I'll be honest – when people ask me what kind of music I make, I still stumble over the answer. "Deep house with synth-pop influences and experimental techno elements" is technically accurate, but it's also completely meaningless. It's the kind of response that makes people's eyes glaze over at parties, and more importantly, it doesn't capture what I'm actually trying to do when I'm in the studio or behind the decks.
The truth is, I stopped thinking about genres years ago. Not because I'm trying to be difficult or contrarian, but because those categories started feeling like creative straitjackets. Every time I'd start a new track thinking "this is going to be a techno tune," I'd end up self-editing, questioning whether a certain synth sound was "too housey" or if a slower tempo would disqualify it from the genre entirely. It was exhausting, and worse, it was getting in the way of making music that actually excited me.
The Moment Everything Clicked
The shift happened during a Night Signal recording session about two years ago. I was working on what I thought would be a straightforward deep house track – four-on-the-floor kick, rolling bassline, the whole thing. But I kept getting drawn to this weird synth patch on my Arturia MicroFreak that had this distinctly 1980s new wave quality. It didn't "belong" in a house track by any traditional definition, but it felt right for what I was trying to express.
I remember pausing, hands hovering over the keyboard, genuinely wondering if I should scrap the whole direction because it wasn't pure enough. Then I thought: pure according to who? Some arbitrary rulebook about what deep house is supposed to sound like? Why was I letting genre conventions dictate creative decisions?
So I kept the synth. Added some ambient textures that would horrify techno purists. Threw in tempo shifts that definitely weren't "club-friendly" by conventional standards. The result was something I couldn't easily categorize, but it felt more honest than anything I'd made in months.
Building Sets as Stories, Not Playlists
This genre-agnostic approach transformed how I think about DJing too. I used to build sets the way most DJs do – pick a lane (tech house, melodic techno, whatever) and stay in it for an hour or two. The logic made sense: keep the energy consistent, don't confuse the dance floor, give people what they came for.
But I started noticing something at smaller LA venues where I was playing more regularly. The most memorable nights weren't the ones where I stuck to a single sound. They were the ones where I took risks, built actual narrative arcs, treated the set like a story with tension and release rather than a collection of similar-sounding tracks.
Now when I'm preparing for a performance, I think in cinematic terms. Act one might be atmospheric and introspective, setting a mood with ambient textures and synth-pop aesthetics. Act two introduces rhythmic elements, building tension through gradual tempo increases and layered percussion from my Roland TR-8S. Act three provides resolution – maybe harder techno elements, maybe euphoric house grooves, whatever feels right for completing the emotional journey.
The genre of individual tracks matters less than how they serve the larger narrative. A beautiful ambient piece can lead seamlessly into a driving techno banger if the transition is intentional and the connective tissue is there. That's what hardware is so good for – I can use my Korg Minilogue XD to create those bridges, manipulating synth parameters in real time to connect disparate sonic worlds.
The Freedom of Creative Constraints
Here's the paradox: abandoning genre constraints actually made my work more focused, not less. When you're not worried about fitting into a category, you start developing your own sonic signature – the elements that make your music recognizable regardless of tempo or style.
For me, that signature includes certain production choices that persist across everything I make. Warm analog textures from hardware synths. Unexpected harmonic progressions that come from classical music training. Cinematic builds that owe more to film scores than club tracks. These elements create coherence even when I'm moving between what would traditionally be called different genres.
Working on tracks for Night Signal Radio, I've noticed this consistency emerging naturally. Listeners tell me they can recognize my mixes even when they can't predict what track is coming next. That's the goal – creating a distinctive voice that transcends technical classifications.
What the Industry Gets Wrong
The electronic music industry still clings to genre labels because they're convenient for marketing and categorization. Spotify playlists need tags. Festival stages get branded around specific sounds. PR teams want clean descriptions for press releases.
I get it. The business side needs frameworks. But here's what I've learned from running my own imprint: when you release music, the genre tag matters far less than the emotional quality and intended context. Is it late-night introspective? Peak-time euphoric? Driving and hypnotic? These descriptors actually communicate something useful to listeners, unlike "tech house" or "melodic techno," which have become so diluted they're essentially meaningless.
Through Night Signal, I've signed tracks that would get rejected by genre-specific labels for not being "pure" enough. A track might have house grooves but ambient passages. Techno energy but pop sensibilities. These in-between spaces are where the most interesting music lives, but traditional gatekeepers treat them like problems to be solved rather than opportunities to explore.
The Technical Side of Genre-Blending
Let me get practical for a moment, because genre fluidity isn't just an abstract philosophy – it requires specific technical approaches, especially in live performance.
The key is finding shared sonic elements that create continuity across genre boundaries. When I'm transitioning from a deep house groove into something more experimental, I'll use the Arturia MicroFreak to generate a texture that exists in both worlds. Maybe it's a filtered pad that starts warm and analog-feeling but gradually becomes more digital and aggressive. That single element bridges the gap, preparing the audience for the shift without jarring them out of the experience.
My setup with the Pioneer XDJ-RX3 and hardware synths facilitates this approach. Digital tracks provide structure and reliability, but hardware allows real-time manipulation that software alone can't match. I can physically sweep filters, adjust resonance, modulate parameters – all visible gestures that help audiences understand the narrative I'm building.
On Instagram, I try to document these techniques because I think transparency helps. Too many DJs treat their methods like trade secrets, but the genre-fluid approach only works when audiences understand what you're attempting. If people can see the intentionality behind transitions, they're more willing to follow you into unexpected territory.
Why This Matters Beyond Personal Preference
I'm not arguing that everyone should abandon genre focus. Some artists thrive within specific constraints, and certain sounds absolutely deserve dedicated communities and specialized knowledge. Deep techno heads, jungle historians, minimal house purists – these communities preserve important traditions and push their chosen sounds forward in valuable ways.
What I'm questioning is the assumption that genre purity is inherently superior to genre fluidity. Electronic music evolved through boundary-crossing and rule-breaking. Detroit techno emerged from funk, disco, and European synth-pop. UK garage blended house with R&B and jungle. Every major development in electronic music history came from artists who refused to stay in their lane.
The current moment feels similar. We're seeing African influences reshape global electronic music through amapiano and afrotech. UK sounds like drum and bass and garage are experiencing massive revivals while mutating into new forms. Hard techno is booming while simultaneously, slower and more experimental sounds are gaining traction. These aren't contradictory trends – they're all part of electronic music's ongoing evolution beyond categorical thinking.
What I'm Building Toward
Through Night Signal and my own productions, I'm trying to create space for music that doesn't fit neatly into boxes. Not because I'm anti-genre as a concept, but because I believe the most compelling electronic music right now exists in the margins between established categories.
When I curate Night Signal Radio episodes, I'm looking for tracks that take risks, that blend influences in unexpected ways, that prioritize emotional impact over stylistic orthodoxy. Some episodes lean harder into certain sounds than others, but the through-line is always about artists who refuse to be limited by genre conventions.
My own productions are moving in increasingly narrative-driven directions. I'm less interested in making "tracks" that fit into DJ sets and more interested in creating complete musical statements that take listeners on specific journeys. Some of these might work in club contexts, others might be purely for listening. The setting matters less than the emotional territory being explored.
The Challenge to Other Artists
If you're reading this as a producer or DJ, I'd encourage you to examine your own relationship with genre labels. Are they serving your creativity or constraining it? When you make decisions in the studio, are you following your instincts or following genre conventions?
Try this experiment: start a new project with no genre in mind. Don't think "I'm making a techno track" or "this will be deep house." Just follow sonic ideas wherever they lead. Use sounds that feel right regardless of whether they "belong" together according to conventional wisdom. Build arrangements based on emotional arc rather than genre templates.
You might end up with something unmarketable by traditional industry standards. That's fine. The goal isn't commercial viability – it's creative honesty. And I'd argue that in an era of algorithmic playlists and oversaturated markets, distinctive artistic voice matters more than genre compliance anyway.
Where This Goes Next
I don't know if we're witnessing the actual death of genre categories or just their evolution into more fluid, permeable forms. What I do know is that the artists who excite me most right now are the ones ignoring boundaries, mixing influences fearlessly, and creating music that defies easy categorization.
The future of electronic music doesn't belong to DJs who perfectly execute a specific sound. It belongs to storytellers who use the full spectrum of electronic music's possibilities to create compelling narratives. To artists who develop recognizable voices while maintaining stylistic flexibility. To people willing to risk confusing their audience in pursuit of something genuinely new.
Genre labels will probably always exist in some form – we need language to describe and discuss music. But maybe we can loosen their grip, treat them as loose descriptors rather than rigid boundaries. Maybe we can create space for music that lives in the margins, that defies categorization, that prioritizes emotional truth over stylistic purity.
That's what I'm working toward, anyway. Through every Night Signal release, every radio episode, every performance where I take risks and trust that audiences will follow. It's messier than staying in a single lane. It's harder to market and explain. But it's infinitely more interesting, and ultimately, that's what keeps me excited about making and playing electronic music after all these years.
The genres will be fine without us. Let's see what happens when we stop letting them define us.
Top comments (0)