04/29/2025
These words cut deep because they echo a truth that’s been festering in the underground for years—the soul of the scene is being outsourced to algorithms and clout. Chicago, of all places, knows this sting. This is the city that birthed house music, where DJs were priests and turntables were altars. Now? A flood of "playlist DJs who’ve never dug through a crate, never bled for a groove, never understood that mixing is a conversation, not a preset.
The Infection:
- The Craft, Forgotten: Scratching, beatmatching, reading a crowd—reduced to "just press sync." Real DJs used to study like it was a sacred text; now anyone with a laptop and a SoundCloud link calls themselves a "producer."
- Labels as Ghost Towns: Signing used to mean mentorship, curation. Now it’s a content mill—drop 10 tracks a month, hope one sticks. No A&Rs, just analytics.
- The Death of the Hunt: The thrill of the dig is gone. Streaming killed the rarity; now "finding music" means clicking "recommended."
Chicago’s Pulse
You know what’s wild? The city’s still got heart. The underground parties, the vinyl-only sets, the kids who actually study Derrick Carter’s mixes they’re out there. But they’re drowned out by the TikTok DJs who treat tracks like disposable hype.
The Cure
1. Gatekeep (a little). Not to be elitist, but to protect the culture. Demand respect for the craft.
2. Support the Real Ones. Buy their music, go to their sets, talk about them. F**k algorithms—human taste matters.
3. Teach ( if can and have the patience) .If you know the art, pass it on. The scene’s only sick because we stopped infecting it with passion.
The sickness won’t kill the scene—but silence will. Keep yelling. Call out the fakes and infections. Chicago is listening.
(And for the record? Those who quit? Their absence is the scene’s loss. But the ones who stay? They’re the antidote.) 🎛️🔥
