Techno Girl Problems: I Think I Like EDM

Last week, I was in an elevator with Skrillex. He was surprisingly easy to talk to, because he has that special charismatic ability to make you think he's genuinely interested in whatever it is you're discussing. "So, you're into electronic stuff?" he asked. I had a fraction of a second to panic, because I knew what was about to happen. That's when Skrillex asked me, "What kind of music do you listen to?"

The truth is that Skrillex informed and shaped my taste in electronic music. When I first dabbled in programmed beats, I didn't know what I liked about house and techno, but I was certain that I did not like Skrillex, and I definitely didn't want to be mistaken for someone who did. I spent years strategically distancing myself from Skrillex and EDM at large. I started a (now defunct) Twitter persona called Rave Snob, which began as a parody of my own pompous tendencies, and over time it merged with my IRL personality until the two became increasingly difficult to tease apart. One of the founding tenets of the @RaveSnob philosophy was that Skrillex sucks—but I did not tell him that. I lied to Skrillex.

I believe my exact words were, "Mostly house and techno, but you know, I'm not a snob or anything. I can get down with whatever." This was a bold deception. I also mentioned that I like the music at Berghain, the most famous nightclub to ban Sonny from ever controlling its sound system. By aligning myself with a stronghold of "good taste," I hoped to subtly communicate the depths of my arrogance, but the lie just slipped out. And when I look back on it, I think I know why it happened, why I decided to tone down my typically acidic taste-making tone in front of this celebrity DJ: for the first time, I was ashamed of being a snob.

I had become fed up with the limited-press DIY labels and faceless anti-hype machine artistes whose records I frantically pre-ordered weeks before their release—because the producers I respect don't seem to respect me. Niche house and techno artists aren't exactly keen on press. They see the media as an adversarial arm of a culture industry that transforms their artistic creations into commercial products. From this perspective, any engagement with the press serves commercial interests, and underground artists stake their credibility on putting creativity first and distancing themselves from profit motives.

Although we here at THUMP may sometimes take a shot or two at this stubborn integrity (which makes us even more reviled by the artists I love) I also admire their attitudes, because I'm that way, too. I don't want my craft to be boiled down to its PR function, or to be used as fodder for advertisers and venture capital firms that own the publications I write for. But here I am, an employee at the Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory of content creation, hoping to shine a lasting light on the artists I find the most stimulating and exciting. I'm a fangirl at heart—a feisty or inquisitive one, maybe—and my interest goes beyond attracting readers to the latest hype darling. But it's a strange line to toe when you realize that many of your favorites don't even want to talk to you.

Interviewing Skrillex was different. With Sonny, there was no mistrust or judgment. He didn't seem to feel like doing an interview with me was some banal duty he had to complete, when his real job was to make the music. It was refreshing to hang out with him, because my interactions with the artists I fawn over made me feel like a subordinate, or a parasite, or a necessary evil, or a contrived industry apparatus.

It was the perfect storm. When I went home that day, I listened to Sonny's BBC Radio 1 Essential Mix, and I liked it—a lot. I listened to it again, and again, and again, and each time, I discovered new charms. I realized that Skrillex is an incredibly dynamic DJ, and his skill at rapidly shifting between styles and moods reminded me strongly of the reasons I admire underground hero Ben UFO. He's partial to short, catchy vocal samples over long verses, as am I. And his sets are truly and undeniably unpredictable.

These reasons to like Skrillex existed prior to that moment, just as the reasons I had to resent the underground preceded my frustration with it—but none of it mattered to me before. There are reasons to like or dislike any kind of music, but the way you feel about it is determined by which reasons matter more to you at certain times in your life. If you surveyed a million people about why they adore or despise a given genre of music, you'd get a million different and equally valid reasons to love or hate it simultaneously. Taste isn't inherent in the music or the people listening to it, even if it feels like it develops naturally; taste is social, all the way down. It's informed by non-musical, personal, and political factors, and those concerns lead to genuine musical enjoyment.

I know, I know. You guys think I'm a poser who only likes underground house and techno because it makes me feel enlightened—and now I've decided to like EDM just because Skrillex was nice to me. Yes, like any human, my ability to appreciate music is couched in social considerations, but I also legitimately enjoy the physical, emotional, and mental sensations of listening to it.

After all, Skrillex's recent sets draw omnivorously from the mainstream and the underground. Sonny's BBC mix incorporates a shiny house tune from crossover duo Disclosure, as well as an old hit from seminal ghetto house label Dance Mania, an outpost that has gotten plenty of love from mysterious underground producers in the LIES universe. Furthermore, he debuted an edit of Blawan's massive below-the-radar anthem "Why They Hide Their Bodies Under My Garage," and all the Pitchfork-reading indiebots were scandalized at the idea that Skrillex would dare poach tracks from their turf.

I get the feeling that if I had been honest with Sonny and showed him some of the stuff I've been digging recently, he wouldn't have wrinkled his nose in disgust, as I would've done if he had eagerly played me a hot new moombahton track. Sonny's Essential Mix is a hand reaching across the aisle, and I don't want to be the asshole who slaps it away.

Read the last #TechnoGirlProblems here.