Lisbon has become one of Europe’s most compelling electronic music cities, but beyond the headline festivals and growing international attention, its identity has been shaped by people creating spaces with a clear sense of purpose. Oscar Rosmano is one of them. As both a DJ and the founder of Temple, he has spent years building a venue where architecture, history and carefully considered programming come together to create something that feels distinct from the city’s wider nightlife landscape.
Alongside his work behind the scenes, Rosmano has continued to develop as a producer, with recent releases finding support across the Progressive and Afro House worlds while remaining rooted in the longer-form storytelling that has defined his musical outlook.
In this conversation, he reflects on what makes a club memorable, how promoting has changed the way he DJs, the realities of building a music community, and why persistence has mattered more than any individual success.
If someone walked into Temple for the very first time and you wanted them to understand what the club stands for without saying a word, what would you hope they experienced over the course of the night?
I would hope they felt that Temple is not just another nightclub. Before the music even starts, the building already tells a story.
Temple is inside a building with around 300 years of history, with Latin engravings, mythological statues almost four metres high and even a gallery connected to the Águas Livres Aqueduct ending inside the space. All of that creates a feeling that is difficult to explain. You don’t feel like you are walking into a normal club. You feel like you are entering another world.
That is very important to me. I want people to feel a sense of mystery, history and expectation from the moment they arrive. Then, as the night progresses, the music, the lights, the architecture and the crowd should all become part of the same experience.
If someone came to Temple for the first time, I would hope they left with the feeling that they had been somewhere unique. Not just to hear a DJ, but to experience a place with its own soul.
You’ve spent years introducing international artists to Lisbon audiences. What separates a line-up that looks good on paper from one that genuinely creates a memorable night?
A good line-up on paper is easy. Big names, strong social media numbers, trending artists. But that doesn’t always translate into a memorable night.
For me, what makes a night special is chemistry. How the artists connect with each other, how their sounds complement one another, how the energy builds across the night. A line-up should feel like a journey, not just a collection of names.
That’s something I’ve learned after many years of watching DJs, promoters and crowds. Sometimes the biggest name of the night is not the one who creates the strongest moment. Sometimes it’s the warm-up, the closing set, or an unexpected artist who understands the room better.
Context matters a lot too. The right artist in the wrong room, wrong crowd or wrong time can completely miss the mark. That’s why curation is everything. You have to think beyond reputation and think about experience.
At Temple, I always try to build nights where people leave remembering how they felt, not just who played. That’s the difference. A good line-up fills a flyer. A great line-up creates memories.
Your recent releases have found success across both Progressive House and Afro House charts. Do you ever feel pressure to follow what’s working commercially, or is each record simply a reflection of where your ears happen to be at that moment?
I think if I said there was no pressure at all, that wouldn’t be completely honest. Of course there is. Like any artist, you pay attention to what connects, what moves people and what works in today’s landscape. But for me it’s less about chasing trends and more about staying open within my own musical language.
I do feel I’ve moved a little closer to the more accessible side in recent years, but I think that’s also part of growing and becoming more flexible. You have to be broader without losing yourself.
What interests me about Afro House is that, beyond the commercial side people often talk about, there is also a deeper and more hypnotic side to it. A lot of it has the same emotional and atmospheric qualities that drew me into progressive house in the first place. That feeling of movement, tension and release.
It’s no coincidence that many progressive DJs now play or produce Afro House, and many of today’s biggest Afro House names come from trance or progressive backgrounds. There’s a connection there.
For me, they can complement each other. Progressive House feels more like sunrise, introspective, evolving, patient. Afro House can feel more like sunset, warmer, more immediate, more physical. Different energies, but often part of the same journey.
You’ve worked on both sides of the DJ booth for many years. Has spending so much time watching crowds from the promoter’s perspective changed what you notice when you’re standing behind the decks yourself?
Completely. It changes everything.
When you spend years on the promoter’s side, watching crowds, managing nights and observing hundreds of DJs, you start understanding the dancefloor in a very different way. You stop thinking only like a DJ and start thinking like the room itself.
Today, when I’m behind the decks, I pay much more attention to energy, timing and psychology. Not just what track sounds good, but what the crowd actually needs in that moment. Sometimes the best move is not the obvious one.
Owning Temple has taught me to observe more. I spend countless hours in the booth watching other DJs play, studying how people react, when they connect, when they drift away, when a moment really lands. That kind of experience gives you a much sharper instinct.
It also made me realise that a great night is rarely about playing the biggest tracks. It’s about reading the room, creating tension, releasing it and building trust with the crowd.
That perspective has made me more patient as a DJ, more selective with my music and more aware of the journey rather than just individual moments.
Portugal has produced a growing number of internationally recognised electronic artists in recent years. Is there a distinctly Portuguese musical identity beginning to emerge, or is the country’s strength its openness to influences from elsewhere?
I think Portugal has produced a lot of very talented electronic artists in recent years, and across different styles. The level has definitely grown, and there is much more international recognition now than there was twenty years ago.
At the same time, within the progressive house world, there are still relatively few names compared to other genres. Portugal has traditionally had stronger scenes in house and techno, and that naturally shaped many of its artists.
My own perspective is a little different because I was born and raised in Mexico. In the 90s, while Portugal was more focused on house and techno, Mexico had a much stronger connection to trance and progressive. That had a huge influence on me. It shaped my ears very early and probably explains why my musical identity has always leaned more toward deeper, longer and more emotional journeys.
So I think Portugal’s strength is not necessarily a single musical identity, but its openness. Portuguese crowds and artists have always been receptive to outside influences, and that flexibility has helped the scene evolve. Maybe that openness itself is the identity.
Temple regularly brings together local artists alongside international guests. How important is that balance, and what does an artist have to do before you’ll trust them with a headline slot?
That balance is very important to me. Of course international artists help bring visibility and create strong moments, but local artists are the foundation of any scene. Without them, there is no real community.
At Temple, I always try to give opportunities to lesser-known local DJs, especially those who may not be getting attention from the bigger promoters. Lisbon has many production companies and collectives, and I often prefer to invite artists that others are overlooking rather than repeating the same names everywhere.
One thing I’ve never really agreed with is the same DJ playing in the same city, on the same weekend, at competing events. For me that makes no sense. It weakens the experience, divides the audience and removes part of the uniqueness that a night should have.
What I enjoy most is seeing artists who started at Temple grow over time, improve and build their own path. That’s one of the most rewarding parts of running a venue.
As for trusting someone with a headline slot, it’s not just about technical ability or followers. It’s about understanding the room, respecting the crowd and knowing how to carry the responsibility of a night. I’ve taken risks on some artists that worked beautifully, and others that maybe I shouldn’t have booked. But that’s part of it. Not every decision is perfect, and you learn from all of them.
Many promoters talk about ‘community’, but it’s a word that’s become easy to throw around. What does a genuine music community actually look like to you, and how do you know when you’ve succeeded in building one?
Community is one of those words that gets used a lot, but for me it’s very simple. A real music community is when people feel that a space belongs to them as much as it belongs to the owner. When artists, staff and regulars all feel part of something bigger than just a party.
I don’t know if I can say I’ve fully succeeded in building that yet, but I can say Temple grew very fast. In a short time it became a strong point of attention in Lisbon, for the public, for artists, and unfortunately also for legal and administrative problems.
Everything happened very quickly. What has frustrated me most is that before opening we spent months preparing, following the rules and trying to do everything properly to avoid mistakes. So to face so many legal obstacles after opening has felt, at times, like a betrayal of that effort.
For me, Temple should be seen as a point of cultural interest in Lisbon, not as something to be constantly targeted. In almost three years of operation we have had no serious incidents, no violence, no accidents, no security failures. People come for the music, for the experience, for the cultural side of it. That matters.
What I want is for authorities to understand that places like Temple are cultural spaces, not just businesses.
And honestly, one of the hardest moments was losing our Instagram account last year without any explanation. We had built more than 15,000 real followers, invested thousands of euros into professional photography, video and content, and one day it simply disappeared. No warning, no explanation, no real support. That was painful, because in today’s world digital presence is part of your community too.
But even with all of that, the fact that people keep coming back, that artists want to play there, and that Temple continues to be part of the conversation tells me that something real has been built. Maybe that is what community looks like.
Looking back across your career, are there any decisions that seemed like setbacks at the time but ultimately pushed you in a better direction than success would have?
I think the biggest lesson has been simply never giving up.Looking back, there were many moments that felt like setbacks at the time. Sleepless nights, financial pressure, uncertainty, disappointments, projects that didn’t go as planned. But in the end, those moments shaped me much more than the easy wins ever did.
In this world, illusion and passion are important, but so are responsibility and reputation. I’ve always carried a strong sense of both. Sometimes that makes the road heavier, because you feel accountable not only for yourself but for the people around you, your staff, your artists, your audience, your business.
If I look at my life today, I can honestly say I have a wonderful life. I’m grateful for that. But if I look back, the road was rarely easy. It was often hard, demanding and unpredictable.
What kept me moving was persistence. Sometimes success is not about making the perfect decision, but simply surviving long enough, staying consistent and refusing to quit until the right opportunities finally appear.
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