Smoke fills the dancefloor of the large club where on stage there are two legends about to collide. The bill reads “Green Velvet vs. Cajmere.” At a quick glance, it might look like a back-to-back set, a clash of titans. In reality, a closer look reveals that this is a confrontation between two halves of the same artist: ”2 Legends, 1 Mind.” Curtis Jones is the Chicago house hero who, over three decades, has shapeshifted from Cajmere to Green Velvet to numerous other aliases, and back again.

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As Cajmere, Jones gifted us timeless house anthems like “Percolator” and “Brighter Days,” records that still rattle clubs thirty years on. As Green Velvet, whose name was reportedly coined offhand by his then-girlfriend’s father, he became something else entirely: flamboyant, confrontational, and grittier. “When I’m doing Cajmere it’s coming from the house roots and that’s all based in disco and gospel… it’s more inspirational and uplifting,” Jones once explained. “When I do Green Velvet I’m coming from an industrial lane.” Seeing him perform both aliases in one night is like witnessing a dialogue between past and present, but also between two sides of his creative brain.

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Artist names emerge in all sorts of ways. Some names are deliberate, like Floating Points—a nod to Sam Shepherd’s balance of science and sound. Others arrive by accident, through an online handle or an inside joke (see Barry Can’t Swim). And for some artists, names can feel like cages as much as creative tools. Artists often build recognition under one identity, only to find it limiting once their music evolves. That’s when the crossroads appears: do you create an alias, or leave the old name behind?

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For Marcus Visionary, the decision to use aliases was partly practical. “The aliases started back in 2005 when I was making too much music to release as Marcus Visionary,” he explained. “Some people will see the name Marcus Visionary and automatically think Jungle DNB, so it was good to help stop any possible confusion.” 

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For many, an alias is the best way to go on a creative side quest. Four Tet has slipped into his KH alter-ego for sample-driven club music that sits outside his regular wheelhouse. Skepta’s Mas Tiempo project, co-founded with Jammer, became both a house alias and a shift in creative focus: “DJing is something that’s basically given us more time to enjoy music,” Skepta explained to The Face in 2023.

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Marcus takes this further, with each alias mapped to a distinct sound world: Carib explores 140 sub-soca and tribal rhythms, Stereo Mars is strictly UK Funky and Garage, while X-Rave taps into breakbeat hardcore. “From an artistic perspective the different aliases allow me to create freely with no pressure,” he said. “I like to keep people guessing because sometimes your fan base will try to put you in a box. The alter egos allow you to grow as an artist.” 

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At CDR Sessions in April 2025, UK garage legend Jeremy Sylvester echoed Marcus’ sentiment when recalling his days as in-house producer at Nice ’N’ Ripe: “It was a marketing thing… G.O.D was more speed garage, Strickly Dubz was more 2-step.” His Discogs page currently lists over 30 aliases.

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Psychologically, the blank slate can be freeing. A new name erases expectations, making space for play, failure, and surprise. 

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But what happens when an alias begins to take on a life of its own? Back in 2019, James Connolly set aside his long-standing L-VIS 1990 moniker to resurrect Dance System, a house-oriented alias he’d briefly used years before. The project became his full-time identity, a response to what he saw as a joyless, over-serious club landscape. “Fun was kinda lost in a sea of serious techno and tech house,” he wrote in 2024.

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By 2023, he began questioning the very world he had helped to build. “It’s hard to challenge an audience these days after they’ve been over-fed on bangers,” he reflected. “It’s become the norm and I’m tired of it.”

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His Instagram post revealed a deeper fatigue with the cycle of spectacle and success. “I thought I could play the role of the party guy but the truth is I’m a weirdo art-school kid with something to say,” he wrote. “I tried my hardest with ‘Work It’ to make it work as that party guy and chase financial success, but it did nothing but leave me feel empty inside.” A few days later, Connolly officially reinstated L-VIS 1990, announcing another creative reset—proof that even for seasoned artists, reinvention can mean abandoning a name completely before eventually finding your way back to it.

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For others, that kind of break is final. Rebranding carries risk—losing an audience or starting from scratch—but it can also be transformative, aligning an artist more closely with their sound and sense of self.

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‍For sooyeon, the change from Oh Annie Oh was a freeing progression. In December 2024 she announced that after releasing her first original music and seeing her name in print and on streaming services, she felt a tug to make a change. “It felt more like an evolution rather than starting again for me,” she explained. “I was DJing for about ten years and put out my first EP last year under Oh Annie Oh… something started to not feel quite right about my artist name. It didn’t feel like me anymore and I needed to figure out how I could rectify that.”

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sooyeon’s rebrand was as much about reclaiming identity as it was about music. sooyeon is the Korean name she was given at birth, while Annie was the name she chose for herself after moving to Canada as a child—a common act of assimilation among those emigrating to Western societies. Her return to sooyeon resonated both personally and culturally. “It was amazing to have such great feedback from audiences, promoters and collaborators regarding the name change,” she said. “It also just feels right to me and represents who I am to the best it can be. The fact that the change had such a personal element of reclaiming my Korean name resonated with people who have experienced something similar.”

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In her case, keeping her old alias wasn’t an option, and she isn’t likely to be drawn to return any time soon. “I feel like I’ve outgrown it. It feels like a completely different person and artist,” she reflected. 

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That kind of transformation—the act of revealing parts of oneself that had once been hidden—transcends professional branding decisions. As UKCP Registered Music Industry Therapist and Performance Musicologist Dr. Jessica Quiñones explains, “It’s usually a highly significant moment when an artist decides to reveal a part of themselves that has traditionally remained hidden or exiled from public view. It signals a major recognition and acceptance of a fuller sense of self.”

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She notes that this process is rarely easy: “It often takes years—even decades—for this estranged part to be accounted for and revealed, especially when one’s image is a core part of external validation. The internal friction—having parts of the self at odds with their public artistry—can be an excruciating burden to carry on stage. This is a very common concern in my practice room amongst the artists I work with as both a Music Industry Psychotherapist and Performance Musicologist.”

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Of course, embracing change doesn’t always guarantee success. Reinvention can be liberating, but it can also be met with hesitation from audiences still attached to what came before. As Marcus Visionary reflected, “The obvious challenge is that people sometimes don’t want to take a chance on checking out a new artist. But for me, using aliases is a really positive thing. It keeps my creativity fresh, and I view my label as my shop—offering different concepts, aliases and a variety of underground dance music.”

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sooyeon offers advice for anyone standing at the same crossroads: “If a change, no matter how big or small, lets you be the most authentic version of yourself as a person and artist, you can figure the rest out. Just focus on what’s important to you and the rest will follow suit.”

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At the end of 2024, L-VIS 1990 published another Instagram post in which he called the decision to return to the moniker “the best decision I could have made.” His journey to Dance System and back again captures a paradox at the heart of artistic reinvention: that the search for renewal sometimes brings an artist full circle.

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Electronic music itself is built on flux, and whether through an alias or a complete name change, an artist's reinvention reflects the culture’s refusal to stand still. These shifts remind us that, despite what brand strategy might suggest, names are never forever. They’re masks we wear, discard, and reinvent—a reminder that identity, like music, is always in motion.

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On 14 October, L-VIS 1990 fka Dance System, joins us in conversation at CDR Sessions London. 

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