At the time of our call, the release of Telos — Zedd's first studio album in nearly a decade — is just seven days away. Snug in an earthy brown crewneck, the 34-year-old musician joins the Zoom from his new home in Encino, California, with a degree of poise that some might find surprising at this point in the rollout. 

Still, his relaxed body language, decisive, measured speech, and quiet confidence make it clear that any anxiety he once felt about the LP has been replaced by pure anticipation. 

"I am honestly just really excited. I think I've released music in the past that I was nervous about, but it's quite different with this album," he tells GRAMMY.com. "I feel very calm and just happy to be able to release this music that I've been working on for so long, some of which has been in the works as late as nine years ago." 

Out Aug. 30, Telos arrives about four years later than initially announced and about eight years after it was contractually due. Though Zedd confirmed that the long-awaited answer to his second studio album, True Colors (2015), would arrive in 2020, he indefinitely postponed the project at the height of the COVID-19 pandemic.  

"I decided to push back the album to when things are more back to normal," he wrote in a Reddit AMA (ask me anything) in November 2020. "I really wanted it to come out this year, but I put the album on standby because during quarantine, I just didn't feel the inspiration to make this the best album possible."

Timing is everything and Zedd, who counts a clock ticking sample among his stylistic hallmarks, knows this well. Zedd embraced the axiom while making Telos, an album that "isn't for the algorithms" in an era when creative works' cultural capital is largely decided by how well they pander to an algorithm. Telos is decidedly — and in some ways, daringly — non-commercial. "Lucky," alongside singer/songwriter Remi Wolf and "Automatic Yes" with John Mayer, are notably the only two tracks palatable for commercial radio airplay. The 10-track album largely plays like a love letter to classical music (there is an orchestra on the entire LP), with flashes of pop, dance/electronic, jazz, world music, and metal influence. A cross-generational list of collaborators — including 40-year-old musician and composer Jeremy Kittle, who recorded each string for the album one by one, and Gen Z singer-songwriter Bea Miller — further dynamize Telos.

Telos "isn't going to be that pop album that some people may have wanted me to make," Zedd acknowledges. Nor will it be the dance/electronic LP that purists from his name-making run in the early-2010’s might long for. Fans gained during the GRAMMY-winning producer's complextro, electro, and progressive house-heavy era (think "Shave It") have been some of his most outspoken critics in recent years, reproaching his stride into commercial pop.

This response is neither surprising nor foreign to Zedd. "I felt the same way about a lot of bands and artists that I grew up listening to when I heard their new music," he reflects. "In the moment, you might be like, I'm disappointed, 'cause I wanted X, Y, Z, and with a little bit of perspective, you realize what an artist has done, and maybe those become your favorite works when you give it time."

Zedd has already proved his ability to craft pop hits with staying power — with help from some of the genre’s most prominent voices. The 2017 single "Stay" with Alessia Cara (2017) and 2018's "The Middle" with Maren Morris and Grey were two of Zedd's biggest smashes in the dance-pop domain post-True Colors. Both singles achieved platinum certification, though "The Middle" has since struck platinum six times. Like "Clarity" — the 2012 breakthrough single that scored Zedd his sole golden gramophone (for Best Dance Recording) — "Stay" and "The Middle" imbued him with the confidence and greater depth of reference to make an album like Telos.

"If I made another album today that felt the same way Clarity felt back then, you wouldn't feel the same way about Clarity today," Zedd reasons, adding that Telos has some of the "internal motivations" and experimentation of Clarity. "It's just a more mature and experienced expression, so I think the people who loved Clarity will find plenty to love on Telos."

The album's debut single, "Out Of Time" featuring Bea Miller, is likely to serve as one such point of connection. It retains the DNA of Zedd's established, melody-driven sonic identity while still feeling fresh and exploratory.

"It's a really good example of a new version of an old me," he attests. "The real core of what Zedd feels like isn't the sound. It's not the synths, and it's not the kicks you hear at the festival. It's actually really deeply rooted in chord progressions and melodies. Those are well alive, and more than ever, on Telos."

At nine-and-a-half-years-old, "Out Of Time" is the oldest track on the album, penned just after Zedd delivered True Colors (OG fans will recognize the song's chord progression from the intro to his DJ sets). His motivation to repeatedly rework the track and fashion it into the album opener stems, in part, from the feeling that it was "too theatrical" to be a standalone single.

Telos provided "the perfect canvas to deliver all these meaningful songs to my life and to my career that couldn't just be one-offs," he says.

Zedd’s current musical ethos is born from his disenchantment with the direction of music in the age of algorithms and TikTok, and the resulting Telos is the product of his "decision to really be free musically."  

"There was one moment in making Telos that made me realize this is like my autobiography. This is everything I am as an artist, and everything I do musically is for me," Zedd says with conviction. "That was a really liberating moment because I am essentially guaranteeing that I'm not going to disappoint anyone because the only audience is me. I'm making this for myself." 

"It sounds so silly to even say [this album is just going to be for me] because you would think that everything you make as an artist is for you," he concedes. "But really, the truth is it's hard to block out the feeling that people might be disappointed, and the feeling that you could change a song, and you would make so many people happy." 

Telos' exhaustive creation process was as much a matter of deconstruction as it was reconstruction. About halfway through the first version of "Z3," as the album is known colloquially among fans, Zedd scrapped 90 percent of what he'd written, salvaging only "Dream Brother." The hypnotic interpretation of Jeff Buckley's 1994 song embodies the musicality that threads Telos — from the texture of the opening guitar chords and piano, to the swell of strings, and Zedd's signature clock ticking sample in its outro. Telos marks the first and only time the Buckley estate has given an artist the rights to the late creative's work. 

"Dream Brother," Zedd explains, was "the only song that felt like this is living very much in the world that I really deeply feel," citing it as "a song that has inspired me since my early days as a musician." 

Between his successes on Billboard's Hot Dance/Electronic Songs chart and the coveted Hot 100, it may be easy to forget that Zedd's musicality traces back to childhood. A classically trained musician, Zedd began playing the piano at the age of four and still writes his music on the piano first. Telos is a cerebral reminder that it's reductive to think of Zedd as anything less than a natural-born composer.

Elsewhere, "Sona," featuring the olllam, harkens back to Zedd's days as a member of German metalcore band DIORAMIC in its use of the 7/4 time signature. "Sona" is the first song in this time signature that Zedd has made since his days as a band member (he was the group's drummer from ages 12 to 20). 

Still, Telos' unequivocal pièce de resistance is "1685" with GRAMMY-winning English rock band Muse. The six-minute and 11-second album finale takes inspiration from Johann Sebastian Bach's "The Well Tempered Clavier" — the first classical piece Zedd ever learned to play on piano as a child and as he calls it, "probably the most influential piece ever written in life for me."

Named for Bach's birth year, "1685" extends the full-circle nature of Telos. Both a tribute to his favorite composer and a reference to Zedd's earliest days as a musician (he performed a cover of Muse during his very first concert with DIORAMIC), these connections imbue Telos with authenticity and soul.  

Intricate and lovingly-crafted, Telos is Zedd at his most musically honest. "It's my entire life in one album," he says. "It's truly an evolution of who I am as a musician." 

His decision to eschew trends and commercial formulae to embrace "music for the sake of art" confers a sense of timelessness to Telos. For those versed in gaming terminology (like the multi-platinum producer, a notorious gamer) Telos is Zedd in his final form — a state unlocked only after the successful completion of considerable, skill-building challenges. 

Fittingly, the multifaceted nature of Telos and its creator is reflected in the album's title. The Greek word has multiple meanings, including accomplishment, completion of human art, and the end. He chose the name "telos" 30 or so minutes before he had to submit the LP — an  ironic timeline for a production that took years to conceive.  Yet like all of the creative choices that culminate in Telos, this, too, was part of a thoughtful strategy. Zedd wanted to be sure that the album's title would faithfully capture its concept, even after the LP’s many metamorphoses. 

"I really relate to all of the meanings," he says. "Accomplishment of a goal is one of them. I made this album that I was dreaming of making my whole life with the artists I love so much who have inspired me, so it's a genuine dream come true to make this album." 

With introspection written on his face, Zedd pauses, then continues: "One of the meanings of 'telos' is the end, and there was a good chunk of time where I thought this might be the last music I will ever release. It's kind of like I put all my emotions and feelings into this one album…is there any reason for me to take space away in this universe if this is all I have left to say? And for a moment towards the tail end, I was like 'yeah, Telos is the name for this album because I will never make another song in my life.'"
But Telos is merely another beginning, briefly disguised as an end. Zedd delivered the album, had a second to breathe, moved from Beverly Hills to Encino, put a piano in his bedroom, and "inevitably started writing new music." Timing is everything.

Let's start with the essentials: house music is Black music. House music was born in the United States; Chicago to be exact. House music is one of the core foundational styles of electronic music; as important as Detroit-bred techno.

House is an upbeat genre characterized by a funky, repetitive 4/4 beat (also known as four-on-the-floor) and a danceable tempo ranging from 115 to 130 bpm. House is often made with synthesizers and drum machines — like Roland's classic TR-808 and TR-909 — along with samples. Vocals are common in house music, with the most classic iterations being female diva vocals that harken back to house's disco roots, or distorted, pitched vocals that give a sample new life.

The foundations for house music were bubbling in the '70s in the Midwest and East Coast, particularly at celebrated underground New York clubs like Paradise Garage and David Mancuso's Loft, and in Chicago's house party scene. Larry Levan, the star DJ of Paradise Garage, played an eclectic mix of tunes — particularly disco, R&B, new wave and proto-house records from the likes of Arthur Russell (as Dinosaur L and Loose Joints) and Gwen Guthrie. This New York underground sound would have a huge influence on house music, and was imported to and adapted for Chicago by the Bronx-born Godfather of House Frankie Knuckles.

While disco and funk thrived in the New York club scene, the short-lived post-Saturday Night Fever national disco craze led to its over-commercialization and oversaturation. That came to a head on July 12, 1979, when radio shock jock Steve Dahl led the Disco Demolition Night at the Chicago White Sox's Comiskey Park. The underlying racism was unmasked as mostly white attendees brought all sorts of non-disco records from Black artists for Dahl to blow up, culminating in on-field riot. 

The impact was swift and far-reaching. As the Guardian pointed out, 13 out of 16 of the No. 1 hits in the U.S. from the first half of 1979 were disco tunes, while just one disco tune topped the chart for one week during the second half of the year. Radio stations pivoted back to rock music, labels stopped investing in disco and even the Recording Academy canceled its Best Disco Recording category after one year.

While the commercial and pop culture appetite for disco had soured, people still needed music to dance to. The future of dance music would be created by innovative DIY producers. Aided by the exciting new technology of drum machines, Casio keyboards and other relatively affordable "bedroom producer" equipment, young people in Chicago — many of them Black and queer — made music that would soon be called house. Named after its first home, Chicago's Warehouse, which opened in 1977,  this music not only soundtracked sweaty dancefloors, but would influence electronic music the globe over to this day.

The history of house music — from its foundations in the Windy City to its global explosion, and evolution to the current day — is as rich and varied as the genre itself. This timeline, while not an exhaustive list, will take you through some of the biggest key moments, tracks and players that have shaped house over the last four decades.

House Music Is Born In Chicago

By 1980, The Warehouse was in full swing under the helm of its venerated resident DJ Frankie Knuckles, a.k.a. the Godfather of House. The Bronx-born DJ was a close friend of Larry Levan and also got his start in the queer NYC underground, bringing his disco-rich, classically omnivorous New York club sound to what would become his devoted Chicago fanbase. 

As disco singles dried up, Knuckles needed fresh tunes to mix into his sets and turned to reel-to-reel tape to craft his own extended remixes live in the club. Later, he'd produce his own original house tunes, like the kinetic "Baby Wants To Ride" featuring legendary house vocalist Jamie Principle in 1987. Knuckles famously called house music "disco's revenge." 

In late 1982, Warehouse admission price doubled and Knuckles left to start his own club, The Power Plant, where he introduced drum machines into his sets. Knuckles closed his venue in September 1987 and moved back to NYC. Meanwhile, The Warehouse was renamed the Music Box, and Knuckles' big shoes were filled by the frenzied, eclectic sets of new resident Ron Hardy. Another vital early house DJ, Hardy would play young local producer's tracks and make them hits — yet his untimely death to AIDS at age 33 in 1992 and limited production output have left his legacy oft under-sung. Smartbar, which has remained a purveyor of house music to this day, also opened in 1982, spreading the house club scene to Chicago's North Side.

The nascent genre was technically born in 1984 with the release of Vince Lawrence and Jesse Saunders' "On and On," one of the first original house tracks. With its jittery, repetitive loops, catchy, clapping hi-hats, simple, playful vocals, disco samples, and use of recently introduced drum machines, the track is a perfect representation of classic Chicago house. The pivotal track inspired a rash of other young house-heads to try their hands at production.

Other important '80s Chicago house tracks include Mr. Fingers' (a.k.a. Larry Heard) deep house classic "Can You Feel It," which was made with just the TR-909 and JUNO-60 drum machines, and Marshall Jefferson's "Move Your Body (the House Music Anthem)" — the first house track that used piano — both of which were released on Trax Records in 1986. Other crucial releases include Lil' Louis' frenetic, deeply influential 1989 track "French Kiss," Steve "Silk" Hurley's "Jack Your Body" in 1987, and Ron Hardy's "Sensation" in 1985. Phuture's "Acid Tracks" in 1987 marked the launch of acid house, characterized by DJ Pierre, Earl "Spanky" Smith Jr. and Herbet J's trippy, sputtering experiments with the Roland 909 drum machine. 

Chicago record stores such as Gramaphone and Imports Etc. played a vital role in promoting and distributing house music, and served as an educational and meeting space for DJs and ravers.

By the mid-'80s, house music was expanding beyond Chicago and its environs. Frankie Knuckles was in demand overseas, and even held a summer residency at a London gay club called Heaven in 1987. Led by techno forefather Kevin Saunderson and Chicago singer Paris Grey, Inner City showcased the joyful house music coming out of Detroit and the impact the two scenes were already having on each other. The group also showcased house’s global pop potential, with their classic 1988 debut single "Big Fun" scoring them a No. 1 hit in the UK and on the U.S. dance chart. 1988's "I'll House You" from New York rap group the Jungle Brothers and DJ/producer Todd Terry showed that New York was ready to bring their flavor to house.

Europe, UK & NYC Go House Crazy; Chicago's Second Wave Artists Emerge

House music continued to thrive in Chicago in the '90s as the next generation of pivotal Chicago artists cropped up , including Derrick Carter, Ron Trent, Paul Johnson and DJ Sneak, while the originators continued their quest to make house happen on a broad scale.

In 1992, house rebel Curtis Jones (performing as Cajmere) dropped the eternal dance floor heater "Percolator" and launched his influential Cajual Records. In 1993, he'd add Relief Records into the mix as an outlet for Green Velvet, his neon-green-mohawked acid house and tech house alter ego and, as Bandcamp put it, "early releases by future legends of the second wave." The popularity of Jones' music and labels helped put Chicago house on the map globally.

Read more: Dance Legend Curtis Jones On Cajmere, Green Velvet & 30 Years Of Cajual Records

In 1995, newcomer Derrick Carter teamed up with Brit Luke Solomon to launch London house imprint Classic Music Company, which is still running today under another iconic UK house label, Defected (established in 1999). 

In 1990, DJ collective The Chosen Few DJs, which includes Jesse Saunders, launched their annual house head reunion picnic. The Chosen Few Picnic and collective are still actively spreading the gospel of Chicago house today. In 1997, Chicagoans DJ Lady D, DJ Heather, DJ Collette and Dayhota made history with the U.S.’s first female DJ collective Superjane.

Dance remixes, many of which were undeniably house, proliferated in the '90s. New York remained the source of these in-demand producers, with Masters at Work (Louie Vega and Kenny Dope), C&C Music Factory (David Cole and Robert Clivillés), François K, David Morales, Todd Terry and Danny Tenaglia at the forefront. New York-based Strictly Rhythm and Nervous Records, both of which are still active, released countless house classics.

In 1991, Frankie Knuckles released his debut album Beyond The Mix, featuring the breezy classic "The Whistle Song." He brought his DJ sorcery to New York with residencies at clubs Roxy and Sound Factory, the latter which brought Harlem's liberatingly queer ballroom culture to the downtown club scene, via NYC house legend Junior Vasquez. In 1998, Frankie Knuckles fittingly won the inaugural Best Remixed Recording GRAMMY Award (then called Remixer Of The Year, Non-Classical), and was nominated again the next year, but David Morales took home the gold.

Masters at Work’s impact on ‘90s NYC house can’t be understated. Some of the dynamic duo’s big tunes from the era include Barbara Tucker's 1994 No. 1 Dance Club hits "Beautiful People" and "I Get Lifted," along with Harddrive’s (a.k.a. Vega) "Deep Inside" and "The Bomb! (These Sounds Fall into My Mind)" by the Bucketheads (a.k.a.  Dope). Other big '90s house tracks that came out of NYC include Robin S.' enduring "Show Me Love," which hit No. 5 on the Billboard Hot 100, Ultra Naté's ever-uplifting, Mood II Swing-produced "Free" from 1995, and Armand van Helden's 1999 classic "U Don't Know Me."

At New Jersey's influential Club Zanzibar, a deep and soulful rendition of house was being perfected by Brooklyn-born Tony Humphries and Jersey-bred Kerri Chandler (one of the progenitors of deep house, alongside Larry Heard). Demonstrating the porous borders of house, Jersey house singer Adeva teamed up with Knuckles for a joint album in 1995, going full gospel house with a backing choir. 

The '90s also saw more house coming out of Detroit, with a more minimal, often spacey touch, reflective of the city’s empty buildings and techno roots. Moodymann showcased his singular lo-fi funk-laden sound with his debut album Silentintroduction on Detroit techno legend Carl Craig's Planet E label, while Theo Parrish, Chez Damier (who got his start in Chicago), Stacey Hotwaxx Hale and DJ Minx all began making their mark on house. Of course, there is no rule that techno artists can't make house, and many Detroit legends did, including Kevin Saunderson, Carl Craig, DJ Minx, "Mad" Mike Banks and others.

Read more: Planet E's Carl Craig On Keeping Dance Music Black & Expansive New 'Planet E 30' Album

Mainstream European audiences have generally shown more openness to dance music than Americans, with dance tunes regularly topping the pop charts in the UK, Sweden, Germany, and beyond. Eurodance was at its euphoric peak in the '90s, with key tracks such as Technotronic's "Pump Up The Jam" (1990, UK), La Bouche's "Be My Lover" and "Sweet Dreams" (1995, Germany), Haddaway's "What Is Love" (1993, Germany), Snap's "Rhythm Is A Dancer" (1992, Germany), Real McCoy's "Another Night" (1994, Germany) and Corona's "Rhythm of The Night" (1993/4, Italy). Many of these singles also charted in the U.S.

The UK, and London specifically, have always had an affinity towards house music and putting their own spin on American sounds. In the '90s, soulful house from New Jersey inspired the bassline-focused UK garage (and, later, its faster cousin speed garage). Tech house was born in London in the mid-90s by acid house DJs; it soon became London's de facto club sound following Terry Francis' appointment as club fabric's first resident DJ. London club Ministry of Sound opened in 1991 with an award-winning sound system, bringing New York house legends like Larry Levan and David Morales across the pond. The club also spurred the phenomenon of superstar DJs like Carl Cox and and promoted UK acid house explosion via the likes of DJ Harvey.

Global Dance Comes Stateside

The seeds for EDM's (electronic dance music) popularity in the U.S. were sprouting in the 2000s. The most mainstream offerings in a broad and previously underground scene, EDM is characterized by big drops and pop tendencies like shorter track lengths and catchy vocal hooks. The new millennium also saw the ever-expanding sound of house officially take root globally, with international artists exporting a glossy version of the sound back to the U.S. 

In the early aughts, tracks like Italian Benny Bennasi's "Satisfaction" in 2002, Swede Eric Prydz's "Call On Me" in 2004 and Frenchman Bob Sinclair's "World, Hold On (Children Of The Sky)" in 2006 cracked U.S. dance charts and solidified the artists as big-name mainstage DJs for years to come. The first two represented the electro house sound that would remain popular into the next decade. Prydz's 2008 hit "Pjanoo" marked another very Y2K sound: driving, trance-y progressive house.

The 2000 breezy "Groovejet (If This Ain't Love)" by Italian DJ Spiller and British dance-pop queen Sophie Ellis-Bextor was an Ibiza hit that made its way to American clubs and pointed to the popularity nu disco would have in the '00s (as seen by Ellis-Bextor's "Murder On The Dancefloor" and Kylie Minogue's "Can't Get You Out Of My Head" in 2001). UK garage went mainstream as acts like So Solid Crew and Craig David incorporated the genre into chart-topping hits. Black Londoners like Supa D and Crazy Cousinz mixed house with elements from genres across the African diaspora into the captivatingly percussive sound of UK funky.

While French touch/filter house — the Parisian interpretation of house with funk and disco elements popularized by Daft Punk — was bubbling up in the '90s, it really took off around the year 2000. The genre is exemplified by 2000 singles such as Modjo’s "Lady (Hear Me Tonight)," Demon's "You Are My High," and Superfunk's "Lucky Star," featuring soulful vocals from Chicago's Ron Carroll.

In Berlin's underground dance scene, a melodic, intricate version of house was taking shape outside of minimal techno’s dominance. This was exemplified by M.A.N.D.Y. and Booka Shade 2006 smash "Body Language," alongside fellow Germans Henrik Schwarz, Âme and Dixon launching their hugely influential label Innervisionsin 2005, expressly indebted to Chicago and Detroit. Beatportal named Âme’s 2005 song "Rej" "the defining track of a whole era," one that led to the global dominance of what is known as melodic house and techno today. 

Underground scenes in San Francisco and Los Angeles blossomed, with the likes of Chicago transplant Mark Farina and the Sunset Sound System crew, and DJ Dan and Marques Wyatt fostering the respective local rave scenes. While Chicago had a bit of a slower creative period than the prior decades, Brooklyn-born DJ Heather was building her legacy as a Chicago house purveyor. Felix Da Housecat (who had released his first single back in 1987 at just 15 with mentorship from DJ Pierre) saw mainstream success in the '00s, getting tapped for remixes from the likes of Madonna, Britney Spears, and Rökysopp. 

Windy City native Honey Dijon was working her magic in New York's queer dance music underground andfashion scene. In 2008, queer DIY New York collective Hercules and Love Affair, led by Andrew Butler, dropped the sparkling nu disco gem "Blind," bolstered by a remix from the one and only Frankie Knuckles. On Aug. 25, 2004, the section of Chicago's Jefferson Street that was home to the original Warehouse was renamedFrankie Knuckles Way.

 House Goes EDM

In the 2010s, dance music finally took off in the U.S. mainstream in the form of EDM, and its influence on pop is undeniable. Big room house — essentially house-indebted EDM — gained popularity via songs such as Martin Garrix's "Animals," Kaskade's "Don't Stop Dancing" featuring EDX and Haley, Calvin Harris' "We Found Love" featuring Rihanna, Swedish House Mafia's "Save The World" and Avicii's "Levels."

In 2011, massive EDM festival Electric Daisy Carnival moved from Los Angeles to Las Vegas, signaling  how popular dance music had become stateside and the unofficial start of the rave industrial complex. Coachella added the clubby Yuma tent in 2013 with the goal of focusing on underground dance music while expanding its original DJ-centric Sahara Tent. The following year, Harris drew the second-largest Coachella crowd at his mainstage, non-headlining set.

Meanwhile, in Chicago, house’s queer roots were blossoming. In 2013, The Blessed Madonna became smartbar's first woman booker after serving as a resident DJ. Eris Drew and Octo Octa, both trans women, have been expanding the bounds of house and bringing classic, eclectic rave energy since they got behind the decks, while Shaun J. Wright and Alinka have been keeping Chicago house queer and Black with their Twirl parties and label.

Read more: The Rise Of Underground House: How Artists Like Fisher & Acraze Have Taken Tech House, Other Electronic Genres From Indie To EDC

Two UK acts, Disclosure and Jamie XX, would bring classic house, specifically UK garage with a modern touch, to the U.S. charts and GRAMMYs with their debut albums, Settle in 2013 and In Colour in 2015, respectively. Disclosure's success was swift and far-reaching, winning the GRAMMY for Best Dance/Electronic Album for Settle; lead single "Latch" remains their biggest hit and turned then-unknown Sam Smith into a pop star.

Midway through the decade, tech house — which blends elements of techno into a four-four house beat — would begin to take over as the dominant sound of EDM, making superstars of Chris Lake, Hot Since 82 and Patrick Topping and inspiring the next generation of global DJs. This trend was largely driven by Welsh house purveyor Jamie Jones, whose label Hot Creations, producer supergroup Hot Natured, and Paradise Garage-inspired, Ibiza-bred Paradise parties helped popularize a groovy version of tech house. 

Elsewhere in Europe, Norwegian DJ/producer Todd Terje kept the spirit of Ibiza's breezy Balearic house and nu disco alive on his instant-classic debut single "Inspector Norse" in 2012, made using only an ARP 2600 synth. Cinthie, "the Berlin Queen of House," was keeping the spirit of classic-yet-fresh Chicago house alive in the techno-loving city with her all-vinyl sets and label 803 Crystal Grooves.

South Africa'sBlack Coffee became a global flagbearer for Afro house, a vast umbrella term representing an innovative and disparate group producers and subgenres from the African continent and diaspora, further cemented by Drake sampling his 2009 tune "Superman" on 2017's "Get It Together," naming him as a featured artist alongside singer Jorja Smith.

Read more: Black Coffee On New Album, 'Subconsciously': "Music Is Life To Me And I Want You To Feel That With Every Beat And Melody"

House: The Bedrock Of Multiple Mainstream Smashes

In 2022, ill-informed headlines claimed Beyoncé saved house music with the release of the euphoric GRAMMY-winning single "BREAK MY SOUL" and album RENAISSANCE.

House music didn't need saving, but it did reach a wider audience and become the sound of the summer while sparking important conversations reminding people that house is a Black American genre. The 32-time GRAMMY winner did her homework and enlisted a bevy of producers, including Honey Dijon and Luke Solomon (who worked on "COZY" and "ALIEN SUPERSTAR"), and samples to pay tribute to dance music's Black queer roots on RENAISSANCE. Honey Dijon and T.S. Madison— whose "B**ch, I’m Black" speech was sampled on "COZY" — made history as the first Black trans women to earn a Billboard hit.

Learn more: Obsessed With Beyoncé's 'Renaissance'? Keep The Dance Party Going With Albums From Frankie Knuckles, Big Freedia & More

Drake also brought house (and its rapid-fire cousin Jersey club) tunes to the top of the charts on Honestly, Nevermind with help from Gordo (who previously made EDM as Carnage). Keinemusik heads Rampa and &ME brought their wildly popular driving, melodic, Afro-house-infused sound to "Falling Back" and "A Keeper," and Black Coffee and Gordo deliver the breezy, Jersey club meets deep house "Currents."

ARC Festival launched in 2021, as Chicago's answer to Detroit's long-running Movement electronic music festival, featuring local legends and big-name DJs from around the globe and reinvigorating the Windy City as a dance music destination. In 2023, the city finally protected the West Loop building that once housed The Warehouse as an official city landmark.

A younger generation of DJs, such as South Korean Peggy Gou, British TSHA and Aluna, Canadian Jayda G and Detroit-born-and-raised DJ Holographic continue to keep the spirit of house alive and fresh. The likes of Aussie Dom Dolla, Chicagoan John Summit and Brazilian Mochakk have become tech house biggest rising stars while coloring outside of the lines.

Halfway into my video call with Sara Landry, the electronic artist who has come to be known as "The High Priestess of Hard Techno," a lamp casting a subtle green glow within the frame of her iPhone begins flashing. Most people would consider this electrical surge a forgettable occurrence. But not her.

"This light will flash at me sometimes, and whenever it does, I take that as a sign from a spirit that I'm speaking the truth," Landry says. "That's how I know that I'm on the right path."

The results of her current path are notable. This summer, Landry became the first hard techno artist to play the main stage at Belgian festival Tomorrowland; she sold 9,000 tickets to her sold-out double-header in Los Angeles, her 2023 Boiler Room set has over 6 million views; and, on Oct. 4, Landry released her debut album, Spiritual Driveby. The album is out on her own label, Hekate Records.

Landry is assured and has been pushed forward by spiritual signs on numerous occasions. A few years ago, a hypnosis session transported her to what she is absolutely certain were past versions of her life. She experienced being burned at the stake, like so many fellow women who struck fear in men, back in 1600s Salem. Before that, she was a priestess in the temple of Sekhmet, the Egyptian lion goddess. She arose from that deep state with a clear purpose: to stand in her power as an artist, even if it disrupts the status quo. 

"Creating a way for these healing frequencies to reach people on a large scale — it's always been very clear to me that's a big part of what I'm supposed to be doing in this lifetime. As an act of service and a contribution," Landry says of hard techno. 

Though it might not seem like frequencies built on a rapid-fire kick drum are particularly healing compared to, say, ambient frequencies (to which Landry listens on her own time), fast-moving music authentically resonates with her.

"I have hummingbird energy. So, the fast tempos have always felt very natural, as chaotic and intense as they can be," Landry says. By making and playing intense, chaotic music, she creates a space for herself, her collaborators, and the thousands of people who flock to her sets to "safely channel, shepherd, and express intense emotions: euphoria, rage, grief, sadness, anger, frustration."

The 12-track Spiritual Driveby is the cohesive, on-demand version of that space. "It's intended to be an altered state of consciousness that's a safe space to experience [emotions]," Landry says. "Electronic shows were where I really was able to first experiment with expanding my consciousness. The music was such an important part of that." 

Spiritual Driveby spans a wide range of emotions, which Landry taps with an intricate and assiduous musicality. The somber and symphonic title track — co-produced with GRAMMY winner Mike Dean, who’s worked with pop stars like The Weeknd and Beyoncé — combines solemn choral layers and ringing piano chords. "Pressure" feels like pure joy, and features Latvian British artist LEGZDINA, who provides oscillating rap verses over galloping rhythms, harkening to Landry’s affinity for playing hard techno hip-hop edits during her sets.

"How can I surprise whoever's listening? How can I surprise myself as I'm making it? How can I create something that's interesting and engaging enough to really feel something different than what everyone else is doing?" Landry questions. "I like taking these normal, beautiful things and bringing them to this chaotic, otherworldly place." 

Landry spoke to GRAMMY.com about exploring her full range of musical interests on Spiritual Driveby, making every track with a collaborator, and her role in bringing a historically underground genre to the mainstream 

In the opening track, "devotion 396hz," two keywords are repeated: "freedom" and "devotion." How do you relate those words to your album and career?

Freedom and devotion are about creativity and being unafraid to do something different, even if people don't understand it at first, which has been a really big part of my creative journey. 

Devotion is also an important part of being an artist. Developing a skill set and taking the time to reach a mastery level in something musical, which I feel isn't as common as it used to be. Now so much of the musical, creative, artistic, and technical process of being a musician can be outsourced.

I've spent all of this time and effort to be able to create art in this format. Sharing that ethos and creating a body of work that captures those feelings, emotions, and the chaos of the way life has been for the last few years. In order to truly push the bounds, it has to be authentic. You can't shortcut or cheat your way through real material. Forward-thinking, artistic innovation, or real creativity comes from within.

Oftentimes, very fast music discards traditional musicality; it’s all about raging. What is it like for you to know you can explore all your musical inclinations through your chosen genre?

That's the most exciting part for me. We're at such an incredible point in the advancement of music technology. Only for the last 10 or so years have we had this entirely new world. Every year the world gets larger.

As much as techno, hard techno specifically, is about good drums and good audio engineering — I think of that as pouring the foundation for a house. You have to pour the concrete, and you have to let the concrete set and make sure that everything is up to code. Only then can you build the house. But once the foundation's poured, you can build whatever type of house you want. The limit is really your imagination. That's my favorite thing. I get these drums done so I can actually cook on this sound design and see what comes through. 

It felt so good after being on tour so much to be able to lose myself in that creative exploration process again and enjoy letting my autism [loose], which is really a big part of music production for me.

How do you feel about being a central figure in taking a genre that has only ever existed in the underground to larger, more visible forums?

It's really exciting. I'm incredibly grateful that people enjoy it so much. I never would have thought that my hard techno tracks would have me sitting here doing a GRAMMY interview. 

I think the energy of the music and the ability of the music to provide a safe and healthy space for people to be wild and chaotic and frenetic during a wild and chaotic and frenetic time is part of the reason why it’s become this cultural tour de force for this new generation of ravers. It's a really special thing to be a part of. It's provided such a place of solace and acceptance for me, and I hope it makes other people feel the same way.

As we get further from the pandemic, I feel like the younger kids who are now just going to their first raves are searching for music that allows them to release their pent-up emotions from that harrowing time.

I think so too. It's this unleashing of this collective consciousness. I had the same energy coming out of the pandemic myself. 

It's also a safe space for that energy. Because otherwise, where does that energy go? Internet chat forums? That never ends well. Leave it on the dance floor. That's the best and safest place for that. I’m happy to be of service. Providing a space for controlled chaos has always been my thing.

I think people expect my music to be very dark or weird or satanic, which it's not at all. I put a lot of healing frequencies and meditative stuff and mantras and chants and ohms that are intended to be an energy-healing type of scenario. It’s intending to be uplifting and mind-expanding and beautiful and supportive — as opposed to being an overcompressed kick and a Satan vocal.

A defining moment in your career was a hypnosis session where you accessed different versions of your spirit across different times, who then assured you of your mission as an artist. When you were making this album, did you transcend time in a similar way? And if so, like, where did your spirit go?

I feel like my soul connects to whatever energy is intangible. It’s this almost euphoric, religious type of experience. "Chaos Magicka" was one. Whenever Godtripper and I were together, we tapped into some realm. I don't know how we get there, but we end up with these insane, chanty, spiritual, esoteric tracks.

That's always the feeling that I'm trying to cultivate. It really is about aligning to the creative frequency and being open to receiving whatever creative message is coming through instead of trying to be like, I'm gonna make this. 

A big part of why I was able to access that state so readily is because I had the joyful energy of working with friends, which is a healing and up-leveling energetic experience.

How do you think those different versions of yourself you accessed when you were hypnotized would feel about where you are now?

The messages I received from all the work that I've done and all of the successful attempts to receive these types of divine downloads have always been clear: This is what I was supposed to be doing. I'm supposed to be helping to elevate the energy levels of people who wish to connect to this new frequency. 

It feels like that's really happening. And so it feels very authentic and in alignment, which is why I think the music is able to keep coming through and keep pushing these boundaries while having that overarching theme and tone.

If it stops working, that's a sign it’s not in alignment. But thankfully, as things have continued to snowball, that feeling has just increased, which is a really wonderful thing. I feel so blessed to be able to spend the time and make the music that I do and also share it with people and have it make them feel better, provide comfort, or provide joy. 

Beyond elevating people spiritually, you are also literally inspiring people, especially women, to go after what they’re supposed to be doing when they see you playing these massive stages.

I think about this notion all the time. How many female Mozarts [were there], whose music did we not get to hear because they were limited by the societal norms and the expectations of the time? We would probably be so much further if women had been able to have our creative contributions be valued and weighed the same as men's are.

It's important to be able to stand up and say, "You can choose to live for yourself. You can choose your own path. Your life can be whatever you want it to be. All you have to do is be able to visualize it and tell everybody to go f— themselves when they tell you you can't do it. Then one day you'll get there."

When TSHA was 21 and struggling with depression, she had a vivid nightmare that she fell through a frozen lake and sank to the bottom. The striking imagery and heavy emotions of the dream stuck with her over the years, even as she pulled herself out of that dark period. 

On the cover of her soon-t-be-released sophomore album, Sad Girl, TSHA revisits the frozen lake. This time, she's floating triumphantly above it, lounging like a glittering goddess atop a small iceberg. (She posed on actual ice for the stunning Theirry Mugler-inspired shot.)

Out Sept. 27, Sad Girl is the soundtrack to the in-demand British DJ/producer born Teisha Matthews' coming of age in the small, mostly-white town of Fareham. She's come a long way from her difficult teen years thinking she'd never make it out of her hometown, but the album brings her back to that bedroom, where she found solace and escape in the radio. 

In spite of its name (a wink at emo MSN screen names), the album is overall upbeat, optimistic and rich with TSHA's intricate productions. With a healthy dose of '90s and '00s dance music, R&B and pop, TSHA deftly  transmutes these formative sonic influences into modern dance pop bops, filled with reminders to her younger self that it's going to be OK.

Read more: 5 Emerging Artists Pushing Electronic Music Forward: Moore Kismet, TSHA, Doechii & Others

"Girls" is an electro bop celebrating the healing power of going out with your girlfriends, while the sweeping instrumentation that opens "Green" evokes the triumph of Cher's 1998 classic "Believe." On "Green," "In The Night" and “Fight” TSHA debuts her own vocals, further proof that she's really come into her own as an artist at the forefront of emotive dance music

TSHA has received countless accolades for her music, which she debuted in 2018 with the self-released Dawn EP. Since then, she's played nearly every major club and festival on the global DJ circuit, been named MusicTech's 2022 Producer of the Year and BBC Radio 1's first-ever "Future Artist" in 2021, gracing the covers of dance imprints Mixmag and DJ Mag, and winning the latter's Best of British Awards Best Album for her debut album *Capricorn Sun.

Amidst a never-ending DJ schedule, TSHA has  found more balance and presence. She makes   time to do something outside of her hotel in every city she plays and is focused on self-care and  the things she can control instead of external validation. A move from London to sunny Ibiza — where she's a regular at DC-10, Hï and other major clubs — eight months ago has also lifted her spirits. The resulting Sad Girl not only provides immersive sonic healing, but shows  TSHA standing in her artistic power as someone equally at home serving up euphoric dance pop bangers and introspective electro R&B.

GRAMMY.com sat down with TSHA to explore the nostalgic club soundscape on Sad Girl, the magic of Ellie Goulding's songwriting and voice, finding peace in an in-demand schedule, and more.

This interview has been lightly edited for clarity.

The press release for Sad Girl says the album embraces the genres that you've always been interested in. I hear '90s rave, '00s pop and R&B — could you speak to some of the sonic inspirations on this album? 

I was thinking about stuff that was on when I was growing up; things on MTV, on "Top of the Pops," on the radio. I didn't really have a lot of CDs or anything growing up, it was more like you just got what was given to you… like Craig David, JoJo, drum and bass, Massive Attack, and a bit of house music because my brother was a DJ. Then there was Cher's "Believe" — I'll always remember that because I recorded it on tape on a ghettoblaster when I was a kid. 

It's all those little sounds and things that are very nostalgic for me and remind me of that period — an amalgamation of the bits and bobs that seeped into my consciousness growing up — and that bring me back to that place when I hear them. That is the base of the sounds of the album. 

What emotions came up for you going back to that childhood place? Was there any healing you felt in making an album dedicated to that time of your life? 

Yeah. I had quite a lot going on when I was growing up; there was so much change happening in my house. I was quite a sad girl. I still am really, at the core, a terrible emo. [The album] brings me back to moments in that time where I was going through stuff, and that's why I ended up calling it Sad Girl, because [this type of music] was the soundtrack to my younger self into my teenage angst period. These were the things that I would sing along to. 

It did bring up a lot of stuff, and it was actually a bit healing because I've come such a long way. I would have never imagined being where I am now — that seemed impossible when I was that age — [even] that I would make it out of my hometown, full stop. We weren't very well off growing up, so [I couldn't imagine] actually being able to go on holiday, to go on a plane. It was healing because I went through all these emotions and thoughts of being a sad girl thinking that I was never going to get out, but I did.

The album art is inspired by a dream you had when you were younger about being trapped in an icy lake — but in the photo you're looking iconic on top of the ice. I was thinking of that visual when you were describing getting out of your hometown; can you talk about the dream and reimagining it as triumphant in the photo? 

I had that dream when I was 21, which was the worst period of my life. I was at my lowest and everything bad that could happen had happened. I was in this dark hole and I had this very bad dream. That dream always stuck with me because it was so realistic and it felt like it actually happened. 

When I was thinking about doing the artwork and being a sad girl, I thought back to that dream. I wanted to have a positive spin of I've come out the water and I'm on the ice and I've pulled myself out. I also wanted it, obviously, to look cool. I was like, I want real ice. I will lie on this iceberg. [Chuckles.] It was freezing.

I love the energy of "Girls" with Rose Gray. What were the sonic inspirations on that track and the energy you're capturing on it?

The inspiration was 2000s electro. I was thinking about that period when I was a teenager coming into a young adult, when I could go out. That was the music that was popping off then. I wasn't club clubbing back then, but I remember seeing videos of Ibiza and that was kind of the sound; it feels like that's the last time Ibiza was really, really fun, when electro came out. [Laughs.] All the clubs were fun and phones only had s— cameras, so people didn't have their phones out, they were dancing. I wanted to make a fun electro track because I just loved that period.

Rose was perfect for it because she's kind of camp and a lot of fun. We wanted to make a sort of Cyndi Lauper "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" vibes as a positive start to the album. I didn't want the album to be doom and gloom, and I wanted a positive message. So this [song represents] that coming into an adult period when you're going out, you're strutting your stuff, getting ready to go out with the girls.

I also love the album's next track, "In The Night." I feel euphoria on that one as well, and maybe more of a '90s rave sound. Can you talk about that one as well?

It's mainly inspired by trance. That was another massive sound that was around when I was a teenager, maybe a bit younger. We had DJ Sammy and loads of stuff coming out of Europe, like Euro dance. I thought night clubbing was going to be like that when I turned 18 — loads of lasers and everyone is dancing to euphoric trance. It turns out it wasn't like that, but that was where the sound [inspiration] came from.

It's one of the first tracks I'm singing on. I'm a night owl, even before I became a DJ I would be up late by myself, overthinking. When I was writing the song, I started thinking, Oh, I'm always fighting myself in the night. It turned into a bit more of a fun dance track in the end.

How did you start that track?

I took the string instrument from another song, it was either "Can't Dance" or "Fight" and I used that to start it. I did that in a few songs, where I took something from one song and used it to start the next song to kick it off and also to make it a bit more cohesive with similar sounds in each song. I watched something about someone else doing that [technique].

What did it feel like bringing your vocals onto this album? Were you nervous or just kind of feeling like Why not?

A bit of both, to be honest. Working with other singers, you kind of lose control over the lyrical content and the meaning of a song and stuff like that. I wanted to bring even more of myself into the music, so the logical path to do that would be for me to be singing and writing.

It felt good, actually. I managed to get three songs where I'm singing lyrics I wrote that have meaning to me directly. No one else has had their own influence over those words or what they mean. I hope to do more of [that]. 

When you go into a session with a vocalist, are you typically bringing a track that's more or less finished or are you just coming in with some ideas and sounds? 

I usually prefer to have a track, so I know what I want, and then I ask them to do something in that direction. With Rose [on "Girls"], I knew what I wanted and she got it, so we fell on the same page. Sometimes, I might take something someone else has written that I've come across and like how it sounds. Then I can build the track around it, rather than the other way around, which is easier for me because then it's less managing a person. Ideally, that's why I want to sing more because if I can just do it all myself, then it'll make my life easier and allow me to be more creative.

On the non-album single "Somebody" you worked with two legendary vocalists, Ellie Goulding and Gregory Porter. What did working with them feel like for you? And as a producer, how were you able to make sure that both of their voices worked together on the track?

That was a great experience. I wrote that in the studio with Ellie. It's amazing when you work with someone that's been around for a long time that's at the top of songwriting, you realize how much of a league above they are. Her ability to come up with something genius really quickly is insane. And her vocals are always flawless from the moment she opens her mouth.

We were in a session all day; we just talked for hours, completely unrelated to music, and then related to music. The song was written in the last hour. Ellie and I bonded over suffering from anxiety, so the song extended around some anxieties that she was going through at the time and I could totally relate. And it was inspired a lot by Massive Attack, those trip-hop sounds.

Gregory came on later as we were looking for a male vocalist. It was really a shame because he said he would have liked to have written a verse, but I didn't know that until the song came out. I love the song very much.  

Do you have any other dream collabs that you would love to make happen? 

I've always wanted to work with FKA twigs, I'm a big fan. The people I would collaborate with has changed; now I prefer to find new people. I find that fun and more interesting. I also like the idea of helping people by shining a light on a newer sound and singers. I guess it's the DJ in me. When I'm DJing, I want to find a song that no one else has played. 

How do you choose who to work with and how do you find them? And what parameters do you have for someone that would be a good vocalist for you to work with? 

There isn't really a parameter in terms of sound, it's more about uniqueness and tone and stuff like that. Ingrid [Witt, featured on "Azaleas" and "Drive"] emailed me from a post on Instagram [asking for singers to reach out]. Loads of really good singers came through; she just happened to have one of the quickest responses and she had the most unique voice as well. She gave me Kate Bush vibes, a little bit of Robyn, and her lyrical content was beautiful. 

I like when people send me stuff. My promo email is in my bio on Instagram, so anyone can send me music. I've gotten loads of great DJ tracks that aren't signed or no one else is playing through that. Obviously, I have to go through a lot of emails, and sometimes there's a lot of things that shouldn't be sent to me, but there's always little gems. 

We last spoke two years ago about Capricorn Sun, where you said you really just wanted to be happy and find more balance between time on the road and at home. Have you found more balance or has your life gotten crazier since then?

 I'm not sure really, because after the album, I was like, Next year I'm gonna slow down, I'm gonna be a bit more chill. It wasn't more chill, I had about the same [number of] gigs, if not more. But I feel like I changed a little bit; I don't know what happened, but my anxiety decreased, so it made these things easier. That year before the album and just after the album, I was at my wit's end, really exhausted and touring felt really difficult. After that period, touring got better and I started to enjoy it more.  

That wasn't from doing less, though, I think that was from changing my mindset a little bit and being more grateful, trying to shift away from the negative side of things and worrying less about doing well. You're always being judged when you're releasing music, so when you focus on where you're at all the time, it's really hard. I'm trying to just be happy in where I'm at. Some people will like the album, some people won't and I guess that's just life. These are things I'm not in control of. I've been trying to learn to not worry about these things because these are all decided by other people. All I could do is what I did; I made the music, I'm happy with it, and I show up at my gigs and do my best. I'm trying to focus on that.  

What have felt like the biggest career highlights for you so far? 

I used to say signing to Ninja Tune was my biggest highlight. I went on autopilot for quite a while, so anything that happened in that period I didn't really let myself acknowledge. I feel like now if something really sick happens, I'd be super happy. I'd actually celebrate it this time. I will feel them now. Bless me with something good, I'm ready.

On that note, what's something that would feel like a dream come true for you if it happened?

There're a few ones. Having a proper big club residency in Ibiza would be amazing. Winning some award — it doesn't even matter what it is — for the album would be nice. I guess you don't need awards, but it's nice when you get one because you feel people actually did take notice of your work. 

This isn't music [-related], but if I buy a house in Ibiza that's got all the cool s— I want in it; my dream house with a roof terrace, then I'll be happy. It won't matter if my music does well because I've got this house in Ibiza. [Laughs.]

It’s been nine years since Jamie xx released his massively lauded debut solo album, In Colour. The 2015 release received a GRAMMY nomination for Best Dance/Electronic Album, hit No.1 on the U.S. Top Dance/Electronic Albums chart, and certified gold in the UK.

Beyond its measurable success, In Colour's 11 tracks were essential in catalyzing the merger of underground dance and pop music.

Jamie (whose real last name is Smith) wasn’t just an artist after In Colour. He was a household name. As a solo artist, he took his obscure sounds to massive gigs all around the world. The momentum continued when in 2017 released I See You, his third album with his celebrated indie band, The xx.  

"I got good at touring and being an artist in my twenties, but I didn't have any room for anything else in my life. So, when I got a chance to stop in the lockdown I realized I didn't really have much else. I spent a long time trying to find what else makes me whole," Smith says.

In the midst of lockdown, Smith spent time cooking, reading, avoiding excessive screen time, and hanging out with friends. When he was ready to make music on his own again, he was completely reinvigorated. The result is In Waves, Jamie xx's first solo record in nine years.

Smith's joy for making music is palpable throughout In Waves. "Life" kicks off with dance vocalist Robyn repeating the hook "You’re giving me life." Then after coasting on a delightful 4/4 beat and energetic horn samples, she sings in her sweet yet searing tone: "No, I’ll never get enough/It’s just a matter of fact." Later, "Breather" asserts Smith’s expertise in producing dastardly unconventional club beats and simultaneously encourages listeners to appreciate the present. The album also features the Avalanches and bandmates from The xx.

"It's been my favorite experience making an album ever. Even though it's been really hard and it's taken a long time," he says. "I've even learned to enjoy all the difficult parts. I've never had a great time having to finish an album because you're really in the weeds. You can't tell what's good and what's not because you've heard it a million times, but this time I was just happy to keep going."

GRAMMY.com spoke to Jaime xx about setting intentions to stay present, his rigorous standards for releasing music, and how he continues to balance his love for the underground and his growing popularity.

Given that there was such a significant gap between your solo albums, with only four official singles in between, would you say that you have a high standard when it comes to your solo work?

I definitely do. Maybe that makes it more difficult for me, and I really envy artists who can just put loads of stuff out every year. It must feel nice to be that free with it. But that's not how I work, and I do think that less is more. All my favorite artists are that way inclined.

What does it take for a song to be worth sharing?

It's something that I can't quite put my finger on, but it's usually a feeling that I get within the first half a day of making a piece of music. I know I can make it into something I'm going to love, and that might connect with other people. But I wish I knew how to get there more often because it seems to just happen without my decision being any part of it.

The idea of being present was very important to this album process. I read that it's difficult for you to remember things between when you were 18 and 30 because you were so entrenched in music and touring. On the song "Breather" you literally invite listeners to slow down, take a breath, and enjoy the moment. What was it like to make an album in this present frame of mind?

It was really enjoyable. Even the hard bits I really enjoyed just because I was aware of what I was doing. 

I also got some great advice from some people that I work with about how to be a long-standing artist. Having gone through all those ups and downs, how to keep your head straight. Robyn really helped me out with that. She's very smart. When we were making "Life," we talked about how when it gets really hard that's the really good stuff, and you shouldn't shy away.

Now that you’ve adopted a new frame of mind, how do you intend to move with this new approach to your career?

I'm gonna try and take the time to make music in the way that is best for me, and hope that people like it. 

I'm really grateful that I'm in this position where I get to play huge shows and tiny clubs, and I can also walk around the street and nobody knows who I am. Perfect level, and I just hope that I can maintain this position as long as possible.

Your first album was essential in introducing underground dance music to a larger audience, which you’ve said you had mixed feelings about. Now underground dance music is incredibly popular. What was it like creating a new album within that ecosystem?

It was difficult, mentally. I think that's why I had to get to a good place in my life really to be able to make music again. It was sending me spinning and confusing me. Then I found myself thinking about what other people were doing, which was never how I made music. I wasn't reflecting on the good parts of what other people were doing either. So I just had to check myself and have faith in people who like good music.

You said earlier that you enjoy playing massive shows, which in spirit goes against the traditional ethos of underground music. Do you feel any conflicting emotions around that?

It's a bit of both, I guess. When I’m doing these big shows, now, I'm really trying to take elements of what I love about playing at intimate shows; what I love about just clubbing and the history of dance floors and inject it into the shows. Even if they're bigger and make it more focused on the crowd and the sound than people staring at me and looking up at the stage.

That's been really fun. We've had dancers in the crowd, and we're filming them, and it integrates the crowd more into facing each other rather than facing the stage. That's one of the things that makes it feel more intimate, more like a club.

The first thing that you need to make a good club night is good people. The majority of people who have come to my shows have been amazing. [They’re] really open to me playing some weird stuff in between my music. I feel able to go on a journey with them and play differently depending on the room and the place. It's great fun for me and it's inspiring.

How do you feel about being a central figure introducing new audiences to new types of music?

That's how I fell in love with a lot of the music that is my favorite music now: from the DJs that I loved when I first started going out. Learning what they were doing, learning about deep cuts, and them being generous enough to share some of the music with me. I hope that I can pass some of that on. 

In dance music, it's all about community and bringing people together. I think what I'm doing is really not that different from what DJs from the '70s were intending to do. At least that's what I'm going for.

You’ve revealed to the world that you are back in the studio with The xx. How have you brought your new mindset as a solo artist to your work with the band?

It's quite difficult. That was the purpose of us going out and doing this solo stuff. When we come back we'll have a bit more of a wider scope, but it will be difficult. The most difficult thing is just maintaining friendships that are 20-30 years old between us. Also, to work, and…live well, with our partners and our families. It's all hard to integrate. 

The last few times we've been in the studio we've really just spent time talking with each other for days on end and barely even picked up our instruments. That's been really great.