbison's "Hyph Mngo," someone started smacking a metal sign pinned to the wall by the DJ booth. At Tengu, banging an upside-down tobacco sign when a tune goes off has become an air horn-substitute for the club's regulars.

Through her DJing, and the artists she welcomes into Woozy, EMA transmits a clear love for sound system music. She champions a historically male-dominated sound, which is also underrepresented in Dublin in general. At Tengu, she works hard on curating a safer space and insists on diverse programming that celebrates all forms of dance music and spotlights fellow Irish artists.

"EMA plays a crucial role in the ecosystem," dBridge told me via email a few weeks later. "The space she cultivates deserves recognition, as these seemingly modest gatherings serve as the lifeblood of the industry, fostering scenes and genres… Her role as a promoter and DJ is shaping the musical landscape of Dublin."

The day after Woozy, following a wander around Dublin where EMA showed me some of her old haunts—most of which have either closed or been turned into hotels or bottomless brunch spots—we took the train to Bray, the coastal town where she grew up. After a short walk along the esplanade in the biting wind, we ended up in The Harbour Bar, a cosy pub with mismatched furniture, thick, patterned carpets and walls covered in old signs and knick-knacks. We sank into shabby sofas that almost swallowed us whole, and I ordered a "fish bar spice box," inspired by the Irish spice bag typically sold in Chinese takeaways.

EMA's childhood home isn't far from The Harbour Bar. Her earliest musical memories include her mum listening to RTÉ Lyric FM, a public radio station that specialises in classical music, and her and her siblings playing the piano and violin. It wasn't until secondary school that she really started getting into music. From Daft Punk and Outkast to Aphex Twin and dubstep artists on the label White Peach, she absorbed everything her peers were listening to.

On moving back to Ireland, "it was the best decision," she reflected. "Not only for my mental health but also because it gave me a new lease of life and a completely refreshing take on Dublin."

In her late teens she began exploring SoundCloud and listening to mixtapes. "One of my most-listened mixes was Space Dimension Controller's FACT Mix," she said. "It's not the kind of music I would play now, but it made me think, 'Woah, how are they blending these sounds? How does this work?' I really wanted to understand."

EMA downloaded Traktor and started playing at house parties from time to time. Her sets were "all over the place," mixing Boddika into Top 40 tunes, Happa into Black Eyed Peas. She then progressed from Traktor to a Numark Mixtrack Pro controller, before saving up for a Pioneer DJM 350 mixer and two CDJs. She mostly practised in her bedroom, though—"it was a very intimidating time when there weren't many women in Dublin doing what I wanted to do," she said.

After spending her college years in Dublin and playing a few gigs, EMA became disenchanted by the city. "I had a few experiences where I'd ask, for example, what a song was, and the response would be 'find your own music,'" she told me. "When you're young you're very susceptible, and I was definitely influenced by that." And so, EMA made the classic move to Berlin.

It's a tale as old as techno: DJ moves to Berlin to DJ some more and find themselves at Berghain. But in EMA's case, it genuinely helped her confidence. Encouraged by the cofounders of local label Salt Mines, in June 2018 she began releasing one mix per month on SoundCloud. By November, she'd contributed a mix and performed her first set as EMA for Berlin party Portraits. "That gig was special," she said. "I thought, 'fuck, I really want this to be part of my life in some way.'"

That Portraits mix, and EMA's other early sets—full of bright, organic textures and squelchy acid, breaks and electro—are a long way from her sound today. But, she reflected, "there would always be a bass section in a nod to my teens." She began to get noticed back in Ireland, travelling to play shows with Gash Collective, Peach and Or:la, as well as headlining the now-defunct Jigsaw for Dublin Digital Radio on International Women's Day. "I was being introduced to communities I hadn't been aware of until I'd moved," she said. "It was surreal to go back to the city for something like that."

Back in Berlin, EMA became a resident at a Griessmuehle party called Mango. She was also clubbing a lot, the parameters of a DJ set expanding in her mind thanks to Berlin's long opening hours. (Clubs in Dublin shut at 3 AM.) But she was beginning to feel like she wasn't really pushing herself, and she'd also met her current partner, Nevan Jio, who lived in Dublin. (Full disclosure: Jio freelances for Resident Advisor as the Dublin City Manager.)

Six months later, EMA moved back to Ireland. "It was the best decision," she said. "Not only for my mental health, but also because it gave me a new lease of life and a completely refreshing take on Dublin."

EMA returned to a completely different city from the one she'd left, a feeling only enhanced by Jio's involvement in the scene and her own affiliations with Gash Collective. Gone were the chin-stroking boys of her past, replaced instead by people who wanted her to have faith in herself and pursue the fire in her belly. SAUCE, the show she began on Dublin Digital Radio in October 2019, was the stake in the ground she needed.

As a booker at local club Yamamori Tengu, she's helped foster a safer, music-obsessed atmosphere with zero tolerance for bullshit.

"It was the start of something," she said. "It really solidified things in my mind, and I had people giving me confidence, which I hadn't had before. I was spending a lot of time in record stores and finding more artists I looked up to, like re:ni and Darwin. The more I became versed in the Dublin scene, the more I realised that I wanted to carve out something for myself."

The shape of those carvings became Woozy. The first party was at Kaizen Bar, another bygone Dublin space that used to be above Tengu, on February 7th, 2020. re:ni was the first guest. "I was terrified," EMA said. "But people were rooting for me, which was fucking cool, and [re:ni] was super calming. It was an amazing night."

There was only time for a couple more Woozy parties before the pandemic hit. In the absence of events, it felt like a natural step to turn Woozy into a label. Woozy001 landed in September 2020. The label is now six releases old, and there's also a monthly EMA presents Woozy show on Rinse FM. From the swaggering dembow of Jurango's "Second Floor" to the rolling kicks and subdued textures of Untold's Laenz remix, Woozy dips into different sounds but always retains that connection to EMA's dub and bass roots.

EMA wants Woozy to be like a family, with artists who might get to know one another or even work together. She looks to the staying power of labels like Exit and 3024 for guidance. From our short time together, I got the impression that she's grateful for every opportunity and wants to move from one stepping stone to the next with care, stopping to inspect each stone as she goes. So, it adds up that she wants her label to be like an extension of herself.

"It doesn't matter how long it takes for something to come out," she said, "as long as it's a well thought-out project. I want to pace everything. There's so much exciting stuff to do, with a constant nod to the sounds of the past and the originators."

What's next after launching a party and a label? Producing probably, and EMA is approaching it with the pressure off. As she learns more about making music, her approach to Woozy expands beyond just A&R and acting as the "vibe check" to being able to give her artists more detailed feedback and technical input. Following an online course with Appleblim and a 3024 mentorship programme, she's starting to dip into production when she's feeling most inspired.

Those moments are usually when she's preparing for a big show. Ahead of the dBridge gig she found herself experimenting with 170 BPM halftime tunes, while around her REEF show at Berghain and HVYWGHT in London she leant into making dubstep. "I'm finally in a place where I'm enjoying it," she said. "I don't feel this crazy pressure to put out a track in order to keep DJing. Anyone who makes music will tell you that's the right way to be. It needs to be fun."

"The more I became versed in the Dublin scene, the more I realised that I wanted to carve out something for myself."

I saw flashes of EMA in Fun Mode in Dublin (the morning after Woozy, a little delicate, she texted me to say she'd eaten "an egg" and needed a nap before our walk–been there), but in the pub in Bray, her face beaming in the soft light, she told me about the fun she'd had playing Darwin's party, REEF, in November 2023.

Playing Berghain was a big moment. She knew what she wanted to play, and had three USBs and every track saved as an MP3, a WAV and an AIFF file. (The DJ nightmares were real.) The set started with murky dubstep and wound up with techno, working in an essential "what the fuck?!" moment with "Minimal Input" by borderlandstate_the best kisser in l.a. In her sets, EMA likes to play at least one nostalgic track that means a lot to her. This time, it was Breakage's 2009 classic "Hard." Just before 2 AM, it got a rewind.

"I wanted it to be perfect and I had the best time of my life," EMA said with a grin. "With the amount of people [Darwin] can book, maybe I'll never play there again. It was such a fucking huge deal."

On Friday, March 8th, EMA took Woozy stateside for a label takeover at Nowadays in New York. The storied club, and the work DJ Voices did there, came up a few times in our conversations. EMA has a special connection with the city, with several local artists —Laenz, Viiaan, Sha Ru, Sobolik, Kellen303—having released on Woozy.

EMA also admires how DJ Voices uses her platform online. It's something she's been thinking about a lot as the humanitarian crisis in Gaza has worsened, feeling jaded by silence in the scene and wanting people to use their platform—however big or small—in a positive way. "The scene we're in now is this way because of what we're doing within the ecosystem," EMA explained. "We have the ability to change things. Firstly, to create a healthier scene within dance music, but also to shout about the shit that's important."

There are many aspects of Nowadays that have inspired the way EMA approaches her role at Tengu. Most notably, the fact that Tengu is the only club in Ireland with a night-time monitor policy—there are no bouncers inside. "We're all adults, we don't need to be policed," EMA said. "We've all had that experience on the dance floor where the bouncer's standing over you. I didn't want that. It's fostered this lovely, respectful crowd. There's zero tolerance to any bullshit."

When EMA returned to Dublin and started at Tengu, she observed a sea of repetitive and male-dominated lineups in the city. Skin & Blister, a collective she and some friends started at the end of lockdown, worked on creating a database of women, nonbinary and trans creatives in the city, everything from DJs to photographers and filmmakers.

To diversify Tengu's programming and create opportunities, EMA produced what she called the "moving forward" document, which informs prospective promoters about the club's bookings and welfare policies (it also requires that every artist is paid a bare-minimum fee of €100). If a promoter isn't willing to fit with the club's ethos, then Tengu isn't the place for that party. It's important to do the research, EMA said. "There's a lot of talented people out there. Initially I was apprehensive because I didn't want to be controlling, but now I feel more confident because I know [this work] has to be done."

As we walked around Dublin, I was struck by a feeling you might get in any gentrified city—lamenting the shut-down clubs of yesteryear. But the scene also deals with an archaic licensing system, which means that venues must apply, and pay €205 euros for, a Special Exemption Order (SEO) every time they want to stay open until 3 AM. This erases the option of last-minute events, plus the limited opening times mean Irish artists seldom get to play longer than four hours, or slowly warm up a room, or wind down a party as dawn breaks.

Sunil Sharpe and the Give Us The Night campaign have been campaigning for years to have SEOs removed and hours extended (6 AM for clubs, 1:30 AM for pubs). In October, 2022, RA reported that Irish ministers had voted to overhaul the existing laws, but the changes have yet to be made.

"It's going to completely change the dynamic of the city," EMA said. "There's lots of people wanting to do things with spaces here, but they're waiting for this bill to pass. With Tengu, I want to be a part of that shift."

2023 was a huge year for EMA, and 2024 is continuing in the same vein. This summer will be her first playing major European festivals (Love International, Outlook Origins, Waterworks), which she credits, only half jokingly, to her "I will play a festival" folder on rekordbox.

"It's a really big deal to get on the international festival circuit," she said at The Harbour Bar. "I always thought, 'how the fuck do you make that happen?' And now I've manifested it with a playlist."

Several hours into our evening in Bray, the candle on our table sputtered out and the whispery trail of smoke caught my eye. "We've talked through a whole candle," I said, before EMA responded, "That's when you know… Time's up."

Fast-forward to 2024, and she has a busy summer ahead of her—manifested, she joked, thanks to a rekordbox folder called "I will play a festival."