Ask a DJ how they saved up for their first decks and they’ll spin you a lengthy story – I toiled away in the record shop, I had five paper rounds, I sold mixtapes out of the boot of my Mum’s car. But for Paolo Mojo – the latest jock to have his mug plastered on the cover of a Balance CD – it couldn't have been easier.

"I was in a car crash when I was twelve and I got some damages paid out. I'd seen a couple of friends older than I DJing and I was just hooked on the idea so as soon as I got that money I bought some decks, much to the distress of my father."

But this was in post acid house England – everyone fancied themselves as a bit of a DJ and doing it professionally didn’t seem feasible. So instead he tried to make it in the straight world, taking on a career in corporate PR. Music heads usually opt for something less career-oriented but his suit and tie past doesn’t faze Mojo:

"To be honest I'm glad that I had some experience of working in an office, in a business environment, because I think it's good to have a wide range of experiences."

Meanwhile he’d been honing his skills at the decks, and in 2001 he joined throngs of other hopeful jocks and submitted a mix to Musik magazine’s monthly Bedroom Bedlam DJ competition, springboard for the careers of international bright young things Will Saul and James Zabiela.

Mojo’s mix was titled 'Music is Freedom' and that was its manifesto: it joyfully blended tech house, tribal and progressive with scant regard for the rules. He won, much to his surprise, and the office worker Paul Bimson’s nom-de-plume Paolo Mojo was splashed all over a magazine distributed around the world.

Word spread quickly over the Internet, and overnight Mojo became the next big thing. Mojo’s answering machine filled up with sweet words from tribal house legend Danny Tenaglia, he got inundated with offers for gigs, and finally he was picked up by a small DJ agency. This Mojo was rising.

"Initially I stopped working in 2002 but I was bit premature. In hindsight, I wasn't quite ready to become a full-time musician."

What’s a corporate worker to do? Mojo’s head filled with stadium-sized ambitions. Whose wouldn’t have? He quit his day job and became a full-time DJ.

But fortune is a fickle thing. The dance music industry was hitting the skids. Musik magazine folded. Promoters were squeezing budgets, leaving little room for up-and-comers, even ones with full-page magazine spreads and Tenaglia on their answerphone. Mojo’s agency merged with another and "Mojo? Paolo who?" was dropped.

In late 2003 Mojo disappeared off the radar and went back to corporate PR tail between his legs. Meanwhile the career of that other Bedroom Bedlam winner James Zabiela was skyrocketing – he’d been snapped up by Sasha's mighty Excession agency and he’d powered to No.11 in DJ magazine's Top DJs poll. Mojo took it on the chin:

"Initially I stopped working in 2002 but I was bit premature. In hindsight, I wasn't quite ready to become a full-time musician."

He sounds circumspect now but it must have been a disheartening time: wannabe DJs had become ten a penny and there was a new idea in the air: if you wanted to make a name for yourself as a DJ, you had to produce, too. Promoters had begun looking at the names on the records and booking accordingly. The wheels inside Mojo’s mind must have whirred furiously because he hit upon an new strategy: if DJing alone wouldn’t cut it, he would learn to produce.

So while Zabiela lapped the globe for the umpteenth time, Mojo dutifully donned his suit and tie and went to work during the day and came home to hone his production skills at night.

"I'm a stubborn bugger really so I just kind of sat down until I could figure it out. I just got frustrated working with engineers or people who didn't really understand what was in my head. I felt stupid. I wasn't used to not being able to know how to do something."

Mojo emerged out of his bedroom cave armed with new weapons: his productions. And to his surprise, neither the punters nor the bigwigs had forgotten about him. In fact, the response was ecstatic. As a DJ who could also produce now, Mojo found himself back in the game.

Then the phone finally rang.

It was a call Mojo had been waiting for since 2001: Excession, the kingpin of progressive agencies, and they invited him to join their roster. How important was it to Mojo? Paolo demurs.

"People often forget that a DJ agency can only do as much as you give them. They can't magic gigs out of thin air."

"People often forget that a DJ agency can only do as much as you give them. They can't magic gigs out of thin air. Maybe a few years ago you could have piggybacked on that. That doesn't thing doesn't happen anymore. In most places you've got to sell yourself on your own merits and I don't think that's such a bad thing."

Finally it was all coming together. His 'Discotech' EP on Honchos was a classy piece of deep funky house that met a rapturous reception. Mojo the producer had indeed found his… er, paolo. A tour of America with Sasha exposed him to a whole new level of gigging: big clubs, big audiences and (RA imagines) plush hotels with minimalist Danish furniture. Mojo’s suit and tie were well and truly gathering dust now.

And then came ‘Balance 009’. Where many prog mix CDs are content to coast on the glory days, EQ’s Balance series is respected. It’s also a platform for names on the verge of making the jump to the really big rooms, names like James Holden and Desyn Masiello.

A cursory listen to ‘Balance 009’ and it sounds like just another prog mix but pay closer attention and an agenda is revealed: Mojo fuses acid, tech house, tribal, electrohouse and even Detroit techno into a musical CV that reflects his own sonic journey through dance, positively bubbling with the same spirit of eclecticism that his breakthrough ‘Music is Freedom’ mix did back in 2001.

‘Balance 009’ was also successful in those other terms: it pricked up ears in the right places. Mojo is now lined up to do a mix for Fabric First (only available to Fabric members but hey, it’s still Fabric) and he’s remixing Swedish house maestro Eric Prydz’s huge 'Aftermath' as well as collaborating on the B-side. Even Sasha has noticed Mojo is playing with the big boys now:

"I talked to Sasha about it the other day and we were laughing about it. He said, 'Oh you're too busy to DJ with me now!' And he was laughing, but he was right. I guess this time last year I was his support DJ whereas this time this year I've been touring all year under my own right, " says Mojo triumphantly.

But despite all the plaudits, talk to Mojo and you get the feeling that he’s not quite satisfied yet. He’s determined to play even bigger rooms and make it to the next level of DJs.

But there’s the rub: what does 'making it' mean anymore? The idea of the superstar DJ has long since collapsed and record companies have lost the power to make or break artists. Being on Excession might have once been the be all and end all for many an aspiring prog jock, but nowadays the goalposts have shifted: clubs nights are smaller, DJs are more approachable, the UK’s strangehold on dance music has been broken.

And it’s not just dance: the Internet has revolutionized the way we consume music generally – if it keeps going the way it’s going, it won’t be an “industry” anymore, at least not as we know it. If you’re hot, you get downloaded, if you’re not, you’re deleted. The clubbers decide with a click of the mouse and they’re getting more judicious with their wallets at club entrances.

"I don't really listen to other people's mixes. Once you get into that way of thinking that can be quite destructive because you're worrying more about what other people are doing."

For someone with the ambition of Paolo Mojo, it must be a bit disconcerting. Mojo has struggled to get ahead in a genre in which the measure of success has suddenly become ill-defined and blurry. In 2006, if your benchmark is making it like Sasha and John Digweed did, you're destined to fail because those days are long gone.

Ultimately what really counts is “making it” in terms of the music, so what’s Mojo’s credo when it comes to that?

"It doesn't matter to me if a song is techno is minimal, hard techno or progressive house or tech house, it just has to have a bit of soul or a bit of funk just running through it somewhere, just some kind of warmth which draws me in. It doesn't really matter what kind of record it is. It just has to have a bit of soul and vitality and life about it."

Mojo shows a dogged talent for doing things his own way, a breath of fresh air in an age of genre purism and bandwagon jumping. But is there a downside to following only your own heart? ‘Balance’ finished with the romantic indie-pop of Sebastian Tellier's 'La Ritournelle' but does Mojo know Superpitcher coined the trick on his mix CD 'Today' a year earlier?

"No," says Mojo genuinely surprised. "I don't really listen to other people's mixes. Once you get into that way of thinking that can be quite destructive because you're worrying more about what other people are doing."