One listen to Luke Andy’s discography reveals a thread that runs throughout. An affinity for b-more kicks, growling basses, and stark minimalism. It’s the space that he leaves between the notes that gets your feet moving. He gravitates towards the wonky weird and always manages to inject plenty of organic funk and soul into his unique slant on house music. 

“You got to either be different or you're going to be basic,” he explains. "And for me, I gotta’ do something to keep it interesting.”

The LA-based artist was born in Baltimore and says that his brother was considered the artistic one in his family. Luke was an outdoorsy kid, and while his brother obsessed over the clarinet, he never felt he had the patience to master an instrument. 

He wanted to try percussion in the third grade unfortunately for him, those spots were reserved for kids with more experience. 

His mom made him try violin and trombone. Nothing stuck until a friend introduced him to Apple’s entry-level production software, GarageBand. He eventually picked up Logic—with relative ease—and as he delved deeper into making his own music, he found his musical footing.

“It was so much more fun for me because I was the teacher,” he explains. Experimentation was far more compelling to him than the rigor of an academic setting. “The other part was when I started wanting to produce music it was because I went to my first music festival.”

When he graduated from high school, he opted out of going into debt in college. Enlisting in the Marines was the (relatively) safe and financially responsible bet. However, his boot camp date kept getting pushed back because of an iron deficiency. He started a regimen of supplements and weekly tests to assess his progress. By the time his friends returned from boot camp, he was no closer to leaving and incredibly frustrated with the experience. He wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, so his friends invited him to Moonrise Music Festival in Baltimore in 2016.

“This is the first time I did a lot of things, [it] was the first time that I really got a chance to be immersed in that music scene,” he remembers. “There were some influences that made it much more spiritual.”

Watching Tchami perform altered the course of his life. He decided then and there that the military was a no-go. “I just, like locked myself in my basement, and I just kept on producing until I made something that was good.”

Luke is uncertain what force steered his course away from boot camp that summer. He is confident he made the right choice. 

“There was a reason that I couldn't go into the Marines, whether it be an iron deficiency or whatever it is like, you know, God. It had something else in plan for me. And it really took me the ability to step out of my comfort zone and try something that I had no idea was gonna work.”

His risk began to pay off handsomely. He quickly made a name for himself in the DC area and soon played on the stages of the area's most lauded clubs. However, as he progressed, something was missing. He soon felt he needed to reap the possible rewards of risk again.

“My parents were moving out of the house. We had a death of a friend and family and there's just a lot of things. I got out of a relationship. I really felt like Maryland was holding me back.” He explains. “And I don't know, I just felt like I had maxed out DC and I was ready for something more.”

He decided to pack up a Prius and drive across the country to Southern California. He decided on San Diego. Close enough to LA to experience the benefit of being at the epicenter of the US dance music scene. But far enough away that he would stay focused on his work. 

“[I] fell asleep on my buddy's couch [when] we landed in San Diego. And when I woke up, I got an email from dirtybird accepting that song for birdfeed that I signed up for three weeks prior.”

“Shake It Girl” was released on Dirtybird’s sub-label birdfeed on January 6, 2019. His release output since has been an avalanche of unique records on a laundry list of lauded labels. His releases on Dirtybird, Psycho Disco, In/Rotation, Dumbfat, Medium Rare, and Space Yacht continue to extend his sonic reach to house heads across the globe.

His move also allowed him to spread the same feeling he got from watching Tchami perform. Now a regular at Dirtybird, Insomniac, and Space Yacht events, there’s a visceral feeling he gets from sparking joy on the dancefloor.

“It’s a beautiful takeaway to be able to play or have the option to play your music in front of a crowd. It's a rare moment to be able to control people's emotions from something that you made in your basement and in your room. You know, I think that's what makes it so special.”

Westend—aka Tyler Morris—is part of a cohort of stateside producers whose arrival signaled a dramatic shift in the prevailing sound of house music. When future house exploded, they swerved left and took on an aesthetic brimming with the soulful swagger of classic New York house, bubbling notes of a bass-forward UK aesthetic, and a touch of West Coast wonky weird. As tech-house eclipsed EDM as the sound-of-the mainstage, Morris found himself at the forefront of a movement that brings house music full circle. American producers are once again at the helm of the culture. And his ever-expanding sonic footprint is the blueprint for a new generation of producers.


He now boasts releases on Insomniac Records, Sink or Swim, Solotoko, and Repopulate Mars. He's among the top-selling tech-house artists on Beatport. Yet, even his early releases on the now-defunct Audiophile imprint, an incubator for innovative artists like Dillon Nathaniel, J Worra, Black V Neck, and Steve Darko, were a strong indication of his future status. They showed signs of his trademark polish and ability to channel classic sensibilities into a modern context. 



There are no childhood dreams of stardom in his past, though. He only considered himself a casual listener until high school, his taste shifting from East Coast hip hop to rock and pop.


"I never played an instrument or anything. I was never listening to music all the time," he explains. "It was more in the car, on the bus to school. I didn't go to many concerts when I was very young.”


In the late aughts, the internet and dance music created a perfect storm that became a vector for the rise of dance music in the US. The blog house era found the union between the slinky funk of house and the brash fuck it all attitude of punk rock. And as the internet eclipsed radio as a medium for discovery, a new generation was initiated into the eclectic spirit that birthed house music in the 80s.


“Justice was really big for me. I listened to their album Cross front to back and I was like, this is bad ass because it kind of has like that rock and roll to it. But it's pretty much all electronic.." 



His iPod overflowed with tracks from MSTRKRFT, Crookers, Bart B More, and the Bloody Beetroots downloaded from Limewire, the peer-to-peer music sharing site. He even admits that he owned a replica of the iconic Bloody Beetroots mask.


As luck would have it, Morris went to the Bronx High School of Science, alma matter of famed synth engineer and inventor Robert Moog. The digital music lab donated by Moog's family introduced him to the tools for production. And the unique way New York City kids throw a high school rager drew out the performer hidden within.


Kids in the suburbs throw parties at home when their parents leave for the weekend (or so the movies say). When you share walls with your neighbors, you have no such luxury. City kids used fake IDs to secure venues for micro-raves. They hire their adolescent friends with DJ controllers to soundtrack the night.



“I had a friend that was a DJ. And I was like, I want to do that, I want to be the one behind the decks kind of controlling energy, the room.” So, he went and got a $150 Vestax controller.


His love for the culture truly blossomed when he went to Terminal Five in NYC. He was lucky enough to catch Gessafelstein’s first US appearance in 2014.


“That was the first time that I got like, obsessed with music. When it wasn't just listening to music in the car. I was like this is gonna be my personality.”


Morriss went off to college at Duke University and returned home to start a job in tech. All the while plugging away at music and gigs here and there to keep the fires burning.


“I think the big turning point for me," he begins. "I was getting a lot of support from other DJs like Justin Martin was playing a lot of my music, I just had signed to Dirtybird. I just felt like there was this real kind of momentum there. I really believed that I could make this project bigger and turn this momentum into something bigger.”



The sense of clarity that comes with devoting your life to art comes with pervasive uncertainty. Those who succeed do so with either the power of belief or confidence that makes failure impossible. 


“I'm not a very physical verbal manifester,” he admits, “but I do have a confidence.”


"Yeah, you kind of can manifest it, if you if you really do believe. For me, it's a little bit more subtle. I'm not doing these chants every morning. I don't have a whiteboard." He takes a practical approach to his success, he says. 


"You know, if I ever—and this happens all the time—get down, get like a little imposter syndrome. The little devil on your shoulder is like, 'yeah, you're a fraud.' " 


He continues, "You kind of feel like, no, I've done X, Y, Z to get to this point, and I'm gonna do X, Y, Z more to get to the next point.”


His practical positivity shines through in everything he tells me. Even when he talks about how he turned the pandemic into an opportunity for himself and others. 

He started receiving messages from producers asking for tips and lessons. When he was touring, he never considered teaching an option. But with the extra time on his hands, he decided to take on a few students. He now leads a community of producers who depend on each other for feedback and advice. 


He prides himself on being a source of goodwill and encouragement for the community. “I kind of fell in love and got a passion for just teaching other people and, you know, helping other people and really seeing them take in things and improve. It's a great feeling.”


It's not all about production tips. He has some practical advice for producers. 


"When you're a[n] up and coming artists, and you start to have some success, there's a temptation to repeat the formula over and over again." It's a trap he fell into after he signed "Ambidextrous" to Dirtybird. 


"I was thinking too much about making this song for this one moment in the set." 


His output over the last year has more range. It's intentional, he tells me. "If you're playing basketball and you're just shooting three-pointers all the time, yeah, there are players like that that serve like one role. But that's not who I want to be. I want to be able to make music that you want to listen to on a road trip, and that you want to listen to in a club."

Luzi Tudor’s entré to the world of melodic techno can only be described as remarkable. Her recent release, “Warrior”  is a slithering five-minute journey punctuated by stuttering strings, glowing synths, and thoughtful composition that firmly establishes her dynamic storytelling prowess.  It’s only her second official release and it’s signed to Lane 8’s incredible This Never Happened imprint. A cosign this large, this early in a career is rare.
It makes perfect sense. The ethos of TNH and Luzi's life mission synchronize harmoniously “to create experiences that connect(s) humans and humanity in an impactful way.”


"Music, right, it's frequencies running through your body. And there's even science now that tells us that those things have an impact on your state of mind,” she explains. 



Gifting peak dancefloor experiences are her way of reciprocating the love and understanding she felt when she first discovered warehouse parties in Seattle as a teenager.

“I think music has the ability to do that,” she continues. “Being able to reach an audience in a closed room for that moment where we're all having the shared experience. It's either going to enhance the relationships and the friendships or the romantic encounters that people are having  in that space. Or it's going to give them a way to escape from whatever struggles they're having. And I think knowing that that's the type of thing that I can create, co-create really, with the audience falls right in line with my life's mission.”

She’s deeply connected to those who seek to escape. “Music throughout my whole life has been a solace from all of life's challenges.”

She was born in communist Romania. At the time, it was nearly impossible to get creative content. She fondly remembers huddling around a TV with her neighbors and family to watch movies from America. 



“I remember whenever the Lions Gate thing came on everyone would get excited! Like, ‘Oh my gosh, this is a movie from America! And it’s going to be super special.' And it was like that with music too.”

She also remembers Michael Jackson's, "Thriller" on repeat. It was one of the only pieces of American media that made it through.

Her earliest musical memories are of her father. In college, he played the piano for a SNLesque sketch show. His political comedy was relegated to basements in communist Romania. He taught Luzi about the intersection of music and activism.

She escaped Romania with her family at five, after the revolution. Despite living through such a tumultuous time, her father knew things weren't getting any better, and he needed to get his family somewhere with a more certain future. By the time she landed in Seattle six years later lived in 17 cities and four countries.

“I was trying, like any young person does, to fit in,” she says about the constant movement. “I was trying to assimilate to certain cultures. And so, I would pick up what was the musical experience in those different areas.”

She’s part of a small community of people who grew up in more than one country during their developmental years, third culture kids. Her fascination with world music and cross-cultural competency overflow into her process for building DJ sets.

“I will actually sometimes go out and look up a country when I'm looking on a platform for music to see what is popping up in an obscure different country that typically, people might not give a voice to. And I'll download and explore that music because I want to bring all the different voices from the world together.”

She began to immerse herself in dance music culture at warehouse parties in long-forgotten venues of Seattle’s past. The pain of her past struggles melted away on the dance floor. So, she started to produce her own parties to spread that feeling. And while music was the central focus, it took some major life events to realize her creative potential.


“I always thought about how I would want to DJ and produce. And I had to get over some inner struggles in order to get to the point where I had to meet my authentic self and start producing and performing.”

Luzi just celebrated seven years in recovery from addiction and substance abuse disorder. She realized that her life needed to redirect. And she found the courage to dedicate herself to do what she loved in the process. Recovery was (and is) a source of strength and clarity.

“What that really meant for me was meeting the darkest parts of myself. The parts of myself that I hadn't loved yet. I set everything else aside - expectations of myself, other people out of me and just hunker down and focus on getting into recovery, and rediscovering who I really am on the inside.”

It’s a journey that she’s open and honest about because she wants those who struggle to know that they come out on the other side and experience even deeper realms of creativity.


“That started building self-love and confidence. And it really uncovered the inner courage that I had to just do things because I love them without any expectation. And that's the thing, I started DJing and producing out of love for it. And because it felt therapeutic. And it's the only time in my life where the chatter in my head really quiets down and I'm just able to focus on this. And that's been an incredible experience … It started because I wanted to do something that I loved by myself in my apartment, and with a few close people in my life that that I asked to mentor me.”



She also learned to take things as they are, at the moment. She escaped many of the mental traps that new producers face as they try and find their sound and wonder how they’ll ever break through the noise.

“I think this goes back to my healing and recovery journey, which teaches you to do things despite fear and concern, and not future trip too much.”

It all leads back to her mission statement. An ethos that music can and should be transformative. And the values her father passed on to her that music can also be activism.


“What I'm seeing in society, and while it's changing through the work that's being done is that there's still this discrepancy between people understanding that mental health is physical health. They are actually synonymous, intertwined. There's treatments, I mean, from all facets of it, mental health and physical health are on the same plane. But there's been such a stigma around mental health. And so, I see the ability to be in dance music and talk about my experience that other people will relate. And just realize that, you know, it's something you can get easily support for, just like you would go to a doctor's appointment for a fractured leg. It's something that people should be comfortable doing and talking about. I believe music as a form of therapy in its own right. And I think being able to use my voice and my music to inspire people to get help and feel supported, and also see that people that have gone through this are doing things that they want to be doing to inspire them to pursue their dreams is part of why I'm so passionate about the work.”

“A lot of artists were worried about releasing. For me, all I was doing was making music. I know people are still listening to music, maybe certain sounds in tech house are suited to club times but there are other sounds and styles you can release that people will want. You have to be in people’s faces reminding them that you exist all the time. For me, releasing music is the best way to do that. You have to be consistent with it.” 

For Luke Jones, aka Biscits, the global pandemic shutdown represented an opportunity to hone in on the sounds and styles of house music that he is passionate about. Growing up in Southampton, electronic music and DJing has been in Luke’s life for a long time. It was not always about tech house though, with forays into dubstep and long periods of experimentation and self-reflection. 

“When I went to University, me and all my friends were into Electro. Daft Punk, Justice, everything French. We put on our own gig in the student union. We just had a tiny mixer. Complete shambles, we had no idea what we were doing but it was a good time... We all got into dubstep when that kicked off as well as trap music. My first proper gig doing that [dubstep] music was actually in Russia. I can’t believe that even happened. I just flew to Russia by myself and was just hoping someone was there.”

Although his early days were marked by experimentation in the world of dubstep, growing up in the UK inherently put Luke at the center of the world of house music. Coming up as a DJ in the UK means loads of opportunities, but also an equal amount of competition. Not only do you need to be skilled in order to stand out amongst your peers, you have to impress a knowledgeable fan base.

“Some of the crowds can be quite critical. You have to know what you’re doing, know who’s songs are who’s. Play the right song or the crowd will know you don't know what you're doing. It’s nerve-wracking in that sense but if you do well, people have a ton of respect for you and it can help get your name out early.”

Luke is now one of the hottest names in tech house, releasing with major labels like Solotoko, Black Book, and Higher Ground to name a few. He recently signed a publishing deal with the legendary Ultra Records, a true sign that his future is bright. That being said, his recent success came out of dark times.

Stuck in an office job for years, Luke’s life hit a turning point when he had a near-death experience. 

“We went to Vegas for a bachelor party for my friend. On the way home, as the plane was taking off the engine exploded. I can laugh now but at the time it was crazy scary. The whole thing was on fire, we had to evacuate. After that, I was feeling off for a few weeks and knew I had to evaluate what I was doing. I loved music and hated my job. When I started doing music again, the bass house sound was popping up and was pretty new. I thought what Jauz and Night Bass was doing was amazing and with my dub background it just made sense.” 

After a few years of experimenting in this style, Luke had another life-changing moment during a night out in Southampton. He went to a local club called Switch to see Solardo play. 

“Seeing the crowd and the way they reacted, I felt like I finally understood what tech house was about. It inspired me to go deeper and more housey. I quit my job and moved in with my brother, sleeping on his sofa. I had some money saved up and knew that I just had to try and go for it.”

In 2018, as the money was running out for Luke and his hopes of a music career were dwindling, he booked the gig of a lifetime, sharing the decks with the hottest rising name in house music at the time, Fisher. The gig gave Luke a spark both internally and commercially, and soon after, Sonny Fodera supported and released one of his tracks. embed

Everything seemed to kick off from that point. He has become a mainstay on Sonny’s label, and has gone on to become one of the most sought-after rising DJs in the world of tech house. Although he has now taken the leap into legitimacy, Luke’s journey has really just begun. 

“I know that in tech house you can’t be one dimensional. Having the opportunity to try out other sounds during the pandemic helped me a lot and subsequently gave me the catalogue for a label like Ultra to see that I can make more vocal tracks.” 

Luke will be bringing his unique blend of big room tech house stateside in October. With a slate of massive shows ready, and unreleased tracks up his sleeve, he is one to watch.

In 2018 Artche floored melodic house fans with his stunning vocals for Christoph’s “Voice of Silence.”  His silky voice and heart-piercing lyrics melted over Christoph’s emotive sonics. The two Newcastle, UK artists formed a firm bond and continue to flex the boundaries of their combined talents with releases like “The World You See,” featuring the talents of Franky Wah. Remarkably, Artche never struck out to become a vocalist. It was a hidden talent realized in frustration. 

“It was born out of impatience for getting other singers to sing on the tracks and like, trying to find good ones. And the hardest bit is trying to find a good writer,” he tells me. The process of honing talent out of a sense of immediacy is one that Burn has mastered.

He prefers to work quickly. So in a moment of frustration, he recorded vocals for a demo purely as a placeholder and sent it to his manager. He thought it was rubbish, but his manager convinced him that there was potential. 

It’s not just his velvety voice that compels listeners to stream his tracks in the millions. He is a talented writer as well. The introspective lyrics from the 2021 chart smasher on Pryda Recordings, “The World You See,” illuminate the painful aftermath of a break-up.

“Rub the tears from my face. Scratch my eyes more than I take. One mistake. Share my heart, you watch it beat. I feel the pain, knock me off my feet, I'm on my knees.”

He’s humble when I ask where the talent to write reflective and relatable prose stems from. “This is another thing that was born out of desperation. I'm just winging it the whole time.”

He tells me, “The World You See,” is one of his most personal and meaningful songs. “I’d literally just broken up with my ex like two weeks before making [it]. I moved from Manchester because it was already locked down. So, I had to move back in my parent’s. So, I'm moving on studio in the spare room. And yeah, just kind of like used that experience to write about that.”

It came out surprisingly quickly for a song on a label as large as Pryda. While he's used to waiting for up to two years for songs to release, “The World You See” was written and released in less than a year. It’s a powerful COVID age anthem and its impact was monumental. “I think the most emotional ones are though,” he explains. “I think that one kind of resonated with a lot of people.”

When the conversation turns to his musical background, it becomes clear how he harnesses the power of melody so readily. He admits that he’s loved every musical style. From his early love of pop-punk to the first time he heard Snoop Dogg’s seminal “Gin and Juice,” he’s always been captivated by good storytelling. He learned to DJ with hip hop records on a pair of shitty belt drive turntables, just like so many DJs did in the late ’90s and early aughts.

His life changed when he heard a recording of Tiesto at Dutch Dimensions 2002. Halfway through the six-hour mix, Tiesto drops “Voyage” by Yahel and Eyal Barkhan. Artche became an instant trance fan. He's DJed and produced many forms of dance music, but trance holds a special place in his heart.

“I think that I still have those kinds of influences in my music, right with the melodies and stuff.” 

He’s happy that progressive and trance have made their way back to the forefront of dance music. After ten years, he’s found his way back to his roots.

He tells me that he doesn’t necessarily have a clear-cut lane. “I've liked all different kinds of music, always make every every kind of music,” he says. His surplus of beats and lengthy release cycles of other labels led him to launch his own imprint Yusual. In a given week, he’ll go from writing hard techno to elegant breaks. Yusual is an outlet for his usual style but in some unusual ways. It also means tracks come out on his schedule and with his visual aesthetic intact.

His recently released track “Waves” is a great example. Snappy breaks beautifully undercut its sophisticated undulating synths. Releasing it on his label meant he had complete creative control. The simple yet compelling music video features dancer Carly Jo Naylor performing an impassioned contemporary solo. Shot, directed, and produced by Burn "Waves" is further evidence of his homespun talent. 

Yusual is becoming more than a self-release platform. He's even more excited at the opportunity to push the talents of other artists. 

“So the next release will be somebody else called Emiliano DeMarco. That's the first guy I've actually signed… [Yusual] was initially just for my own music. But I always get amazing promos. So I just thought, you know what, I'll put out that I'm accepting demos. The one that Emiliano sent me wasn't actually a demo. So he just sent it to my promo address. But I was like, ‘I need this track!'"

Artche is the consummate creative. As he continues to add artistic endeavors to his portfolio, it’s evident that he encompasses a founding tenant of dance music culture. The fierce DIY spirit that propelled the architects of techno and house to create a sub-culture from discarded drum machines and inside abandoned warehouses lives on in Artche’s multi-talented efforts.

Paul and Zach of Gettoblaster came up in the late 90s/early 2000s rave scene as a DJ and promoter respectively. “We stayed in touch and one weekend we were in Miami together… I got booked for a party eleven eleven with 12th Planet and I ahd agreed to play a trap set. When I arrived I knew it wasn’t for me. I said watch me fuck these people up. I played ‘The Percolator’ and looked at Zach and said this is what we have to do together. We started Gettoblaster from there.” 

Given their lengthy history in the scene, Paul and Zach have a unique perspective of the modern house and techno scene. Coming off of a massive performance at The Brooklyn Mirage supporting Chris Lake, Gettoblaster reflected extensively on the things they love about the scene now, and how the scene has grown and changed in the last 20+ years.

“It’s all about the vibe. At Mirage it was amazing in the rain, everyone was just getting down.... Nowadays we notice that the crowd has to be vibing and you have to work harder to keep them engaged. In the 90s it was America’s first chance at hearing dance music, people were really listening. But at the best parties now, it’s incredible. Every movement we did at the mirage opening for Chris Lake, the crowd reacted.” 

While Gettoblaster are now used to play massive venues week in and week out with incredible production and stage design, they sowed their roots in a much different way. Coming up in the warehouse rave scene meant they started their careers working underground parties. While they reflect positively on those days, there is a sentiment that the way we party now is safer and more responsible.

“You wouldn’t know where the party was. You would have to drive around and just listen for the music… We’d be in the warehouse with 7000 people and there’d be one disco ball. People would have a heart attack in the 90s if they saw the kind of production we have now… Venues back then would shut the water off in the bathrooms so that people would have to buy water instead of refilling. I’d been at parties where I’m DJing and the sound goes out and then all of a sudden there’s guns in your face cause the Feds are there… It’s definitely different now.”

After that fateful weekend in Miami where Gettoblaster was conceived, Paul and Zach began to crank out tracks in the studio together. When they started, Zach was living in Michigan and Paul was in Colorado. They would send tracks back and forth over the internet, visiting one another every now and then just to get some facetime in. As they’ve progressed over time, they have found inspiration from other artists comes constantly. “There’s so many amazing artists now. Back in the record store day there were 10 new artists every week… Now, the level of talent coming up is amazing.”

Paul and Zach put a tremendous amount of music in the first few years of their project together. While they achieved commercial success, their first true break out came in 2018 with the release of ‘Future Funk.’ Although it is now their most known track and a secret weapon for DJs across the world, it took a long time for it to gain any traction. “DJ Pierre helped us release it. We got a huge banner on Beatport but it did nothing. It would crush in our sets but it just didn’t sell at all. A year and a half later I get a message on our fan page from someone in Tel Aviv with a video of a massive crowd losing their shit to this track being played out by Solomun… It went to top 10 on Beatport immediately and had 30,000 Shazam's overnight.”

The success story of ‘Future Funk’ is somewhat indicative of the response that Gettoblaster finds to a lot of their music. Over the years they have noticed a tangible difference in how their tracks are received in Europe versus the states. “We get reactions in Europe first… out of the ten that get reactions, the biggest one will play here. This is why we interject actual lyrics into our tracks. The Europeans hate it when we add lyrics. We always get an email from the Euro DJs asking for a version with no words. It works better here with lyrics because of hip-hop and pop culture. We give out instrumentals for our European friends.”

Paul and Zach made the most of their time in lockdown, creating over 100 tracks and releasing 20+ this year alone. Despite their massive output, the guys are looking to have a more direct creative strategy around their releases going forward. “We’re slowing down our releases a bit and putting more emphasis on the tracks with vocals. We’re focused on creating music videos, finding sync licensing opportunities… and playing as many shows as we can to test out every new record.” They just dropped an EP with DJ Deeon and are playing shows all over the country.

There are few in dance music who combine their musical past and present as effectively as LP Giobbi. The classically trained jazz pianist injects her multi-platform DJ sets with syncopated notes hinting at the roots of house music every time she lays a rhythmic keyboard improv over a looped 4/4 beat. She’s exuberant and charismatic as she twists and glides from piano to CDJs and back, never for a moment allowing the music to stop flowing through every inch of her body. She's harnessed an authentic activist mindset that reminds us of the mere act of getting out there on the dance floor, listening to a diva sing over a 4/4 beat with an acid-squelching baseline, that's fucking activism, man.

“The only time I feel completely present as a human—and that sounds so cheesy, but it's true—is when I'm on stage playing music. “ She explains this as she tries to rationalize the constant struggle of the modern musician. Doing hundreds of things that aren't making music and still finding time for music.

“I'm not thinking about what I have to do on my to-do list. I'm just thinking about getting to connect with the people that I can see in the audience and see their joy. This is where I'm actually living my life.”

Giobbi was always indelibly connected to the stage. Her first big break as a performer came when Peter Franco, Daft Punk's studio engineer, discovered her playing jazz in San Francisco. To have those moments ripped away was devastating. On the eve of joining her best friends Sofi Tukker on their European tour in March of 2020, her manager told her that the next 52 weeks of shows are canceled and it was time to start streaming. She reluctantly took the show to Twitch.

“I remember thinking standing on the other side of this tiny web camera is going to be pretty soul sucking, but I don't know what else to do.”

She realigned with the joy of performance as the community affectionately referred to as the Freak Fam coalesced around her and Sofi Tukker, who spent nearly every day of the pandemic on Twitch. She soon realized how liberating it was to be free of one-hour set times.

“It also allowed me to get a little bit weirder, like sort of see myself more as like a one-person jam band.” It's an important point to note for a woman raised by two Dead Heads. 

The world of dance music united across borders as fans from around the world hopped from stream to stream on Twitch. Giobbi was a huge part of that. “I've never felt more connected in a year where I thought I was not going to be connected at all.” 

With the increased visibility, Giobbi uncovered a larger platform for her 501(c)(3) Femme House, an artist collective and educational platform that is giving more visibility to women in music. She launched She Is The Producer in partnership with Alicia Keys’ She Is the Music, and GRAMMY-winning studio engineer Emily Lazar’s We Are Moving the Needle. With the support of music software giant Ableton, Giobbi’s organization gave 3,000 women around the world access to music production software and classes to get started.

It was an emotional moment to scroll through the massive Zoom chat for the first class and see greetings from Mexico, Canada, Australia, and Brazil. It’s remarkable to think how many lives were changed she says. 

“I oftentimes think, ‘Okay, having more female producers. Is that going to change the world?’ And maybe that in of itself isn't, but what it does is it makes you see yourself in a role you didn't think you could be in before. It changes your general concept of yourself.”

With a year of reconning with the social failings of our system, I ask Giobbi if the needle is moving in the right direction. She feels headway is being made, but when she is still the only female DJ across two days of DJing major music festivals, there’s still much improvement to make.

“I understand that as a promoter, you need to book acts that will sell tickets. This is your livelihood, I totally respect that and get that. That being said, only the headliners are actually selling the tickets. That means that there's usually an entire lineup of you know, 40 other acts, below the headliners that people are excited to see but maybe they're not gonna' actually sell the ticket. So, just be aware and make sure that that area is diverse… the bookers and the agents just need to be finally more conscious on how diverse that bottom half looks.”

She does her part by sending notes to promoters on who they should book when she signs a contract to play. She makes sure that talent buyers have contact info for diverse talent in each area.

“Whenever I get booked, we send out a spreadsheet. I'm gonna make your job as easy as possible. Here's a list of artists. Here's their contacts. Here's their social numbers. Here's their Spotify numbers. Here's all the information that you would need to know before you book them, here it is, please reach out if you can.”

Shortly before our call, she's told that she hit the career milestone of having 1 million monthly listeners on Spotify. Just a year ago she hovered around 10,000, so she's understandably elated at the news. She has more festival bookings than she can shake a fist at, including what she reveals is a special set at Bonnaroo. However, her selfless spirit shows when she discusses how her success relates to her ultimate goal.

She explains how she plans to demand more inclusion and equity in music. “The reason that I keep grinding in the studio and trying to build this platform is not for money. It is because I'm hoping that the more power and leverage that my team and I build, that I can then do that. I'm not there yet. But I do think that, you know, as this builds, that's what I'm going to use my power for 1,000%.”

Swedish artist Jeremy Olander had an auspicious introduction to the international dance music scene. His 2014 release “The Jackie EP” was the first release on Pryda Recordings not produced by Eric Prydz. His ability to translate the nostalgic energy of the late 90’s progressive house into a modern-day context was refreshing. He stood out amongst Swedish producers who pushed progressive towards the big room. Olander is inspired by what made him fall in love with dance music. He forged his path with dreamy and emotive melodies that still groove.


His first official Soundcloud release in 2010 is ripe with the influence of authentic progressive. His moving melodics illustrates a Swedish longing for summer through long winters. And also have inspiration in his early affection for love songs.



“When I started finding my own music I remember buying this collection CD with like the hits from the 50s and 60s, you know, all these love songs. Very happy, upbeat, that kind of stuff really spoke to me. I guess I was like a little bit of a hopeless romantic when I was younger, always falling in love, never getting never getting it reciprocated.”

His childhood was a jumble of musical influences Nina Simone, The Doors, and popular Indian music from his mother. He got heavy into East Coast hip hop in high school. Yet with all that diversity, he didn't immediately latch on to dance music. 

“I just didn't get it at all,” he explains. “I think next for me was when I woke up, and I heard it in a club setting. I think that's when you can really give dance music justice... I haven't looked back since.”

He was a regular at Grodan Cocktails Club in Stockholm an intimate club with a capacity of around 150. In that small space, he felt that he was getting a personal education from some of the world’s greatest purveyors of dance.

“They had like, Richie Hawtin, Felix Da House Cat, Swedish House Mafia playing there before they were big. I couldn't have asked for a better place to get to understand the music. I'm having all these really talented people show me what it's about."

His early love for emotional music and his foundational experiences with legends of the scene coalesced as he started to produce. And by the time he released “Stage Two” on Soundcloud in 2014 his sound had evolved into a gorgeous amalgamation of soaring synths, chugging basslines, and crispy clean drums. His authenticity and dedication have been unwavering for over a decade, even when progressive morphed into big room EDM. Olander has been among the few that have pushed the kind of progressive that defined its very nature over two decades ago.

“I don't really get super inspired by new stuff. When I look for inspiration, I look at stuff that I listened to when I first got into dance music.”

He tells Gray Area that staying unattached to trends has been advantageous, especially now that progressive has returned to form.

“It's been fun to see that, you know, it's gone like full circle. The whole progressive genre went through the Swedish House Mafia, Avicii stuff. And that was kind of annoying in a way, because to me, that wasn't progressive at all. That was more, I don't want to say EDM, but it was big room. And now progressive is finally progressive again.”

Eric Prydz's early support was monumental for Olander. Jeremy can now pay that feeling forward. His label Vivarant - A name inspired by Q-Tips hip hop classic “Vivrant Thing” and a nod to his musical past - has quickly become a hub for young progressive artists. Yet he doesn't always recognize how powerful his seal of approval is.

“It's weird, I can't really put myself in that position to feel like I'm doing what [Prydz] did for me. My manager kind of has to remind me that. But it feels great. And especially like trying to bring out people from from the Swedish scene. It's great to that they also look at me in that way, it's very humbling." 

He wants to create a sense of community amongst his artists. The label’s recently held writer's camp, Vivrant Winter Camp was a sojourn into the Swedish wilderness for a small group of Olander’s favorite artists. The community-building project for the label also revealed the power of collaboration to Olander.

“I was a little bit insecure about how it is to work with other people. I'm very used to just working on my own. So, just learning to be comfortable with other people in the studio sitting next to you while you're working. Yeah, just that was enough for me, too, for all to be worth it. I didn't realize how much fun and fulfilling it is to to work with other people." 

He's learned a lot because of the pandemic. Olander’s family grew one more in December 2020. It’s been a blessing to take a break from constant touring and spend more quality time with his girlfriend and their two children. Their relationship has been strengthened. And he doesn’t want to miss out on anything going forward.

“I learned that I'm probably going to try and be more selective with, with shows that I do. I definitely want to spend more time with my family.”

To understand what inspires New Mexico-born artist SWAYLÓ’s emotional, funky, and rhythmically dense house beats, look no further than his rich cultural background and the land he grew up in. His Swiss father and South African mother settled in Zuni, New Mexico. An area of New Mexico steeped in the history of the Zuni People, a Native American tribe that has lived there for over 7000 years. SWAYLÓ's music is layered with these divergent influences.

“My family was very global and kind of culturally diverse in a lot of ways. I'm a byproduct of kind of a few different cultures and races,“ he explains.

Growing up surrounded by Zuni culture also affected him. He tells Gray Area, “It was very inspiring hearing the tribal drumming of Zuni. And the drum beats and rattling. And those are absolutely fundamentally inspiring to me.”

His first introduction to writing music was through hip hop and trap beats. He progressed nicely but grew frustrated without the community he needed to pair his beats with rappers.

He moved to Austin to work as a talent buyer for C3 Presents, the event promotion company that produces Lollapalooza. As he dove deeper into the business side of the industry, his goals as a musician faltered.

After a difficult breakup, he went home to New Mexico and took part in a ceremony that involved (ahem) plant medicine. He had a vision that a Jaguar-like creature descended from the cosmos and told him to return to the thing that made him happy, music. The idea of SWAYLÓ was born from that experience.

He says that he tries to keep himself and his music connected to the idea of ritual. “I think everything I do, I try to hold some element of ritual.”

It’s his way of staying present even through the most mundane of tasks. It’s helped him open new pathways to connect to music. “I'd say that on a broad picture. music is fundamentally connected to this invisible world or spirited world. And I find so much connection in a heartbeat. Like, that's the root of music for me. It’s like this lifeline.”

Music is a spiritual practice for SWAYLÓ. It comes out in the vibrant sonic textures he paints with his music. His recent release “By My Side” swells with a bed of celestial synths into a tantalizing drop accented by tribal drums and a thick chunky bassline.

His songs are multi-dimensional and moody, he plays with light and dark and moves fluidly between connecting motifs. He sees music as a powerful transfer of energy. And the way he chooses to express that is intentional. “I think that music is the fastest way to drop into a spirited world or to connect back to source,”  he explains.

It’s not just the cultural influences that have seeped their way into his music. There are more tangible snippets of his background you can hear. 
Several years ago, he traveled to South Africa to visit family. He also made his way north to Malawi to study music with the locals for a year.

He was blown away by the similarities between the drumming there and the music he grew up with from the Zuni People. “It was like, so mind blowing to see that symmetry or that parallel between those two worlds.”

He also made friends with a local man who took him in and taught him about native cooking, art, and carving. He made several drums by hand that he played in his first releases as SWAYLÓ.

The practice of coming together dance is something humans have done for tens of thousands of years. It’s a ritual baked into the fiber of our being and why clubs and raves produce such visceral feelings of joy. SWAYLÓ hopes that his music can open up pathways for people to connect with those feelings.

He wants people to, “Enjoy the dance floor,” he says. “The dance floor [is] this super powerful sacred container of diversity. Humans in a safe space. Humans coming together and blending together, merging, sweating. We're like, uniting in such an intimate and powerful way.”

He speaks with such a deep reverence for the power of music. So, I’m not surprised by his answer to the question, “What excites you about the future of dance music?”

He says, “I'm very excited by the power that music has to bring us together. And I think it's more powerful than ever.”

Toronto-born techno artist Shelley Johannson's musical DNA was constructed by her two raver brothers. Her earliest musical memories are of swiping house and trance CDs from them and stealing moments to hop in their car because they had the best driving music. 

Her obsession with dance music fandom bubbles up in her dynamic DJ sets and brilliant production work. The hypnotic thump of a kick drum is part of who she is. Her roots are planted in a storied time in the rave movement with a network of branches reaching skyward toward the future.

“Even before I knew who the artists were, I knew that I loved that sound,” she says. “As far back as I can remember I’ve always listened to dance music. I've always been inspired by it.”

She remembers moments in her life that are attached to music with brilliant clarity. The moment she first realized she wanted to be a DJ happened on a dancefloor. She was dancing at the Toronto venue The Warehouse when her brother turned to her and told her that she should be the one DJing.

“He really planted the seed in my head and then it just felt like I should, it just felt like the right thing to do. And at that point, I was burning CDs for my friends."

She was already a collector and curator, she just needed the gear to get her going.

"I had a 98 Honda Civic hatchback. And I had this subwoofer, it took up the whole trunk, it took up the whole hatch back part of it. And people would come, like my friends, and sit in my car just to like, listen to music. And I would always have these really obscure tracks that weren't typical radio songs.” She ended selling that car to get her first set of CDJs.

Looking back is important to Johannson. Her Instagram feed is full of throwback trance and house records. And stories of visceral musical memories. Her musical history is part of the reason she created her mix series One-Eighty. The podcast is approaching 100 episodes and is a chance to showcase forward-thinking and innovative techno without forgetting where she came from.

“Every once in a while, I like to turn back 180 degrees and kind of see what my musical upbringing was and how it influenced me today. It's almost like paying respect to it. And you know, I draw lots of inspiration when I'm making music or any sort of art, from the music I used to listen to.”

She spent her childhood preparing for life as a DJ. And she doesn’t go a day without touching the decks, even if for only 10 minutes. 

“I would still DJ every night if I never played in front of a crowd ever again.”

As a producer, she’s aligned with some of the best in the game. Johannson has released on labels that would have been a dream to her as a young raver. She’s found a home in John Digweed’s Bedrock and Adam Beyer’s Drumcode. But her story of hooking up with the seminal techno label Octopus Recordings is one that every young producer should hear.

“I think it's very important to align yourself with labels that you agree with their marketing, that you play their music, and that you can also see yourself releasing on that label,” she explains.

With that in mind, she showed up at a Toronto Octopus Records showcase with an EP tailor-made for the label ready to hand over to label head, Sian. She handed it to him directly. He didn’t end up releasing that EP, but she’d made an important first step in joining the label.

“The important part was that, I had taken an initiative to show that I was interested in the music. I went to the party, I stayed at the party all night, And I actually had the opportunity to be able to introduce myself, which is always going to help a lot more than just sending a demo and having this faceless email. Sian turned turned on my first EP down. But you know, I was like, Okay, well, that's good, because every no is closer to a yes.”

She’s found another way to turn the no into a yes through her label Turn Recordings. Another nod to the 180 approach, Turn lets Johannson play by her own rules.

The debut release, "Eternity" is a diverse three-track EP that traverses her diversity as an artist. The title track is a blistering run through high-intensity techno. "Say Again" takes the producer back to her roots with a peak time melodic breakdown. And "Do You Believe" finds the perfect balance between house sensibilities and funky techno.

Johannson is a self-professed, “creature of absolute routine.” So, her process of making records hasn't changed. However, her sound has come full circle.

“I find that the past year I was making some tougher sounds. I don't think it was particularly because of the pandemic or being in lockdown or anything like that. Maybe it was a bit of a reflection of how I was feeling and it just ended up being a little bit tougher, a little bit darker, a bit faster.”

When she mentions that she’s begun to push the tempo a bit faster, she brings the conversation around to reflecting on the music that made her fall in love with dance music.

“So it's kind of funny, because I am pushing it a little bit faster. But I feel like I'm going back to my roots playing that fast. Because that's what I initially got. How I was introduced to it. That's just what the BPM was at the time.”

As much as Johannson likes to reflect on the past, the future of dance music is just as compelling. Dance music is released at a lightning-fast rate. And as more new artists enter the arena, Johansson is excited at how technology has made discovery and connection more fluid than ever.

“That's the thing about dance music, it is changing. It's always evolving. There's always something that's new about it.” She explains. “There's new technology, there's new ways that we're making music. We're more interactive with each other now than ever. And yeah, that's really exciting to me.”

French producer and DJ, Dombresky, AKA Quentin Dombres, began his career as a hip-hop DJ navigating the scene in France. Although we know him now as an icon in the world of uplifting and joyous house music, his journey to this point was a lengthy one.



“Before the Dombresky project, I was a hip-hop DJ in France. I played in some clubs but I was a ‘mainstream’ artist. In 2015 I felt like I didn’t enjoy what I did anymore. I could not see the finality in what I was doing... I still love hip-hop but I grew up around dance music and I was always interested in it… One day I was like, fuck it, let’s start from scratch.”

It took Dombresky over a year to make the transition. He had no experience producing music and had only ever DJed hip-hop. He was lucky enough to be surrounded by talented friends who were willing to lend a helping hand and give him advice at the start of his career. 

“Point Point, Mercer, Snake, all helped me to learn to produce. My first goal was to sign with Fool’s Gold Records… Fixing your goals works well for me. Everytime I fix goals, I focus on it and achieve it. I knew the French market but I wanted to see something else. I decided at the time with my manager to move to America. I had $700 in my bank account. When you think about it, it was totally insane to do that but if you don’t take risks, nothing will happen. My first EP was called ‘Reaching Perfection’ and the second one was called ‘Trust the Process.’ It’s all about the journey and I care about that. I never wanted to become famous super fast, I love the journey and the process.” 

Upon arriving in the states, Dombresky quickly secured a booking agent based on the success of his first single with Fool’s Gold and a subsequent remix on Tchami’s Confession label. Although relatively unknown at the time, he was able to attach his name to rising labels and brands, creating a small but devoted fan base. Although his rise through the ranks of house DJs is ongoing, Dombresky can point to a moment early in his career when he felt his talent and ability to perform gave him a breakthrough moment.

“[Nocturnal Wonderland 2017] was my first big festival. A lot of people came who had never seen me play. I remember it exactly like it was yesterday. Magic happens. It’s hard to get it. Not every set has magic. There are a few sets that feel magical. When everyone is in the same vibe, same direction, same mentality. Everyone was together. It was amazing, one of the best sets I’ve ever played.”

The set at Nocturnal Wonderland came alongside some high-level releases from Dombresky. The iconic red gloves, the French energy, and the release of one of his biggest tracks to date, "Utopia" made 2017 a big year for the new DJ. Although his musical style would soon shift, Dombresky was quickly becoming a household name. 

“You never know if a song is going to blow up or not… Having the chance to try the track live and seeing the reaction of the people helps a lot. Sometimes I know when it’s going to be a big song. Sometimes I know when it’s not going to be big but I still love it. The thing I’ve learned over time is that you don’t need to release a hit or big song all the time. Some people like a sexy song, some people like a chill song. I used to only release bangers. ‘Housology’ I loved, I knew it wasn’t a crazy one but yet people loved it. You cannot control the reaction of the people, but you can have an idea on if it’s a club banger or more of a listening track. Now I’m more focused on just making the music I like.”

“For me it was a big goal. Now I’m asking when’s the next one! When I first saw it in Ibiza, I knew I had to play it. The team was so nice, I felt at home. I still have some stars in my head. When I play, I try to express joy and smiles and happiness to the people. It matched so well with Elrow.”


Although Dombresky now feels like he has the freedom to take his career in any direction he likes, the last year and a half proved challenging. While some artists used the pandemic break as an opportunity to hole up in the studio or work on a new version of a live show, Dombresky reflected internally. 

“It changed my mind a lot… I didn’t produce anything… I’m a sensitive person, it fucked me up. Seeing people dying and sick around the world. It was not possible for me to be creative. I was able to work on mixing and mastering but my music is too happy for me to feel like I could make music during this time… These questions like am I good enough? Now it’s just like, fuck it. I just want to share my energy and share my music.”

Going forward, it’s all about staying true to himself and going with the flow. He tries to avoid rigid scheduling. It gives him space to feel creative and produce new music whenever he wants. He has some special back-to-back shows coming up with Noizu. And he hopes to release a ton of music in the coming months. For now, we just hope to see him playing all over the world as soon as possible and to continue making people dance and putting smiles on people’s faces.

Australia-native Juliet Fox has never played by the rules. Breaking into the boys club of dance music, the world-renowned producer and DJ took the techno scene by storm over 12 years ago. Claiming both Berlin and Ibiza as home base, you can hear the imprint from both cities in her sound. From dark and moody atmospheres to more upbeat and tantalizing tunes, Fox’s versatility and hard work are what sets her apart. It also makes her exactly the right person to head a label, as seen with the recent launch of her techno imprint TREGAMBE.

While based in Germany and Spain, the US has had an equal influeence on Fox’s music. She said, “The first track I ever made was like a techno track, but then I started to go more into house music. My influences were equally Chicago house [and] Detroit techno.” 

However, Berlin had such a lasting impression on her that she now calls it home. Fueled by her love of performing, the city’s musical taste resonated with her. 


She gave some insight into how she ended up there, saying, “I was finding that I couldn't really truly play what I wanted to in the clubs in Australia.I spent my first summer in Ibiza 11 years ago, actually. Then I was living in London, and I still wasn't really quite able to play the techno that I wanted to. And then, I did the trip over to Berlin and ended up staying for the last five years or so.”

Berlin is known for techno. And while it may seem saturated, Juliet loves its versatility. 

“It's amazing, actually. There are producers and artists that I've never even heard of and their production styles are completely different. A lot more raw… This kind of very warehouse-style approach. And it was great for me. I just kind of went to every single club that I could.”

As she absorbed Berlin's unique culture, she learned that her most potent tool is authenticity. She explains how her experience can be a model for new artists. 

“The best thing you could do is just to stay true to yourself and not try to fit in [or] try to be like somebody else. I think that worked more in my favor because you build up more of your reputation that way.”


Berlin also ended up being the perfect city to develop her sound because so many clubs frown upon cell phone use in the club. It's become ingrained in the culture there. Fox felt free of judgment. With no focus on blinding flashes or cameras in her face, she was also able to better understand herself and the direction she wanted to go in. She also liked being able to see a crowd actually dance instead of taking photos and videos. “It’s nice… You can just literally be yourself, sweating, and whatever. Basically free.”

The rest of the world isn’t Berlin, and social media is especially important in the dance music industry. Although Fox does like the no-camera culture, she chooses to see the bright side of social media and how she connects with her audience. 

She says, “Going back to the beginning of this year, I realized that this actually is really important so I can't be one of those people who's like, ‘I don't want to be on social media. I don't want to do this.’ You have to, unfortunately. And people do want to see what you're doing. If you make it more fun and creative and make sure that you're presenting yourself as truly yourself, then it's fine. And it can work then in your favor.”

So then, who is Juliet Fox truly? 

Juliet Fox is someone who loves sports, fitness, and painting. And her new label lets her share one of those talents with her musical audience. She uses her pieces as cover art for TREGAMBE’s label releases.

But her paintings aren't the only type of art she melds into her music. Fox also uses her own vocals. She credited her previous work co-hosting a radio station as a stepping stone, where she learned how to think fast and speak clearly.

She laughs, “When I started making music, I actually didn't like all these sample vocals that I was always getting. And I'm like, ‘maybe I'm going to try it myself’.”

Fox explains how Green Velvet helped push her in that direction.

“One time, we were at an after party and [Green Velvet] was just like ‘record something like this loop into my phone.’ And he actually ended up using it for a track. Pretty incredible story, but that really encouraged me to keep on going with it.”

Painting, producing, vocal work, DJing—it’s clear Juliet’s heart and soul are being poured into her art. How she keeps up her creative energy is simple: travel. But with the year we’ve all had, that wasn’t exactly a possibility. 

“I was starting to really lose my creative vibe in the studio over the last few months. I'm always a bit distracted or need to travel. I think [travel] really helps [rather] than just being in the same space for such a long time.”

Ask and you shall receive. Juliet Fox is in the middle of moving to London and is excited to be in an English-speaking country again. As she packs her bags, she leaves us with one last sentiment about the future of the dance music scene.

“Looking back on what has happened over the last year, I would like to see people really appreciating the events a lot more, making them a bit more special and intimate, and helping the environment a bit more. Seeing people come out of this in a positive light with more positive music as well.”

“The first time I DJed was at a desert festival called Good Vibe Tribe Gathering, way out in the Mojave desert, 3-4 hours from the city... I brought my own controller because I didn’t know how to use CDJs yet. My laptop actually got wet cause I forgot to bring it in from inside. It wouldn’t turn on, I was drying it out in the sun the morning of… The guy who played before was this older guy who’s been doing it for a while. He asked me why I wasn't using the CDJs… when I said I had a flash drive he offered to teach me on the spot while I played my set.” 

For Sly Turner, it is moments like these that help push him to keep going and keep creating. While many veteran DJs would not have cared to assist an up and comer in learning crucial skills, the experience Sly had at his first gig was heart-warming. As a rising DJ in an ever competitive scene, any help is welcomed. 

Sly first started to fall in love with house music when he returned to San Diego at age 19. 

“That’s when I started diving into it a bit deeper, immersing myself into it. Going to local parties at Spin, Bang Bang… I really started focusing on production, before it was a hobby but moving back to San Diego inspired me to take it more seriously.” Immersing himself in music was made easy after the transition to San Diego. Given how prolific the electronic scene is on the west coast and California specifically, San Diego seems to fly under the map. Perhaps it’s because it has escaped the overlord grasp of Insomniac, or simply because it’s not Los Angeles. Regardless, a true underground scene has developed in the city over the last few years. Between the iconic CRSSD Festival, and countless new clubs, DJs like Sly Turner have a city in which they can consistently book gigs in, and have high level peers to bounce ideas off of.

While Sly is still on the come up, he’s spent years behind the scenes honing his production skills. The results have led to releases with Box of Cats, Desert Hearts, and a recent collaboration with Wyatt Marshall. “I would spend hours watching youtube videos about everything… sound design, compression, mastering etc… When I look back on my early releases they were probably pretty trash. If I had to redo it, I might have waited longer to put out my first tracks so that they would’ve been higher quality but when you’re getting into it for the first time, you think it’s great.”

As Sly has grown and progressed, his sound has transitioned away from the glitchy funky vibes we associate with Box of Cats, and he has moved towards a more minimal, tech house sound. “I’ve moved away from their [Box of Cats] sound but I love those guys and they gave me one of my first opportunities.” 

Releasing music and finding common ground with the Desert Hearts crew was always a goal for Sly, and upon moving to San Diego, it became a necessity. “They’re locally based so I would always go to their shows and listen to all the releases. Being from San Diego, it was very important to me to be on the label. I would see all the guys around town and just developed friendships with them.”

Going forward, Sly will continue to pump out high quality minimal tech house tracks. As he works on his craft, we can expect to see him finding awesome label homes, and hopefully booking gigs across the country.

When Todd Terry speaks, his words carry the weight of over three decades of dance music history. The Brooklyn-born artist stepped into house music in 1988 with “Party People.” His chopped and screwed version of Marshall Jefferson’s eponymous 1986 “Move Your Body” married Chicago house and hip-hop. It didn’t initially go down well with the Chicago heads he inadvertently sampled. But it established Terry as an innovative force in dance music. And it was an early example of Terry’s innate understanding of what moves a dance floor.

Terry was already an experienced producer. He was heavy into hip-hop and had already piqued the interest of Profile Records, the early home of Run-D.M.C. Unable to raise funds for studio time, he let things fizzle. His feet stayed planted in broken beats as he switched focus to the work of breakbeat innovators John Robbie and Arthur Baker.

That is, until one day when a friend showed up at his house with a tape of Chicago house beats from Marshall Jefferson, Kevin Saunderson, and Juan Atkins. Terry admits that he thought it sounded repetitive. But after watching his friend jump around the living room with excitement insisting that Todd make some house music, he decided to give it a go.

“I didn't know what I was doing. I did it as a joke," Terry says as he recalls his entry into dance music. "You know, it worked.”

His background in broken beats and hip-hop helped him break the cycle of repetition. His records moved through motifs, popping and stuttering with the energy of a dance battle. “Party People” and “Can You Party” were quickly picked up and rose to the top 100 dance charts in the UK.

It’s not hard to measure the impact Todd Terry had on the history of house music. He is to New York what the Belleville Three are to Detroit. He’s one of the architects of New York house music. He influenced so many of the pivotal artists at the time, including Kenny Dope and Louie Vega, whose Masters At Work name first belonged to Terry. 

In 1988 house music was in its infancy. By the end of the year, Terry gave the genre one of its first commercial success stories. He produced "I'll House You" for The Jungle Brothers. The single shot up to number 16 in Billboard's "Hot Rap Singles" chart and 28 in its "Hot Dance Music" chart. It was the first time a non-Chicago house record had broken through the mainstream.  

There’s a raw and unfiltered element to Terry’s work from that era. It’s something about which he remains intentional. While many producers insist that every element must be perfect, Terry feels that overproducing a record removes its soul.

“I leave the mistakes. Yeah, leave the noise. Leave the drum roll fucked up,” he explains. He likes to keep things simple, it's the most effective way to get the dance floor jackin'. 

And he tries to make other producers understand how keeping it a little bit dirty makes a more compelling record. 

“I'm like, yo, what are you doing? The shit is done. Why are you adding 17 synthesizers on so you can't get the snare drums to sound a certain way? Now this shit sounds like nothing. No attitude."

Terry has contributed to every era of dance music’s evolution. He's been one of its most vocal champions and helped give it a voice in the mainstream. So, I assume that he'd be overjoyed to witness house music's growing popularity in the US in a post-EDM world. And while he's grateful for the journey he states simply, "It's good. Not there yet.”

He insists that dance music needs true commercial hits that expose the wide expanse of sounds that exist. “We need a Robin S. We need a Crystal Waters. We need a Snap! - ‘The Power.' We need something that helps us a little bit here, makes us come to the dance floor. We need to get something out there to mix it up a little bit.”

He references these artists not to look back, but to explain the magnitude of those records as game-changers. Terry believes that commercial radio needs to pay respect to dance music properly. 

"Break some new records. Stop catering to the same piano sound all the time. We got enough piano records. Okay, you guys found the piano in the last three years. Good job. There's other shit.

His advice is as much a call to action to A&R as it is to producers who insist on following trends. His honesty only further confirms how much he cares.

But then again, he posits, “Maybe it's not supposed to be on the radio like that.”

When he first entered dance music in the '80s, he realized it had the power to make an impact. He watched as dancefloors all over the world erupted in joy when he played certain records. It’s a feeling with which we’re all familiar. Yet, for some reason, the true sound is surprisingly absent from commercial radio. 

Terry made it possible for mainstream audiences to understand the true power of dance music. He made house records accessible to everyone and stayed true to the underground.

He’s a champion of the culture through and through. And as our conversation draws to a close he tells me, “I'm still here. I just fight every day, trying to prove my point that dance records are just as powerful as a hip-hop record.”

“We never felt the struggle to connect in the studio. If there is a struggle, it can be good because it pushes you to get to the next point in creation. But we never really had that in terms of creativity matching or writing new material. In the studio, we have so many nice moments. We try to have fun in the studio and ignore the outside world. Sometimes we take a bit of acid and just have fun listening to what we are doing and testing things out.... Sandrino had a clear vision about sound design. For Frankey it was more of an exploration which is a reason as to why it was never forced between us. Early on our music was a little more ‘hitty’ whereas these days we go deeper and more organic.”

Frankey and Sandrino put out their first track together in 2012, aptly titled, ‘Comeback.’ Since then the duo have released a prolific slate of music, with hits on iconic labels such as Innervisions and Dynamic, as well as founding their own label, Sum Over Histories.

The two first met after both playing regularly at a club called Butan in Germany. By the time they connected, they each had established solid backgrounds in dance music. However, both Frankey and Sandrino had unique introductions to the world of house and techno.

For Sandrino, he was attending raves since the early 90s, immediately struck by the atmosphere and scene. “I started going out in 1993 and collected rave posters. I went to Mysteryland 1994… The first time I fell in love with nightlife and DJing as an artform came in June of 1993. I went to my first rave, Cosmic Baby and Steve Mason played. I was only 13 years old and I had a lot of luck getting into the club. Half the night I was dancing, the other half of the night I was watching the DJ and seeing what he was doing, how he had the control of the full floor.”

For Frankey, his discovery was a longer process. Growing up, he played multiple instruments and earned his stripes playing with jazz bands in his childhood. “I have a totally different background but the moment of watching the DJ work was key for me. Even before I understood the music, I had a background of playing in jazz bands. When I went to my first techno party, it was the most pure and real and intense way of celebrating music. It was not how I was used to with everyone staring at the stage.”

Once Frankey and Sandrino discovered the world of house music, they never looked back. After years of playing with jazz bands, and scoring random DJ gigs in Romania, the two found themselves playing in the same place, Butan Club. “Frankey was a regular DJ there and Sandrino was a resident. We started to become friends and didn’t even think about working together for a while. We just tried out getting into the studio together to see the outcome and almost immediately we could tell that the chemistry was right”

Almost immediately after connecting, the two began to receive critical acclaim for their productions. Two years into the project, they released their biggest song yet, ‘Acamar’ on Dixon and Ame’s Innervisions label. The track brought Frankey & Sandrino into the spotlight, and raised the ceiling for Innervisions as a label.

Soon after, the duo decided to launch their own label, Sum Over Histories. “Music needs to be touching. While Frankey looks more at the technical details of a track, I [Sandrino] am focused on the vibe of a song. When we select music we don’t have any sound in mind. Whatever comes to the table that we both like, this is what we are going to release. It’s just important that we both like it and that it sounds timeless. Sandrino will pick songs that standout, and then Frankey will review on a deeper, technical level.” 

As Frankey and Sandrino have worked over time to build out their label, they’ve found themselves becoming more prudent with the decision to send music elsewhere. “We just try and do music in the studio and then afterwards we speak and think about where to take it. Although we love plenty of other labels, sometimes the sound and taste goes in a different direction than what we feel connected to. This is part of why we started our own label so we would always have a direct link to our vision of what electronic music should be.”

This came to fruition on their recent EP, ‘&Hope.’ The standout EP was a long time coming and cemented an incredible start to 2021 for both Frankey and Sandrino, and their label. The headline track, ‘TGA’ features a rare vocalist appearance. “We had the lyrics in place then thought of how to build the track around those… We took acid in the studio, Frankey took the bass guitar and started to experiment with it. Frankey has all of these instrumental skills but we’d never used them. On acid, bass guitar, ‘Hope’ was born quickly. It was very natural creating the EP. We don’t want to repeat ourselves ever. Even though the music is in the same genre, we always try and evolve and keep the process going.”

“My dad had a big influence in shaping what some of my tastes would become. He was into a lot of R&B and soul, but also American rock. There would be some random Korean radio stations on and so I was listening to a lot of early 90’s and late 80’s Kpop. It was influenced by European dance music and pop at the time. He also loved Elton John and I think that was a reason for my early love and appreciation of melody."





When listening to the music of SOHMI, only one thing is clear. The rising Korean American producer does not conform to any one genre. Her compositions are unique without being too leftfield, melodic while remaining club-ready, and she consistently is pushing boundaries. A plethora of influences and skills allows SOHMI to straddle these gray areas and has pushed her into the spotlight only two years since her first release. 

“The idea of music as a place to escape started pretty young. I studied classical piano my whole life growing up. I didn’t love it until I was actually really good at it. That helped me find an escape. I would just be overwhelmed by school, life, parents, I would get upset and sit down at the piano and just play melancholy music and bathe in the emotion of it all. It wasn’t until getting into dance music and production that I felt like I could express myself. Being able to tell my personal story through music production was what helped me most.”

SOHMI has spoken often about her own mental health, and how music was and is a way to express herself and to release emotions when there are no other outlets. Despite music playing a big role in her life, her introduction to modern house and techno, the music that inspires her now, did not happen until quite recently. She first underground sounds five years ago when she attended her first-ever festival, the legendary Coachella. Seeing a combination of underground artists like Mano Le Tough, and more mainstream melodic like Rufus Du Sol helped SOHMI decide to turn her musical talents into a pursuit of electronic music.

Her first release came in the form of a remix, and she quickly followed with ‘Somebody Like You’ and a breakout EP titled, ‘Again.’ “Pop and R&B were some of my early and major influences. As well as classical piano. Very different ends of the spectrum but each had a big impact on me. A track like ‘Runaway’ was the very first production I ever did. I really didn’t use a ton of the production stems that I was given. I was feeling ambitious since it was my first track. I mostly programmed it from scratch. The ‘Again EP’ was very influenced by R&B. I had ‘Me and You’ by Cassie in my mind when I made it.”

As if a wide range of musical influences, and having classical training in piano wasn’t enough SOHMI is also a talented vocalist. Her parents told her she was singing as early as one year old. “There was something in me that was inclined to express myself vocally. I always loved singing, it came even before I played piano. I grew up in musical theater and singing choir. It feels like a natural way for me to tell a story. I try to bring some of my experience from acting/being in musicals into my vocal performances. I try to create a character who’s singing a story for the song.”

These abilities have led SOHMI to approach music production from a different angle than most electronic music producers would. She starts a track as a vocal concept in her head and then builds the melodies around that. Whether it’s a more club-ready four on the floor track, or a melodic vocal-heavy track, her own ability to sing gives her a unique approach to creation.  

After putting out the ‘Again EP,’ SOHMI began receiving high-level recognition. Her next releases came on iconic labels such as Astralwerks, Nothing Else Matters (Danny Howard's label), Odd One Out by Yotto, and most recently, a single with Booka Shade. For SOHMI this recognition was surreal. “I hope that feeling never goes away. I want to stay on my toes and stay appreciative of everything that’s happening for me. There are not too many people like me, Korean women, in this space. You can practically list them off on one hand so for me to be able to join the path of those that have done it and have the opportunity to make the music I make is amazing. I operate within the framework of familiar dance music but I’m trying to put my own stamp on it, vocally driven with R&B and Kpop influences.”

The future is bright for SOHMI. She has a clear vision of a beautiful live performance once it makes sense for her career-wise. She has plenty of music coming out this year and will be playing all over the country for a wide range of audiences. “As someone who appreciates that minimal sound in dance music, I’ve always wanted something stagewise that reflects that as well. Dreamy, inviting, inclusive. Lights that play against space and shadow and create a three-dimensional effect. I still feel like I need to master the decks but I definitely have interest in crafting a version of a live performance at some point.”

It's not enough to call LA-based musician Nala, aka Stefania Aronin, a producer or DJ. She radiates artistry in everything she does. Informed by a slant towards the experimental, her off-kilter psychedelic house is a refreshing disruptor for a scene she says, “got wedged into this idea of what dance music was.” She shatters the formulaic chad-house aesthetic with her strikingly authentic lyrics. It’s proof that house music can slap the subs and captivate the mind. 

In 2020 she signed a management deal with purveyors of west coast weird, Dirtybird, a perfect match for someone who created her own lane so early in her career. COO Aundy Crenshaw and Claude Von Stroke encouraged her to embrace her unique style.

They were both excited that she brought a sound that broke from traditional tech-house. Her open format DJ sets and indie inspired beats are a vessel to help push the label forward. She says during one of their first conversations, Von Stroke expressed how tired he was of paint-by-numbers tech house.

Writing that way is simply at odds with who she is. “I just can't talk about things that are superficial. It's just not part of my character. It feels wrong. It feels like nails on a chalkboard internally.”

As she recites the words for “Sun Is Hot,” the second track from her Dirtybird debut EP Psychic Attack, she explains how she disguised a meditation on the health of Mother Earth beneath what sounds like something steamy and sultry.

“That’s a song is about global warming, first and foremost,” she says. “But then its open for interpretation. It could also be about sex. It's funny 'cause NPR was like, 'Oh, this is a dirty song.' And I was like, 'It's about global warming.” She tells the story with a perfect deadpan.

“I don’t know how to be a closed book,” she admits. “Most of my writing is confessional. I think a lot of what art is supposed to be on a philosophical level is something that people relate to. It's part of the human experience. And that's why we are obsessed with art to begin with. Because it makes us feel something. It makes us feel less alone. And I just love making people feel less alone.”

In college, Aronin switched from a psychology major to advertising because psychology got too dark. Yet she continues to find ways to dissect human existence. Nala's confessional lyrics seek to connect.

“I wrote Psychic Attack, because I was really overwhelmed with the news last year," she explains about the title song on her Dirtybird debut. "I wrote that song out of a space of anxiety. But I think a lot of people could relate to that, because it was so chaotic. It was psychological warfare.”

She spends several minutes reciting lyrics to new songs during our call. And with each turn of phrase, it’s clear how adept she is with her words. She’s also so clearly excited about every aspect of her work. She radiates positivity and bravery. 

Being bold is natural she says. “I don't have even like an ounce of doubt that it won't work,” she says about her fuck it Im'a go for it attitude. Her mental framework is devoid of the self-doubt that stops most people from trying. “I just don't have that kind of dialogue in my head for whatever reason. I push it out, probably as a self-protective measure.” 

Or maybe it’s a touch of confidence mixed with a dash of creative magnetism. She’s consistently able to draw exactly what she wants directly into her orbit.

Three months before she signed with Dirtybird she decided to break from her indie background and go full-on into dance music. She was already well known on the Dj circuit in Miami and LA. Her music was getting played in H&M stores across the country. But she felt she needed a label ecosystem to pull her off the plateau.

She set her intention and told herself, “I need to shift focus. What is going to be best for me? I need to find a label that I can work with. And out from the sky came Dirtybird!”

The family atmosphere that seeps through all that Dirtybird does was the perfect match for Aronin. "I got really lucky that I managed to find a community of people. Because even the other artists on the label VNSSA, Walker & Royce, Ardalan we're all family now. And it's so nice to be around people that are so positive and supportive, have a good message and [are] inclusive and happy."

She now sits in the perfect position to carry her message to a wider audience. “I want everyone to feel. I want people to relate. I want them to know that their experience is not isolated. And that to me is the most fulfilling. The best I can do is create music with a message that resonates with people.”

I can tell how good the weather is in Ibiza as I speak to Chelina Manuhutu. It’s bright and two gorgeous leafy ferns behind her almost make me feel like I'm there. The weather in Ibiza is a distillation of her sunny optimism. The Dutch artist’s chunky tech-house seems to be inspired by the White Isle as well. Full of stuttering percussion, brilliantly funky basslines, and the bubbling effervescence of a summer-time pool party.



Born in the Netherlands, music was ubiquitous from the start. Her father, Johnny Manuhutu, was part of the Latin funk band Massada. Her mother was a professional dancer. And both of her older brothers were musicians. Chelina's family encouraged each other's artistic endeavors.

Her parents motivated her to go after what she wanted, be it modeling, dancing hip hop, or being in an all-girl band as a teenager. “My parents were always super proud,” she says. 

Her parents loved to see her express herself. “Because in their eyes, they are also artists, and they loved it. I think it really helps to explore who you are, what you want to do. Not being caged anywhere.”

Growing up in Holland meant she always had access to the best music in the world. Her parents took her to see old school acts like The Pointer Sisters. “It’s normal,” she explains, “you go to festivals at a young age, right. And you have so many choices.”

She started to hit dance music festivals on her own as a teenager. And while she did look up to her brother who was a DJ. It was an encounter with Carl Cox at Dance Valley that flipped the script for her.

“I was like, wow, what is this? I still get goosebumps, [Carl] was playing the mainstage. And I was saying, you know, I feel so free also because I was really young and I was allowed to go out, without my bigger brothers taking care of me. Watching, babysitting me, actually. So, I was like, ‘wow, this is this is amazing.’ The music and the vibe and the energy. I wanted to feel that forever.”

Even then her parents were in full support of her going out as much as she wanted. She wasn’t technically allowed to go to clubs because she was too young, but that didn’t stop her from joining her older brother at his gigs. “we wake up at seven in the morning, and we go to after party, and he's playing, you know, and I'm like, looking at Wow, this is surreal. And my dad thought it was fine. Because I'm with my big brother.”

By 2010 she followed in her brother's footsteps and was DJing. Modeling was still her main focus. Until a tragic accident at Christmas. She was sent to the hospital with burns on much of her back, arms, and legs. She took it in the best way possible.

She figured, “Now I have time for my music. You know, it wasn't like I was super depressive [sic]. I was actually fine with it, because I did such a career modeling. And maybe I was ready also for something new, you know, and the music was waiting for me.”

Chelina’s thought process is yet another example of her resilience and ability to find the silver lining in everything.

As the summer season began in Ibiza in 2011, she took a characteristic leap of faith. While on holiday, she approached the owner of Blue Marlin Beach Club with a demo CD and her phone number. She was only in town for a week, but she wanted to play there. Two days later, she booked her first Ibiza club gig.

She hadn’t fully recovered from her accident but she seized the opportunity to jump-start her new career. The courage to make a power move like that is how she was raised.

“I have nothing to lose. My parents always tell me you can get a no, but you can get a yes. So, you should just go out there. Why not try?”

She always put her trust in the process. In the idea that everything always works out. It’s one of the most important lessons she’s learned from her parents. “We were always really relaxed, go with the flow, see what happens."

Her philosophy on manifestation is simple and effective. It’s resulted in residencies at Pacha and Blue Marlin and festival bookings for Elrow and Ultra.

“I want that, I want that on this day.” She explains about her ability to manifest. “See what happens, enjoy. And if it will come it will come. Of course, you have to work hard for it. And that's what I also did. And if you really go for something, I think good things will happen.”

Brazilian-born, Berlin-based techno titan Victor Ruiz's first memories are connected to music. The Beatles, The Beegees, Eric Clapton, Phil Collins, and ABBA soundtracked his family meals. And he shared a room with his older brother, who ensured he was lulled to sleep by the sweet sounds of Metallica, Iron Maiden, Led Zepplin, and AC/DC.

He charted a route that began when he got an electric bass at eight years old. He traveled the well-trodden routes of a rock and roller. He was in bands through high school and thought he was destined to be a rock star. However, he changed course when he discovered psytrance late in high school.

“It was somewhat similar to heavy metal,” he says about the moment he discovered his newfound obsession. “And to classical music as well. Because there were so many layers, so many sonic textures, and rhythms and dynamics.” He was fascinated by how something so repetitive and uncomplicated, could be so compelling.

Ruiz was introduced to techno at university in a similar way. And he began to complete yet another musical transformation in his life as he started his degree in electronic music production. He was drawn to techno because he could achieve peak emotional impact by using far fewer elements.

These seismic shifts in his career always occur with great introspection and thought from Ruiz. And during the pandemic, he went through a different kind of transference.

“I think the mental health part of this journey is quite important.” He explains. “I even had a big crisis. The beginning of this year, I thought I was going to quit."

He explained to me that he began to see holes in the fabric of the dance music scene. And a steady progression away from the founding tenants of Peace Love Unity and Respect. 

"There's so much weird shit and wrong stuff in the scene that I don't agree [sic]. I don't think it's healthy long term. I hope everybody's noticing that.”

Ruiz needed to realign himself and ponder why he was a musician in the first place. 

”Is it for as an egotistic thing? Do I want just applause? Do I want to be regarded? Or I just want to share happiness with people? Or [do] I just want to have a good time? Or am I running away from something? Or maybe it's everything together.”

His moment of introspection led to an important life lesson. He needed to take better care of himself and create a more healthy routine. It also led to a super-secret project that he says will help make the dance music scene healthier.

“I'm stronger than ever. And I'm very excited. I'm very excited to do things differently.” He begins. “I just want to make our scene a little bit healthier. So we can change a little bit of the consciousness and the awareness. So we stop being so egoistic so selfish. And be a bit more altruist a bit more selfless, a bit more willing to help the other.”

He also spent time with his partner and fellow techno DJ and producer Tao Andra. A year ago, they created a podcast that documents their journey through quarantine. At times it feels like you are listening in on an intimate conversation as they cover everything from their childhood memories to how they stay healthy. 

Ruiz adores Andra he says, “she's an amazing speaker, you know, and so eloquent.” 

Andra created the podcast to encourage long conversations. Ruiz says it has made him a better communicator.

“I learned to listen more actively. I always had issues expressing myself in past relationships. I learned how to have a safe place to talk. And that's the most important thing now when you're talking with someone that's giving you a space to be yourself, to be who you are and also to feel safe, not feel judged or criticized. And that's key.”

Learning to be vulnerable has been difficult for him. However, it's been a window into what he says is a dangerous and toxic culture of silence among men.

“It's harmful. We're very, we're very sensitive people as well. think if we were more connected with our feminine side, you have more balance, you're gonna have a much more actually relaxed life.”

As the conversation draws to a close, I feel inspired by this winding conversation that has allowed me to begin to understand who Victor Ruiz is beyond his career as a DJ. 

He says music is what opens the door for these kinds of conversations. “Music is my tool to get to you. And then I send you my message. You know, I think that's the important thing. Music is beautiful, music is often how I feel, and how I perceive the world. And how I actually connect to people. And once you have the connection, then you can talk freely, and are open actually to listen.”

QRTR, aka Meagan Rodriguez, has a sound that is drenched in emotion, layered with wavering synths that drip with sultry sophistication. Intentionally heartfelt yet innately dancefloor focused. 



She has managed to stand out with a unique take on house music. And in a genre that often relies on recycled tropes, she bravely injects her music with a meditative sensuality that refreshes mind, body, and soul

Her debut album Drenched dropped just as the pandemic had eviscerated all hope for an immediate sense of normalcy. It was composed during a dark period in her life. She intended to open a window to her emotions and ended up holding a mirror for the state of the world.

Her music reflected her life at the time. Her job in film was grueling. She spent over 10 hours a day in an office with no windows. Exhausted and confused, she intentionally isolated herself.

Things felt dark. And she said, “I [was] creating this whole world in my head about how things are so dystopian right now.”

She engaged in a strange dance with herself. The album was another source of stress, but she insists, “It was also a release and a creative outlet. So, it's just this weird kind of Tango [I was] doing.”

She never pondered her mental health. It was the first time she recognized her depression and anxiety. "And I let that come out in the album. And I wanted to live in it a little bit because I felt like I needed to just for my own sort of evolution.”

Her goal was to express how difficult it was to be human and how existence can be painful. She never expected her emotions to reflect what was happening on a global scale. She says, “It was just a really fucked up. coincidence.”

It takes courage to lay your emotions bare the way that Drenched did. Her strength and resolve are qualities she is admittedly modest about.

“I feel like I have these moments where I suddenly have intense courage and bravery. And those moments are usually pivotal for me [in] gearing me into a new direction or a new chapter.”

Her affection for melody has always been with her. She fondly recalls her dad blasting freestyle in the car when he picked her up for the weekend. It didn’t embarrass her, she just bopped along. Somehow those broken beats have now snaked their way into her music. 

Rodriguez grew up tri-lingual and mixed race. Her young mind often comingled English, Spanish, and Portuguese. One thing she was never confused about was her love for singing. Her parents always supported her passion for the arts and bought her instruments for birthdays holidays. 

They never stopped encouraging her. She was always inside as a child, creating songs and videos. In middle school, she started to play with production software when her dad bought her a computer.

“I had a PSU USB microphone. I'd plug it into my computer and sample knocking on my desk and shit. And I would make music in middle school and bring CDs and give it to friends.”

It’s hard for her to imagine her success without her parent's involvement. “I feel like, my mom was super encouraging. She was like, ‘You're an artist, you need to be an artist one day. You're a creative person.’ And always was telling me to embrace that. And then my dad gave me the tools to be able to embrace it. He got me my first computer. He was the one who pushed me to go to NYU and move to New York.“

Moving to New York was a catalyst for her artistic growth. She ended up there for film. And even though she carried a lifelong passion for music she insists, “I never thought to pursue that further than just enjoying it.” 

She didn’t become a New Yorker until she graduated. That’s when she started to explore nightlife for the first time. The seed was planted when she went to an open-air in Portugal at 16. And when Spotify notified her that Chrome Sparks was in her hood she went and the seed began to grow.

That summer she went to her first festival, Bonnaroo 2014. And as a spontaneous (now legendary) late-night art car set from Mija and Skrillex blurred into the sunrise, she had a full-on rave revelation. This was what she’d been missing from her life. 

“Sunrise is about to happen. And we're all partying still. And this is everything I didn't know I needed and now I'm hooked. And then immediately I came back from Bonnaroo and I was going to as many raves and club nights as I could.”

A friend she’d met at a work function joined her on the quest for the perfect night out. Jenny had also been there for the transcendent experience at Bonaroo. After several months they agreed it was difficult to find their people. So, they decided to create the perfect party themselves.

Wavcave was their creation. A party in what was ordinarily a punk rock venue, with no expectations or boundaries. Rodriguez and friends provided the sonics. Jenny was the badass promoter. “Our whole mission was to let people get weird. We want people smiling on the dance floor. We want people to be goofy and enjoy themselves.”

The brand organically transformed from a monthly event to a shared studio space to full-on artist collective and record label. All of which are rooted in creating the inclusive and tolerant space they desired. 

As the world begins to awaken, she’s excited to see more of that. “I'm seeing parties that [are] not a bunch of white guys. And it's amazing. It's queer people, black people, brown people. It's people that are fucking talented and weren't getting shine that absolutely deserved to be getting shine.”

It excites her that more people will experience the creativity, love, and inclusivity that she shares in everything that she touches.  

“I don't think I've ever seen such diverse and enthusiastic crowds,” she says with a touch of sincere sentiment in her voice. “It is so exciting what's happening right now. And I don't know that it would be like this if it weren't for everything that happened in 2020. I think in a weird way that was one of the only positives. That maybe we're inching toward something that makes more sense and is more equitable.”

Artist Interviews