DLR represents the part of drum and bass that values groove, pressure and understatement over obvious fireworks. He is not on a lineup to provide easy singalongs. He is there because he can make a room lock into movement through control, pacing and properly weighted low end. That sort of artist is essential on a bill like LOCUS if the festival wants depth rather than just recognisable names.
Expect taut drums, dark space, rolling basslines and a refusal to oversell. DLR works because his sets trust tension and groove to do the job. For more committed listeners, that can be more exciting than a constant stream of giant headline drops. He is a heads-booking in the best sense: not inaccessible, just less interested in cheap release.
On a tropical site, that contrast becomes even stronger. A DLR slot can feel like the part of the weekend where the lighting drops, conversations stop and people who know exactly what they came for move closer to the rig. He deepens the lineup and gives the heavier end of the festival real credibility. The trip crew member who wants the least tourist-coded set of the weekend will probably start here.