British singer/songwriter/DJ/producer Aluna broke onto the global dance scene in 2013 as half of AlunaGeorge. Together, the U.K. dance duo headlined festivals and delivered infectious dancefloor burners like "I'm In Control," "I Remember" and a stellar cover of Montell Jordan's "This Is How We Do It" and notable features with Disclosure (2014's "White Noise"), Flume (2016's "Innocence") and other big names in dance.

Now, Aluna is in control as a solo artist and reclaiming her space as a Black woman in dance music. The now-massive genre has straight White men at its center, even though it was created by Black, brown and queer people in response to the racist disco backlash of 1979. With her debut solo album, Renaissance, released Aug. 28, she explores the roots of dance music, brings in messages of equality and empowerment and takes listeners through a journey of emotions and rhythms from dusk 'til dawn.

The "Warrior" artist has truly found her voice—not just within owning the creative control of her music, but in her online presence with weekly Aluna's Room DJ livestreams and curated playlists. In both spaces, she explores what dance music really means, highlighting producers of color and bringing in reggaetón, dancehall, Afro-fusion and more infectious rhythms of the world, questioning the media and industry's focus on White electronic DJ/producers.

In an open letter to the dance music community posted to her Instagram in June, Aluna directly calls out racism in dance and asks for more inclusive genre categorization. "When I started looking at all the challenges I face being a Black woman making dance I realized I wanted to do more than just create a space for myself—I want all black people to know that the genre of Dance is their heritage and they should feel included and encouraged to create under that banner by expanding the genre to be culturally and racially inclusive," she wrote with the post.

Ahead of Renaissance's release, we chatted with Aluna to learn more about her vision and creative process for the epic new project, as well as her mission to create a more inclusive dance music space.

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Your latest track "Get Paid" comes with a very important message. Can you speak to that, as well as what it was like collaborating with Princess Nokia and Jada Kingdom on it?

I can't say that in the writing studio I had an agenda, I generally don't, but what I need to say, happens. So, I needed to sing about what it's like being a Black woman and a woman of color trying to get paid in the world. Often, my go-to is a way to create an aspirational, celebratory moment and "Get Paid" is a celebration of us getting paid. Sometimes we do get paid, but we just want more of it, we want it consistently, we want it fairly and we want it to match our worth and our contributions.

Princess Nokia is outspoken in so many different ways. She's basically the epitome of woman power, but she also stands for LGBTQIA+ rights. And she's an activist in such an eloquent way that I really wanted her input in this song to complete the picture. And we did an interpolation of a classic Jamaican dancehall song ["Heads High" by Mr. Vegas from 1998]. I've been listening to "Banana" by Jada Kingdom and I had that in my DJ set, and I was like, "Oh, she is going to finish this puzzle. She's the last piece of the puzzle to make the full, beautiful picture." When she sent in her verse, I was so emotional because it's powerful, but it's so beautiful and sexy as well. And that's so important to me in music—your flow's got to be down, along with the beauty, the melody and the words.

Like "Get Paid," "Body Pump" is such a bop, I've had it on repeat. Could you take us through the creative process of "Body Pump"—did it start with the beat, the lyrics, a concept? And how did it evolve?

Well, me and Josh [Lloyd-Watson of Jungle, who co-produced the track with her] are two really strong heads in the studio, so we spent a good few hours bumping heads, it was pretty funny. We had our egos all up in the space, we had our own ideas. It was really towards the end of the evening when we started to get going. And we started from scratch. We'd listened to a lot of music, and we were like, "No, we can't work with anything that's already started." We started to build this song, and I was like, "We're getting somewhere." We were really collaborating on every sound, every instrument, every bit of vocal, he had me shouting stuff into the mic, he was like, "Louder! Louder!" I was like, "Oh my God, this is so scary!" [Laughs.]

Then the computer crashed and we fully lost the whole song. At the time, I was six or seven months pregnant, and I was not having any time wasted. So, I was like, "I'm going to get you a bottle of wine, and I'm going to use my memory to take you through, step by step, rebuilding the entire song from scratch." And he was like, "Oh my God, I'm so happy that you are down. So many artists would have just given up and gone home." I was like, "Hell no, I'll live here, mother***er. I'm not going anywhere until this song is back."

I knew there was something about it. And some magic might get added from us redoing it. That part at the end where it goes off, the really fast clapping and stuff, came out as a mistake and we were like, "Oh wait, what happened? Let's keep it." It was a really, really fun experience.

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Was it one of the first songs you worked on for the album or where did that process begin? Where was the starting point for you with the larger album?

That was in July [2019] and I'd started working in February. I don't know what the first song is that I wrote. One of the earliest ones was "Off Guard" and "Whistle" from the album. And you can hear how open I was at that stage. When I started writing, because I'm a very versatile artist, I was like, "I can make anything. Yay. Let's go." And I did make anything, I made everything. For this record, there was 50 songs. And then I was like, "No, I'm going to make a dance record. That's what I'm going to do." I started to move in a particular direction.

"Off Guard" and "Whistle" are from the pre-directional part of the album, but I wanted to include them, because for me, an album is really a journey with a main story to it. [On Renaissance,] the main story is a dance story. For me, when you go to the club, you have this really specific period of time that you dance for. But you also have the side room where you are with a friend or a sexy partner or something, when you add that moment to your experience, you get that full spectrum. It's like the house party and you had your dance for a moment, and then we found the room upstairs where everyone was smoking and drinking and chilling and you were like, "This is amazing too." So, those songs were on the album as well. And then, it's book-ended with, I don't know, a psychedelic. I mean, it's definitely 6:00 a.m., anywhere in the world, at the end of the record. And the beginning is maybe 9:00 a.m., but it's the start of the day, the other end.

I do remember the first song I wrote. I wrote "I've Been Starting To Love All The Things I Hate" [the album's first track] way before I started to write this album. It was just a piano piece on a voice message. Then, I expanded it into a full song.

Picking the songs took almost as long as writing them. Oh, it's agonizing. I have these full on spreadsheets and diagrams. I printed out the names of all the songs and cut them out and put them on cards so that I could mix and match. It was lots of that. Because it's a sauce, it's a big sauce and it has to have all the right ingredients in there and you can't have any missing ingredients.

Do you think you would do a B-sides or maybe sprinkle out some of the other songs after the album in some of the format?

There were some choice songs that didn't get on record. Sometimes, they were songs that would stand alone better—this is a single, a song that doesn't play well with others. There were also a few songs that were in that vein of something already on the album. So, let's not have two of them.

The album is coming out in just under a month. You've put out a bunch of music in the past, but this is your debut solo project. How are you feeling about offering that up to the world?

I'm curious to see what environment it's going to come out in. We just don't know from month to month what world we're living in. I mean, I had never planned to tour the album immediately upon releasing it. I wanted to let people sit with the music for a little while before I went on the road. But with that not on the horizon, I'm glad that I created the album in a way that I did, because it's not rave from start to finish—it will take you to that raving point and bring you back down again. So, it's really good for being in the house or being in the car and in all the environments that we're living in at the moment, which is cool.

I also feel, because everyone's indoors a lot of the time, they'll be able to listen in a less distracted environment, which for me is always a bonus, because people might listen to the lyrics, which would be fun. I don't expect people to listen to lyrics, but if they do then they'll enjoy them.

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When you were working on this project and decided you wanted to make a dance album, what caused that shift?

Well, there had been lots of messages coming my way that weren't getting through the sleek barrier of fear and trepidation that I had. As a featured artist in dance, I'd kind of been a guest in that genre. I saw it as a very White genre and as a Black person, I didn't feel invited. I didn't feel like I could take that genre and do what I wanted with it as an uninvited person.

But I had been in situations where I'd seen one or two Black girls in the crowd when I was guesting on a White peer's festival show that I was jumping on to. So, I would see them. And at my shows, I would see a few Black girls waiting right to the end where I play all my dance records for AlunaGeorge. And I was like, "Okay, well, there's that." The final piece was discovering the history of dance and realizing that my feeling of being uninvited didn't make any sense. It was completely ridiculous. I still felt uncomfortable and like I was going to be doing something that nobody really wanted, but that's never really stopping me from doing anything. So, I went ahead and did it, I just needed a little bit of ammunition.

It's the proof that the feelings that you're feeling—that it wasn't just you. 

The feelings that I was feeling were based on a reality that was a lie, which, quite honestly, made me angry. It made me angry that I had to feel uncomfortable doing something that was part of my heritage and that it had held me back even for a second. And then I was like, "Quick, hurry up." Which then took me a year and a half.

On that note, in June, you posted your powerful open letter to the dance music community. Can you speak to what the response from within the music community so far has felt like for you?

The response has been one of curiosity. I've had quite a few different executives and people in the inner circle of DSPs [digital service providers], curious about what to do. So, that's been good. It's nice to have curiosity. I think action is going to be—I'm a big believer in embracing the chaos. I think that we need to—and we probably will—go through a period of chaos when it comes to the genre.

What I'm calling for is to shake the genre up. I'm not expecting the dust to settle for a little while. So, there's lots of different conversations about what is dance, what genres of dance have been left out of the genre, which ones should now be included, which ones are more mainstream, which ones are underground. Is electronic the main sound of dance anymore, regardless of how it's being categorized in reality? Is electronic actually a sub-genre as opposed to the main body of dance music?

All these questions are really, really fun to be asking because if I was going to invent a world, a world that is exciting and fresh and ever-changing, I don't think I would put White, straight men at the center of that world. I don't even think a White straight man would create that world. Those are the people that maybe run things, but we're talking about parties, we're talking about dancing, we're talking about culture, we're talking about unity, we're talking about festivals. When in history has a White straight man been the catalyst for that type of cross-cultural, open sexuality, joyful getting together? It just needs to be reflective of the activity of partying, dancing, unity, expression and things like that.

"This music should be put in the position where they're able to get access to the mainstream ear, because it is mainstream music… If it's good enough to be appropriated, then it's good enough to be listened to in its original form and by the original creators."

Can you give us an outline of what you called for in the letter?

I would like every platform and organization that categorizes music to reanalyze what they consider to be dance music. When they're considering that, they need to look at globally and culturally, what do people dance to? The answer is dancehall, afrobeat, reggaetón, house music and the sub genres of those as well. I think that'll go a long way in bringing people who make dance music around the world together, because at the moment it's really segregated. Really what it comes down to is the listener is being made to jump and go down the back alleys of these platforms. I consider this music to be mainstream dance music, they're not sub-sub-genres. They are sub-genres of dance, but they're not sub-sub-sub-sub-sub-sub-genres, which is where they're currently categorized.

This music should be put in the position where they're able to get access to the mainstream ear, because it is mainstream music. The evidence is in the pop songs that use those types of music as their complete fundamental foundation. The evidence is also in White producers using those beats to freshen the sound of dance music at the moment. If it's good enough to be appropriated, then it's good enough to be listened to in its original form and by the original creators.

If the dance community was happy to just live in a completely monocultured ecosystem of listening only to the Eurocentric ideal and accepted sound of dance music, then just copy it and copy it and copy it until dance music is no longer a relevant genre to anyone, then fine, but that's not what anyone wants.

What has it felt like for you so far to step out as a solo artist, and to be making your music for you and producing as well?

It's created many new dreams for me. Now, I have this dream that is feeling more and more tangible—basically, a festival/rave with Black gal ravers all over the place, not just one Black gal raver in a sea of White people, looking really out of place. I just think that would be so much fun.

Do you have a message for young Black women and girls who are wanting to share their voice and their vision in music, but not really sure where to start or how to do that in a way that feels safe to them?

It's difficult. I try to speak through my actions. I have made dance records as a Black woman, and some of the music has been received well because it fits into the traditional dance music sound. And we shall see how this record is received, but I don't care.

What do I say to young Black girls? They're needed and wanted, and their creative perspective, their creative juices and flavors are needed and wanted.

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I really love your Dance Renaissance playlist on Spotify. Can you talk a bit about some of the artists you've featured on it?

I've got UNiiQU3, I've got Jayda G. I've got some original creators of dance music like Mr. Fingers and Larry Heard on there, because I wanted to mix a history with the current stuff. And Black Coffee, Azari, Rema, AJ Tracey and Cookiee Kawaii. Also, Skales—"Shake Body" is one of my favorite songs. This playlist was really what I was just performing in my DJ set that week. It was an exploration, I wanted to see what a Larry Heard track sounded like alongside a UNiiQU3 or TT The Artist or Jayda G. And I was exploring Black dance artists in general.

I have a huge collection. The next thing I want to do is make a global dance playlist that really captures the hottest new tracks from around the world. Because paying homage to history is really important, but one of the things that can happen is if you only do that, you miss out on the current moment and you can't make up for that later, because those people need support right now. We need to know how hot this new sh*t is.

And honestly, COVID has been a huge opportunity for me, for my crate-digging endeavors and more. It's really, really been amazing to think about changing the landscape of the way we consume dance music, so that all of these songs I've been enjoying as a DJ will get more recognition and more respect. And be celebrated in a way that will elevate them through to pop, which I think is really important for any artists working within a genre to be cared for in that way and have that motivation.

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You're so right. At the end of the day, streaming playlists have so much power. The number of streams that come from some of those top Spotify playlists is wild. It really shows how much potential there is for shifting things and for, like you're doing, changing the conversation.

Right. That job has to be done very, very carefully if you're doing what I'm doing, because this Dance Renaissance playlist is my first attempt on working on something at the moment, which is much, much more curated as a DJ. And I think that's really important when I'm showing how jersey club, dancehall, house, techno and afrobeat can live together on the dancefloor.

The reason that I know that is because I'm a Black woman, but I'm also multicultural. So, I have all of these global influences in my blood. I work in harmony with myself, so I know there's a possibility for all those things to work in harmony. I apply that when I'm selecting my songs. I'm not someone who is just trying to elevate one genre of dance. I'm an ambassador of unity, really based on the simple idea that I'm trying to create the best quality.

For me, if I go to a club and there's only one type of music playing, I can't do it. I can do about half an hour, but I can't do monocultured anything. I'm just not that person. Myself and the future of our world is getting more and more multicultural. We can all be fighting against each other, but behind the fight, everyone's having sex and making babies, by the way. And they will multicultural. It's inevitable. I'm creating the music for those kids to feel comfortable listening to.

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Curtis Jones is a dance music legend, whose multiple monikers only begin to demonstrate his deep and varied influence in the genre.

Jones has been active as a producer and DJ for decades, and is among a cadre of dance music acts forging a connection between the genre's origins and its modern iterations. Crucially, he  joined Chicago house legends Honey Dijon and Terry Hunter on Beyoncé's house-infused RENAISSANCE, providing a sample for "Cozy." He’s also produced tracks with house favorites Chris Lake and Oliver Heldens, and DJed with Dom Dolla and John Summit.

Jones contributed to the aforementioned collaborations, young and old, as Green Velvet. He’s been releasing dance hits like "Flash" and "Answering Machine" under that name since the mid- '90s. He is also currently a staple of the live circuit, his signature green mohawk vibing in clubs and festivals around the globe — including at his own La La Land parties in Los Angeles, Denver, Orlando, and elsewhere.

Green Velvet is appropriately braggadocious, even releasing the popular "Bigger Than Prince" in 2013. But by the time Jones had released the heavy-grooving tech house track, his artistry had been percolating for decades as Cajmere.

Where Green Velvet releases lean into acid house and Detroit techno, Cajmere is all about the traditional house sound of Jones’ hometown of Chicago. When Jones first debuted Cajmere in 1991, Chicago’s now-historic reputation for house music was still developing. Decades after the original release, Cajmere tracks like "Percolator,” have sustained the Windy City sound via remixes by prominent house artists like Will Clarke, Jamie Jones, and Claude VonStroke.

"I love doing music under both of my aliases, so it’s great when fans discover the truth,” Jones tells GRAMMY.com over email. Often, Jones performs as Cajmere to open his La La Land parties, and closes as Green Velvet. 

But beyond a few scattered performances and new tracks, Cajmere has remained dormant while Green Velvet became a worldwide headliner, topping bills in Mexico City, Toronto, Bogotá and other international dance destinations. He’s only shared two original releases as Cajmere since 2016: "Baby Talk,” and "Love Foundation,” a co-production with fellow veteran Chicago producer/DJ Gene Farris.

This year, Jones is reviving Cajmere to headliner status with his new live event series, Legends. First held in March in Miami, Jones' Legends aims to highlight other dance music legends, from Detroit techno pioneers Stacey Pullen and Carl Craig, to Chicago house maven Marshall Jefferson. 

"My intention is to shine a light on those who sacrificed so much to keep house music alive," Jones writes. "The sad reality is that most of the legendary artists aren’t celebrated or compensated as well as they should be."

Given that dance music came into the popular music zeitgeist relatively recently, the originators of the genre — like the artists Jones booked for his Legends party — are still in their prime. Giving them space to perform allows them to apply the same innovation they had in the early '90s in 2024.

Jones says the Miami Legends launch was an amazing success."Seeing the passion everyone, young and old, displayed was so inspiring."

Curtis Jones, center, DJs at the Miami Legends party ┃Courtesy of the artist

The first Legends party also served as a celebration of Cajual Records, the label Jones launched in 1992 as a home for his Cajmere music. Over the past three decades, Cajual has also released tracks from dance music veterans such as Riva Starr, as well as contemporary tastemakers like Sonny Fodera and DJ E-Clyps. 

Furthermore, Jones’ partnership with revered singers such as Russoul and Dajae (the latter of whom still performs with him to this day) on Cajual releases like "Say U Will” and "Waterfall” helped to define the vocal-house style.

Like the Cajmere project, Cajual Records has been moving slower in recent years. The label has only shared four releases since 2018. True to form, though, Jones started another label; Relief Records, the home of Green Velvet's music, shared 10 releases in 2023 alone.

Jones says he's been particularly prolific as Green Velvet because "the genres of tech house and techno have allowed me the creative freedom I require as an artist."

Now Jones is making "loads of music” as Cajmere again and recently signed a new distribution deal for Cajual Records. The true sound of Chicago is resonating with audiences in 2024, Jones says, adding "it's nice that house is making a comeback."

Jones remembers when house music was especially unpopular. He used to call radio stations in the '80s to play tracks like Jamie Principle's underground classic "Waiting On My Angel,” only to be told they didn’t play house music whatsoever. In 2024, house music records like FISHER’s "Losing It” were certified gold, and received nominations for Best Dance Recording at the 66th GRAMMY Awards. Jones is embracing this popularity with open arms.

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"The new audience it’s attracting is excited to hear unique underground-style house records now. This is perfect for my Cajmere sets,” Jones says. "I never saw Green Velvet being more popular than Cajmere, and both sounds being as popular as they are even today.” 

While Jones is finding success in his own artistic endeavors, he points to a general lack of appreciation for Black dance artists in festival bookings. Looking at the run-of-show for ARC Festival, a festival in Chicago dedicated to house and techno music, legendary artists play some of the earliest slots. 

For the 2023 edition, Carl Craig played at 3 p.m on Saturday while the young, white John Summit, closed the festival the same night. In 2021, the acid house inventor, Chicago’s DJ Pierre, played the opening set at 2 p.m. on Saturday, while FISHER, another younger white artist, was the headliner.

In 2020, Marshall Jefferson penned an op-ed in Mixmag about the losing battle he is fighting as a Black DJ from the '90s. He mentions that younger white artists often receive upwards of $250,000 for one gig, whereas he receives around $2,000, despite the fact that he still DJs to packed crowds 30 years after he started.

Jones is doing his part to even the playing field with Legends, and according to him, things are going well after the first edition. "Seeing how much respect the fans have for the Legends was so special,” Jones says. "Hopefully they become trendy again.” 

The story of Curtis Jones is already one of legend, but it is far from over. "I feel it’s my duty to continue to make creative and innovative tracks as well as musical events. I love shining the light on new upcoming and emerging artists as well as giving the originators their proper dues,” Jones says. 

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Since Nia Archives came on the scene in 2020, she has been making noise.

The 24-year-old native of Northern England produces jungle — the dance subgenre known for its loud, raucous breakbeats — and her achievements in her short career (figuratively) match the volume of her chosen style.

Over four years, Nia Archives has released tracks with tens of millions of Spotify streams like "Headz Gone West" and "Sober Feelz," started her own event series, Up Ya Archives, and become friends with the jungle originator Goldie. Nia also closed a stage at Coachella 2023, and opened for Beyoncé during the London RENAISSANCE tour show.

Nia’s also made significant strides for equality in dance music. In 2022, she wrote a letter to Britain’s MOBO (Music Of Black Origin) Awards imploring them to include a dance and electronic music category. In response, not only did they add the category that same year, but Nia won it.

For as much noise as she’s made in recent years, Nia always makes room in her life for contrast. Out April 12, Nia Archives' debut album, Silence Is Loud, the singer, producer, and DJ shows that there is just as much power in the quiet.

"Silence can be weakness for some people: You didn't say what you wanted to say; you were too weak to make noise," Nia tells GRAMMY.com. "But it can also be powerful. Keeping your silence. Holding your tongue and not saying what might not have been beneficial." 

This contrast is central to Nia’s music, and sees new heights on Silence. Her sweet, ringing voice counters the heaviness of jungle beats, while lighter genres are layered over fast-moving breaks. On tracks "Cards On The Table" and "Out of Options," the melodic foundation is built on Britpop-esque acoustic guitar chords. On the album's title track, Nia contrasts massive kick drums and high-pitched squeals, with softer, heartfelt lyrics detailing her dependence on her little brother.

GRAMMY.com spoke to Nia Archives about finding balance in contrast, her writing process, and making noise in the near-silent U.S. jungle scene.

This interview has been edited for clarity.

The hallmark of jungle music is busy breakbeats. How do you incorporate the concept of silence into the genre?

Jungle is so chaotic and intense. That's one of the things I've always loved about the music — the hectic drum patterns. But in my music, the songwriting is always quite emotional with a lot of meaning in it. Bringing the two together always makes something quite interesting. 

With this project, I really wanted to focus on songwriting. I took the time to research the great songwriters from the Beatles to Amy Winehouse, Radiohead, Blur. Kings of Leon were a huge inspiration to me throughout this project as well. 

In the past, a lot of music I was writing was quite surface-level. I wasn't going as inward as I could; maybe out of fear. The process of this project was different. 

I'd write the songs in bed in the morning, and then make the drum patterns on my laptop. I’d take my little demo [to my friend and producer Ethan P. Flynn] and we’d make the song in like three hours. That process really worked for me because it meant I could really get deep. 

I'd write loads of sh-t lyrics before I got to the good lyrics. In studios, it’s hard to get all the rubbish thoughts in your head and say them in front of people. So I quite enjoyed the privacy of writing in bed and taking it to Ethan. We’d just have fun and bang out all the tunes. 

How did the work of the Beatles and Radiohead manifest when you were making the album?

I've got really eclectic taste in music. I love jungle, that's my bread and butter, but I’ve always found fun in fusing genres together to make something new. 

I really enjoy deep-diving into the Beatles, Blur or Radiohead, [and] listening to the structures and the instrument choices. There are certain things that make them what they are, especially Blur with Britpop. I was listening to the Ronettes and a lot of Motown. I went to Detroit last year, and I got to go to the Motown Museum. I found that really inspiring; those productions, it's crazy what they did with what they had.

I'll never be able to make music how the people that I listen to make it — especially when you bring in jungle beats and 170 BPM. It's always gonna be a slightly off-kilter version of the original inspiration. But I think that makes something quite fun and unique.

Blur's Damon Albarn also leads Gorillaz, opening him up to all manner of collaborations. What would you think about being on a Gorillaz track at some point?

It'd be a dream come true! If there's anybody that I'm trying to get to listen to my album. It's definitely Damon Albarn. I'm actually gonna send him an unsolicited vinyl just because I really love his music. He's an incredible musician, artist, everything. He's a big inspiration to me.

You’ve said in previous interviews that jungle is "anything over a breakbeat." Why do you think contrasting sounds can fit so well over a breakbeat?

I think jungle, especially in the '90s, was so futuristic. The breaks themselves, depending on how you construct them, are so versatile. The breaks have so much room to go in whatever direction you want. You can go really heavy, or you can go really light and atmospheric. 

All of the original junglists have their own style. They weren't all trying to be the same. They were very strong in their identity, which is one of the other things I love about it.

What kind of modern music are you excited about integrating into jungle?

I quite like a lot of happy hardcore stuff, which is not new. I really enjoy those melodies [and you don't really hear that sound as much. I really love disco; I'd like to do something like that. 

You’re one of the only artists, if not the only jungle artist of this generation who has built an audience in the U.S. You’ve played Coachella and headlined U.S. tours. How does it feel to be a driving force in introducing jungle to America?

Older generations know about jungle. But I feel like a lot of the young kids in the U.S. are definitely discovering it, which is super exciting. It's really cool to build community in America as well. Every time I've played in America I get the proper ravers down. 

A big part of jungle is the culture and the community that comes with it. We have such a rich culture in the UK; we're kind of spoiled. Whereas in America it feels like people who like that music, they're still building [community].

I love playing in New York cause they've got a lot of new-gen junglists. There's a few new producers who are like 20-21 [years old] who I always hang out with when I go to New York. It's really cool to see their take on jungle, 'cause the American producers that I know have a different view of it.

In the UK we have so many jungle nights and so many raves constantly. In America, those jungle nights feel quite special and one-off. I feel really excited to keep coming back and keep building that community in America. I'm excited to see all the new producers that come up in the next couple of years, as well.

Have you supported any new American junglists by inviting them to perform at an Up Ya Archives party or playing out their tracks live?

There's a kid called Dazegxd. I got him on my Lot Radio takeover for Up Ya Archives. Then he actually played at the Knockdown Center [in Queens, NY] for me which was amazing.

I've booked him to play his first London show at an Up Ya Archives party. That's a really meaningful connection to me 'cause he's quite young and he's so excited about the music; he's proper geeking out about jungle. I love people like that because I'm also a geek of this music.

I'm looking forward to meeting more people like that. I love creating friendships and relationships with people and getting them to play my parties. 

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Where do you see your career, and jungle as a whole, going in the future?

I'd love to keep building on what I'm doing. My album, I'm hoping, is my flag in the sand moment for who I am as an album artist. There's a lot of fusions, and I'm hoping that people can hear it and understand where I'm trying to go.

I hope to make more albums and keep traveling the world. I've got a lot of exciting touring coming up this year. If I can do what I'm doing now, but a bit better in five years, I'll be a very happy person. 

My goal in life, similar to Goldie, is to do what I'm doing for the rest of my life. They've been doing it for 30 years. People come and go, but they've held it down for as long as they have, and they're still as relevant as they were 30 years ago.

That's what I want in my career. To still be able to play music and make music when I'm like 50. That is the real goal.

5 Women Essential To Electronic Music: TOKiMONSTA, Shygirl, Nina Kraviz & More

The album cover photo for Mount Kimbie’s fourth LP, The Sunset Violent, captures a mundane yet curious slice of life: A car nearly tipped over and abandoned on the side of a road lined with towering cornfields. According to members Kai Campos and Dom Maker, it was taken by photographer T-Bone Fletcher as part of a project documenting his travels across the U.S. 

"There was something so peculiar about the whole scene," Maker tells GRAMMY.com, "and just kind of oddly unsettling whilst being quite peaceful at the same time." Adds Campos, "It's just such a great start to a story as well."

The making of The Sunset Violent could be its own arthouse film. In 2021, the two Brits drove to the California desert at the height of summer. Their AirBnB, with its cornhole board and ping-pong table, possessed the energy of an old frat house. The horizons were endless; entertainment options were less so, which provided the focus they needed to create. Six weeks of melting heat, arid landscapes, and wandering imaginations became sun-baked into the album’s nine tracks  — a collection of surrealist short stories, hazy guitars, and indie-rock textures that feel vast, almost exposing, and deeply rooted in its space.

"I think when you see the horizon just go on forever, it does something to your brain that creates space for ideas," Campos says. "It's definitely the most American record we've made."

Those Yucca Valley creations seem a world away from the London dubstep scene in which Maker and Campos launched Mount Kimbie. Their 2010 debut LP Crooks & Lovers pushed genre boundaries through delicate and intricate electronic compositions more suited for headphones than subwoofer-rattling. Their next two albums incorporated live instruments, original vocals, and more traditional song structure, and with live shows a bigger focus, they recruited drummer Marc Pell and keyboardist Andrea Balency-Béarn for their touring band. 

Maker and Campos' paths even diverged for a time. Maker relocated to Los Angeles in 2016 and produced for James Blake, Jay-Z, Travis Scott, and others, while Campos turned to DJing. On their 2022 double album MK 3.5: Die Cuts | City Planning, each worked on his half independently of the other, building two worlds inhabited by separate sonic ecosystems.

Their desert reunion showed them the way forward, together, to a sound and style they "want to keep doing more of, which we haven't really had before," Maker says. That included Pell and Balency-Béarn officially joining Mount Kimbie, and Maker returning to London.

Ahead of the album’s April 5 release, Maker and Campos sat down with GRAMMY.com to chronicle their "inevitable" journey to The Sunset Violent.

This Q&A has been edited for length and clarity.

Dom, it’s funny that you made this album, one so rooted in California, right before moving back to London. Is it me or are California albums a rite of passage for bands these days?

Dom Maker: It’s quite strange because we didn't really attach that much to the trip to California when we were out there. But in retrospect, and in actually speaking about this record in interviews and with friends, we started to realize how much that experience really bled into it; sort of the end of an era there for me. So it felt good to come away with a document of that period of time in my life.

Kai Campos: Like Dom said, we hadn't really considered how American in aesthetic it was. I think when you grow up in the UK and other parts of the world, you kind of inherit a lot of American culture at the same time, so you're always having this slightly removed relationship with it. The guitar music that I listened to when I was thinking about this album was mostly American, and it was just an interesting place to think about writing from. Over the last 10 years or longer, [we have] been so associated with London, so it was interesting to remove ourselves from that familiar situation in some ways.

That area of California in particular, so close to L.A., is very accessible and you can be there in a couple of hours in the car. At the same time, it feels really remote and unique and special, the landscapes and stuff like that. 

Can you tell me more about the guitar music you were listening to while making this album?

Campos: Sometimes there's songs or bands that I’ll hear one time, years and years before, and it'll always be in my head that I'm going to try and take whatever experience I had from listening to that and try and make some work. So there's all these little bits and pieces that collect over the years until there's enough of a space where I feel like, okay, I feel like I have a voice in this. Sometimes it's just one song from a band. There’s a track called "Rena" by Sonic Youth that I heard more than a decade ago that’s always been in the back of my head: One day, I'm going to try and rip that off.

Then there's other things to do with the sound of the guitars. There's a band called Land of Talk that has this super flat, compressed guitar sound that just sparked something in my head. And then more jam band, almost comical American guitar music, like NRBQ. All of these things just sit around in the soup in your brain until you find a way to articulate them yourself. I think the record in general is the friction between being British and how you interact with American culture in general.

Can you expand on that?

Campos: When you're a kid in the UK — I'm thinking early to mid-'90s — America is a bit of a fairytale, and it seems so shiny and exciting. Obviously, because it's a real place, it's way more complicated than that. And so there's a little bit of the fairytale kind of crumbling. At the same time [there's] Dom's perspective as somebody who had been living there for a long time. So it wasn't a conscious thing, but when we reflected on the record, we realized that there may be a theme here.

Maker: For me it was skating. All the skate stuff that I watched was from the States and it was like, oh my god, it's sunny all the time there. And that alone was amazing. 

I thought that America would be way more similar to where I'm from, the way things worked and the people I would be around. And that's completely not the case. That kind of friction, I found, was quite juicy as inspiration — not necessarily friction in a negative sense, but just that abrasiveness between my understanding of the world and the world around me. Even more so when you go to the desert  — the deepest, darkest like Yucca Valley in California  — that really made a lot of this record flourish.

The Sunset Violent is a lyric from your song "Dumb Guitar." It’s a visceral phrase that stirs me even if I can't quite grasp what it means. How do you interpret it, and how does that inform the record?

Maker: Honestly, that's kind of exactly how I feel, the way you feel about it. We picked out a few lyrics that we liked; it’s really not really a well-thought-out sort of title or anything. It just felt fitting for the sound and for that slight friction: The peacefulness of a sunset, and then the violence doesn't seem to fit, but it kind of does in a weird way. 

A big part of the record in general for us, especially for me with the lyric writing, was trying to set a scene that was a little bit unorthodox and maybe even slightly comical. So yeah, "the sunset violent" just felt like the one line that really stuck out. I love it more and more every time I think about it.

Is there a lyrical thread throughout the album, or is each song its own chapter?

Maker: I think each song is definitely its own short story. Some of my favorite writing that I've ever read is by Roald Dahl. A lot of his adult writing is brilliant because each story just casts a spell on you and takes you to a completely different place. With this album, I wanted to really tap into my love of short stories and writing that's very much fiction. It has some grounding in reality, but there's that fictional feel to it. 

I suppose it’s a new thing for me because I've really never written lyrics for this project. There's never been any sort of lead vocal from the band internally. So it was quite difficult for me initially to try and figure out what I wanted to say. Then I was like, well, actually I don't really want to say anything, and that was quite freeing in itself. 

I read about how the Pixies wrote "Where is My Mind?" — I was like, where are these f—ing insane lyrics from? — and he's like, "Oh, I was snorkeling in the Bahamas and I was just writing about a fish that I saw." The idea of just letting go of trying to write about something was really, really good for me. Absorbing surroundings and trying to feed some of the visuals that I was seeing into the writing was the main thing I wanted to do.

What specific visuals stand out?

Maker: I think the world of "Dumb Guitar": The idea of this slowly degrading, failing relationship and it all kind of coming to a head in this weird resort in China on a beach. I've never been to a beach in China, but I imagine everything's a bit artificial. 

What song would you say became the core of the album? The track where you realized, yes, this is the direction that we should go?

Campos: Yeah, there's a few different moments. You need that initial thing to happen where you get really excited and have enough of a vision to move in a certain direction, and that probably was "Dumb Guitar." 

There were maybe a couple of false starts before that. But ["Dumb Guitar"] was the first one that in terms of the songwriting made me a bit uncomfortable. You try to take that as a good sign [that] you're doing something new to you. To me that was more conventional songwriting, which I would never have done in the past. Even something as simple as a chord that leads into the chorus: It makes the human monkey brain feel good.

That was one of the first ones that Dom had written, and that was such an exciting moment to hear the lyrics and song really come to life. Writing [instrumentation] with vocals in mind is so much more freeing. The vocals are doing so much that you don't have to; you can work in a more subtle way and not try and demand everyone's attention all the time with the music. 

I think "Fish Brain" was another one that really came together. That was probably the one that we worked with Andrea very closely in finishing the song and it really helped us push it to another level. 

How would you say The Sunset Violent evolves Mount Kimbie’s sound from your 2017 album Love What Survives?

Campos: [Our goal was to] write in a way that was more direct. Obviously that can mean lots of different things, but whatever the shortest route for an idea to get executed was what I thought would be interesting to do. I guess that really means [being] more accessible. 

But obviously it wasn't a shot at commercial success. It just so happened that the idea of writing songs that were catchy— just really as simple as they could be, while still being interesting and having quality. That was the major difference from the work that we've done in the past… You can kind of see the evolution of the band through the records. To me, this one feels quite fundamentally different in the way that the songs are written.

In what way?

Campos: I think just the simplicity, or the feeling of simplicity. What I realized over the years was that the pop music that I really enjoyed, or the songwriting that I really enjoyed, sounded simple. And then when you dig into it and try to deconstruct it, you realize there's actually these very important nuances to it that make it work, but from the listener's perspective, it just feels right. 

So it was just trying to do that: have these songs that make you feel something in your gut, but you don't necessarily need to understand why. 

Your music has evolved so much since Crooks & Lovers. Looking back, are you surprised where you've ended up? Or do you feel it was inevitable?

Maker: Oddly, I was thinking about this today. I think it was actually inevitable because we were just really interested in and excited by a certain style and scene in music when we first moved to London when we were younger; 2009, 2010, that era. It was a fascination that really is in just a place and time. 

A lot of that reminds me of growing up, us figuring out London, moving from small towns to the big city, and everything about it being exciting. But I think the fact that we immediately were like, we need to play this live said a lot. Through the years that's been a huge thing, the live show, and trying to approach these songs live has always been something we've really enjoyed doing, and we've got so many amazing memories doing it.It sort of naturally has landed us in this scenario where the sound that we have at the moment feels like something that we want to keep doing more of, which we haven't really had before. We've made records and it's been a long process making them, then when you get to the end, it's sort of like, we should find something new. But, this time, we finished the record and immediately there's still this burning energy to keep going with this sound and writing style. It feels really good and exciting, and I'm glad that the road led us to where we're at now. 

How LP Giobbi & Femme House Are Making Space For Women In Dance Music: "If You Really Want To Make A Change, It Can Be Done"

A dance floor just isn’t the same without a bustling crowd of attendees bobbing to the beat. Nor would electronic music be electronic music without its culture-shifting women.

Women are effecting change while commanding dance floors, a duality inherent to the experience of being a woman in electronic music. Although women are becoming more visible across the genre — gracing the covers of editorial playlists, starting labels, and topping lineups — most do not operate in the limelight. Many, like some of the changemakers underscored below, work tirelessly behind the scenes toward a more equitable future. 

The women on this list span generations and creative roles, but are unified by their propulsive contributions to the electronic space. By persisting against the status quo and excelling at their respective crafts, they have and will continue to expand what’s possible for women in electronic music. 

To honor Women’s History Month, GRAMMY.com highlights some of the many needle-moving women in electronic music, as well as one rising talent, working as DJs, producers, organizers, and broadcasters.

Annie Nightingale

Radio Broadcaster & Television Presenter

"This is the woman who changed the face and sound of British TV and radio broadcasting forever. You can’t underestimate it," fellow BBC Radio 1 broadcaster, Annie Mac, wrote in an Instagram post honoring the life and legacy of the late Annie Nightingale. Nightingale died on Jan. 11, 2024, at her home in London. She was 83.

There is nothing hyperbolic about Mac’s characterization of Nightingale. After beginning her career as a journalist, Nightingale went on to have an enduring impact on the airwaves and was a pioneering presence in radio and television broadcasting. In addition to becoming BBC Radio 1’s first woman presenter, Nightingale, who joined the station in 1970, was also its longest-serving host. She maintains the Guinness Book of Records’ world record for the"Longest Career as a Radio Presenter (Female). Nightingale notably also co-hosted BBC’s weekly TV show, "The Old Grey Whistle Test." 

Across her six decades in broadcasting, Nightingale became both a trailblazer and, later, an emblem of what was possible for women in the industry. A celebrated tastemaker who took her talents to the decks, DJing festivals around the world, Nightingale paved the way for the following generations of women broadcasters and radio DJs while famously turning listeners on to releases running the gamut of genres: punk, grime, acid house, and everything in between. In 2021, she established an eponymous scholarship (“The Annie Nightingale Presents Scholarship”) to empower women and non-binary DJs in electronic music. The three recipients selected annually are featured in a special edition of “Annie Nightingale Presents” on Radio 1.

“Ever since I began, I have wanted to help other young broadcasters passionate about music to achieve their dreams on the airwaves, and now we at Radio 1 are to put that on a proper footing,” Nightingale said at the time of the scholarship’s foundation.

Beyond broadcasting and DJing, Nightingale also embraced the written word. She published three memoirs, Chase the Fade (1981), Wicked Speed (1999), and Hey Hi Hello (2020). 

TOKiMONSTA

DJ/Producer

That women in the dance/electronic industry face a disproportionate amount of adversity compared to their male counterparts is no secret. These hurdles are hard enough to clear without a rare and serious cerebrovascular condition that significantly increases one’s risk for sudden aneurysm or stroke. But in 2015, TOKiMONSTA confronted both. Her sobering diagnosis — Moyamoya disease — necessitated not one, but two brain surgeries. The interventions left her unable to talk, write, or understand speech and music. 

Yet three months later, after slow and steady strides to recovery, TOKiMONSTA took the stage in Indio Valley to play to a crowd of 15,000 at Coachella 2016.

A beacon of both tenacity and invention, the name TOKiMONSTA bespeaks a laundry list of culture-shifting accomplishments in the electronic space. She was notably the first woman to sign to Flying Lotus’ Brainfeeder label, where her first album, Midnight Menu, debuted in 2010. In 2019, she earned her first-ever GRAMMY nomination for Best Dance/Electronic Album — the first Asian American producer to be nominated in the Category.

Over the years, achievement has gone hand-in-hand with advocacy for TOKiMONSTA. The Korean American electronic experimentalist has been vocal about gender inequities in the music business and was profiled in the 2020 documentary Underplayed. Directed by Stacey Lee, the production focused on dance music’s pervasive and persistent gender imbalances through women DJ/producers’ first-hand accounts of inequality. 

Nina Kraviz

DJ/Producer & Label Head

Equal parts crate digger, disruptor, and needle mover, Nina Kraviz is writing history for women in electronic music in real time. The Siberian dentist-turned-DJ-producer, whose discography dates back to 2007 (her first 12’, "Amok," was released via Greg Wilson’s B77 label), isn’t just one of the first names to break in the global techno scene — she’s also one of the first women in techno to become a headline act. 

Kraviz’s toes have touched some of electronic music’s most venerated stages, ranging from Tomorrowland to Gashouder to Pacha Ibiza, not to mention places off the genre’s beaten path. Her 2018 headline stint at the base of the Great Wall of China is a flashpoint of her rich history of propulsive contributions to the electronic space, and one as anomalous as her ever-off-the-cuff sets. Live, the avant-gardist blends techno, acid, psytrance, experimental, and house in blistering, maximalist fashion, slipping in releases from her own imprint, трип ("Trip"), along the way. 

Kraviz has spearheaded the subversive label since 2014, where she’s deftly blurred the lines between emergent and established talent across its tally of releases. In 2017, she launched Galaxiid, an experimental sublabel of трип, an endeavor that has further substantiated her status as one of electronic music’s finest and most eccentric selectors. 

Aluna

Singer/Songwriter, DJ/Producer & Label Head 

After making an early name for herself as one-half of the electronic duo AlunaGeorge, Aluna Francis, known mononymously as Aluna, has compellingly charted her course as a solo act since 2020. As she’s sung, song written, and DJ/produced her way to prominence, the Wales-born triple-threat continues to demonstrate her artistic ability while re-emphasizing electronic’s Black, Latinx, and LGBTQIA+ roots, flourishing amid her own creative renaissance.

In 2020, Aluna penned an open letter addressing the lack of diversity and pervasive inequality in the dance/electronic ecosystem. Following a lack of true change, Aluna has tirelessly extended her hand to acts from underrepresented groups in an effort to diversify the white, heteronormative dance/electronic industry. Near the end of 2023, in partnership with EMPIRE, Aluna founded Noir Fever to "feed the future of Black Dance Music." The label will broadly embrace Black dance music, with an emphasis on female and LGBTQIA+ artists. 

"Every time I found myself on one of those dry, outdated festival lineups or playlists with no other Black women, I’d ask myself, what would have to change for this to not happen again?…How can I create a sustainable pathway and not just an opportunity for tokenism?" Aluna shared in a series of tweets announcing Noir Fever last November. "It was obvious to me that a label would give me the opportunity to do that and ultimately ensure the hottest new Black Dance Music is being supported." 

Shygirl

Singer/Songwriter, Rapper, DJ/Producer

In one breath, she’s opening for Beyoncé on the Renaissance World Tour. In another, she’s toplining a glossy club hit. In yet another, she’s cerebrally delivering bars with both control and cadence. Shygirl’s wheelhouse is a multidimensional kaleidoscope of artistic abilities: she can sing, she can write songs, she can rap, and she can DJ/produce. Simply put, there’s not much that the vanguard of experimental electronic music in the making can’t do. 

The 30-year-old multi-hyphenate, studied under Sega Bodega, Arca, and the late SOPHIE. She expertly flits between hyperpop, grime, industrial hip-hop, electronica, and R&B, among other styles, on her gamut-running releases. But Shygirl does so with idiosyncrasy and flair — two traits that define her approach and distinguish her singular sound. Even Rihanna has taken notice — Shygirl’s 2016 single alongside Bodega, "Want More," soundtracked one of Fenty Beauty’s advertisements in 2019.

Shygirl's Club Shy EP landed on Feb. 16; she helms a party series of the same name that started in East London and has since stopped by Los Angeles, Brazil, Chicago, and New York. 

Though Shygirl no longer runs the label arm of NUXXE, the hybrid club collective/record label she co-founded made waves following its establishment in 2016. In addition to releasing Shygirl’s first single ("Want More"), NUXXE pushed out other trajectory-solidifying productions, including her debut EP, Cruel Practice, while empowering her with a fluency in label operations that will serve her well as she increasingly expands her electronic footprint. 

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