Legendary Detroit-bred DJ/producer Seth Troxler is perfect person to spread the gospel of what house and techno are all about—community, self-expression and killer beats. Not only has he been living and breathing those genres since his teen years, he's never lost sight of that playful raver energy, remaining approachable, goofy and optimistic despite two decades of fame. He's a stellar selection for Beatport's Black History Month Residency, where he's curated and led deep-diving conversations and DJ sets with artists representing the history and future of house and techno.

Growing up in a house-music-loving home in the suburbs just outside of techno's birthplace of Detroit, he got his first vinyl stash and DJ deck from his dad at age 15. By 17, he'd put out his first track with mentor Omar S. After six years soaking up all he could in the rich Detroit scene, he relocated to Berlin to chase his techno-rave dreams.

Living primarily between Ibiza and Berlin, Troxler's status as a top-tier, in-demand DJ/producer hasn't faltered—but also hasn't jaded him or watered down his Detroit roots. And just as he was mentored by the Detroit greats that came up before him, he continues to make space for younger DJs of color.

In celebration of the Beatport Residency, we caught up with Troxler over Zoom from Bali, where he's been spending the last few months. Dive into the fascinating, far-reaching conversation below, and make sure to tune in to the final episode of his residency Mon., March 1 from 3 p.m. CET / 6 a.m. PST to 6 p.m. CET / 9 a.m. PST time on Beatport's Twitch. You can also find all the past videos on their YouTube channel.

<style>.embed-container { position: relative; padding-bottom: 56.25%; height: 0; overflow: hidden; max-width: 100%; } .embed-container iframe, .embed-container object, .embed-container embed { position: absolute; top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; }</style><div class='embed-container'><iframe src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/qWxnNfvANRM' frameborder='0' allowfullscreen></iframe></div>

How did you approach the lineup and content you were bringing into your Beatport Black History Month residency?

Well, I really wanted to look at the history of electronic music, but also have somewhat of an evolution through the shows. But more than anything, I wanted to look at the three different cities known for the invention of electronic music: Chicago, New York and Detroit. The first episode was kind of Chicago and New York. Then I wanted to talk about a later [era of] Chicago, and now, my next episode is diving into proto-Detroit with Al Ester and Stacey Hotwaxx Hale. So much of the story of Detroit has only been techno, but it really was a house city before techno. There were a lot of events and history that have not been told about that period.

So, I tapped to people who were there to look at that and to open up the conversation on what is the Detroit music legacy. And then the final episode, we're going to look at new artists carrying the torch of electronic music and being Black artists. I find it really interesting that a musical genre that was founded by people of color, and in LGBTQ+ spaces, has so few representations of those people now.

With the curation of this lineup, I really wanted to go deep into that exploration—also, into the content of the music. All the music in the DJ sets is by Black artists or people of color. It's to highlight the fact that it's there and to bring the flavor of that music.

There are so many OGs that are massive in Detroit, but don't have the name recognition outside of the nerdier techno fans that dive deep. What is the disconnect?

That's a big question that everyone asks, and it's funny, the music that's promoted on different media outlets. It's just party culture, and it's not the fault of any group of people. I think, now, especially within our wokeness and with the popularity of electronic music, people want to look back at its roots and see where it comes from. I think people of color in electronic music and house music have a stylistically different approach that's really fruitful for everyone. So, it's really cool that people are now trying to engage more, and more opportunities are coming up, like this one, to promote that past as well as show the future of what electronic music can be.

Also, it's about, more than anything, showing representation for youth of color and those communities to understand that this is a real thing. Everybody who's a connoisseur of electronic music that doesn't know the history of it, then even less so do the young kids in urban neighborhoods know that it's a culture that came from, actually, those exact neighborhoods.

And we were talking about it the last episode with Paul Johnson and K-Alexi, that people started getting really into rap in urban areas because they saw those rappers as success stories—of getting out of ghettos and situations [like that]. Many people in electronic music from those areas have gotten out of those places, traveled the world and lived incredible lives. And those are also success stories that we need to show the youth of today for creating something new for tomorrow.

<style>.embed-container { position: relative; padding-bottom: 56.25%; height: 0; overflow: hidden; max-width: 100%; } .embed-container iframe, .embed-container object, .embed-container embed { position: absolute; top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; }</style><div class='embed-container'><iframe src='https://www.youtube.com/embed//SVwJIdREIx8' frameborder='0' allowfullscreen></iframe></div>

What's something that you learned, or that's been surprising to you, during these Beatport conversations?

So much. Being able to speak to Doctor Russ was incredible, as was speaking to Tony [Humphries] and Ron [Trent]. Even for myself, [who has] read every book and spent my last 21 years of my life diving so deeply into this culture, there are so many anecdotes and little stories that you can only really get out of peer-to-peer oral histories. There's an openness when friends and peers are talking to each other that you don't quite get when you're speaking with a journalist, or in a more structured conversation.

Like in the Ron and Tony conversation, the two of them [related] stories, and there are so many little things I didn't know. Like, there was a church underneath [the former Newark, New Jersey club] Zanzibar, and other little factoids. I just sat there in awe and imagination hearing these guys talk. We're really at a special point in time where so many of the creators and originators of this music are still alive to give you oral histories. It's almost like hearing from Robert Johnson about the invention of rock and roll during the height of The Beatles.

The popularity of electronic music is like never before. EDM culture made a big bump in sales and popularity jumping over to America [in the 2010s] and took over the mantle of what electronic music is. That was a real starting point for American culture to get back into electronic music. But now, throughout most cities and countries, EDM is somewhat fading, and now it's more tech-house and techno, are becoming the popular forms of this music. It's interesting to me with that kind of—this didn't work in economics—trickle-down effect.

Don't Reagan-ize house music. 

That's funny. [Laughs.] But with that trickle-down of interest, it's now shedding the light and opening the doorways of the rich history that is in house music, and all the musical possibilities that had been there. It's beautiful. The deeper you go into music, the more you find things that enrich both you and culture as a whole.

"Conversations like this are already a step forward, acknowledging the roots. I wish more often than Black History Month that we could acknowledge these contributions and give it that airplay."

More: Record Store Recs: Chicago House Hero Marshall Jefferson On Representation In Dance Music

What do you think the dance music community and industry need to do to better honor the roots of dance music, and also bring the current space back towards those radical, inclusive roots?

It's a really complicated question. Conversations like this are already a step forward, acknowledging the roots. I wish more often than Black History Month that we could acknowledge these contributions and give it that airplay. But also, it's funny, with Black Lives Matter and other things for it to be happening during a pandemic, it's opened up the conversation for people finally to start looking at it as a thing that has been not given the proper love or acknowledgement that it should. And acknowledgment is key to everything, as with the LGBTQ+ community, or women, or anything. It's the acknowledgement of our existence, I think, that plays a role in moving forward.

As far as institutions are concerned—say, particularly with the GRAMMYs—maybe an opening of a category that focuses on more than the pop side of electronic music, looking at the underground, perhaps a house music category. I think that would open up more opportunities to acknowledge Black artists. Because if you're looking at—Louie Vega actually has a GRAMMY—DJ Sven or gospel house, it's really hard to put those side by side, let's say, with a more commercial EDM act in terms of Best Dance/Electronic Album. They don't really fit.

"I think it's all a matter of time, because the artistry is the thing that should shine the brightest, and the art is not lacking. So, it's about the acknowledgement and visibility to said arts, that will really bring the things forward."

Related: Brandon Lucas Talks Staying Hopeful, Working With Dr. Cornel West & Empowering Dance Producers Of Color

I think it's become clear that in most societies, especially the United States, more space needs to be made for people of color and for other communities that have been systematically kept out. And dance music, we need to be mindful of the people we promote to the top.

Yeah, definitely. I'm really lucky to have been in that position of being at the top, and then always using my position to also open the doors for many other people. I'm very much into that mentorship type of role. However, when The Martinez Brothers and I started our Tuskegee label and started to look around, we were like, "How is there only us?" We grew up mentored by some of the greats of New York and Detroit, but out of all those kids and all that great tradition, there were only five or six people that came out of it.

So that's a hard question to really answer. There's a lot of really great new artists coming up like Life on Planets, Brandon Lucas, Casey Ray. Ryan the Aquarius, Ash Lauryn and DJ Holographic. There are so many new, really exciting artists. We're just really good at opening doors for people and breaking down that barrier. And it's in this time now that the door is really starting to open, and people like you are taking the time to shed light on the experience, and I think it's all a matter of time, because the artistry is the thing that should shine the brightest, and the art is not lacking. So, it's about the acknowledgment and visibility to said arts, that will really bring things forward.

What did that Detroit community and the mentorship feel like for you?

My situation growing up in Detroit is kind of funny because I released my first record with Omar S when I was 17. But also, my mentorship wasn't only people of color. I was really also into the techno scene with Richie Hawtin, and then I moved to Berlin. At one point, Omar and these guys had me make a choice. They were like "Do you want to be a heritage Detroit artist, or do you want to go do this techno thing?" At the time I was "I want to do the techno thing. This is rad. I'm going to raves, hanging out."

Going back to my roots, my dad was also a DJ. My parents were really into house music. So as a teen, I was really into going to raves and techno. Now I'm into house tracks with flutes. I used to call it old-man house, but I guess I'm getting old.

I also had a lot of mentorships from other artists, like Scott Grooves. So many different people coming to the record store [I worked at], who I'm still very close friends with today. Other people who were coming up in that Black techno tradition and acknowledged me as a Black Detroit artist, that I think I've grown more into as an adult.

Those mentorships really helped so much bridge my music style, and my thinking about what dance music is. So many people were there for me. Mike Huckaby as well. The other day I was talking to Scott Grooves—I call him Uncle Scott—and we always have these really deep conversations about music and artistry. I think those things really helped shape my view of the world.

There's a new talent, Jaden Thompson, out of the U.K., that I've been speaking to a lot. We're currently working on a new social platform kind of like Resident Advisor called Early FM. A few other people and I are also creating a media platform—the only way to tell your story is to tell it yourself. There is no platform out there that focuses more on people of color and marginalized communities in music and has writers from those communities writing about that music. It's hard to have people understand the intricacies of music or a stylistic background who aren't from that background. There needs to be a place that represents other perspectives about that music to give us a fair shot at communicating its vision itself.

"I think today's generation of musicians in electronic music across the board, for all styles, has become a much more business-oriented and a less community-based situation. I got into dance music because I loved it."

<iframe width="100%" height="450" scrolling="no" frameborder="no" allow="autoplay" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/playlists/1215822478&color=%23ff5500&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&show_teaser=true"></iframe><div style="font-size: 10px; color: #cccccc;line-break: anywhere;word-break: normal;overflow: hidden;white-space: nowrap;text-overflow: ellipsis; font-family: Interstate,Lucida Grande,Lucida Sans Unicode,Lucida Sans,Garuda,Verdana,Tahoma,sans-serif;font-weight: 100;"><a href="https://soundcloud.com/sethtroxler" title="Seth Troxler" target="_blank" style="color: #cccccc; text-decoration: none;">Seth Troxler</a> · <a href="https://soundcloud.com/sethtroxler/sets/play-in-the-dark-out-now" title="Play In The Dark - OUT NOW" target="_blank" style="color: #cccccc; text-decoration: none;">Play In The Dark - OUT NOW</a></div>

Some of the OGs have said they feel like the younger DJs today don't have the same sense of community they had; it's more cutthroat. Whereas your relationship with the Martinez Brothers feels like a real friendship, and y'all came up together.

I think that the difference is, like The Martinez Brothers and I, we were both mentored from a different generation and time. Their father also went to Paradise Garage; he was part of that scene, and their uncles, too. And me being from Detroit, and us having that connection with the generation before us. Also, we started [out] very young. I think today's generation of musicians in electronic music across the board, for all styles, has become a much more business-oriented and a less community-based situation. I got into dance music because I loved it. The idea that you could do this professionally when I was a kid was not possible.

Actually, really funny, yesterday I did an interview with my high school. I got inducted into the wall of fame there. I wasn't really the model student, but I had a passion, a really geeky one at that, that no one else was into. There were no other kids into electronic music at my school at that time, the early 2000s. Matthew Dear actually went to the same high school, but he's a bit older than me. It wasn't popular to be into what I was into, but it was my passion.

I think now, with electronic music becoming so popular and this jet-set lifestyle being so prevalent, that people aren't so much into it for the passion of the music, but more into the lifestyle. I think that also permeates throughout the party culture in which electronic music has become where the party is, and maybe party favors, are more the endpoint rather than the community and the music itself.

When I started going to raves, I experienced the electronic music community, and in those days that was about being from an outside community and coming in and finding a place. Everyone was a bit more marginalized—slackers and street kids. I think there was more of a community-based aspect to it then.

I was looking online the other day, and saw some people with nine, 10 million views on a stream, and I had no clue who they are. They're not really active members of our community. I've never seen these people at a festival or heard their music before. The music was cool, but it just wasn't from the same background or perspective in which I associate with electronic music, house, or underground electronic music culture.

Before, it was so hard to become a producer and produce electronic music, but with Ableton and other technologies available to everyone, there're obviously going to be new spawns of creation, and that's an incredible thing for everyone. But I also think it's important to have some people holding the flag for the original heritage of this music and trying to keep that culture alive for future generations. That's something that The Martinez Brothers and I try to do. It's something that I'm trying to do, to create more community. There's a lot of other great artists out there still trying to do that.

There's always been competitiveness amongst the community, and that's what drove innovation, but that was among friends. And now it's this other competitiveness that is just about building followers and taking selfies. They're showing this really depressed, glamorous side of electronic music. It's a different thing, I guess.

<style>.embed-container { position: relative; padding-bottom: 56.25%; height: 0; overflow: hidden; max-width: 100%; } .embed-container iframe, .embed-container object, .embed-container embed { position: absolute; top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; }</style><div class='embed-container'><iframe src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/0K16p-LYe3s' frameborder='0' allowfullscreen></iframe></div>

Read: Gene Farris Talks "Space Girl," Rave Safety & The Return Of The "Bedroom DJ"

What tracks and/or artists do you feel like really represent those foundations of dance music to you?

I actually just put up a Beatport chart with 30 or so songs on there that pinpoint the history of the dance music. There are so many artists. Obviously, Detroit, you have Drexciya, Kevin Saunderson, all the classic stuff, but also you have such a rich house tradition [there]. Scott Grooves, Keith Worthy. And Chicago is just a hit factory, there's so much. Gene Farris' old music was so real, classic house. I love Gene, he's making great stuff now. Green Velvet, everyone.

There are so many tracks out there. On the list I made, there are a lot of unexpected things that resonate with me, from a lot of my favorite artists that inspired me. Jamie Principle's "Your Love" is always one of my favorites. Adonis's "No Way Back." Any Ron Trent track is a really great example. Tony Humphries' body of work as a whole. Omar S obviously. There's just such a rich tradition.

Do you remember one of the first tracks or moments that really sucked you into dance music and made you want to DJ?

My parents have listened to house music my whole life, but one of the first moments, was when I skipped high school homecoming my freshman year. I told my mom I was staying at my friend's house, that classic high school move, and we went to a rave in Detroit with 14-year-old kids in this warehouse. We saw Frankie Bones, Adam X and Heather Heart, and I was just like "This is it." It was like being in a film, and then I had to go back to normal, suburban high school in a cornfield.

After, my birthday was coming up, and I was like, "All I want is a Scratch Pack!" It was a '90s thing, two turntables and a mixer that you could get it for 500 bucks from Gemini. I got that for my birthday, and my stepdad gave me a box of records. They actually were super classics, that at 14, I was like, "This is far out." One was Lil' Louis' "Frequency." It's this out-there record; it's beautiful. And then the other one was the original copy of Jamie Principle's "Your Love."

I was trying to mix anything you can put together, so I would go to Hot Topic and buy records there. Stuff like Alice DJ's "Better Off Alone," [Daft Punk's] "Around The World" and "Da Funk." Sarah McLachlan, too. It was all '90s, 2000s party jams. I don't know how much they influence me today, but at that time, they definitely worked on my teen sensibilities.

How do you feel like your Detroit roots influence you today?

I've always played the same music. It's fun. Before the pandemic, I'd be playing now for thousands of people, and I'd always pull out these records and look at my tour manager. I'd be like, "Got this when I was in high school for a few bucks," and it's gotten a little sticker with the date on it. I'll play these old records, and I'm like, same taste then as I have now.

I worked at a record store from 15 to 21. I got the job because I was such a geek and really into Derrick Carter and this label called Classic. This was in 2002 so that music and working there inspired me. I think with the scene, that culture, being with a lot more adults, you had to be able to academically engage in the history of that music, and really understand all the nuances of the music, or else people would just not talk to you. Instead of sports facts, I had to memorize catalog numbers when I was a kid.

I think all that stuff really played into who I am today and the tastes that I have. Being able to go to so many of those events, regularly when I was 15, 16, and then coming into the record store, pulling records. Working with Al Ester, and listening to Stacey Hotwaxx Hale, who are both on the next Beatport interview.

All those things, being a part of that musical legacy and background, there's no way it can't influence you. No matter what race you are, what color of your skin, if you're from Detroit or the Midwest, I think you have a very similar view of music. That's something really incredible. Anyone who's come from the city or come to the city, I think really realizes that, and sees the rich musical history that Detroit has offered from so many generations. It's not just electronic music, but rock, Motown, everything. All that goes into play, what we view as our musical heritage.

In dance music, do you think there will always be the underground and the mainstream?

I don't even know if there is really an underground anymore. I think there's always some kids in the middle of somewhere doing some type of underground movement in some basement, making some really out-there stuff. That's underground. I'm not underground. I've got probably a million people across all my social media platforms following me. In rock music, there are always different genres. There's folk, hard rock, metal, and I think all those things can and should coexist because they're different forms of art.

Electronic music is opening up to be really the music of the future, and I think the acknowledgement of all these different forms of this one art form is really important, instead of trying to ball it all into one group. I think to start to open up the conversation to the different subgenres would be really beneficial for everyone.

As far as commercial access goes, in the UK, underground records really make it to the top. In many ways a lot of what Disclosure has done was the bridging of both of the underground and pop worlds. The new album I'm currently working on for Lost Souls of Saturn with Phil Moffa, we're doing the same thing. We're using underground music structures but doing a lot of collaborations with A-list artists to hopefully give it a bit wider appeal. I think crossing over in electronic music is how even the original dance music artists gained their original popularity.

If you look at all the big hits from Detroit and Chicago, they were all-vocal records that you could play on the radio. I think coming back to that, a vocalized version of electronic music, is going to allow the people to connect again with sounds that are deeper than underground.

"I think the dancefloor is a very sacred space, and a place that so many people are allowed to express freedoms that they don't hold in their everyday lives."

What is your biggest hope for the dance music community whenever we're able to safely get back onto dancefloors?

My biggest hope is for exactly that, for us to get back and regain some normalcy and that freedom that we once held in those shared spaces. I think the dancefloor is a very sacred space, and a place that so many people are allowed to express freedoms that they don't hold in their everyday lives. If you go to—this is a bit of an extreme one—Berghain [in Berlin], you see people walk in and literally check their clothes in at the door. Those people are accountants or do whatever else they do in their everyday lives, but they're allowed to go to a space and have a real moment of total freedom and anonymity.

I think when you're listening to music and having internalized experience that you share with others, that clarity in that moment of dance and freedom on that floor is something that we all want to share and be a part of. That's my hope, and I think it's going to come soon, and it's going to be a very happy day for many people. I hope sincerely that we can all do that, but until then I guess we'll have to rely on these streams, and these conversations to keep our hope alive, and to believe in a future that we can all hold together.

Life On Planets Talks Astrology, Inclusivity On The Dancefloor & Why We Have To Be Like Martin Luther King Jr.

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.

Read more: The Rise Of Underground House: How Artists Like Fisher & Acraze Have Taken Tech House, Other Electronic Genres From Indie To EDC

"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. 

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"

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. 

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by nia archives (@archives.nia)

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"

For Baby Keem and Kendrick Lamar, The Melodic Blue was a family affair. The two cousins collaborated on three tracks from Keem's 2021 debut LP, "Range Brothers," "Vent," and "Family Ties." And in 2022, the latter helped the pair celebrate a GRAMMY victory.

In this episode of GRAMMY Rewind, turn the clock back to the night Baby Keem accepted Best Rap Performance for "Family Ties," marking the first GRAMMY win of his career.

"Wow, nothing could prepare me for this moment," Baby Keem said at the start of his speech.

He began listing praise for his "supporting system," including his family and "the women that raised me and shaped me to become the man I am."

Before heading off the stage, he acknowledged his team, who "helped shape everything we have going on behind the scenes," including Lamar. "Thank you everybody. This is a dream."

Baby Keem received four nominations in total at the 2022 GRAMMYs. He was also up for Best New Artist, Best Rap Song, and Album Of The Year as a featured artist on Kanye West's Donda.

Press play on the video above to watch Baby Keem's complete acceptance speech for Best Rap Performance at the 2022 GRAMMYs, and check back to GRAMMY.com for more new episodes of GRAMMY Rewind.

How The 2024 GRAMMYs Saw The Return Of Music Heroes & Birthed New Icons