Trickster Magazine

Long before Estonian jungle had a name – or an archive – Lu:k was already taping it to cassettes in bedrooms and basements. A project born of soldered circuits and breakbeats caught on Finnish radio, Lu:k (aka Virko Veskoja) is one of those rare figures whose legend was built slowly, stubbornly, and without compromise. 

Now, decades later, with forgotten tracks resurfacing on vinyl and a rare live set looming at Patareiv, we caught up with the man behind the myth to talk jungle nostalgia, lost futures, and the beautiful weirdness of doing “nothing” on stage.

Let’s start with the basics.
Your day job is videography, but music clearly hasn’t left your system. How much of your daily life is sound – making it, listening to it – and how much is image?

Sound, rhythm, music – they’re a constant in my life. Always have been. They’re a natural part of videography too. Video editing is rhythm, after all. I’ve had some collaboration requests lately – let’s see where it leads.

Are you still actively making music?
Or has the output shifted into something more abstract, like living in a permanent remix state?

I’m always in a remix state. I make music in my head constantly – ideas come, float in, disappear into eternity. That’s where I’m at right now.

The name Lu:k – hatch, or nonsense – was meant to mean nothing.
Does it mean something now? And if you had to reduce Lu:k to three words, what would they be?

It was designed to mean nothing. Now, 31 years later, it carries a meaning that can’t be put into words. Words are limited. Meaning too, unfortunately.

Your mid-’90s material has just been reissued on vinyl via Memme Vaev – a collector’s dream.
Has revisiting that era changed how you see your own past – or your future?

Time doesn’t really exist for me. It’s just that sometimes, certain things need to be formalized.

You’ve said you’re not a musician.
Fair. But if not that – then what? 

I don’t like labels. I just do what I feel called to do.

You started Lu:k with two close friends – Tõnis Valk and Indrek Tamm.
One passed far too soon, and the other drifted away. It’s powerful that you’ve kept the name alive. Do you ever wonder what Lu:k might have become if life had taken a different turn? Is it still a project to you?

Had life taken another path, I might’ve had to become an actual musician. Strange as it sounds, I’ve always known that’s not my road. Still, music is always with me – we’re inseparable. Making music is just one form of creation. Everyone creates. Some through sound, some through silence.

As a kid, you were into heavy sounds – metal, hip-hop, techno.
Do you remember the exact moment breakbeat caught you? Was there one track, one moment?

I remember watching a music show on Finnish TV in the ’80s and thinking: why is this man yelling over the music? I just wanted to hear the breaks underneath. And then, in the late ’80s, early ’90s, that sound finally emerged. That was my Big Bang – yeah, this is it.

Gut answer – no overthinking.
If you could only listen to one album for the rest of your life?

Aphex Twin – Selected Ambient Works 85–92.

You once said that back in the day, parties were music-first.
Now, it’s more vibe, more scene, more look. How do you feel about the shift?

Everything changes. That’s life. Right now, there are opportunities for everyone – just reach out and take them.

Any recent discoveries?
Tracks, artists, moments that gave you that old first-time thrill?

I’m still as hungry for music as I was 30 years ago. There’s so much out there – it’s an ocean. But some things rise to the surface. Drum’n’bass, of course, but also:

Dabeull – Message From The Stars (with Holybrune & Rude Jude)
Lane 8 & Massane – And We Knew It Was Our Time
Nu Genea – Marechià (feat. Célia Kameni)
Common – Don’t Forget Who You Are (feat. PJ)

You’re back on the decks at Patareiv.
What’s the energy heading into that set, and how do you approach live performance in 2025 compared to the ’90s?

I get more nervous before a gig now than I did back then. Maybe it’s the sense of responsibility – for the crowd, you know?

There was a time when Lu:k was accused of doing “nothing” on stage.
Just hanging around. Eating cake. You admitted feeling guilty back then. How about now?

Yeah, that was the feeling back in the ’90s and early 2000s. Now? Not at all. I do what I feel on stage – and that’s that. I play the music I’ve created. That has value too, no?

Music’s still in your bloodstream – even when you’re not making it.
How do you satisfy that itch? Do you find it elsewhere?

I create all the time. In the edit room, behind the lens, in quiet moments. Creation doesn’t need to take physical form.

Allow me a bit of romanticism.
Back then, you had to hunt. Wait for radio, dig in libraries, maybe even build your own machines. Fewer shortcuts. More obstacles. Do you think that made the music deeper? Was the struggle part of the soul?

The process needs to be pleasing. If you’re fighting it, what’s the point? There will always be obstacles – you just remove them. Shortcuts? Not for me. The long road is the one that takes you places.

Now we’ve got 5G, smartphones, plug-and-play DAWs.
Even kids can crank out a track in a day. Is that why there’s so much filler? As a father, what do you tell your kids about patience, passion, and the long game?

When you find your path, all that tech stuff – 5G, devices, fast output – becomes irrelevant. Let others run around and try everything. You just do your thing, and do it properly. With passion. Whether it’s business, painting, or cleaning your room.

Last one – and no pressure if you want to dodge it:
Could it be that the best of drum’n’bass already happened? I mean... how do you top “La:v” or “Lovin U”?

That time won’t come back. La:v and Lovin U were made for their moment. They can’t be topped, because they worked then. The right time is now – and there’s good stuff happening here.

Catch Lu:k live at Patareiv this Friday, the 29th. Old breaks, new frequencies, and the kind of bass you feel in your spine.