Electronic

What it misses isn't the past, but the future the past once promised.

Synthwave's neon turned blood-red, with metal-like bass and horror-film dread.

Like a sun-faded old videotape, blurry, warm and a little wistful.

Sings loneliness in a mechanical world as a melody that still wants to believe in tomorrow.

The background music of consumer society, slowed down into an empty mall.

1980s Japanese city pop, chopped and sped up over French house kicks and filters: vaporwave in the sun.

1920s–'40s swing horns and vocals plugged into modern house beats.

Turns the friction between machines, bodies and power into sound.

The body is driven by hard sequences and finds strength in repetition.

Slowed vocals, heavy reverb and occult symbols: the eeriest electronic music online around 2010.

It doesn't demand your attention, yet quietly changes the colour of the whole room.

Lets space arrive before events, and gives weight to what can't be seen.

Gentle, calm, flowing instrumentals for breathing, meditation and healing.

Electronic music slowed down: warm grooves, jazzy chords and sea breeze, made for sunset.

Slow hip-hop beats, noir samples and murmured vocals, like the secrets of a rainy port city.

A steady four-on-the-floor keeps different people in the same room.

Slower, warmer and deeper than house: thick bass, jazzy chords and half-heard vocals, a late-night rooftop dance floor.

House swing with techno's tough kicks and bass: one of the most-played sounds in clubs today.

Disco samples, filter sweeps and robotic vocals: the French turned the '70s dance floor into glittering house.

Machine loops can hold soul, community and another kind of tomorrow.

Techno's steady groove with minor-key melodies and vast synth pads: emotional arcs you can hear on the dance floor.

Faster, harder, more distorted techno: the defining sound of the 2020s youth rave revival.

Builds emotion through repetition and finds transcendence in unfolding melody.

Rolling sixteenth basslines and psychedelic effects, dancing in the forest till sunrise.

Italian-made, Japan-loved high-speed dance music, the soundtrack of drifting and para para.

The standard '90s European dance-floor formula: a female singer belting the chorus, a male rapper's verse, wall-to-wall synths, everyone's hands up.

Kicks distorted into a punchy snap and epic melodies, written for tens of thousands to jump at once.

Distorted kicks above 170 BPM, roared vocals and tracksuits: the ultra-fast rave of 1990s Rotterdam.

Russian hard bass: very fast bouncing bass, simple synths and chanted slogans, danced by tracksuited youths in a squat.

Beneath fast breakbeats, the low end keeps the city's breathing steady.

Chopped, sped-up Amen breaks over reggae bass, the wild forerunner of drum & bass.

Takes the few seconds a drummer left behind and rebuilds them into new paths for the body.

A bouncing triplet kick and chopped-up vocals: club music that jumped from Newark block parties to short-video feeds.

Skipping kicks at 160 BPM and chopped vocals: ultra-fast dance music made for Chicago footwork battles.

Swinging, syncopated 2-step beats and slick R&B vocals, the stylish groove of a London weekend night.

After the dance floor empties, the rhythm still leaves body warmth in the deserted city.

The low end becomes the lead, the room shaking between half-time hits.

Bright synth chords swell in the drop like a colourful emotional firework.

Breakneck breakbeats shattered into shards, exploding alongside sad melodies and anime samples.

Makes rhythm a system to explore, not just a dance step.

Lets errors expose the system, and lets cracks produce a new order.

Chopped into tiny pieces, yet easy to move to: glitch editing meets hip-hop and funk grooves.

Every pop element turned up to max: candy tones, pitched voices and glitch noise screaming together.

Internet rap made by teenagers who met on Discord, with Auto-Tune, high-pitched vocals and sharp 808s.