Mike Salvione on Why Emerging DJs Need to Build Fans, Not Followers

1 month ago 8

Mike Salvione joined us to share his story in New York City nightlife, the values that shape his work, and practical advice for up-and-coming artists.

Mike Salvione, better known as Salvione, is a New York City–born DJ, producer, audio engineer, radio host, film scorer, and coach. His career has taken him from performing at local venues like Cielo, Pacha NYC, and Avant Gardner to festival appearances, label releases, studio work, and launching his music production platform, Elevated Academy.

Salvione’s perspective is especially useful for fresh DJs and producers. He’s experienced rejection, uncertainty, early-morning studio sessions, and the long stretch between making promising music and building real momentum. His work through Elevated Academy focuses on helping artists improve their music and define their identity.

Salvione joined us to offer practical advice, telling the story of how he found his passion for music and then made it his career. He talked about looking past social media numbers, how to find opportunities locally, and how to treat your artist project like a business. He also touched on what to look for when building fans, and why consistency matters most.

Read on below to learn more about Mike’s journey, and for the advice he gives to artists!

For folks that might not know you, how do you introduce yourself — DJ, producer, coach, audio engineer?

All of it, all at once. I’ve released on Toolroom and had records in the Beatport top 10, including a #1. I’ve held residencies at Ibiza Rocks and played elrow, The BPM Festival, and with brands like Kaluki, You and Me, Knee Deep In Sound, Caposile, and Bass Jamz. I also worked alongside Danny Tenaglia as his audio engineer and host Elevated Radio, which airs on 30+ stations across 10+ countries to 8.6 million weekly listeners. I run Elevated Academy, where I’ve helped hundreds of producers and DJs build real careers in music.

You grew up in the NYC dance music scene. What was that like, and how does it still show up in the way you play and produce today?

Growing up in New York in that era was like going to the best music school in the world without knowing it. All those nights shaped everything about how I DJ and think about music. The best way I can answer that is to take you to one specific night. I was 18. Danny Tenaglia was playing Vinyl Reunion at Pacha. I loved the flyer so much that on my way back to college I took the train into the city and walked all the way from Grand Central to Pacha, which was a lot further than I anticipated, just to try to get one of the handout flyers to save. I didn’t get one. But when the night came, I was one of the first people in the building.

Danny took us on a journey the way only he can: weaving between genres and sounds, building something over hours that you couldn’t see the shape of until you were inside it. He’d shine his trademark flashlight into the crowd, even coming down onto the dancefloor for a dance at one point. That’s what I always loved about Danny. It felt like he was partying with you. It wasn’t the DJ and the crowd. It was all of us together.

I walked in Saturday at 10pm and we closed it out Sunday at 4pm. I vividly remember answering my phone on the dancefloor late Sunday because it was my mom asking if I was ever coming home. It was journeys like that one that made me who I am as an artist and as a DJ. The ability to tell a story through music, to make people feel something, to not be locked in a box. I take that with me everywhere. I’m always taking a set on a journey regardless of how much time I have. We are always starting somewhere and ending somewhere.

I still don’t have that flyer. But at the end of the night, they gave out T-shirts with the same vinyl artwork on them. “The enchantment is over, but the spell remains.” I still have that shirt.

Was there a specific moment you can point to when you knew this was going to be your career, not just a hobby?

Yes. And I can tell you exactly where I was standing. May 2013 at Movement Detroit. I was at the Circoloco afterparty at TV Lounge. I had already been DJing and had just started taking Ableton classes at Dubspot a few months earlier, so I was already on the path. But this night changed what that path meant to me.

Mass Prod was playing in the courtyard. He dropped an Âme edit as the sun was coming up over the run-down Detroit warehouses in the background. It was the right track at the right moment. And I was moved by music in a way I had never been moved before in my life. Standing there, I said to myself, “I want to be the person that makes and plays the music that moves people the way I’ve been moved.”

From that moment, I put everything I had into making that a reality: waking up at 5am to get studio time in before work, taking courses in everything I could find, burning it at both ends. And after that night, I went and hunted down that record. It turned out to be a vinyl-only release. That’s the kind of person that moment made me.

I still have that wristband laminated in the studio. Not as a trophy — as a reminder. Because that “why” gets tested. You still hear “no” a lot. You still don’t land the gig or the signing you thought you should have. And in those moments, when you start drifting into the comparison trap or chasing external validation, you need something real to come back to.

You’ve also worked with Danny Tenaglia as his audio engineer. What has that experience taught you that you didn’t expect?

Honestly, 17-year-old me still pinches himself over the fact that it happened. I’ve looked up to Danny for decades. So to actually be in the room working with him was already something beyond what I could have imagined.

The biggest takeaway I didn’t expect was the level of detail, intention, and love he puts into everything he does — every track, every set. He is as meticulous as anyone I’ve ever been around, but not in a perfectionist way. In an “I love this music and these people so much that I want to give them the absolute best I can give them” way. Whether it’s a track, a Global Underground compilation, or a 15-hour journey at Stereo in Montreal, that’s what they deserve. And that’s what the art deserves: to be in your 60s, almost 50 years in, and still care at that level. Working with someone like him doesn’t teach you music. It teaches you what you’ve been settling for.

That actually reminded me of something my grandfather always lived by. He was the most meticulous person I’ve ever known when it came to doing things right. You do something, you do it right. That standard got passed down through our family. Danny just reminded me to never let go of it. And it’s something I bring into Elevated Academy every single day, that I try to instill in the next generation of artists. Because ultimately, how you do one thing is how you do everything.

When did Elevated Academy come into the picture, and what was the gap you were hoping to fill?

It started with a rejection. At Amsterdam Dance Event 2015, I was at dinner with a well-known artist and I handed him a USB with my music on it. I genuinely thought this was my moment. A few weeks later, I got his feedback. He said the music was good but that my production needed to come on a bit more. And the thing is, that was the best music I could make at the time. I didn’t know what was missing. I was gutted.

From that point it was 5am every morning before work. Music theory, jazz theory, sound design, mixing, mastering, everything I could get my hands on. I was relentless about closing the gap. And something shifted. I could finally sit with an idea and bring it to life without the frustration getting in the way. That unlocked everything: Toolroom, Beatport #1, BPM Festival, Ibiza Rocks, Electric Zoo, elrow. And eventually, I landed a release on that same artist’s label. Full circle.

I created Elevated Academy to be what I wish had existed in one place when I was standing in that rejection in 2015, so that other producers and DJs could achieve in months what took me years. But I knew from the start that it couldn’t just be about production. Because big labels aren’t signing producers. Fans aren’t following producers. They’re signing and following artists. The full picture matters. The music, the mindset, the career strategy, all of it.

And mindset is the foundation of everything. Because all the skill in the world means nothing if fear, perfectionism, or comparison are stopping you from finishing the work. If perfectionism won’t let you finish the track, the most complex sound design technique in the world is useless.

If you were talking to a brand-new producer with little traction right now in 2026, how would you tell them to think about building a following? What’s your take on what actually works versus what’s just noise?

The noise is everyone copying what big names do, posting without intention, and stopping when it doesn’t go viral. You need to get clear on your ideal fan: their age, their job, where they hang out, the clubs and festivals they go to, the DJs they love. Because a 22-year-old into EDM needs completely different content than a 35 year old into underground minimal. Know your market. It’s called the music business for a reason.

And stop chasing the number. Everyone is obsessed with follower count. 10,000 sounds better than 100. But followers on social media are not the same as fans. 100 people who genuinely rock with you, who share your music, who show up to your gigs, who buy what you put out are worth more than 10,000 people who scrolled past your page, hit follow, and never thought about you again. Build the 100 first. The 10,000 comes from that.

So how do you build that 100? With story. Every culture across history runs on story. Short-form content that actually works is just a short story. Hook, retain, reward. That’s it.

An amazing artist friend of mine once said something that stuck with me. Some people buy the art. Other people buy the story. And then there’s a deeper layer. Sometimes it’s not even your story they’re buying. It’s their own story. The art just opened the door. Where your story meets their story, that’s where fans are built. Not followers, fans.

And the industry knows this. Flashmob told everyone on a call inside the Elevated Academy Pro Producer Community that he listens to a demo and goes straight to Instagram every time. Not to see follower count, but presence. He’d rather sign someone with zero followers and a real story than 20,000 with nothing to say. Your music is the product. Your story is why people care.

What are the different ways you see emerging artists creating or finding real opportunities today, whether that’s getting DJ bookings or getting music signed to labels?

I see a few moves actually working right now. The first is being strategic about which labels you’re releasing on. Find labels that also throw events. Get on their roster, build that relationship, and eventually you end up on their stage. That’s a direct line from music to bookings that most people don’t think about.

Gig swaps are another one that is massively underused. You book someone for your night, they book you for theirs. Simple concept. Almost nobody does it consistently.

In terms of getting signed, consistency and strategy are everything. A lot of artists only shoot for the biggest labels — and look, you should always shoot your shot. But just hitting Jamie Jones up on Trackstack is not a career strategy on its own. The biggest missed opportunity I see for emerging artists is not knowing what their stepping stone labels are. The lower and mid-tier labels feed into your target label. If you are consistently releasing on solid mid-tier labels, the big ones will take notice. I promise you that.

Because momentum is the pitch. Labels and promoters aren’t signing talent, they’re signing evidence. Consistent releases on solid labels, a growing presence, a real story being told, that’s what gets you booked, signed, and followed.

And that momentum starts closer to home than most people think. Start local. Own your city before you chase the world. Being the name in your local scene creates the credibility and the story that travels. You can’t skip that step. And if a local scene doesn’t exist where you are, build one. The best way to grow a fan base is to create a space for them to exist.

The piece that unlocks all of it, though, is relationships. Don’t show up needing something. Show up offering something. What value can you bring to someone before you ever make an ask?

A cold demo to a label you’ve never interacted with is the lowest leverage move you have. Being in the room, on the lineup, at the party, that’s where the real conversations happen. And if you can’t get in the room yet, social media is the room. Use it to support people first. Show up for other artists genuinely. Comment with something real. Share their work. Be in their world before you ever need anything from them.

Every overnight success story you’ve ever seen was ten years in the making. Do the work. Build the case. Show up consistently, show up genuinely, and make yourself impossible to ignore. The opportunity will come. Your job is to already deserve it when it does.

What’s something about making it as a DJ or producer that you think most new artists misunderstand?

Most new artists have a version of making it in their head. You make music when you feel inspired. You fly to Amsterdam, Berlin, New York on the weekend. You play the festival, the crowd loses their mind, you’re backstage with artists you’ve looked up to your whole life, and then the night takes you wherever it takes you. No alarm, no boss, just music and the world. That version doesn’t exist. It never did.

The biggest names in the game are running brands with multiple revenue streams and full teams. They’re entrepreneurs who happen to make music. And a lot of them barely even have time to make music anymore. That’s the reality nobody talks about.

And COVID proved it. If your only revenue is gigs and gigs disappear overnight, then what? So many artists found out the hard way. A sustainable career is never built on one thing. Finding ways to monetize yourself outside of music is not selling out. It’s how you build something that lasts. It takes the pressure off the art. You stop taking gigs you don’t want to take. You stop making music you don’t believe in because you need the placement. And ironically, when the pressure comes off the art, that’s when the art gets better.

I talked about this at Music Week Montreal with Drishay of Synchronized Swimming. The earlier you treat yourself like a business, the more freedom you actually have as an artist. This isn’t a warning. It’s good news. Business can be learned. Systems can be built. The artists who figure that out stop waiting to be discovered and start building something worth finding. Because the biggest names aren’t at the after party. They went home, because tomorrow is another day of work.

Is there a piece of advice you give often that goes against what most people expect to hear?

Compare yourself to other artists.

Everyone tells people, especially artists, not to compare themselves to others. “Run your own race. Stay in your lane. Comparison is the thief of joy.” And yes, comparing yourself to someone’s natural gift, or the gig they got because they know the right people, or the label deal that came through a connection they were born into — that comparison has no floor. You can’t act on it. It just loops.

But there’s a different kind of comparison nobody talks about. When you’re scrolling at 2am and you see an artist further ahead than you, bigger gigs, stronger label, better release cadence, more following — don’t scroll past that feeling. Study it. That jealousy is data. It’s pointing directly at the gap.

What are they doing that you’re not? How are they releasing? What labels are they on and how did they get there? What promoters are booking them? How are they showing up on socials? Are they treating this like a business when you’re still treating it like a hobby?

I look at artists even one step ahead of me, and I don’t spiral into how are they on that lineup. I ask, “what are they doing that I’m not, and what do I need to change?” That’s a teaching comparison. The other kind is torture.

They’re not your competition. They’re your blueprint.

The difference between comparison that destroys you and comparison that builds you is whether you use it as a verdict or a diagnostic. Most people use it as a verdict. “They’re ahead of me, I’ve failed.” Flip it. “They’re ahead of me, and they just showed me exactly what I need to do next.” Jealousy is just ambition without a plan. Turn it into one.