Budakid Talks Self-Doubt, Slow Seasons, and Finding His Own Voice
Budakid’s new one feels like pulling off work early and heading straight to the coast. Better O’be New pairs his signature melodic sense with Rromarin’s voice and some silky guitar from Brad Coleman, landing somewhere between a club record and a sunburned daydream. It’s the kind of track that doesn’t need to explain itself—it just feels like it belongs in your rotation all summer. You can hear the joy in how it was made too, which, after talking to Budakid, makes a lot of sense.
The Flores label has always had a bit of a personal stamp on it, but this one really locks into that intention. You’ve got Roy Rosenfeld on remix duties, flipping the original into something deeper and more dancefloor-leaning without losing the charm. It’s a tasteful rework that still keeps Rromarin front and center, giving the release some extra reach across different sets and moods.
In this interview, Budakid gets into how his creative process has shifted since leaving Berlin, why he’s fine with never chasing trends, and what still pulls him back to the studio even during quieter stretches. If you’ve ever questioned the value of what you’re making—or struggled to trust your own taste—his answers here hit in that quiet, grounding kind of way. There’s something refreshing about an artist fully owning their lane without trying to dress it up.
What’s the moment that first made you take making music seriously?
Hi there, I actually took it seriously from the very first hit on a snare drum — I started out as a drummer. As a creator, I’ve always strived to be the best version of myself and to present my craft in its purest, most honest form. From that perspective, I think I took music seriously from the second I started making it.
To succeed in arts or music there’s also no way out I believe. We’ve to take it seriously, so seriously that it actually becomes a lifestyle.
When you’re not releasing anything, what keeps you going?
Music is always a dominant force in my life. Even when I’m not releasing anything, I’m often creating behind the scenes. There are also times when I can’t create — creativity tends to come in waves for me. In those moments, I try to take a step back and refuel. I explore new music, cook a lot (my first dream was actually to become a chef), and focus on doing as much sport as I can.
Music always keeps me going, either in the way of the consumer or the creator.
What kind of track would you still make if no one ever heard it?
Honestly, I already make whatever I have in mind — my interests aren’t bound to a single genre. I don’t skip over any style; I’m always curious and eager to learn. Not everything ends up seeing the light of day, though. One thing I’d love to focus on again is a jazzy/electronica band project. I did that years ago and it brought me a lot of joy.
I also have some alter ego’s where I do explore new territories with and that are not bound to genre’s. In this way I do things a bit more under the radar. Curiosity keeps this engine running.
Has your “why” changed over time? How do you keep that honest?
Yes, absolutely. Last year I experienced a big shift. After living in Berlin for a long time, I realized how much the environment was unconsciously shaping my thoughts and sound.
Since relocating to a quieter life in the Alps, I no longer have those external influences — so I’ve had to look deeper into my own tastes, ideas, and values. It feels like an evolution. I now pursue projects straight from the heart and trust in my own voice.
One of those projects was my record label Flores, something I’ve wanted to start for years. I finally feel ready to open my own book and share my stories. For me honesty is based on taste, belief and feelings. I don’t step into projects I don’t feel by heart or don’t like taste wise. This is a silent navigator but keeps things real and honest to me.
Do you ever question the value of what you’re doing? What pulls you back in?
Always. Insecurity can either weigh me down or push me forward. Music has become such a big part of my identity, and every creation feels personal. At the same time, I’m rarely satisfied with the value of my own work — I can spend ages on a project. But once something feels “right,” I capture it and release it into the world. It’s like freezing a moment in time. A project will always evolve, but like a tree, sometimes you just need to let the leaves fall. I think the need for creation and curiosity to explore pulls me back in. Sometimes I’m just curious about certain production techniques which turn out into a new track.
What’s a creative decision you’ve made that had zero payoff, but still felt right?
There’ve been a few, actually — haha. One big one is avoiding trends. I’ve had chances to jump on certain hype trains, but I’ve always held back. I never wanted to be tied to a trend or genre. It’s a bit stubborn, and probably hasn’t helped me gain success quickly, but it’s the right choice for me. Another big one was deciding to use my own vocals. I’m very insecure about my singing — I don’t consider myself a singer, more of a storyteller. But it feels like the purest expression of myself, and it’s allowed me to expand creatively. In the end I believe payoff shouldn’t be the goal of a creative decision. A creative decision always should feel right despite its potential success or payoff.
How do you personally define fulfilment in your work?
For me, fulfilment comes in different forms. The first is purely creative — if I write or create something that I want to listen to on repeat, that already gives me fulfillment.
The second is performing it live.
When the feeling I get from a track resonates with the crowd and gives them goosebumps too — that’s a magical moment. And lastly, when someone messages me about a song and shares how it made them feel, in their own words — that’s deeply special and fulfilling as well. The overall fulfilment comes out of the freedom I’ve in mind and being. The freedom to create, to explore, to be.
It’s something I really do appreciate and fulfills me everyday when I think about it.
