100 tunes that defined the 2010s.
Electronic music also became more global. Exciting scenes in Durban, Vancouver, Copenhagen and Kampala introduced sounds that travelled the world, twisting house, techno, electro and bass music into thrilling new forms. Some scenes looked to the past for inspiration, releasing vinyl-only EPs that stayed true to the sound of early pioneers. Others forged new ground, embracing the internet as a distribution tool. In doing so, many producers became less reliant on labels, breaking down the structures that had long dominated our scene. By self-releasing music online, there was a direct channel with listeners. The many artist-run labels, of which there are more than ever, did the same. Medium ceased to matter, as DJs went from digital to vinyl and back again, swapping laptops for turntables and turntables for CDJs.
These are the tracks that defined the last decade. The list, which was whittled down from a shortlist of hundreds, features house, techno, disco, minimal, ambient, drum & bass, dubstep, gqom and more, including some tracks that are impossible to classify. Whether produced in high-end studios or through decaying laptops overloaded with pirated software, this was the sound of the last ten years.
Listen to highlights from the definitive tracks of the 2010s on Spotify, Apple Music and Buy Music Club.
The Top 20:
Maya Jane Coles' breakthrough track, 2010's "What They Say," is a testament to the timeless charm of a catchy house organ riff. Its success sent her to the top of year-end lists and kicked off her global touring schedule, which included appearances at American EDM festivals like Electric Zoo. At the time, progressive trance and main-stage dubstep reigned in those settings, so Coles' presence there—as well as the response to her hit track—may have helped pave the runway for two major trends that took over those festivals within a few years. Both the dayglo style of big-room deep house and the spate of post-dubstep tracks with '90s-style hooks and pitched vocals bear traces of Coles' catchy and lush production on "What They Say."
The pop industry invested directly in "What They Say" in 2014, when Nicki Minaj sampled its '90s-style hook on "Truffle Butter" featuring Drake and Lil Wayne. In the following years, more Top 40 hip-hop artists tapped underground club sounds (particularly UK or US garage permutations) for inspiration. Drake sampled Moodymann and flirted with English substyles like UK funky, grime and OG dubstep, while Kanye West sampled American house classics by Mr. Fingers and Hardrive on his 2016 single "Fade." None of which could have seemed possible at the beginning of the 2010s if tunes like "What They Say" didn't lead the charge.
- Elissa Stolman
Also on this list: Paranoid London - Paris Dub 1 / Willow - Feel Me
What was your favourite revivalist trend of the 2010s? Jungle? '90s house? Breakbeat techno? How about UK rave and hardcore? If you ticked box three or four, you owe a lot to René Pawlowitz. As Head High, the artist also known as Shed created a warehouse-ready sound that paired '90s euphoria and exquisite sound design with slamming kick drums. As Pawlowitz once put it in an interview with Crack: "No sounds that are playing around, no effects, just 'boom-boom-boom.'"
This simple yet seductive approach was at its best on "It's A Love Thing (Piano Invasion)," which appeared on the first Head High release in 2010. My word, it bangs. The thunderous drums, earworm vocal snatches and heavenly piano chords—even now, it all sounds totally fresh, the hallmark of truly timeless music. Its influence, too, can still be heard everywhere, from labels like Kulør, Ilian Tape and Lobster Theremin, to anyone who makes or plays techno embellished with piano riffs, rave stabs and chopped vocals. So here's another question for you: is Pawlowitz the most important club producer of the decade?
- Carlos Hawthorn
Also on this list: DVS1 - Black Russian / Stanislav Tolkachev - Sometimes Everything Is Wrong
"—ensuality," "—ensuality," "—ensuality," "—ensuality...." If you were going out much in winter of 2011, that creepy refrain, repeated again and again over a lurching, anvil-heavy kick, probably haunted you on the dance floor sooner or later. This was the untitled A-side of Workshop 12, a high point for both label (Workshop) and artist (Gunnar Wendel, AKA Kassem Mosse). Workshop are masters of the liminal vibe, releasing music for what its cofounders call "the many in-between situations" of a night out. Wendel, too, is most at home in this vague terrain—in his review of Workshop 12, Daniel Petry said he made the record as if from behind a screen, visible only in silhouette. This might be the closest thing to a club bomb either party has released (at least until Willow's "Feel Me" a few years later), but its power comes from the odd details that save it from that simple classification: the slight stumbles in its rhythm, the four-minute acapella tacked on at the end, but most of all, the surreal, unnerving darkness of its mood. Heard today, it's a reminder of the gloom that hung over so much house music at the beginning of the '10s, from Levon Vincent to DJ Qu to STL (the B1 of Workshop 12 is another lovely example of this sound). And yet, it's too far off in its own weird universe to sound like anything other than Kassem Mosse.
- Will Lynch
Also on this list: Steffi - Yours / Omar-S - Here's Your Trance, Now Dance!!
At the beginning of the decade, Seth Horvitz thought he was done with dance music. After studying electronic music and recording media at Mills College in California, he was busy trying to work as a composer. But a meeting with the sound artist Bob Ostertag sparked a course of events that ultimately sent him back to techno, a form he'd previously worked with for at least a decade under the name Sutekh. A dance music skeptic, Ostertag would send Horvitz recordings he'd made on a Buchla 200e synthesiser, asking, "Is this techno? Would this make people dance?" Horvitz started working the stems into a techno framework, inspiring him to return to the form with ears freshly opened by years studying the minutiae of sound.
"Waterfall" used that experience to turn techno into the audio equivalent of a Fraser spiral illusion. Using a tiny, half-bar-long snippet of audio recorded from the Razor softsynth, Rrose created a cascade of phantom sounds. What we hear isn't necessarily what's really happening. Things change so slowly that our perceptive systems are confused by the changes taking place. By the time the breakdown comes around, that little synth loop resembles an aeroplane taking off between our ears. "Waterfall" works within the tradition of finding worlds of change and complexity within a narrow field, but Rrose achieved a degree of finesse that manipulated our ears and brains in ways we're still struggling to understand.
- Mark Smith
Also on this list: Donato Dozzy - Cleo / Aurora Halal - Eternal Blue (Wata Igarashi Crossing Remix)
The precociously talented Andrew Ashong would doubtless have made his way onto our radar eventually, but teaming up with mood-house maestro Theo Parrish for a debut 12-inch? Now that's impressive. A teenage crate-digger, born in South London to Ghanaian parents, Ashong had already flipped his love of vintage soul into a loose and psychedelic style of his own, following in the footsteps of funky outliers like Shuggie Otis. On "Flowers" he tied together a barely-there vocal harmony and a strung-out groove, floating along on the breeze. A jazz kit clattered gently in the distance, dabs of bass drop like stepping stones, and the whole homespun machinery seemed to be in perpetual motion, like a Fela Kuti all-nighter or, indeed, a Theo Parrish DJ set. South London's jazz scene had become a potent force by end of the decade; "Flowers" proves that this "nu" scene has deep roots.
- Chal Ravens
Also on this list: Thundercat - Them Changes / Floating Points - Nuits Sonores
So many modern titans got their start in the heady days of post-dubstep. Back then, the UK's red-eyed soundsystem kids were finding fresh inspiration in the archives of house; every weekend seemed to bring a new anthem for this genre-crossing moment. Again and again, Joy Orbison was the name on the credits—and his tracks felt essential even after the typically long journey from Plastic People dance floor to Rinse FM radio rip to precious vinyl. Nearly a decade on, "Ellipsis" still kicks like a mule. Through pioneering a certain saucer-eyed rave nostalgia, Joy O set a template that lesser artists have spent years trying to emulate, but "Ellipsis" remains a cut above its imitators.
Like any number of classic records, part of its charm lies in its naivety—the sound of a producer trying something he's not entirely familiar with, unsure of how it will work but eventually finding a novel route through his influences. Take a basic house skeleton (remembering that four-on-the-floor felt oddly radical at that point), splash in several waterlogged pianos and an endearingly simple sample from Source Direct's Phil Aslett ("We just used to like... do our own thing") and you're almost there. The magic ingredient? It must have something to with Joy O's longevity; since then he's done his time in techno, become a big tent festival staple, and revitalised his production career with a 2019 EP of R&B-inspired cuts. Like "Hyph Mngo" and "Sicko Cell," "Ellipsis" remains a tidy time capsule of an era that changed the course of dance music.
- Chal Ravens
Also on this list: Mosca - Bax / Objekt - Theme From Q
This past decade, many dance music producers used their work to get critical. From the very beginnings of her career, Fatima Al Qadiri, an experimental artist born in Senegal, raised in Kuwait and now based in New York, has been one of the scene's most explicitly conceptual voices. "Music is an abstraction," the producer said on her 2018 RA Exchange. "I try to fill it with this story, with this narrative, with these concerns. With this love, and with this kind of anxiety about decolonizing the mind."
One of Al Qadiri's most vivid and complex stories is also her most personal. It belongs to her second EP, 2012's Desert Strike. The music is inspired by a surreal, twofold experience: first, living through the Gulf War (the artist was nine when Iraq invaded Kuwait in 1990), and later, replaying that trauma through a video game inspired by the war, Sega Mega Drive's Desert Strike. On the EP's title track, Al Qadiri translated this into an equally strange hybrid of grime and bass music, glazed over with an early '90s-style digital sheen. Hitting as hard as it haunted, it helped carve the way for bolder ideas not only from Al Qadiri, but experimental club music at large.
- Steph Lee
Also on this list: Mssingno - XE2 / Oneohtrix Point Never - Chrome Country
One night at Robert Johnson, sometime in 2012, a DJ, struggling through a deep house set that just wouldn't take off, made a drastic move: he reached for "Inspector Norse." This made zero sense based on what he'd been playing so far, but no one cared—as if on cue, there were whistles and hands in the air as soon as that cartoon bassline strutted in. Such was the power of Todd Terje's hit, a club anthem whose sheer addictiveness has not been matched since. Many people already knew it by the time it was released—DJs had been playing it for months by then—and throughout that year it received shamelessly regular club play. Somehow, though, it lost none of its luster, feeling like a treat every time. Since then, dance music fragmented in a way that's prevented any single track from being so broadly loved. That's a good thing overall—it shows a greater breadth of sounds are finding their audience. But there is something special about the unifying factor of the proverbial club anthem, and few deliver the warmth of shared experience as well as "Inspector Norse." Whenever it faded into the mix, often near the end of the night, it seemed to congratulate everyone in the room, as if to say, "Yep, you did it, you are here, in this moment, with these people, having an absolutely badass time, throwing your hands in the air to the most carefree melody ever written. Go you."
- Will Lynch
Also on this list: Powder - New Tribe / Eris Drew - Hold Me (T4T Embrace Mix)
RA's number one track of 2012, Andrés' "New For U" was an unarguable anthem from that year alongside Todd Terje's "Inspector Norse." When this track landed, Andrés was not at all new to the game—he'd released a solid body of work on Moodymann's Mahogani and KDJ labels, played percussion in Theo Parrish's Rotating Assembly project, and toured as a member of Slum Village—but "New For U" was the first 12-inch on his own label, La Vida. It was a prime example of sampling magic, and proof of how a DIY operation can give rise to a global hit. This was masterful MPC use, throwing together a short string riff from Dexter Wansel's "Time Is The Teacher," a couple of electric piano notes, a tight percussive drum loop and playful bass grooves. You can hear Philly International disco vibes from the '70s, stripped-down Chicago deep house from the '80s, and the art of sampling from '90's golden-era hip-hop. Andrés intentionally (or intuitively) condensed this lineage into one timeless jam.
- Yuko Asanuma
Also on this list: The Mole - Lockdown Party (DJ Sprinkles' Crossfaderama) / AceMo - Where They At??
Mari Kvien Brunvoll
Everywhere You Go (Villalobos Everywhere You Go Celestial Voice Resurrection Mix)
The marathon sessions in Ricardo Villalobos's Berlin studio have resulted in some of minimal's most stunning tracks. Thanks to a live approach, which is a bit like a surreal one-man-band, the individual recordings Villalobos pulls from his extensive modular setup are usually over 30 minutes long. But because those tracks are destined for a vinyl-only release, there's rarely space for the full recordings. As such, listeners are left with only a snippet of a much larger whole, usually selected by the label owner.
Villalobos's 2013 remix of Mari Kvien Brunvoll's "Everywhere You Go" was the closest most of us will get to hearing one of those pieces in full. In addition to a vinyl release, which remains one of Villalobos's most sought-after records, a full, 28-minute version was given a special release by Jazzland Recordings, the Norwegian label that released the original track. Even by Villalobos's high standards, it's spellbinding. A spacey voice hovers above the rolling groove, the energy rising and falling as layers of ghostly atmosphere are added and stripped away. There are passages of calm and chaos, light and dark, combining for the decade's most powerful remix, a masterstroke from an artist who remains one of electronic music's essential voices.
- Matt Unicomb
Also on this list: Sakro - No Time To Explain / Matthew Herbert - It's Only (DJ Koze Remix)
In 2017, the Poly Kicks label wrote a neat summary of (probably) its biggest release. "Originally released in 2013, Hackney Parrot has had enduring success and over the past few years has been played by nearly all the DJs." There's some truth to that. "Hackney Parrot" was the breakbeat heard around the world. This was during the high-tide of UK dance music's early 2010s zeitgeist, when shuddering rhythms and pitched vocals on tracks were ubiquitous. "Hackney Parrot" stood out because it brought in a big, booming, cavernous breakbeat.
Of course, Tessela wasn't the first of his contemporaries to work with breakbeats. Artists like Special Request and Pearson Sound also used them, and in a similar way—but none of their breaky tracks became a juggernaut to rival "Hackney Parrot." While others referenced juke, footwork, dubstep or (in the case of tracks like Joy O's other 2012 megahit, "Ellipsis") UK garage, Tessela channeled the bombast of rave, jungle and hardcore. In retrospect, this makes "Hackney Parrot" feel more significant because it portended future trends in a way other tracks of its size didn't.
- Elissa Stolman
Also on this list: Demdike Stare - Patchwork / DJ Rashad - Let It Go
SOPHIE, simply, made music like nobody else this decade. On January 1st, 2010, could you reasonably have put "Bipp" and "Is It Cold In The Water?" next to one another and convinced someone that they not only came from the same source, but that source would be one of the most beloved and influential musicians of the next ten years? What's doubly heartening about SOPHIE is that as she got weirder, she got more powerful. It's to her credit that "Bipp," so dumbfounding in 2013, now comes off as a little tame after you've been trampled under the hooves of "Ponyboy."
Go and listen to "Bipp" again, though. Perhaps you had your fill of the bouncy castle a while ago, sore with rubber burns and light-headed from all the Zero-G action, but one more round won't hurt. For this to become legitimately popular, a muse for McDonalds and Madonna alike, is outrageous. SOPHIE guided electronic music through progressively more colourful and chaotic spaces—past cartoon trap and soaring torch songs and cripplingly heavy industrial and EDM helium balloons that couldn't stop rising—all blooming exclusively from her fantastical imagination. Once the reflexive need to rationalise it subsided, a realisation dawned. This is exactly what everyone bemoans a lack of: a genuinely new sound. "Bipp" wasn't the beginning of SOPHIE, but it was the beginning of SOPHIE's reign.
- Gabriel Szatan
Also on this list: MMM - Nous Sommes MMM / DJ Lag - Ice Drop
In the early '10s, UK techno got its groove back. Thanks to a fresh wave of artists—Perc, Blawan, Truss—putting an exciting twist on a classic style, the world's attention refocussed away from Germany and the so-called "Berghain sound" and towards producers across the English Channel. The resurgence also coaxed one talented Sheffield artist, Paula Temple, out of hibernation, a state she'd been in since giving up techno in 2006 as the minimal movement was taking hold. "Colonized," her comeback track, was the best of this thrilling new sound. A blend of violent percussion and whirring synths, this five-minute assault put Temple back at the forefront of techno, where she remains seven years later.
Everything about "Colonized" hits hard, thanks to Temple's meticulous approach to percussion. Every element, from the offbeat drum hits to the zapping synths, feels obsessed over, products of a perfectionist with deep knowledge of what moves dance floors. Released in 2013, "Colonized" was a sign of things to come, as more techno producers turned to hard, industrial-sized sounds, the style becoming tougher by the year. Temple would contribute a handful of excellent tracks to this movement, but none captured her sound better than this one, a blistering slice of industrial techno that still hits like a wrecking ball today.
- Matt Unicomb
Also on this list: Dopplereffekt - Tetrahymena / Factory Floor - Two Different Ways (Perc Remix)
In the summer of 2014, Mumdance and Novelist had everything to prove. Mumdance, in his early 30s, was jaded from a stint in the spotlight on Diplo's Mad Decent, cycling through modes to figure out what felt right again. As for the 17-year-old Novelist, his bone-dry wit and fast-jabbing freestyles had been an outsider's pursuit; for lyricists like him, chart cash-ins were the order of the day. But in a flash, it all changed. Meridian Dan's "German Whip" and Skepta & JME's "That's Not Me" kicked down the door, and it was open season for a new wave who had waited to be taken seriously. "Take Time," penned in just three hours at Mumdance's gaff sometime in late 2013, crackles with the energy that defined grime at that moment. Novelist surveys the scene around him, one eyebrow quizzically raised, decrying poseurs in his midst—with a little nod to Dizzee Rascal's "Stop Dat," too—over a spartan backbeat that Mumdance likened to aural fireworks.
The track signposted what came next. An emboldened Mumdance would carry on making icy instrumentals, prying the depths of negative space, reintegrating breakbeats, getting his black-metal shred on, and coming up with some of the most out-there dance floor weapons of the decade's second half. By January 2015, Novelist had signed a new record to XL and was shoulder-to-shoulder with Kanye and a whole cohort of grime greats at the BRITs—which would come as no surprise to anyone who watched him command the stage at a year-capping Just Jam takeover at The Barbican. Or anyone who heard "Take Time," and instinctively learned to trust the alarmingly talented new MC with his head screwed on.
- Gabriel Szatan
Also on this list: Skepta - That's Not Me feat. JME / SHYGIRL - BB
A gently rocking bassline, warbly keyboards, a saxophone that sounds like it's played with a sigh—sinking into "Something (On My Mind)"'s ten minutes is like daydreaming on a boat far out in the Pacific Ocean, gently bobbing up and down with the waves. Jack J's solo debut was the track that broke what came to be known as the Vancouver sound, a Canadian Riviera movement that hotboxed house music in the name of all things chill. These records couldn't help but be inspired by where they came from: sandy beaches, coniferous forest, candlelit loft parties and clouds of pot smoke, all of which came to life on Jack Jutson's unassuming anthem.
The success of Mood Hut changed the sound of dance music in Vancouver and beyond, inspiring plenty of imitators. "Something (On My Mind)" outlined everything that was special about this movement. There was a focus on musicality and live instrumentation—Jutson and his partner in the Pender Street Steppers, Liam Butler, were both in a rock band called No Gold before they switched gears—a touch of dusty disco, the sound palette of obscure Canadian synth funk and a relaxed pace inspired by old New Age records. Mood Hut made Vancouver sound like the chillest city on the planet, and "Something (On My Mind)" still feels revelatory, unbothered and innocent. Who wouldn't want to ride that vibe for a while?
- Andrew Ryce
Also on this list: DJ Metatron - Oh Ah / Bookworms - African Rhythms
It's easy to scan dance music in 2014 and ask: why so chill? There was a rare patience for slowly-cresting music to take centre stage, a break to breathe after a deluge of manic bass hits, and before a heel turn into all things hard and fast. Shinichi Atobe's Butterfly Effect was the refined work caught between these cycles, existing out of time and place. Its relation to any trends is anachronistic: Atobe might have done the album in one go after a night stomping to a ruthless Ken Ishii set. Or it could have been an incremental process taking the full 13 years after his last release, 2001's Ship-Scope. One day we suddenly had a new-not-new clutch of stately dub techno, crystalline deep house and arid soundscapes—tracked down by Demdike Stare from an apparently dormant producer living in Saitama, Japan—with a golden closer, "Butterfly Effect," that seemed to groove along endlessly.
On "Butterfly Effect," Shinichi Atobe made a big shout using his indoor voice. It is an oasis of calm, the ultimate healer. Every part, from the peals of digital synth to the subaquatic kick, felt soothing. Ultimately we don't know how it was made, or pretty much anything about its maker, and it's likely we never will. In a field of cash-grabs and endlessly picked-over DJs, there is something pure and appealing about a myth we can't bust, a mid-tempo number exuding powerful magnetism. The enduring fact is this: "Butterfly Effect" felt classic upon arrival, and so it has maintained.
- Gabriel Szatan
Also on this list: Machine Woman - Camile From OHM Makes Me Feel Loved / Mr. Fingers - Qwazars
While she was piecing together her 2015 hit, "Rewind," Kelela said, "I had the intention to make a Miami-bass inspired song that gave me butterflies, or that made me feel romance, but something light and fun." To accomplish this, she enlisted five producers from the underground: Obey City, Girl Unit, Kingdom, Nugget and Ariel Rechtshaid. She recalled a feeling of lament when she first heard that sustained, aquatic melody, but she wasn't sure what to make of it. The answer surfaced when her best friend described a long-winded missed encounter with a girl she had been pursuing the night before. "When she told me that," she said, "I was like... that's so rich. And we just pursued the idea." The upshot was an atmospheric, glacier-cold R&B track that gave nods to the So So Def Bass All-Stars heydays.
At the track's apex, the chords are muted and Kelela's voice pivots to a rap-talk as she exposes her most vulnerable reflections, "This ain't a mystery / I'm tryin' to keep my cool / You standing next to me / I'm about to break the rules / Turn my head to the right / now I'm looking for you." Enveloped by subterranean synths, her saccharine falsetto whispers through the dark—here she comes off both flirtatious and regretful. And then suddenly, the chorus swoops back in, and it's like we're hearing it all again for the first time. Obscuring the borders between dance music, R&B and pop, this single signified a darker approach to R&B that felt subversive in 2015.
- Kiana Mickles
Also on this list: The Galleria - Calling Card / Yaeji - Raingurl
The year before "The Frontier" came out, Avalon Emerson had a busy, but not overwhelming, touring schedule. That all changed after the release of "The Frontier" in 2016, the record that helped to transform her from an underground up-and-comer to a top-tier DJ. Its peculiar synth voice—something like an erhu crooning a prairie folk song in a Western scale over rumbling drums—hit the spot of emotive techno with a heavy dose of personal flair.
This track was distinctive on the basis of its songwriting and synth voice, so it didn't really provide others with a replicable formula. You'd have to write just as strong of a melody in order to emulate "The Frontier." Increasingly, big tunes seem to come from already-established producers or they get a lot of play within a specific sub-scene, and thus don't push an artist from small clubs all the way to main stages. In some senses that makes it a dying breed: a hit record with the power to propel a new artist on a path to the top.
- Elissa Stolman
Also on this list: Pearson Sound - XLB / upsammy - Another Place
As the decade wore on, more and more club producers opted to directly embrace the era's computational possibilities. Though each artist did this differently, the results elicited similar descriptions: high-definition, hi-tech, hyperreal. "Touch Absence" may be the enduring anthem of this virtual-reality sound, a successor to acts like Gescom and AFX. While not as obviously complex as tracks like AYA's "That Hyde Trakk" or much of what Objekt makes, it felt unique in its evocation of a technological sublime. Tactile thwacks, perfume-mist synth pads and seraphic choral harmonies gave "Touch Absence" an unblinking awe, the kind that might precede alien abduction. Its contrasts of the physical and the ethereal—chewy bass drum distortions, halo-rimmed tones—only enhanced its mystique.
In the months surrounding "Touch Absence"'s release, a breakbeat mix of that cut and other Lanark Artefax tracks were being played out by Aphex Twin. His DJ sets in 2017 were a big deal, given his absence from festival stages in the years prior, and the race to fastidiously ID every moment of his performances produced an aftershock effect. Whereas some producers basked in the glow of this co-sign, others saw a one-man cottage industry that didn’t exactly chime with rave’s idealised values of information dissemination and communality. In Lanark Artefax's case, it's telling that the impact of his music felt disconnected from this chatter. He was already up and away. If anything, it felt the other way around: well done AFX for slotting such a natural descendent of his future-mulching aesthetic into his oeuvre. He recognised the brilliance of "Touch Absence" straight out the gate, as we all did.
- Ray Philp
Also on this list: Slikback - Ascension / Burial - Loner
Towards the end of the decade, techno fans fell back in love with vocals. It may contrast sharply with the years of stripped down, minimal styles that came before it, but this renewed interest shouldn't be a surprise. To some degree, crowd-pleasing DJing has always been about playing "the hits." What can rile up the dance floor more than a catchy melody?
Samples of t.A.T.u., Britney Spears and Robin S. became techno, donk and breakbeat edits, a fresh wave of DJ weaponry that was as silly as it was slamming. But Danish producer Martin Schacke wrote the biggest vocal anthem to emerge in the past few years. His "Kisloty People," coming out through St. Petersburg label Клуб ("Club"), was not only 2019's song of the summer but RA's Track Of The Year, a cut of fast and colorful techno overlaid with hyperactive Russian pop. Schacke samples a hook from Акула's 2001 Europop hit "Кислотный DJ" ("acid DJ"). Out of the perky Russian chorus a few English words pop through: "people," "music," "love." In this way, "Kisloty People" taps into the blissed out ecstasy that's always been at clubbing's core, but reinterpreted with fresh personality.
- Steph Lee
Also on this list: India Jordan - DN4 / PTU - A Broken Clock is Right Twice a Day