“The youth yearn for a community.” You have probably seen that line floating around online, on TikTok, X, or reposted across feeds, paired with clips of viral meetups from last year: Timothée Chalamet lookalike contests, performative male competitions, or spontaneous Saturday gatherings like Come Smoke With Me in Central Park at noon. At first glance, it can be hard to understand why so many people would show up to something that began online by a stranger. But beneath it all, the craving is the same: a shared space where people can show up and belong, even if admitting that desire feels a little shameful.
This is the impulse Juno Keng has been working with for years, reclaiming what he calls the “third space,” physical venues where friendships and creative connections once thrived. “Seriously, people can complain all they want about why is there nothing new in the city, but it takes someone to actually do something, lah,” Juno says, explaining his approach for Kuala Lumpur’s youth.
In 2022, he opened Jupiter HQ, a personal project that in just a few years has hosted nearly a hundred gigs, DJ sets, screenings, and parties. Juno describes it simply as an alternative to going to another mall to hang out with your friends or choosing to bed-rot instead. Here, creatives, musicians, and artists converge, make memories, and experience scenes they might never have accessed otherwise. By 2024–2025, the venue’s events had become monthly highlights, drawing attendees who brought friends, who in turn brought more friends, slowly forming a tight-knit, self-sustaining community.
But a lively space was only the beginning. Inspired by the talent passing through Jupiter Station, Juno launched Liquid Molly Records, bringing together producers, rappers, and artists like FW Dayn, Baby Face Khalif, Digi Jesh, and F Rider. His approach is rooted in trust and familiarity. New music is introduced through people who already know the space, so discovery feels authentic, almost organic. “I want Liquid Molly to be a third space, a physical and musical place where people can find something new,” he says.
For this Men’s Folio exclusive, we meet Juno upstairs in his self-built studio above the shophouses of SS15. A table between us is scattered with takeaway burgers and fries from Shimokita Space next door. Between bites, he talks about his record label, music, and why community sits at the center of everything he does.
Why the name Liquid Molly?
Because we do a lot of molly.
Now let’s do a throwback. Before all of this, before the shows and the label, what were you doing?
I was a painter, and I also do street art. I’ve always been around creative people. My friends used to have these spaces where they’d host things, and every time I’d visit there was this raw energy to it. Artists hanging around, people making stuff, talking ideas. Those environments feel really intimate in a way. When people create together, it’s like you’re sharing something personal. I loved that closeness. That’s what made me start Jupiter Station.
We’re sitting here now and it’s so relaxing. Is it usually like this?
Depends. Sometimes it’s quiet and cosy like this, especially when it’s raining. Other days the boys come through and it’s packed. Someone recording in one room, someone doing their college project on the couch, people just hanging out.
So in a way you actually built the kind of space you wanted.
Yeah, in a way. But this is level one. There are steps to this. Still, I can feel I’m on the right path.
Did that eventually lead to starting the label?
Pretty naturally. But also when I looked at the scene here, I felt like we have to take advantage of it now. It’s still early. There’s so much that hasn’t been experimented with yet — genres, concepts, events, even the type of artists coming through. The rap scene here is still very locked into hip hop, trap and R&B.
So what should people actually be exploring?
Anything else, honestly. There’s a whole world happening in rap right now. Rage rap, hyperpop crossovers, plugg, cloud rap, jerk rap. Everywhere else people are mixing sounds. Here, a lot of rappers just buy a sample beat and rap over it. There’s not enough risk yet.
Is that what makes your collective different?
Yeah. Not just the music, but how we move. One thing that’s really important to me and the boys is throwing events. Bringing back house parties, bringing back gigs. People are so focused on promoting online these days that they forget what it feels like to actually discover music in real life. Walking into a dim room, meeting random people, hearing someone perform and unexpectedly finding a song that sticks with you. Nothing beats that.
How many artists are part of Liquid Molly right now?
Nine. Fwdayn, Digi*jesh, SPC Kal, Iasjwd, Babyfacekalif, Irsytheworld, Hellb3nt, F.Rider and Aimampus.
Where do you find them?
You have to go outside. You can’t say you’re into art and then never show up anywhere. I go to random gigs all the time. I’ll see someone perform and think, okay, you’re fire. Then I realise I’ve already seen their stuff online. After that we talk, hang out, and you start understanding how serious they are about it. When someone performs and it really comes from inside, you can feel it.
Is that how you met some of the guys in the crew?
Yeah. Like Dayn. I knew of him for a while but we didn’t really hang out. Once we did, I understood who he was and what he wanted. I thought, this guy is crazy good. Same with F.Rider. I’ve known him for almost eight years but he only joined recently. One day I asked him, “Are you willing to take this risk with me?” And he said yes.
What do you look for when bringing someone into the label?
They have to be real. Authentic as hell. It doesn’t matter if people understand you yet.
Right now everyone wants to be a rapper. What makes you believe in the artists you pick?
Numbers tell you something. Dayn is nineteen and can bring more than 200 people to a show. Most artists at nineteen can’t even get fifteen friends in a room. Some of our guys haven’t even dropped full projects yet. If they’re already doing this now, imagine later. The potential is there.
There’s this narrative that Gen Z doesn’t go out anymore. Do you buy that?
I think it’s more that a lot of Gen Z don’t drink. And with clubs people are more selective now about the crowd. It’s not just about music anymore. That’s why curated parties work. People want to feel like they belong in the room.
You’ve already hosted quite a few big events in 2025 — Alam Rahsia with an all-women lineup, the Halloween party at Over Above in KL, and Stardust Crusaders at Prime One. What stands out the most?
The people. Both the artists and the crowd. When you come to one of my events you’ll see graphic designers, DJs, rappers, tattoo artists, people from fashion, people from the art scene. Some are just starting, some have been around for years. But everyone’s creative and everyone kind of knows each other or becomes friends by the end of the night. I like that feeling…like the whole room is connected somehow.
Last question. What’s the mood for this year?
We lit.
Interview Aqil Karlzafri
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