Maybe it’s the success of the Primavera Sound festival that’s given Spain’s independent music scene in a boost. After all, the revered annual festival is now more than a decade old and lately seems to be perpetually expanding. Or maybe it’s the self-started surge in the indie scene that’s fueled Primavera? It’s gotta be more Spaniards than out-of-towners who attend, right? Does this matter? Really, it’s a chicken-and-egg conundrum, and ruminating over it will eat up time that would be far better spent just enjoying the results. From country folk to garage rock, here are ten shining examples of the wonderful sound Spain has to offer your ears.

Bigott

This zaragozano—a term for Zaragoza dwellers—is not unlike Jens Lekman in his quirky folk-pop pursuits. They share the same pair of rose-colored glasses that often bring out the magic in life’s minutia, plus a penchant for tropical touches and glimmers of whimsy. Neo-disco nuances sprinkled throughout Bigott’s five full-lengths further the parallels between the two.

For his latest release, Blue Jeans (Grabaciones en el Mar), Bigott enlisted the help of live players and much-beloved Spanish producer Paco Loco, to record the LP in the picturesque beachside town of Trancoso, Brazil. You can easily imagine the scenario on the sunny, shaker-heavy cut “Oh Yeah !!!,” which boasts a line befitting of a Lekman tune: “You make me feel like I’ve been walking on coconuts.”

Mossén Bramit Morera i Els Morts

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If Dracula had a band, they’d sound like this brand-new Barcelona outfit. They’ve got just one EP to offer so far, but it’s a doozy of a release. All four ’60s garage rooted jams belong at a swinging late-night party alongside the likes of the Trashmen, Screamin’ Jay Hawkins and contemporaries like King Khan, Mark Sultan and Valencia band Wau y Los Arrrghs. They’d also work well as the soundtrack to a raucous rock ‘n’ roll party held at Bran Castle but, you know, that’s probably never going to happen. How about they play the next Funtastic Dracula Carnival in Benidorm and we’ll call it even?

Demuerte

Outlaws of electronic music! Real drums? That’s not allowed, right? Demuerte is breaking the rules by crafting trance and acid house style tracks with a live drummer and a synthesizer. The duo’s debut EP, 666 The Number of the Beast, is a collection of completely improvised, subtly spooky space-outs that both Kraftwerk and Phuture would smile upon.

Juanita y Los Feos

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Garage and punk bands seem to grow on trees in Spain, but this only stands out because they do it exceptionally well. The female-fronted, Madrid-based outfit recalls Aerolineas Federales in its bratty blasts of poppy punk. On the swirling, sinister track “Traga, Mastica, Vomita,” Juanita sings, “Eres guapa/ Pero eres estupida.” Some of their punchy lyrics will require translation for non-Spanish speakers, but that line’s pretty universal. Their most recent release is a split with Juventud Juche as part of Spanish label Discos Walden Club del Single 7-inch subscription series. Though Juanita y Los Feos have been more melody minded in recent years, this pair of songs hearkens back to the more aggressive sound they kicked off with in 2004.

Rusos Blancos

If you speak Spanish, proceed with emotional caution: Rusos Blancos take pleasure in tugging at the heartstrings. Last year’s Tiempo de Nísperos offers a variety of backgrounds for the sentimental lyrics frontman Manuel Rodríguez croons ever so softly and smoothly. Leisurely disco, lite FM sort of pop is the main setup, but there’s also folk moments, a quiet, airy acoustic number, the occasional electronic accent and a few tropicalia nods, too.

Album opener “Dudo Que el Amor Nos Salve,” which translates to “I doubt that love will save us,” is the story of an intense but brief hookup that begins strangely (at an STD clinic) and ends typically (the couple parts ways). It’s vaguely reminiscent of Prince’s “Little Red Corvette,” except it’s a piano-driven ballad that swaps Prince’s overtly sexual flair for retrospection and, in the end, a sense of resolve. (Alright, it’s not like Prince at all.) A chorus of ethereal female “oohs” calls back “todo arde” (everything burns) to Rodriguez before the feel-better finale: “Ya no puedo esperar/ Para volver a enamorarme/ Para volver a equivocarme.” (I can’t wait to fall in love again, to make mistakes again.) If that doesn’t elicit at least a modicum of feeling, it’s possible that you are an android.

Niño y Pistola

You’d never know this group of guys hails from Spain by their twangy catalog of country-folk gems. Singer Manuel Portolés imitates a Southern drawl with no struggle whatsoever, and is precise and restrained in its deployment. Neil Young is an obvious influence on the general sound and, quite often, also on Portolés’ vocal techniques. It’s alt-country derived from a fascination with ’60s folk-rock greats.

There’s a Man with a Gun Over There, their fourth release, borrows from Buffalo Springfield’s “For What it’s Worth” in its title as well as on “And Then the Rain Started,” a modified version of the classic. Why not simply cover it? Because it had to be adapted for the concept: An album-long account of a fella named Tom who runs into a little trouble with the law. On side A, the fed-up laborer buys a gun, kills his boss and is eventually sent to prison. The flipside details his release 10 years later and the resulting disappointments and awakenings. While Nino y Pistola clearly want you to experience the album in a start-to-finish sitting, a nice starter slice is “Indian Song (Everything’s Burning).” The culmination of chanting, righteous guitar solos and bewildering organ at the tail-end will surely motivate a full listen.

Univers

A strong surf undercurrent coupled with subtle psych nuances make this relatively new Barcelona band’s energetic noise-pop exceptionally fun. Deep, nearly deadpan vocals are the perfect restraint against the relentless buoyancy and galloping melodies, though occasionally they’ll catch up for short bursts of speedy singing. Univers shares both members and sentiments with several more established Spanish bands, like Mujeres, Aliment and the rough-and-tumble garage-punk group Piñata. A four-song EP called La Pedregada, which is completely in Catalan, serves as Univers’ very first physical release. But the players are so seasoned and the songs are so masterfully put together that anyone unfamiliar with Spain’s indie landscape would think they’d been around much longer.

Sho Hai

At the top of Spain’s independent hip-hop totem pole is Violadores del Verso, a Zargoza-based trio that’s been the centerpiece of the underground community since the ’90s. It’s been a while since the old-school style group’s last release, but they continue to support the scene by performing regularly and spreading all Violadores-approved gospel constantly. Plus, each member is a solo artist in his own right. All these years later, Violadores del Verso remain as prolific as they are legendary.

One of latest Violadores offerings comes courtesy of Sho Hai (also known as Hate, Sergio Rodríguez Fernández by birth) and his Doble Vida LP. Violadores have generally taken the party-pushing approach, but nevertheless they do exist in a realm that sometimes takes itself too seriously. That said, Sho Hai’s tendency to put a goofy spin on things comes as somewhat of a relief. The video for “…Ella” is a prime example: The leading lady is not so much a woman but a creepy mannequin Sho Hai absolutely cherishes.

Novedades Carminha

Again, the garage and punk scene in Spain is booming.  There’s an overwhelming number of incredible bands. That means it’s not hard to accidentally present a warped picture of Spain’s independent music scene. While that’s important to avoid, Novedades Carimnha are simply too fun to pass up. The hyperactive Jódete y Baila, released in 2011, landed somewhere between flowery and filthy on the garage-pop spectrum, and that’s real sweet spot for any rock ‘n’ roll fan. (Heads up for non-Spanish speakers: Album translation NSFW. Spanish speakers: Too late. Oops!)

Just months ago talk of finishing up the next LP, Juventud Infinita, surfaced on several indie friendly Spanish blogs, along with a video for the first single, “Fiesta Patronal.” All signs point to: That album is going to be awesome.

Corte Moderno

The beats that guide their self-titled debut EP recall the preset Latin rhythms on a vintage organ, though Corte Moderno actually recorded them using a drum machine. It’s the faraway style of the accompanying vocals, layered so they overlap but don’t match up precisely, and the minimal input from the guitarist and bassist that make for songs that one might easily mistake for the short-lived musical effort of someone’s Spanish grandfather in the ’70s. It’s an offshoot of Montañas, released the same day—and through the same label—as that band’s latest LP.

There were times last year when, caught in an endless mobius loop of listening to Gotye and Tame Impala on repeat, it seemed to me that Australians had won at music. But for those actually living in Australia, there was another artist dominating the radio waves.  In 2012 Aussie rapper 360 conquered Australia with his multi-platinum sophomore album Flying & Falling (released late 2011). It’s a party-friendly record full of addictive hooks and deeply personal raps, executed over backing tracks that draw on the indie and dance sounds that Australians are doing so well these days. It was propelled by the single “Boys Like You,” an extremely catchy exploration of man-sluttery featuring Australian singer Gossling (see below). The album went multi-platinum, and got 360 nominates ten categories at the 2012 ARIA  Awards, which is basically the Australian equivalent of Grammys.

Here’s some other things you might be interested in knowing about 360: he’s extremely tall, covered in tattoos and wears his baseball caps backwards. He cusses like a kangaroo farmer (he made the news for dropping the C-bomb on national television during an award acceptance speech, and note the parade of F-bombs in the interview below). He nearly lost his balls in a serious go-kart accident in 2010. He’s a recovering alcoholic, a topic which he was surprisingly candid about when we spoke. And he’s determined to become the first rapper to break through in the US.

Can 360 do it? The US hip-hop scene is a hard nut for a lanky white Australian man to crack, but with his impressive work ethic and infectious songwriting style, he just may pull it off. We spoke on the phone about how he’s adjusting to being a famous dude, how he got off the drink, and how he plans to go about his American conquest.

360, what a charmer (Photo courtesy of the artist)

So,  you are a pretty big deal in Australia. Have you gotten used to being famous yet?

I don’t know man, it’s kind of crazy. In Australia I can’t even walk into the shops or anything because people want to take photos all the time. I just got back from touring America and it was nice, I could walk through the streets for a change.

Celebrities always complain about that, but isn’t this what you’ve been working towards all these years?

It’s cool but I’m just at this stage now where I avoid going out at all costs, man, it’s too much. I try to go out with my friends, but it ruins their fun as well because if we go to a bar or anywhere we just get harassed the whole time. What I do appreciate is getting all these messages from younger fans, saying my music has stopped them from killing themselves, crazy s**t like that, that’s an incredible feeling to know you had that effect.

You wrote a hilarious rant on Facebook about “why it sucks to be a rapper in Australia” – do people really just rap at you all the time in public?

Dude, it’s ridiculous. When people hear you are a rapper, they always start rapping at you to show off their skills. They just walk up to you and say “check my bars” and start rapping. I just can’t get over the fact that people aren’t aware that it’s such an awkward thing to do. But jokes aside, it’s actually a pretty great time to be a rapper in Australia. Rap is one of the biggest things here right now.

On the other hand, what you do isn’t exactly “rap” or “hip-hop” in way we normally think about those genres, is it?

No, to be honest, I don’t want to make traditional hip-hop anymore, or any specific music for that matter. I just want to make whatever I’m feeling in the moment – there’s some dance, some pop, some dubstep.  I like to incorporate all the things I listen to, and I’ve been listening to everything.

You’ve mentioned Drake as one of your favorite people in hip-hop today – do you identify with what he does with genre?

Totally, I just think he’s really talented. He’s a great songwriter and a great singer. I like him best when he really opens up, and you see that really personal side. He’s killing it right now.

Australia has something of a reputation for having a big partying culture, are you a big party-guy yourself?

To be honest I used to be a pretty hectic alcoholic back in the day. Now I can’t drink even if I want to, or I’d become an alcoholic again. It crept up on me – I wasn’t aware I had a problem for a long time.

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Were you already in public life when you went through that?

Yeah. I was on tour and I got sick and I wanted to save my voice, so I had stopped drinking for a few days. Then I started hallucinating and I didn’t realize what the f**k was going on – I thought I was dying. Then somebody told me that it was alcohol withdrawal and I said, “f**k that makes sense.” I had been smashing it on tour for eight months, partying like crazy. I wasn’t self-medicating with it or anything; I was just having fun with it. Alcohol is the hardest drug to get off for sure and doing it mid-tour was particularly hard. The only time I felt alright that whole time was when I was on stage. It was a tough thing to overcome and I’m glad I did. I barely drink now, one drink here and there and that’s about it.

You’ve got a crapload of tattoos, are you going just keep on getting them?

Definitely yeah, I’ve got to do my whole body eventually. I’ve got a deal with my manager that if I do well with the next album then I can get another face tattoo to celebrate.

Any favorites?

I like the Mario on my arm – I have the whole video game evolution from Space Invaders onward. Most of the meanings of them are cool, some could be better. Some are s**t, but I don’t really regret any of them. I have lots of regrets in life but don’t regret the memories of those things having a tattoo that reminds yourself about that s**t, you know?

You’ve stated that you want to be the first Australian rapper to break into the US – what’s your plan to make that happen?

Well I’ve been working really crazy hard on my new album, working with some crazy artists. We’re going as hard as we possibly can. After SXSW, I got booked for Lollapalooza in Chicago later this year, so just pushing it and pushing it. My music is getting better and better, so I think that will help.

Do you have to do anything different to appeal to US audiences do you think?

Nah – I don’t want to think about it like that. If I try to change my music for a different market, then  I’m not really being myself. I just want to make music that I like to make. If it works, it works. If it doesn’t, f**k it.

Evolving to one of the most prolific Mexican producers of today, DJ Javier Estrada righteously holds the torch of Latin and even pre-Colombian influenced electronic dance music. He is a tireless music ambassador. His mission: rescuing, re-appropriating, and fusing the sounds of his ancestors with new ones,

Around the year 2000, it was popular to listen to Korn, Limp Bizkit, Slipknot, among others. During that time, I was part of a nu metal wave. I was able to obtain a really cheap drum set, I practiced a lot and when the opportunity came, I joined several punk rock, black metal, and heavy metal bands. Afterwards in 2004, I traveled to another state [within Mexico] and I met a friend who introduced me to another type of music, psycho [a style of electronic music similar trance] and other types of similar genres. I loved it. Later, I began to change up psycho music by integrating Latin rhythms.

Since you emerged a while back playing around Mexico’s northern border, how have you seen the Mexican electronic scene change?

Incredibly. It has evolved a lot. In Mexico, more and more people have been receiving with open arms what was previously thought of as underground music. I never imagined that moombahton was going to enter the country and click really well the way it’s been happening now. Dubstep came to Mexico two years ago, and before that nobody listened to it, only very few of us did. Genres have also been evolving and producers have been creating very interesting sounds, like global bass, which has tremendously helped the [electronic] scene evolve in Mexico.

Photo Credit: NWLA

Speaking of moombahton, you’re latest EP Moombahton is pretty fantastic. Can you walk me through the production process?

First of all, thank you. I’m really glad you enjoyed it. The production process of this EP emerged out of different things. I’ll discuss a few of the tracks. The song “Poison Ivy” came about when I was watching TV with my grandma – a Mexican movie from the early seventies featuring Mexican singer Johnny Laboriel. He was singing “Hiedra Venenosa,” a Rolling Stones cover and a national classic, and I immediately thought that I could add a new twist to this song so a lot more people could recognize it.

“Civilizations War” emerged in a similar way. I find that fusion of pre-Hispanic and new sounds to be a really great combination, not just to listen to, but because it’s also really dance floor friendly.

“Que Rompa” (let it break) came about when I was at work and my boss got really mad about something that was not my fault. At that moment I was looking for some sort of way to scream, “I quit!” So I put all of that energy on creating the track.

“Báilame” (dance for me) is a really important track for me because the lyrics were composed by me, as well as the music. My best friend, Joseline Nava, sings it who sings it really well for that rhythm.

The EP cover features Bart Simpson dressed as an Aztec or Mayan behind turntables. Can you also talk to us about the artwork behind it?

Eduardo Caudillo created the artwork for the Moombahton EP, he’s a good friend of mine from Mexico City. I told him that I wanted him to make a design comparable to what I do with music. Bart Simpson has been an important pop culture figure for several generations now and continues to be relevant. I wanted to portray something multi-generational, mainly with a pre-Hispanic graphic. You can see Bart playing vinyl behind turntables surrounded by Mayan and Aztec scenery.

New artists today have emerged mixing indigenous and pre-Hispanic sounds with modern ones. Do you believe there’s something in the atmosphere that artists are returning back to their roots?

Rather that, I believe that in order to create [music] one has to look back. I think we have a genetic code where these sounds come from within – it’s something that’s inside our own organisms, to put it that way. So, to hear these sounds that were made thousands of years ago makes us feel things again and that’s exciting. The fact of putting together something ancient with something new I believe is astonishingly good. There’s a bright future in the past.

Last year you were part of a very interesting music video trilogy with Canada’s native trio, A Tribe Called Red. Can you talk about how this collaboration came about?

I first got in contact with A Tribe Called Red in 2011, and just last year in New York at SOB’s I had the chance to meet and perform with them. The idea of creating the video trilogy came about when I first asked them to remix a track of mine, and I then did a remix to one of their tracks. Apparently, they really liked the idea of combining ancient sounds from Central and South America that they decided to create this trilogy in their own unique way, and it’s really fantastic.

By the way, I heard that you have the super ability to produce an entire EP in one full day. What gives you that creative burst?

More than anything, it’s the love for music. When I had the opportunity to create more, I got to the point where I’d produce approximately six tracks within nineteen to twenty hours. In reality, I don’t think that quality is the enemy of velocity, or vice versa. If you like to do something you do it well, and the faster you do it, the more opportunity you have to create more things.

During the 2011 London riots, Still Corners’ Greg Hughes was at work on the follow-up his band’s recently released debut, Creatures of an Hour. His Texas twang softened by over a decade in Britain, the American multi-instrumentalist recalls the city in confusion, as he hurried home to the Greenwich-neighborhood apartment that he shares with bandmate and Still Corners vocalist, Tessa Murray.

“I looked up and there was a helicopter landing,” he says, still in awe two years later. “They picked up this guy who had just been stabbed. It’s kind of a dark tale. During that time you’d turn on the television and there was loads of fires and people lighting businesses on fire. It was just very scary and weird.”

Those hot August days were immortalized in a surprisingly breezy new track, “All I Know.” Against a backdrop of hazy synths and ghostly guitars, Murray sings, “Summer is like a fire.” Rather than a political statement, the song twists the image into a metaphor for love—as may of the band’s songs often do.

“It’s unlikely that there’ll be a Still Corners protest song any time soon,” Murray jokes.

The couple first met by accident, when a train they were on stopped at the wrong station and both were left standing on the platform. It seems appropriate to note it was a dark and foggy night. The band that they would go on to form (live they’re joined by guitarist Leon Dufficy and bassist Luke Jarvis) thrives on the details, playing with the same cinematic tendencies that characterized Broadcast, and inhabiting the same darkened streets that Beach House has been known to haunt.

Still Corners’ sophomore album Strange Pleasures interjects racing pop pulse into their daydream compositions. Murray’s lithe soprano is brought to the forefront, swooping through the glittery synths. While the band employed a stream of conscientious writing style to the new material, achieving such an ethereal sound wasn’t easy—particularly when it came to 1980s-flavored anthem, “Fireflies.”

“We were thinking of doing a ‘Fireflies’ EP, and including all the songs that were originally ‘Fireflies,’” laughs Murray. “There are maybe one or two on the record, but we wont tell you which ones.”

The pair persisted with the troublesome track, in part, because they truly believe in the song’s ephemeral, carpe diem theme.

“‘Fireflies’ it’s just about that, that life is so short,” says Hughes. “It’s like a brief firework display. The analogy with the fireflies is just to grab it.”

It’s an idealistic statement, one that resonates throughout Still Corners’ oeuvre. Over the course of their two albums and one EP (2007’s Remember Pepper?), the band has send characters chasing after an elusive summer, driving through the night, and acutely experiencing love, lost, and loss with an all-consuming focus.

“We are romantic, and we do have a romantic view of the world, Hughes admits. “There’s so much crazy stuff going on out there. I feel it’s important to maintain a little bit of a childlike view. I hope that works its way into the music.”

Strange Pleasures is out now via Sub Pop.

Kat Dahlia

Katriana Huguet, known to her fans as Kat Dahlia, is an American-born singer, rapper and songwriter of Cuban descent, and she harnesses a number of different influences to give birth to her own brand of alternative hip-hop. With an aggressive delivery and supremely distinctive tone, tinged with elements of her Latin roots, the starlet cites Led Zeppelin, Bob Marley, The Doors, Rihanna, Frank Sinatra and BB King as a few of the artists that she looks up to.

Williamsburg Salsa Orchestra

The concept is so simple and brilliant, it’s amazing Williamsburg Salsa Orchestra is the first to do it: salsa covers of your favorite indie rock songs.  We’re talking Spoon. Santigold. Animal Collective. All bristling with super-charged horn lines and slippery Afro-Latin grooves. What’s great about the WSO is that they aren’t just throwing a little conga on Animal Collective and calling it a day. Their versions really transform the originals, sometimes to the brink of recognition, imbuing them with real freshness.

Juan Cirerol

Imagine ambling through the world with a 12-string guitar over your shoulder, dusty boots on your tired feet, having candid discussions with strangers about their lives, and then translating them into exquisitely beautiful and/or ugly songs. Juan Cirerol lives that life for real and crafts the most poignant folk ballads about everyday life in Mexico you’ll ever hear. The comparisons that have been made calling him this generation’s Johnny Cash might not be that much of an exaggeration.

Hooded Fang

Hooded Fang consistently champions the pep in pop, typically with the breezy, carefree glee of a day at the beach in mind. Last year’s Tosta Mista showcased the Toronto outfit at its most sun-drenched and danceable, albeit through a loosely-weaved filter of ’60s psych. But now Hooded Fang has inflected its tropical tunes with a much darker, sometimes dizzying motif. Gravez, due May 28, is a reflection of the stormier side of the seaside climate they so frequently channeled before.

Lee Hi

Listening to Korea’s Lee Hi with your eyes closed may not prepare you for the girl you see — it’s not every day that everyone’s favorite new teen pop starlet has a voice like a world wizened jazz crooner. She may be grouped in with mainstream K-pop idols on paper, but 17-year-old Hi and her soul and blues influences bring even more depth to Korea’s diversifying Top 40.

If you plan on cutting shapes in Ibiza this summer, be sure to pay Pacha a visit.

More information: H E R E

Branko from Buraka Som Sistema has taken responsibility for birthing ‘zouk bass’ in his February live DJ set for Boiler Room, where there was an enthusiastic reception to the opening tracks that he played. Following that performance, there was an article published on Enchufada Record’s (his label) website called ‘We Call It Zouk Bass’. It provides a history lesson in of zouk which culminates in Branko delivering this local sound to the world in one, masterful swoop. It is similar to the construction of the origin myth for moombahton: the oft-repeated tale of how Dave Nada slowed down Dutch house to reggaeton speeds at a house party. The problem with these origin myths is that they fossilize history and downplay existing, active scenes. From ‘We Call It Zouk Bass’:

Be it on the African nightclubs, on cellphone ringtones on the subway or through the neighbour’s stereo, everyone in Lisbon has come to know Zouk’s lusophone relative, Kizomba. Despite having been heard and danced to for years – and actually topping the compilation charts – few Portuguese could actually identify any key players of the genre. What’s missing for this kind of tropical R&B to achieve its deserved legitimacy and finally step out of its niche? Buraka Som Sistema’s answer: if mainstream culture won’t embrace Zouk, let’s take it to the clubs – essentially the same solution that brought the Kuduro phenomenon to the world.

“Despite having been heard and danced to for years…” is an interesting phrase. Zouk and kizomba has had often parallel popularity to kuduro within Angola. The difference being that kizomba’s “niche” has been that it is partner-centric syrupy music geared towards consumption by, and the participation of, women. It’s pretty “soft”:

Tarraxa is a bit different, because it’s more illicit. Regardless, neither have previously been recognized for how hip-arresting the sounds can be. More damning, the article fails to identify the track that he played in his Boiler Room set as “Tarraxo na Parede” by DJ Kuimba DZC, which contradicts the idea that Buraka Som Sistema is trying to shed light on zouk/kizomba’s key players.

Let’s rewind a little and do a simplistic run-through of zouk’s trajectory. Traditional zouk has its roots in the French Antilles (including Guadelupe and Martinique) in the 1980s. It was a fusion of African, French and preexisting Caribbean genres like Compas (Haiti), Cadence-Lypso (Dominica), Gwo Ka (Guadelupe). It gained international popularity with the Paris-based band Kassav’, where it found a thriving fan-base in French Caribbean, French African, and Lusophone (Portuguese-speaking) communities. Over the years there was a shift from live bands to more computer-based production. French trio Zouk Nation brought zouk to its peak of global popularity with their 1990 hit “Maldon,” but zouk’s popularity in the Western world declined over the course of the 1990s and early 2000s. In Angola, kizomba emerged as a local dance and sound that also had its roots in another homegrown genre, semba. While kuduro took off as the “hard ass” international sensation, kizomba remained virtually unheard of outside of Angolan communities.

Personal note: I remember looking for South Africa kwaito on peer-to-peer file sharing networks in the mid-2000s and finding tons of mp3s poorly labeled as Artist_song_kwaito_kizomba_tarracha.mp3 and being confused because the music clearly wasn’t kwaito. It signaled to me that Southern African producers, DJs, and singers trying to put their songs out were tagging their music for biggest cross-over appeal. I whole-heartedly loved the sound without having any context to what I was finding. I asked all of my DJ friends at the time who were digging deep into baile funk and kuduro what was up with kizomba and got tepid reactions. At the time, I took it as a general disinterest in melodic, love-centric music and maybe that is still the case. I shared this story with Boima Tucker, who agreed: “I’ve been telling people, ‘zouk has bass!’ for years.” My favorite artist at the time was Rei Helder:

During this same time in the mid-2000s Lisbon-based DJ Marfox, DJ NK, and others were producing tarraxas. In 2006, Marfox and N.K. put out the terrific compilation DJ’s do Guetto on their label Principe Discos. The production is simple and repetitive, but deeply hypnotic and gratifying in its stripped down structure. Responding to the new interest in the sound, DJ Marfox has reissued DJ’s do Guetto and released an new mix called Keep Calm and Dancing to Tarraxhina and is supporting a new roster of DJs playing around Lisbon. Their sound is arresting, but the fact that tarraxa  and harder zouk has been selected to get more shine than kizomba or zouk love is significant, because it favors the “urban” side of zouk. When I say urban, I mean coded to be more hard, gangsta, dangerous—the sound of the streets. That danger gives tarraxa a different type of seductive quality than kizomba’s heart-eyed smoothness.

Today’s kizomba releases sound a lot more like American R&B set to zouk beat. Singers like Anselmo Ralph imitate the look and sound of singers like Chris Brown or Ne-Yo. Ralph’s videos get millions of YouTube hits. The kizomba of “African nightclubs” “cell phone ringtones” “the subway” and “the neighbor’s stereo” referenced in ‘We Call It Zouk’ is a sprawling reality across lusophone Africa, Europe, and African immigrant pockets around the world. It’s diffusion is difficult to track down and because the sounds and samples are pretty mainstream to the point of being difficult to extract as exotic. The loose telecom, internet video, and radio networks where these songs are primarily shared make it harder for music acts and DJs to claim territorial authority and are less rigid in their cultural sampling. Mozambique’s Lizha James even incorporates Three 6 Mafia-style hi-hats in “Vais Rochar.”

A great, trippy visual totem for the dilemma of zouk bass is the video “Talking Doll” by SaBBo, the global bass DJ from Tel Aviv. It’s directed and edited well and features pleasant street art in its background, but the central figure is what I am assuming is a white or at least very light-skinned woman wearing a mask of a black jungle cat and twerking. It plays out all of the anxieties about white people taking trying something African on and it giving them magical booty powers. It also continues the pattern of stripping women of identity by masking them and reducing their role to pleasurable dancing objects, which is an annoying trend also seen in Diplo’s “Butters Theme” video.

To his credit, I spoke to SaBBo about zouk bass and whether he felt that zouk bass was divorcing women’s participation from kizomba and he had this to say: “Personally, I would really not like to see the ‘Bro-fication’ of Dubstep or Moombahton repeating here. I wanna see girls dance when I play it, not boys nodding their heads to ‘the filthiest track’.” His admission of the ‘bro-ification’ tendency in global bass a small step in the right direction, but it’s still important to continue to challenge to the bass-ification of every exotic subgenre within reach with the definition of success ultimately being the visual pleasures of watching women shake their rumps.

Where She’s From: Bucheon, South Korea

When She Started: 2012

Genre: Pop-infused Blues/Soul, Jazz

For Fans Of: Duffy, Norah Jones, Dionne Bromfield

Sounds Like: Soulful throwbacks with a modern pop twist

Listening to Korea’s Lee Hi with your eyes closed may not prepare you for the girl you see — it’s not every day that everyone’s favorite new teen pop starlet has a voice like a world wizened jazz crooner. She may be grouped in with mainstream K-pop idols on paper, but 17-year-old Hi and her soul and blues influences bring even more depth to Korea’s diversifying (though still overwhelmingly dance/pop) Top 40.

Topping the pop charts and taking over the radio isn’t easy when your style doesn’t quite match the trending dance and hip-hop genres or even the rising indie rock scene, but Hi and her all-star music-writing team from YG Entertainment (PSY‘s home agency) clearly know how to play the game and be heard. Radio-friendly singles like her Duffy-esque retro-soul single “1.2.3.4” pull unsuspecting potential fans into her unexpectedly well-rounded debut album, First Love.

Check out the visually stunning MV for “Rose,” a blues-y track with a killer house beat that’s less “break-up” and more “don’t even start with me” :

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A chat with Guy Gerber isn’t so much a conversation as it is a journey, an experience. The guy could just as easily be a spoken word poet as a DJ and producer. Born in Israel, but living in various international locales over the years, Gerber is known for his relentless touring, and for crafting particularly emotive electronic music.

Speaking to Gerber over the phone as he sits in a Paris hotel, though, one gets the impression that he leads an almost James Bond-like existence. That is, if Bond spent his time collaborating with P. Diddy and conceiving elaborate and a fantastically subversive dance club experience, as he is doing with his Wisdom of the Glove residency at the famous Ibiza institution, Pacha. What Gerber is creating is worthy of the legendary events thrown by the French Surrealists in the 1920s, with rooms decorated with absurdist, dreamlike flair. It also has a decadent vaudevillian theatricality to it. To hear Gerber talk about it, one imagines Charlie Chaplin’s prop room exploding onto the set of Stanley Kubrick’s Eyes Wide Shut or the play Sleep No More.

Aside from Wisdom of the Glove, we also spoke about the accompanying album he recorded in six days, and how writing music in a sleepless state inevitably influences the results.

How’s it going?
I’m hearing from the girl who works at the hotel to go and see what happened last night. So, I’m trying to get some information.

What did happen last night?
One girl was staying in one room, and her clothes were found in another. There are only DJs here, so I’m going to find out who did it. [Laughs]

Fantastic. You just played an electronic music festival in Paris. How did it go?
The festival, Marvelous Island, is the first electronic music festival in Paris. It’s outdoor on an island in the middle of Minimes Lac. Five days of electronic music, featuring a lot of DJs.

Where are you living these days?
Since moving out of Israel, I’ve been constantly on the move. I’ll be based in Ibiza for the summer, but I’m moving to New York City since I’m also involved in opening a club in Williamsburg.

Let’s talk about your Wisdom of the Glove residency at Pacha.
This is a big, big, big story—the residency itself and the story behind it. I got an opportunity with Pacha and told my manager I would only do it if I had full artistic control. Here’s the story. It’s funny…

I was in the jungle in Mexico at a party. Now, whenever people go to Burning Man Festival or things like that, they put on costumes and makeup, and it’s part of the experience. That’s not really my thing, but I like to watch it. So, I came to this jungle and somebody gave me a glove—something like what Michael Jackson would have worn. I put it on. It was cheap and didn’t have a very nice texture on the inside. During the night, every time I said “Hi” to a guy or girl, I’d touch them on the face with the glove. I thought it was kind of creepy, since I was sort of surprising people with it. After awhile, I realized no one was really bothered by me touching them with the glove on my hand. So I touched my face for a second to see why that was, and realized that the outside of the glove was actually really soft and nice.

Then I came up with this idea that the more you touch, the more the glove charges you with creepiness. But, then if I shake your hand with my gloveless hand, I channel everything out and hold you in your dreams with all the creepiness that had been charging. And I called this bullshit thing The Wisdom of the Glove. [Laughs]

So, with Pacha, they asked if I had a concept for my Wednesday night residency. Without thinking I said to my manager, “My night is the Wisdom of the Glove.” She said, “I’m not going to tell them this.” If you look at the day of the week, you already know that it’s weird.

Then, my other concept was to put a glove in the gift shop and sell it for $150,000. It would be like Damien Hirst is in Pacha. People always ask if something is becoming commercial, so I’m taking that twenty steps further just to freak people out, to see what they’ll say about the glove. But, people actually love the idea.

Photo courtesy of the artist

How did the idea evolve from that initial thought to what people will experience at Pacha?
I got blocked and couldn’t book any DJs who had relationships with other clubs or promoters, even if they were my friends. But, I think obstacles are basically just a source of inspiration.

Since I couldn’t compete with other nights on Ibiza, I decided to do something completely different. I wanted to book artists like Four Tet, Jamie xx or Nicolas Jaar—people who are a bit more interesting in electronic music. People you wouldn’t expect to find on Ibiza or at Pacha. If I wanted to do something like this in an underground club, it would be very pretentious. Doing it at Pacha, however, it becomes kind of mind-blowing.

Honestly, everybody is talking about it now. They’re saying, “What is happening at Pacha on Wednesdays?” Well, it’s something weird. I’m bringing magicians, shadow puppeteers, and I bought a Zoltar machine. They put my face on Zoltar with a scorpion on my shoulder. You will put a Euro into the machine and I will tell you your future in a Russian accent. I also have this box with two latex gloves inside. You and another person will be able to shake hands through the gloves. So, I want the night to be more playful, and a little bit more hilarious. At the same time, musically it’s a very cutting edge line-up, especially for Ibiza.

Going back to your comment about the perception of Pacha as commercial. It’s always a good thing to subvert the mainstream, so to speak, from time to time.
Right, because Wisdom of the Glove is in Pacha, it becomes more ridiculous. Everyone at Pacha has been really supportive, though. It’s been a really creative environment.

What else would you like club goers to feel at Wisdom of the Glove?
My night exists between 0 to 1. If you look at the brightness of a computer, and you go from 9 to 8 or 7 to 6, it’s always one step down. You hardly notice the change. But when you go from 1 to 0, you go from light to no light. It’s only one step, but a whole world is in that step. My night is in between. Anything can happen in it. Maybe nothing happens! It’s like I finally found a frame through which I can transmit all of these ideas. I want to inspire people to also think like that. If people want to come to Wisdom of the Glove, they can be creepy, a magician, stylish, a fetishist, a boxer,  or whatever, and they can do that without too much effort. You put the glove on and you are there.

Would you explore these concepts at the club you plan to open in Williamsburg?
Yes! If I did this night all over the world, Pacha would still be part of it. But, I would only do it in places that could afford the whole thing. They need to be able to offer a really surreal environment, and there are very few places that can provide it. But, I would love to do it in New York City.

You recorded an album for Pacha for the Wisdom of the Glove residency, and you did it in an incredibly short amount of time. Can you talk about the writing and recording process?
I ended up recording a mix album like with Fabric 64. The difference is that instead of being in the studio, I was on the road. I finished the album in six days on the headphones. I’m really proud of it because I was going in and out of planes, hotels and clubs, and waking up before I go to sleep more and more because of the timetable. I will give this one away for free as a download link.

Do you think your recent schedule had an effect on the album itself?
Of course. Always. I’m very much myself. If I have a thought, I do it. I do what I really feel. And I would say that the mood is kind of like an after party mood in a hotel room, not like an after party in a club. It’s very sexual, but also hypnotic, moody, and kind of melancholic. I had a lot of pressure because of this thing with Pacha, because they really put a lot of faith in me. It’s not that I’m so motivated. But, I have this thing that maybe I can’t win, but for sure I cannot lose. Whatever happens, I don’t lose.

The UK is in need of a cool pop band, and has been for years! After listening to Kitchen Party’s mixtape, it’s clear that they’re more than capable of filling the vacancy.

Download for free: H E R E

Fun fact: They’re called Kitchen Party because the three ladies regularly rave it up together in the kitchen of the London-based flat they share. How much more cooler can they get?

Where They’re From: Toronto, Ontario, Canada

When They Started: 2008

Genre: Indie-pop/rock

For Fans Of: Crocodiles, Surfer Blood, Beach Fossils, the latest Wavves LP

Sounds Like: The impending doom of a fast approaching hurricane during your Caribbean vacation

Hooded Fang consistently champions the pep in pop, typically with the breezy, carefree glee of a day at the beach in mind. Last year’s Tosta Mista showcased the Toronto outfit at its most sun-drenched and danceable, albeit through a loosely-weaved filter of ’60s psych. But now Hooded Fang has inflected its tropical tunes with a much darker, sometimes dizzying motif. Gravez, due May 28, is a reflection of the stormier side of the seaside climate they so frequently channeled before.

Why the shift? It could be that this third LP marks the band’s first time recording live in a studio. What probably weighs heavier is the reconfigured lineup, which now features D. Alex Meeks on drums. Meeks is a unique ingredient in this new melting pot of creative: He was practically raised on a zoo, spending plenty of personal time with animals most people will never even touch. He’s also part of the off-kilter dance-pop group Phèdre, along with HF frontman Daniel Lee and bassist April Aliermo.

While the lighthearted, almost childlike fun that once powered Hooded Fang’s indie pop is mostly absent, that doesn’t mean they no longer care to compel your shoulders to shake and your toes to tap. Misery can make melody too, and Hooded Fang is embracing that potential to the fullest.

On “Ode to Subterrania,” sharp and succinct spurts of guitar are like pangs of pain, and a perpetually trembling riff underscores the bulk of the track. Still, it’s a natural head-bopper with a deep, R&B leaning bass line almost as prominent as Lee’s forever falsetto-reaching vocals.

No matter how murky the vibe, Hooded Fang remains very much beat-minded. Gravez isn’t about wallowing, but rather accepting the uncontrollable inevitabilities of existence. Just because a torrential downpour eclipses the sun doesn’t mean you’ve got to pack up the party. Take Hooded Fang’s advice: Just dance in the rain. — Jhoni Jackson