I remember when clubs were real—back when we all had flip phones and there was no pressure to document every second. Nobody was out there snapping pics or trying to “feed their eye.” We went out to forget about everything, to just get lost in the night. You know how people always say “a night to remember”? The truth is, the most unforgettable nights are the ones we barely remember in details—they’re remembered by the feeling.

Producers, let’s be real—getting stuck in a genre is a slow creative death. It’s comfortable, sure. You’ve carved out a sound, built an audience, maybe even found some success. But the minute you start playing it safe, you stop growing.

The raw, unpredictable heartbeat of underground dance music feels like it’s barely hanging on these days. Once a sanctuary for rebellion and pure, unfiltered sound—basements, squatted warehouses, secret gatherings where the only rule was to lose yourself in the music—the underground now seems choked by slick branding and corporate polish. What used to be a gritty, do-it-yourself realm is fast being replaced by mega-festivals and overproduced events that cater more to Instagram likes than to the soul of the scene.