26.02.26 Editor’s Note:
Subsequent to the publication of this feature, Alejandro Zamora was convicted in relation to a fraud case, as reported in national media. This interview was conducted and published prior to those developments and remains available as part of our editorial archive.
From Caracas crates to London basements to silence and back again, Alejandro Zamora knows what it means to lose yourself—and fight to find it again.
Out of depression and legal battles came The White Collar Project, a vinyl-only lifeline that has evolved into a global community, now over 160,000 members strong and still growing.
For Zamora, every mix is a reminder that music can steady you when nothing else will. With New Life stitched into the grooves of his turntables, we caught him between late-night sessions to talk about the first record that saved him, the textures he can’t resist, and why his 3AM mixes are meant to make sure you never feel alone.
When the decks saved you, what was the first record that pulled you back into the light?
DJ Sneak – Show Me The Way. The title alone felt like someone putting a hand on my shoulder when life was weighing me down. As soon as I played the track, the reason I fell in love with playing in the first place all came back. It gave me something steady to hold on to. In that moment, the record wasn’t just music, it was direction when I didn’t know where I was heading.
Your sets move from Latin grooves to raw techno—what’s the one texture you can’t resist dropping every time?
I always come back to a hi-hat with swing. Layer it with some hand drums under a solid kick, and a clap that feels human, like the room is breathing with you. When the groove shuffles like that, it lifts people. It hits that sweet spot and I can’t leave it out.
Vinyl‑only: discipline, nostalgia, or defiance?
Honestly, it’s a mix of all three. Vinyl takes discipline because you’ve got to be present. There’s no quick fix if you mess up! There’s nostalgia too, every record has marks and memories on it. And yeah, a bit of defiance, because I don’t think music should get too convenient or flat. I’ll use a CDJ here and there for a vocal if it fits, but the heart of it is always vinyl. That’s what keeps me grounded.
The White Collar Project grew from lifeline to label—what’s been the wildest response from the community so far?
For me it’s the late night messages. People saying a mix kept them going, or someone telling me they really enjoyed the music selection. That’s when I realised this wasn’t just my project anymore. It belonged to everyone who found something in it.
If someone presses play on your mixes at 3AM, what do you hope they feel before the sun comes up?
I hope they don’t feel alone. I want the first blend to calm them down, the bass to steady their head, and by the time the last track plays, they feel a bit lighter walking into the morning.
©fm
