The Long Game: Lemon and Lime’s Dan Burke on Consistency, Culture and the Brisbane Scene

Brisbane doesn’t always get the credit it deserves. In conversations about Australia’s electronic music landscape, the spotlight tends to drift toward Melbourne’s basements and Sydney’s harbour-side venues, leaving Queensland’s capital to quietly get on with things. And get on with things it has. Over the past two decades, a dedicated community of artists, dancers and promoters has built something genuinely worth paying attention to in Brisbane, and few people have had more to do with that than Dan Burke.

Dan is the founder of Lemon and Lime Events, a promotion company that has become one of the most recognisable names in Queensland club culture. If you’ve been paying attention to what’s been happening in Brisbane over the years, chances are you’ve been in one of his rooms. The nights he puts on draw on a broad but carefully considered palette of house, progressive, trance through to techno, with a consistent focus on quality that has earned the brand a loyal following and a reputation that stretches well beyond the city limits.

Consistency is perhaps the word that comes to mind most readily when people talk about Lemon and Lime. In an industry where promoters burn bright and disappear with alarming regularity, Dan has kept things moving. That’s not an accident. Running events at a high standard, year after year, in a market that can be unpredictable and unforgiving, requires a particular kind of discipline. It means knowing when to take risks and when to hold your nerve. It means understanding your audience without pandering to them. It means caring about the details that most people in the crowd will never consciously notice but would absolutely feel the absence of.

Brisbane itself is an interesting city to be building something in right now. It’s grown considerably in the last decade, with a younger demographic and a broader cultural appetite than it’s sometimes been given credit for. The city has a warmth to it, in personality as much as climate, and that translates into the dancefloor in ways that are hard to articulate but easy to feel. There’s less of the studied coolness you might encounter in Melbourne, more of an openness. For a promoter, that can be both an opportunity and a challenge.

Dan has navigated that landscape with a clear sense of purpose. The bookings he’s made over the years reflect someone who takes the music seriously, who understands the difference between a DJ who is famous and a DJ who is right for a particular moment and audience. Getting that balance right, night after night, is what separates the promoters who last from the ones who don’t.

We sat down with Dan to talk about where Brisbane stands right now, what Lemon and Lime has meant to the city’s scene, and what he’s learned from years of doing this properly. He’s thoughtful about it all, candid about the difficulties and generous in his reflections on what makes a good night work. He’s also, refreshingly, someone who lets the events speak for themselves rather than leaning on mythology.

It’s a conversation worth having. Brisbane’s story in electronic music is still being written, and people like Dan Burke are holding the pen.

You’ve been bringing international progressive, trance and techno to Brisbane for over a decade now, booking artists like Sasha, Hernan Cattaneo and Dubfire. How would people you’ve worked with describe your operating style, and has that results-driven approach always been part of your makeup or something that developed over time?

I think most artists would describe me as very hands-on, in the sense that I like to have oversight and responsibility for every aspect of the event. This includes everything from lighting and sound design right down to airport transfers. It’s not uncommon to find me behind a lighting desk or picking up an artist from the airport in my own car.

Whenever possible, I try to avoid going back and forth through a long chain of managers and agents. I prefer to speak directly with the artists once they arrive in Australia. That’s no disrespect to the agents, but things often get lost in translation over email. For example, regarding dinner plans or riders: these are usually standard in a contract, but if I can reach out to an artist directly and say, “Hey, do you want to grab some Korean BBQ after the gig?” instead of waiting for management to approve a “dinner buyout,” it makes for a much better, more personal experience. I want the artist to feel they can communicate with me about everything so they are in the best possible headspace to deliver their performance.

When an artist approaches you about a Brisbane show, what are you looking for immediately before you even consider committing financially? Is it certain metrics or more of an instinct that tells you this artist is worth backing?

I immediately look for someone who is open to—and capable of, playing extended sets. I think it’s a waste of time to travel all this way just to play for 90 minutes. If an artist can’t play for three hours or more during a solo show, I’ll usually think twice. Of course, if we have multiple artists on a lineup, that isn’t always possible, but I draw the line at 90 minutes even then.

Regarding metrics, I do keep an eye on the numbers, but you have to dive deeper. A million Instagram followers doesn’t always translate to ticket sales. I look at which gigs they are playing, where their tracks are being supported, and which other artists are playing their music. I will choose consistency and quality over followers every single time.

Your 2010 rooftop party with Richard Durand has become something of Brisbane folklore. Looking back across everything you’ve been involved with, what moment has truly stayed with you, and was it something you planned or just happened organically?

The Richard Durand rooftop gig was a “had to be there” moment. It was held on the residents’ rooftop of the McWhirters apartments, and it was a full “secret ops” mission. Patrons didn’t even get the location until the day of the event. We hand-dragged all the equipment—even a couch, up flights of stairs.

When we picked Richard up, he had just finished performing at Sensation White and was one of the biggest trance acts in the world. He asked us what the club was like, and we had to tell him, “Um, it’s actually on top of someone’s private apartment block in the middle of the city.” He was immediately on the phone to his manager asking what he’d been booked for! After some reassurance, he settled in, and the rest is history. Several residents who helped pull it off faced repercussions from building management, but it all worked out.

Other standouts include New Year’s Day with Funk D’Void at Capulet; we opened at 10:00 AM and served bacon, eggs, and Bloody Marys. People were lining up from 9:00 AM, and the atmosphere was perfect from the moment the doors opened. Then there are the “Open to Close” rooftop shows with Max Graham, the annual John 00 Fleming performances, Dubfire’s first show at Subrosa, and, of course, anything with Hernan Cattaneo.

Walk us through a time when you had to change your marketing approach mid-campaign due to a cancellation, venue change or something else. How did you communicate that change to everyone involved without it turning into chaos?

The closure of Subrosa and Capulet was a significant blow that required major brand remodeling. Those outdoor spaces were iconic symbols for Sunday Lemon & Lime events, and it took time to find the right fit elsewhere. (This was actually the second time we faced this, as the closure of Barsoma had a similar effect.) However, I think we’ve emerged as a stronger brand because we’ve proven we can make any space work.

In terms of specific event changes, we recently had to move our annual rooftop show forward by a week and change the location, the third time we’d moved that specific date due to communication and contract mix-ups. We refunded all tickets and restarted from scratch. Fortunately, the venue and the artist were very accommodating. Numbers suffered, but the artist still delivered a four-hour set true to their fans.

Keeping communication open and honest is the only way to handle chaos. Even if it’s embarrassing for the promoter, you have to be transparent so no one can accuse you of being disingenuous. There will always be “haters,” but my response is usually: unless you’ve put your own money on the line as a promoter, you can’t really comment.

The South East Queensland electronic scene has changed significantly since you started Lemon and Lime. Do you think we’re actually progressing or just recycling the same ideas? What needs to shift for the scene to genuinely move forward?

It’s a “yes and no” situation. I see the rise and fall of major festivals where the same recycled acts and gimmicks—CO2 cannons and confetti, keep popping up. On the other hand, I see new promoters entering the scene who are elevating the experience. They are using brand-new locations and highlighting local and interstate acts, understanding that music and atmosphere must complement each other to deliver an actual experience rather than just another “event.”

Tickets are expensive and patrons deserve more than just the music and LED screens. 

You’ve expanded from purely trance into progressive and techno while keeping that distinct Lemon and Lime feel. With everyone buried in digital content these days, what strategies actually cut through for you, and are there any supposedly essential promotional tactics you avoid because they’re overrated?

This is a bit painful for me because Lemon & Lime started in the era of Facebook’s infancy, MySpace, physical posters, and hard-copy tickets. (Does anyone remember the In The Mix forums?) While some old-school elements remain, like exclusive SoundCloud mixes (replacing the promotional mix cd), the focus has shifted heavily toward likes and shares. I believe both artists and promoters share the responsibility to promote. 

Today, the exposure artists have is incredible; for example, Spotify knows a user’s location and sends notifications when an artist they follow is coming to their city. It’s these types of mediums that can really benefit both artist and promoter. 

When a show fails financially despite solid planning, how do you recover without compromising artist fees or damaging relationships? Where do you draw the line between a calculated risk that didn’t work out versus something you should have spotted earlier?

I learned a hard lesson early on with a trance booking I idolized, but whom the wider community had moved on from. It taught me not to get caught up in the emotion of a booking and to focus on whether the act is actually a good fit for Brisbane right now. You also have to be careful with “online noise.” The die-hard fans who bombard your inbox are usually going to show up regardless; it’s the quiet majority you need to convince.

Regarding fees, I am always upfront to the point I lay out the math. Of course I want to make money and the artist needs to be compensated fairly. But I’m the one with the most to lose. The act will get paid regardless.

In terms of losing money, I’ve had some absolute shockers where attendance didn’t break double figures. When that happens, I remind the artist that people still paid to see them and they need to be front and center. Yes, the finances take a hit, but as a promoter, you have to go in with the mindset: “Am I prepared to lose the entire cost of this act?” Only spend what you are willing to lose.

When evaluating venues, you balance artist requirements, venue expectations and what works for the audience. How do you determine what’s actually viable? And what do you typically control on show night, from riders through to guest lists?

Sound, sound, sound. That is the first thing I look at. I research every space, asking venue managers for tech sheets and equipment lists. I want to know if they have a D&B, L’Acoustics, or Martin Audio system. I need to know if I have to bring in extra sound or a better monitor system. Second to that is the room itself, will a basement, a massive hall, or a rooftop work for this specific artist?

I then look at the technical riders. Do they need synced visuals, specific lighting, or lasers? I oversee all of this. On the night, you might see me at the front-of-house with the lighting team or side-of-stage tweaking the monitor positions. Regarding guest lists… I usually accommodate artist guests because of the personal connection, but it does annoy me when people reach out for free entry just to avoid paying. (They usually think that’s an invitation to go backstage, too!)

But to put it plainly, I’m there at the gig from before doors open, till doors close.

What bit of advice would you give to someone wanting to start promoting in 2026?

Start small. Understand the basics of running an event—the sound, the lighting, the DJ equipment, and how to run a door professionally. There are so many tiny details behind the scenes that determine whether an event is amazing or absolute rubbish. 

Be professional; your patrons and the artists are looking to you. You’ll be blamed for everything, from security kicking someone out to the air conditioning failing, but you’ll also receive all the praise when someone tells you it was the best set they’ve ever heard.

Considering the current state of Australian venues and regulations, what positive developments are keeping underground events alive across Australia?

In Queensland, we now have a government department for the nightlife economy. It’s a new department, but it’s a step in the right direction for building relationships and considering the needs of the late-night industry. Parallel to this is a new wave of venues catering to “private functions” and “underground” events. By not having a traditional liquor license, these spaces face less red tape regarding music volumes and operating hours.

Some unbelievable events have been hosted in these spaces that truly capture an underground feel without compromising safety. I’d also shout out the collaborations with councils, like the Southwave summer series at Southbank Parklands, which saw a massive response this year.

The music industry is littered with amazing producers and DJs who don’t get the recognition they deserve. Who do you think we should be looking out for in the years to come?

It’s hard to name just a few because hundreds of producers are killing it right now. Often, it just takes one track played by the right DJ to catapult someone. I think of Lloyd Barwood; his track “Chain of Thoughts” was massive in 2025, and after it was rinsed at Balance Festival in Croatia, Sasha signed him to a three-track EP on LNOE.

Locally, Zanke Gulati is on fire, and Mike Rish, his track “Tu Attair” on the Anjunadeep movement compilation was excellent. Rich Curtis has been a staple in the Aussie progressive scene for a long time and continues to get support from legends like Hernan Cattaneo. I also have to mention Jody6; the man is a production machine who has been around for 20+ years and consistently gets played by the biggest names in techno.

Beyond ticket sales and bar takings, what actually makes a night successful in your view? And how do you create value for artists beyond just putting on the show?

Good Instagram reels? (Haha, isn’t that the true measure now?) Every artist who works with me knows we might not match the scale of the biggest cities or festivals, but the Brisbane crowd is one of the most loyal and enthusiastic in the world. That is why I request extended sets. We want to create an experience, not just a “show.” We’ve been told we are one of the best stops on an Australian tour—not because of the capacity, but because of the atmosphere. The biggest compliment is when a DJ asks to keep playing; we had that recently with Guy J, where three hours turned into four with the crowd screaming for one more.

On a lighter note, what’s the funniest moment you’ve witnessed or been part of during preparation or on show night? The kind of story that reminds you why you still love doing this despite all the challenges.

I’ve lost count of how many times the sound has cut out or the power has failed. Back in the early days of the Barsoma car park gigs, the power kept tripping every 30 minutes. We eventually discovered the kitchen’s pizza oven was on the same circuit, anytime a customer ordered a pizza, the music stopped!

Our annual rooftop parties have also seen their share of chaos—fire trucks, bins catching fire, you name it. I’ve been locked inside the Botanic Gardens (car and all) after a pack-down. I’ve seen proposals on the dance floor, and I know several couples who met at a Lemon & Lime event and are now married. From flooded venues to DJs going MIA, plus a few more stories I can’t repeat but they definitely live rent free in my head. 

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