Reflections on Electronic Music (Resident Advisor)

So how do you capture a year? We split the assignment in two, first asking staff to ponder some of the most dominant themes, such as the revival of techno sub-genre hardgroove, the glut of incredible music coming out of Latin America and the underground’s increasingly mainstream appeal. (We left out pop edits to avoid repeating ourselves.)

For a more personal angle, we then hit up six contributors working across different fields: grime legend Elijah, DJ and writer Joe Delon, project manager Nicky Boehm, Melbourne DJs IN2STELLAR and journalists Sai Versailles and Delilah Friedler. Touching on topics like queer visibility at festivals, the sounds of Palestinian resistance and the return of Audion’s minimal hit “Mouth To Mouth,” their blurbs shed fresh insight on another wildly rich and intriguing year in electronic music.

Cross-fertilization of the underground and mainstream

In 2023, the music landscape we inhabit looks eerily like the one we left, but subtly skewed—a distorted, slightly wrong version of itself. Case in point: the commercialisation of the underground, a trend that’s been examined at length in our industry’s small ecosystem but which still mires music critics and old-guard techno DJs. The scene’s native seriousness has been replaced by names like Fred again.. and Skrillex, who have been welcomed with open arms into once-purist institutions like Berghain; yesteryear’s boy bands are now the norm in DJ sets at the world’s trendiest festivals; and super-speed hard techno, a caricature in itself, is the most popular sound of the new rave generation.

This cross-fertilization of underground and mainstream electronic music culture is the result of multiple forces at work. First and foremost, after two years of Covid-19 closures, people just want to have fun, and as music critic Chal Ravens perceptively noted, there’s “a sense of humour crucial to this chaotic mode.” Secondly, the heightened significance of social media (and its ancillary influence on the DJ as influencer) means that brand image now reigns supreme over the music itself. And thirdly, streaming platforms like HÖR, which skyrocketed in popularity with club closures in 2020 and 2021, opened the doors for a glut of new names that have changed the lexicon of the DJ set with clickable selections and performance spectacles that border on novelty.

It’s easy to come away feeling like today’s prevailing techno culture is capitalist jetsam—a confusing miasma of frothy pop edits and throwaway content. And it’s valid to raise questions about authenticity, taste and inclusion in this environment. But 2023 also accelerated a process inherent to any art form’s natural evolution, and in the wake of such rapid musical splintering, there has emerged a healthy openness to experimentation and rebelliousness, as well as a strong cohort of resurgent techno promoters, DJs and producers who are putting quality at its core.

Latin America permeates clubland

For anyone who grew up Latinx outside of Latin America, it’s mind-boggling to see how long it’s taken for the institutions of electronic music to fully embrace the region’s smorgasbord of sounds. Reggaeton, after all, was percolating in the barrios of Panama City, San Juan and New York around the same time that the UK grew enamoured with Aphex Twin and acid house. More than 30 years later, thanks in part to the roaring success of Bad Bunny and Luis Fonsi’s “Despacito,” it’s normal to hear the slap of dembow rhythms at Berghain, Dekmantel or Nowadays.

Maybe the most exciting thing about 2023, then, was hearing Latin American dance music in all its resplendent beauty on local dance floors. Where previously “Latin” sounds—typically pan-pipes, hand percussion or sultry vocals—were largely packaged within house and techno, the floodgates are now open, from guaracha, raptor house and merengue to cumbiaton and straight-up salsa. The movement even has its own lazy genre tag—”Latin club”—which is vague to the point of absurdity and harks back to a time when phrases like “African drums” and “Middle Eastern synths” were all too common. (In short, avoid “Latin club”—be specific.)

Some musical highlights from the year: Verraco’s EP on VOAM, Dj Babatr & Arca’s “MK3TreF,” Lydo & Tomás Urquieta’s Hand of God, Coco Maria’s excellent compilation !AHORA¡ and TraTraTrax’s Crack cover mix and profile. At a time when the rest of dance music feels particularly obsessed with recycling the past, here’s a wave of DJs, producers, labels and parties injecting the scene with a truckload of fresh rhythms, instruments and ideas. What could be more inspiring?

Rising tempos continue to split opinion

As genres and scenes evolve, accusations of club music getting harder and faster never trail far behind. Rumour has it that in the early ’00s a select group of drum & bass DJs gathered to solve a problem: the tunes were becoming too fast. Those in charge suggested a tempo cap, meaning music above a certain BPM couldn’t be played out. History may have had the last laugh, but this wouldn’t be the final time that faster tempos were brought into question.

Is the latest incarnation of this debate, which rages around hard techno, gabber, pop edits and plenty more besides, really about tempo at all? For every tweet, feature and op-ed describing the pulse of contemporary dance floors, there exists a raft of counterexamples. Yes, more DJs seem to be playing faster music more of the time, but the enduring popularity of downtempo chug and wafty house has altered the dynamics of the dance in similarly tangible ways.

Earlier this month in his First Floor newsletter, dance music commentator Shawn Reynaldo expressed concern that 2022’s trend of “”supposedly” underground spaces being soundtracked by remixes of Y2K-era pop divas and Eurodance anthems, along with a steady diet of hard techno, trance, gabber, happy hardcore and other unrelentingly rapid rhythms” showed no signs of slowing down in 2023. The continued prominence of these sounds only extending a year of “empty calories.” But presenting dance music like this avoids confronting both the depths of these genres and the benefits of such a shift. As faster tempos have become more prevalent, previously niche genres have, as a result, received bigger platforms, with a wider pool of DJs and producers gaining newfound notoriety and success in the process. Also, tempo contains multitudes. For every “Alicia” by Mala, there’s a “Goblin” by Coki.

Gabber isn’t for everyone, but the beauty of dance music’s sonic diversity is that it doesn’t have to be. While slower house and techno was de rigueur for decades, adhering steadfastly to this norm feels like an impotent reaction to dance music’s perpetual evolution. Sometimes, more really is more.

Hardgroove’s revival

If there’s anything old heads and young techno fans could agree on this year, it was hardgroove. The ’90s subgenre—coined by Ben Sims and immortalised on his label of the same name—struck a chord across generations for three simple reasons: it’s fast, funky and addictive.

As Sims explained in our history of the style, hardgroove developed out of music for B-boys and breakdancers, heavily influenced by the cut-up style of hip-hop DJing. That translated into tough, taut grooves designed for mixing together and, occasionally, splashy turntablism.

Once associated with artists like Sims, Jeff Mills and Robert Hood, the style has found a footing with younger fans this year, who were as likely to play hardgroove as they were ecstatic trance or goofy pop edits.

“Hardgroove sometimes can be fast, which is something near to what new generations are used to these days,” said ANNĒ, a Greek producer who has become one of the style’s key ambassadors. “The hardgroove sound doesn’t rely on huge basslines or trancey synths. To me it sounds fresh and interesting, all the time. I never get tired of it.”

This revival isn’t about reliving bygone eras. Take ANNĒ’s music, which moves away from the style’s hip-hop roots and into a lusher sound that has more in common with contemporary techno. Monterrey producer Regal86, on the other hand, emphasises those roots, with mixtapes and albums that blend techno and hip-hop and a rough-and-ready approach that means records like this year’s La Onda can go toe to toe with any ’90s classic.

Regal86’s vast catalogue is mostly self-released, while older labels like Hardgroove and Blueprint are back in business releasing some of the best stuff around, alongside newer outlets such as Mutual Rytm and Life In Patterns. As well as the veterans, there are lots of excellent young producers doing their thing. ANNĒ’s favourites include Stef Mendesidis, Rebecca Delle Piane, Lars Huismann, VILLA, Chontane, Vil and Cravo.

Hardgroove’s unflashy approach is an antidote to the current proliferation of huge trance breakdowns and singalong vocal tracks. The best tracks contain drums, a bassline, maybe some vocal chops and short breakdowns. That’s pretty much it. The focus is on making people dance, making them feel the rhythm. In today’s dance music scene, that’s as admirable as it is rebellious.

Return of ’00s minimal

Hannah Holland at Adonis. Ambient Babestation Meltdown at The Pickle Factory. Jacques Green and Four Tet at Panorama Bar. Nina Kraviz at Brunch Electronik. And Adonis again, when Leeon shut down July’s edition by playing the record in full. Pangaea’s “Installation” you might well guess? But no: the track in question is a 17-year-old minimal hit, a tune so ubiquitous on release it wasn’t uncommon to hear its full 13 minutes out two or three times a night. So how come Audion’s “Mouth To Mouth” is back in 2023?

Matthew Dear is hardly reducible to a single record. He’s made French touch, microhouse and minimal, plus several albums of fine indie and electro pop. But “Mouth To Mouth” remains his signature tune. Rowdy and excessive, its catchy riff and exuberant sirens were always more maximal than minimal, securing it an illustrious career on the EDM circuit since its release in 2006. It pops up from time to time in the underground—Paramida recalls reaching for it around 2012—but 2023 saw a full-on resurgence. Radio Slave even released a cover.

I have my theories. For DJs like me who started going out in the mid-00s, some generational nostalgia is at work—I was already hearing emblematic tunes like Gabriel Ananda’s “Doppelwhipper” (Saoirse) and Johnny D’s “Orbitalife” (Shanti Celeste) out in 2022. Queer scenes have always made a point of drawing on maligned genres of years past: witness today’s seemingly inexhaustible appetite for Euro house and trance. Meanwhile, Gen Z, barely older than the tunes themselves, come to them with less cultural baggage. “”Mouth To Mouth” will be this year’s “Running Up That Hill,”” my friend Michael posted on X, sagely.

As always, though, revival is less interesting than recontextualisation. It’s amusing to hear bygone anthems get another spin, but it’s in fresh club bangers, from Rhyw’s “Honey Badger” to the vanguard sounds of the queer US underground (take Sobolik’s “Airplane Mode” and Davis Galvin’s “Ush Ryophyta”) that I hear the ghosts of “Mouth To Mouth” speaking in new, thrilling tongues.

Superstar MCs are the new DJs

Superstar DJs have long been a staple of club culture and electronic music, commanding huge booking fees and cultural clout to match. But promoters should take note: the MC is going to be as much of a draw as the DJ next year.

Flowdan was the most impactful MC in electronic music in 2023. 23 years since beginning in UK garage crew Pay As U Go, followed by foundational grime crew Roll Deep, he’s had his biggest year yet with hit records in drum & bass (“Baddadan,” produced by Chase & Status) the most popular MC-led garage song (“Shella Verse,” produced by Sammy Virji) and the Grammy Award-nominated “Rumble” with Skrillex and Fred Again…

This cross-genre presence is rarely done by an MC from the grime scene and has never been achieved within the same year by one act. But look around and Flowdan isn’t the only MC leading the way. Novelist has collaborated widely, too: “Sliver” with Special Request, “Bulldozer” with DJ Lag, “Get Busy With It” with Conducta and Skee Mask’s remix of “Mercy.” All have been staples in my club sets this year, spanning the spectrum sonically.

MCs in electronic music are under-appreciated, a topic covered by Richard Akingbehin during my guest editorship for Resident Advisor back in 2022. But years like this are where the tables turn. In 2024, more producers will want to make MC-led tracks and more DJs will want to play them.

The Year of maximalism

When house and techno infiltrated Manila in the ’90s, the city was introduced to the “underground” experiences of these countercultural genres. Since then, the capital has embraced their indomitable influence, embodying a globally recognisable big-room sound.

Yet, in 2023, electronic music in Manila saw more maximalist sensibilities reflecting the Philippines’ off-the-wall brand of entertainment culture. Producers captured the frenetic energy of a meme doom scroll by incorporating cartoonish loops riffed from variety TV shows. DJs raced through peak hours with the berserk speed of a jeepney, infusing sets with blaring whistle hooks, bouncy basslines and genre-bending flair.

Though historically dismissed, these styles gained wider acceptance this year as artists grappled with the shakiness of Original Pilipino Music or OPM, a catch-all term for music made by Filipinos, mostly representing English and Tagalog ballads.

“OPM is such a dated word that never encapsulated what being Filipino means,” said DJ and producer Pikunin. This year, he performed alongside obese.dogma777 in a Boiler Room showcase with Manila Community Radio, spotlighting mutations of budots, the grassroots electronic music genre from the Bisaya-speaking region.

Pikunin observes a hybridity within electronic music in Manila, drawing influence from eurodance, hardstyle and 2-step, yet it’s tinged with unease, caused by the Philippines’ historical patronising of colonial cultures that artists have forcefully adapted to. For better or worse, this influence lends itself to a maximalist approach to music making, and Pikunin notices people cracking down on their identity this way.

These emerging sensibilities have also prompted organisers to engage with communities that offer a counterpoint to Manila’s party circuit, which predominantly caters to Western tourists. Whether through Boiler Room platforming budots or collaborations across provincial cities, Pikunin hopes this exploration will lead to more distinct sounds akin to Brazil’s baile funk or South Africa’s amapiano.

“We have budots,” he said, “but there could be more.”

Techno, hip-hop and the sounds of Palestinian resistance

Both techno and hip-hop were born out of the need to highlight and escape from the systemic oppression of the marginalised. So it comes as no surprise that both have shaped the sounds coming out of grassroots Palestinian solidarity.

Music has consistently played a pivotal role in solidarity, resistance and liberation movements, a tradition that UNION—a techno collective made up Palestinian DJs at home and in the diaspora, focused on four-to-the-floor sounds—is keen to continue. Since its inception in 2018, mainstays Sama’ Abdulhadi (who’s musical career began in a hip-hop battle group,) Darbak, Dj Dar, YA HU and YA Z AN have used collaborative DIY ethics to cultivate safe spaces where folks from diverse communities can come together, while also shedding light on the context and injustices brought about by the Israeli occupation.

2023 saw UNION’s fabric debut, a seminal moment that enabled the collective to gain wider international recognition and connect with high-profile artists beyond their home turf. Frequent visa application denials make it even harder for Palestinian artists to showcase their talents abroad. Hosting parties and finding venues in Palestine is also far from easy, a situation that has intensified this year since Israel’s prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu was sworn in for his sixth term last December. Existence in international spaces isn’t only a form of resistance; it also has political symbolism and significance that mustn’t be underestimated.

Also this year, women DJs from Palestine showed how creative practice can act as resistance. The all-women, non-profit Future Female Sounds, run by the DJ and activist Nour Palestina, launched a free DJ academy at the cultural centre Sabreen in Sheikh Jarrah, East Jerusalem. Although the Israeli occupation has prevented women from taking part due to the complex permit regime, which separates the occupied territories into Areas A, B, and C, eight aspiring DJs were given the chance to explore the sonic geography of electronic music and the non-judgmental connection that it offers

Palestinian hip-hop has given rise to many incredible talents such as Ramallah Underground, DAM and PR over the years. Founded by Al Nather, Shabjeed and Shabmour, the Ramallah-based label and collective BLTNM is enriching that lineage with its slew of recent releases and sold-out shows that saw them showcasing their version of Arab futurism on the world stage. Even before October 7th, MC Abdul from Gaza had been using his raps to advocate for peace through tracks like “Can I Live.” Signed to Ghazi Shami’s EMPIRE label, his 2023 record “The Pen & The Sword” is a strikingly poignant reflection on the lost dreams of young Gazans.

2023 also saw the tragic passing of my friend and cultural activist, Odai Masri AKA 3oddz. As founder of Exist Festival and label manager at Harara Records, he made an indelible mark on Palestine’s musical landscape by championing artists at home and abroad. He was loved by everyone lucky enough to know him.

More space and resources for queer and trans folks

Queer and trans people of colour practically invented dance music and club culture. Yet today, it’s dominated by the cis white men who helm its industries, hold the pursestrings and top lineups. Even in supposedly queer spaces, gay men often outnumber (and actively marginalise) women and trans people, while people of colour face overlapping barriers to access.

But thanks to advocates and frank conversations, 2023 saw clubs and festivals expand their efforts at diversifying crowds and bookings, particularly with the allocation of material resources. In Pennsylvania, Honcho Campout’s five-year-old Queer Fam Fund continued to set an example, offering free entry, meals, travel arrangements, camping gear, spending credit and dedicated spaces for people of colour and/or trans experience who received scholarships. This year, they added an accessibility talk and a QFF Ball spun by ballroom legend Byrell the Great to the programme. In Puerto Vallarta, Somos Festival massively improved its Trans Scholarship Fund while offering steeply discounted tickets for attendees from Latin America and ensuring Mexican artists, including many locals, composed half of its lineup.

Likewise in Europe, queer parties and collectives increasingly championed inclusivity programmes. Backed by a diverse roster of collectives and viral clips intended to educate gay men, Berlin’s burgeoning WHOLE Festival expanded its scholarship fund, plus a specialised Pillow Palace for SLINTA* folks within its Cruising Village. This year also saw Berghain’s first all-Black lineup when New York’s dweller festival took over both floors on a Friday night. In New York itself, certain premiere clubs and raves quietly offered free admission for trans folks and people of colour, noticeably improving crowd dynamics. It’s nice to see space being made for those who’ve long had to fight for it, yet still make the party what it is.

The Australian Sound

In 2023, the next generation of Australian dance music found its voice overseas. Australian prog was the sound du jour of 2022, led by a small but hard-to-miss wave of artists like Guy Contact, Solar Suite, DJ Life, Aldonna, Reflex Blue, Glen S and Hannah D. 2023 saw more Australian artists come to the fore with sounds beyond prog, such as Mabel, Suki, Kia, OK EG, dj pgz and C.Frim, who all spent time over in Europe and the UK after being unable to travel due to the severe lockdowns that plagued 2020 and 2021. They join a long list of exports already making names for themselves beyond homeshores, like Andy Garvey, Sleep D, Tornado Wallace and Roza Terenzi.

This distinct Australian sound has been bubbling away for decades, long before 2023 brought it global recognition. Because a lot of the country’s underground dance music culture happens in nature—from bush doofs and festivals to parties in parks and beaches—this seeps into the music, combining elements of progressive house, techno and psytrance with the organic, textural sounds of the outdoors. The pandemic meant that many local artists reconnected with nature and wrote music inspired by it. This year, the deep pulsating rhythms of the bush went worldwide.