Charlie Bird is is Trippin's social media and community manager. He has previously worked for Dezeen and has written features for DJ Mag, Mixmag, the Quietus, Tribune, Jacobin and Clash Magazine. He is the co-founder of

 and has previously programmed screenings at The ICA, Camden Arts Centre and FormaHQ.

Charlie Bird

The World Cup can bring out the best of people, but also the worst, which is what Fatima Rouina has seen firsthand as a Queer, Franco-Algerian football fan living in Paris.

Cacahuètes Sluts are a Paris-based football team that organizes training sessions, matches and tournaments, alongside events that build connections between different cultural scenes. Fatima founded the team to "expand who gets to tell the story of football in Paris," by centering the experiences of women and queer people, as for a long time, the city's football culture in the city was largely shaped and narrated by men.

We spoke to Fatima about the role of football as a tool for social change and the role grassroots football clubs in Paris can play. 

"Too often, football loves the culture but not the people creating it."


You created Cacahuètes Sluts to make a more representative space in football play. How do you think grassroots football clubs like yours define local football culture in 

What I love about the term “grassroots football” is the word roots itself. For me, that’s where football culture truly lives. It’s real, authentic and deeply connected to the people and places around it. Grassroots football absorbs the stories, identities and creativity of a city, which is why it often reflects its culture in the most honest way.




You have said you want to see greater equality on and off the field, with more initiatives by people of colour and queer people. What do you think needs to happen in Paris to get more space for such communities?


Paris is already full of community-led initiatives promoting anti-racist, anti-homophobic and anti-fascist values. Too often, football loves the culture but not the people creating it. Subcultures are celebrated, but decision-making often remains in the same hands. If we want more space for underrepresented communities in football, we need to give them not only visibility, but also the power to create, programme, organise and occupy key positions where decisions are made.





Football can bring out the worst in people and societies, but do you think the sport can also be part of a wider positive change, and if so, how?



I believe that positive change doesn't come from football itself, it comes from what people choose to build around it. That's what made me fall in love: when football becomes a space for connection, culture and community, it can be the most powerful tool for social change.

"Positive change doesn't come from football itself, it comes from what people choose to build around it."

You’ve said Zidane is one of your favourite players, a fellow Franco-Algerian! Do you think France needs to better celebrate the world-class football talent of its diaspora and if so, how?


We celebrate the performances of players like Zidane, Benzema, Dembélé, Mbappé or Doué, but we're often less comfortable celebrating the identities, cultures and histories that have shaped them.

You can see this tension in different debates around football. Whether it's discussions around Ramadan or the participation of Muslim women in sport, there are moments when certain identities are treated as a challenge to be managed rather than a richness to be embraced.

That said, I'm optimistic. I think change is already happening through younger generations, grassroots communities and people from diverse backgrounds like the Algerian boxer Imane Khelif who are increasingly shaping culture, sport and public life.

France

Paris

Football Belongs to Everyone: How Cacahuètes Sluts Are Changing the Game in Paris

Since 1998, the French national team has been one of the most successful on the international stage, winning the World Cup and Euros, as well as making it to the finals of 2016 and 2022.

There is one city at the heart of this success: 

 became the second team in the history of the Champions League to retain the trophy,  and at the 2022 World Cup, a total of thirty players were born in the vicinity of France's capital (note: there were 11 Parisians in the French squad that made it to the final).

The success of this generation has come from fairly recent shifts in Parisian football culture - a notable turning point was France's first World Cup win in 1998, which took place on home ground in Paris. Over a million people streamed onto the Champs-Elysees to celebrate their victory to watch a parade of legendary players that included Zidane, Vieira, Henry and Deschamps. 

"The way Parisians play football is very technical, strong and in the streets. That's how we grew up."


The World Cup victory catalysed a change in Parisian football culture, where support for local and grassroots teams grew to influence industries far beyond sporting arenas - now football seamlessly blends into the Parisian worlds of fashion, art and music. It is no longer a niche of the banlieues, but a way of life palpable across the city, from the periphery working-class neighbourhoods to the high-end designer districts of the centre. In this sense, there is nowhere football is lived so many ways at once as in Paris. 

To assess Paris' claim to the title of the world's football capital, we spoke to former Manchester United player David Bellion, a Parisian who previously served as the creative director of storied Parisian community club, Red Star FC. 

How would you describe Paris’ grassroots football culture?

Right now grassroots football in France, and especially in Paris, is top. The way Parisians play football is very technical, strong and in the streets. That's how we grew up. I grew up playing football on the concrete and we had no mercy for each other. I have scars everywhere.



Why do you think Paris has produced some of the world's best footballers?


You have other cultures of people that come here and when they play together, well, it creates a very nice vibe. The national team is full of [players] from old colonies that used to belong to France. Many people who came after the Second World War [bringing] a love of football, [together with] culture of music, African values, family. 

This is the same in the UK. but where people came from are not football-oriented cultures. For example, in Paris you have people from Senegal, Mali, Ivory Coast, Cameroon, Algeria, Tunisia, Guadeloupe, Martinique and Morocco who bought a love of football.





How important are the city's grassroots clubs to the success of PSG and the national team?



The way we [Parisians] play football, it's a culture that Paris brought to France. There's a French expression that says 'The Parisian suburbs inspire Paris, and Paris inspires the world'. Greater Paris is the inspiration for many things. 

The grassroots clubs of Paris are some of the world's best. Teams from all around the world are looking at players from the city's smaller clubs because they know that there's so much talent. 

For example, Kylian Mbappe came from [grassroots club] AS Bondy. It's very important for all the clubs around Paris to shape those kids before they go to Paris Saint Germain. 

Of course, the difference between Paris and London is in London there are maybe eight or nine professional clubs. Until last year, we only had one team at the top, so all the kids want to play for Paris Saint Germain and they identify strongly with the club.


"Parisian suburbs inspire Paris, and Paris inspires the world."


How does Parisian football culture differ from other cities?


It's strange in France with football. We love to support when the team is winning. but French people are not like the English or Brazilians, not all fans support through thick and thin. 

France is a country of revolution, of cutting the head of the king, you know. So all of a sudden, that identity comes into football, especially in Paris, whether you win or you lose. We knew that if Paris Saint Germain won or lost the champions league final, the city was going to be turned upside down. Parisian passion brings another flavour to other cities.

How Paris Became The World's Football Capital 

 photography chops are brought into sharp focus this week as three major photography fairs open across the city. 


They say good things come in threes, which definitely applies to photography events in London this week. 

 (16 - 18 May) are bringing exhibitions, book fairs, talks and workshops to the capital as part of their respective programmes.

One of the UK's most anticipated annual photography events, Photo London takes over 

, showcasing internationally renowned photographers including fashion photographer Jamie Hawkesworth, visual artist Joy Gregory and fine art documentarian Alys Tomlinson. Galleries from around the world participate in the line-up, including Seoul's Gallery Yeh to Istanbul's Kairos Gallery. 

Over in south-east London, Peckham 24 conversely focuses on more boundary-pushing, contemporary photography. The festival offers a vital platform for emerging artists to present and discuss new work.  Exhibitions include works by Beirut-based Tanya Traboulsi, Palestinian visual artist Taysir Batniji and Indian portrait artist Spandita Malik.

Meanwhile, Offprint Photo Fair celebrates its tenth edition in the Tate Modern’s Turbine Hall, featuring hundreds of art books by forward-thinking, independent publishers, featuring book signings, rare zines, special editions and exclusive items.

Whether you’re a photography buff or kindling a newfound hobby, there’s plenty on to see the world across different lenses. Check our picks below:


Curated by leading critic and author Francis Hodgson, this exhibition is at once a love letter to 

 and a critique of it, showcasing the city’s complexities, contradictions, and relentless creative energy. The exhibition will include works from Nick Knight, Hannah Starkey and Ewen Spencer.


For more information, click 

Gem Fletcher and Tami Aftab, Peckham 24 (17 May)

Podcaster, writer and curator Gem Fletcher speaks with British Pakistani photographer Tami Aftab about her photo cookbook, 

. They will discuss the poignant story behind Tami’s work: her father suffers from short term memory loss but has always been able to recollect dishes from his childhood in Pakistan. Gathering these recipes became a coping mechanism that strengthened their relationship. 

is co-authored a photography-meets-recipe book, in which Aftab’s photographs sit alongside her father’s recipes.

Beyond The Meal: Photography, Food, Community, Peckham 24 (24 May)


This panel discussion delves into the dynamic intersections of community, food, and culture, bringing together artists who use their creative practices as tools for social connection, cultural reflection, and resistance.

Gardens: Blackouts and the Logic of Crisis in Kashmir, Offprint Photo Fair (18 May)

An important and timely conversation between writers Izabella Scott and Taushif Kara on 

 This meticulously researched two-part project By Scott and Skye Arundhati Thomas investigates the military occupation, land appropriation, and communication blackouts in Kashmir, a region whose heavily militarised borders have frequently been a site of conflict between India and Pakistan.

It's Freezing in LA! Shorelines and Seamlines (with It’s Freezing in LA!), Offprint Photo Fair (18 May)


The team behind climate change magazine 

discuss research project, 'Shorelines and Seamlines', which aims to open up global conversations around themes of ocean passage, water-based knowledge systems, and cultural recollection.

Portraits of London: A Love Story, Peckham 24 (18 May)


Documentary photographer Adama Jalloh discusses her work with renown portrait photographer, Eileen Perrier. Together they explore how race, identity and culture intersect with the ever-changing landscape of London, delving into Jalloh's own experiences as a Black woman growing up in the city and how that shapes her work.

United Kingdom

London

London’s Big Photography Week Is in Focus 

A city with a "surreal relationship between image and reality", Miami has shaped Anastasia Samoylova's documentary photography since she moved to the city in 2016, attuning her lens to the invisible forces that belie the city's gleaming façades. 

 has served as an enticing backdrop for many image-makers, from Brian De Palma's 

further cemented this perspective in the collective imagination. 

The city is uniquely photogenic yet its visual depictions often reinforce cliches of Miami as a neon-signed, vice-laden beach-body haven. Anastasia Samoylova's documentary photography defies those stereotypes, looking at Miami from a deeper angle. In her photographs, Samoylova confronts the utopian idea of a tropical paradise and focuses her lens on the impact of over tourism and hedonistic excess.

In 2016, Samoylova became the first living woman in 33 years to headline a show at The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. More recently, she has published 

 with Aperture, which retraces American photographer Berenice Abbott’s 1954 photographic roadtrip on the historic US Route 1. We caught up with the photographer to talk about the influence of Miami on her work.

“I photograph Miami because it offers endless contradictions. It is celebratory and anxious, seductive and threatened...”

What role does Miami play in your latest book, 

"Miami is both the beginning and emotional foundation of Atlantic Coast. It is the place where I first began thinking deeply about the relationship between climate, culture, and the built environment. The project follows the eastern seaboard, but Miami frames the narrative because it embodies many of the themes explored throughout the book. It is a city defined by water, vulnerability, reinvention, and an almost surreal relationship between image and reality. In many ways, Miami is the lens through which the rest of the coast is viewed."

What is it about Miami that compels you to photograph it?

“Miami fascinates me because it is both hyperreal and deeply fragile. It is a city that performs itself with remarkable conviction. The colours, the architecture, the reflective surfaces, the advertisements, the tropical abundance, the tension between utopia and precarity, all invite a kind of heightened seeing. I photograph Miami because it offers endless contradictions. It is celebratory and anxious, seductive and threatened, visually rich yet shaped by invisible forces such as sea level rise and global tourism. That complexity draws me in constantly."

How has living in Miami shaped you on a personal level, as an artist, and in the themes you explore?

"Living in Miami changed the course of my practice. Before moving here, I worked primarily in the studio, rooted in painting and constructed imagery. Miami shifted me toward a more sustained documentary approach, and I have now been working this way for nearly ten years. The city itself demanded that shift. Its constant flux, its climate anxieties, its vivid surfaces, and its deep contradictions made me want to engage directly with the world rather than invent it from the studio. On a personal level, Miami has taught me to pay attention to transitions, to embrace uncertainty, and to see beauty and fragility intertwined. It has become both the catalyst for my themes and the place that continually renews my curiosity."


Miami has a distinct architectural style and color palette. How have these aesthetic attributes influenced how you photograph the city?

"Miami’s color palette is inseparable from its identity. The pastel tones, the bleached whites, the neon accents, and the interplay between tropical light and reflective surfaces all inform how I compose and interpret scenes. The city teaches you to look for gradients of blue and green, for improbable pinks and sun-bleached yellows, for the way shadows cut sharp geometric shapes across facades. Miami’s architecture, with its blend of modernism, deco, and improvisation, encourages a formalism in my framing. The visual language here has deeply influenced how I work not only in Miami but everywhere else."


What do you hope viewers learn about Miami through your images. Do your photographs challenge or reinforce viewers’ assumptions about the city?

"I hope viewers see a version of Miami that holds both beauty and complexity. Many people arrive with preconceived images shaped by pop culture or tourism. My photographs neither reject nor fully embrace those assumptions. Instead, they look at the city with curiosity and precision. I want viewers to notice the layers beneath the surface: the vulnerability, the constant negotiation with water, the improvisations of daily life, the resilience and the surreal charm. If the images challenge assumptions, it is by widening the frame to include both the spectacle and the subtle details that define Miami’s reality."



What is it like being an artist in Miami?

"As a first-generation American, I have always been aware of how belonging operates in different places. New York often feels like a city of established immigrant communities, with hierarchies already in place. Miami, by contrast, is a place where many of the newest transplants arrive from all over the world. It is a city where you are one among many with an accent. Having spent the first half of my American life in the Midwest, I do not take this for granted. The diversity of exiles, expats, and newcomers is woven into the fabric of Miami’s demographic reality. That mix creates a sense of openness and possibility. For me, being an artist here means working within a community that is constantly evolving, culturally expansive, and more welcoming to different backgrounds and trajectories. It has shaped not only my practice but also my sense of home."

Anastasia Samoylova's book 'Atlantic Coast' is available to purchase from Aperture. 

United States

Miami

"Hyperreal and Deeply Fragile": Anastasia Samoylova Captures the Endless Contradictions of Miami 

From club nights in museums to DJs curating exhibitions, the lines between contemporary art and underground music have never felt more blurred.⁠

At the Bourse de Commerce, Cyrus Goberville is at the forefront of this movement, inviting artists like Crystallmess to host a tribute to Memphis rap and commissioning Arca to curate an experimental club night in response to her paintings.

As Head of Cultural Programs, his curation consistently pushes the boundaries of institutional programming by integrating hybrid, experimental and challenging musical forms into a contemporary art context.⁠ We spoke to the curator to delve deeper into the museum's role within Paris' cultural scene. 
⁠

Could you introduce the Bourse de Commerce and your role within the museum as the Head of Cultural Programs?

The museum opened in 2021. It used to be a stock exchange in the late 19th century and now it has been turned into a museum focused on Francois Pinault's collection, so it's the eye of one collector. There is a cultural program that I run that is mostly focused on exploring the bridge between art and music, because the music that is programmed here is happening in the context of art, so it's largely curated with contemporary artists.



How do you go about curating a live music program that responds to the museum's exhibitions in a new and exciting way?

When you're doing a cultural program, you can easily make something unequal to the exhibition that is a bit too far from what the exhibition is. It's very hard because you are making links between things that don't really exist. So now the more I think, the more that I want it [the program] to be radical in one way or the other. 

Either it's a cultural partner to the exhibition and it's made with the artist, and if it's not that, I'd rather do something that is totally disconnected, and because it's disconnected, in a way, paradoxically, it is connected. Sometimes what is good with art is when you see something totally different. That's something that I really learned from a lot of artists that I love that are just putting together references that are paradoxical and that don't really fit together, but when you see them, they fit because they fit through the eyes of the artist. 




What kind of role do you see the museum having within Paris' music scene as a whole?



We are a place of contemporary art, and places of contemporary art are looking always in a way or another for projects that are unusual, complex to produce and can resonate with the space. In our case, it's a Tadao Ando space. It's this insane rotunda and it's a lot of work to make something good happen here. We love crazy ideas in a site specific space where the artists shift their proposal throughout the process, so it's totally different than a normal venue in a way, it's not a plug-and-play thing. 



What makes the Bourse de Commerce unique within Paris' cultural ecosystem?


The Bource de Commerce has many advantages. First, it's a beautiful building, and the renovation by Tadao Ando is both simple and striking. The second great advantage is that it's in the very center of Paris, so it's very democratic. Then the other thing is that it's the eye of a collector that has a very particular taste. Francois Pinault has been collecting amazing artists for years and years and it has always been an inspiration in the way I've been making my program. 


"We love crazy ideas in a site-specific space, where the artists shift their proposal throughout the process. It's totally different than a normal venue in a way"


What do you think it is about Paris that makes it such fertile ground for experimental and cross-disciplinary cultural programming?



In Paris, there are very high and prestigious spaces for art, but still at the same time there are local places that are showing the underground. Sometimes it's not even venues, just like people showing what they can, where they can, which I think is cool.

It combines both worlds, which I do love about Paris, and I think when you have a great popular culture, and at the same time, a great niche culture, it can create great things.

From Arca to Björk: How Paris' Bourse de Commerce Became One of Paris Most In-Demand Venues

It's uncertain when exactly the Grindhouse revival began, or if this cult community has existed ever since the conception of the genre in the 1970s. Coined to describe a low-budget type of horror-sleaze film that capitalised on the ghastly and the shocking, Grindhouse is known for comical scripts and terrible effects. But the art of the cinema lies in building something entertainingly raw, unapologetically unpolished and brash in all the senses. 

 is getting it's very own independent Grindhouse 

, for fans of the B-films that lurked under Hollywood's radar for decades, like a grotesque monster too fascinatingly ugly for the light of day. For those who love watching the freakish and explicit, 

 exists to celebrate a genre of film that joyfully beats against the rules of acceptance.

"The Nickel was born out of an all-consuming obsession with cinema. Movies were always the thing I loved more than anything else. Like a lot of cinephiles who grew up in the 90s, I lived amongst stacks of VHS, DVDs, posters, programme notes, magazine clippings and ticket stubs," says Dom, founder of The Nickel. 

"I cut my teeth visiting The Prince Charles, the ICA and the NFT - and later when I travelled I would always seek out the local repertory cinemas, like the Cine Doré in Madrid, Spectacle in New York or The New Beverly in Los Angeles. These theatres felt like places of worship to a shared obsession."

Akin to these hallowed cinemas, Dom wants to grow an avid community of Grindhouse lovers around the space, offering people the opportunity to contribute through live performances, screening short films, curating programmes and writing for their upcoming monthly zine.

"We came close to losing The Prince Charles Cinema. Thankfully that was avoided, but it isn’t just enough to protect our existing arts venues, we need to build new ones. I like to believe we can still make these things happen in London. And if we can’t - fuck it, I’m leaving." 

The Nickel boasts only 37 seats and updates its calendar every month. Since opening, it has run special film screenings, such as the work of Armando Bó and Isabel Sarli in collaboration with the Argentina Film Festival, has teamed up with the Chisendale Gallery to show Harun Farocki’s 1997 film essay ‘Still Life’ and Dan Graham’s 1984 no-wave docu, ‘Rock My Religion’. It's regular nights include the erotic Blue Mondays and the Mystery Film double-bill. 

Note: Some of these showings aren't for the faint hearted. 

Get ready to join the gore community and 

London's New Grindhouse Cinema Is Bringing Sex, Sleaze And Slasher Back To The Big Screen

From 7-12 October, Unsound returns to Kraków's Hotel Forum with another boundary-pushing lineup. 

The first edition of Unsound ended with artists getting chucked out of a club for playing music that was '

 for regular patrons. The festival's uncompromising approach to curation has built a reputation for platforming innovative, experimental performances rarely heard elsewhere. Now in its 22nd year, Unsound 

 has become one of Europe's most revered electronic music festivals.  


"Krakow has a deep history with pioneering electronic music."

This year, inspired by the theme 'WEB', referring 'to the building of cultural networks across borders, zones and scenes', the lineup features some of the most exciting artists from experimental music’s outer edges. 

We caught up with several artists performing at the festival this year, including Moin drummer 

 – commissioned by Unsound to collaborate together with south London artist Lauren Duffus and the multifaceted Bianca Scout – avant-garde producer 

, about what makes Unsound stand out in today's saturated festival landscape.

Why is Unsound important for electronic music?

: "Unsound pushes the culture forward, giving space to emerging and established artists alike. Music here can be challenging, emotional, even confrontational, and that’s what keeps the scene evolving. It challenges both artists and audiences to go beyond their comfort zones. Every performance and installation feels designed to push expectations, which is rare.”

"People come here from all over the world, and some of the most interesting names in electronic and experimental music perform. As a country with a heavy history and certain complexes, we used to look at the West with envy, where this kind of culture was simply part of everyday life."


 "It’s one of the only major festivals giving this level of care to the underground and fringe electronic artists. Pretty much every electronic artist I love has played here at some point. It’s cool to be a part of that."


"On the one hand, Unsound brings in some already established, important artists that people want to hear live, but on the other, and in my view more importantly, the festival is helpful in bringing attention to a lot of emerging artists from Poland and around the world. It can serve a role in canonising emerging artists, or at least bring them to a broader audience."

What sets Unsound apart from other festivals?

 "Unsound has its ear close to the ground at all times. The curation of the line ups and the constant rotation of fresh talented artists really defines Unsound to me."

 "It’s explorative of the forefront, whilst still taking risks on the creation of new works. I think that ability to let artists chase themselves down the rabbit hole is a really important thing for artistic development, and to have a stage for that is really something special."

"The crowd that comes is unmatched. Their love for music and energy they give is really cool to see. Also the festival’s selection of artists and the arrangement of sets is great. Each day and night experience is really well thought through and has a really satisfying flow."


The attention to detail, the yearly themes, the atmosphere, the search for unusual concert spaces."

"I love that it has a DIY character but focuses heavily on the quality of sound."

"Hotel Forum is an iconic brutalist building, it feels like something out of a Lynch movie"

What makes the location of Unsound special?

"Kraków has a unique atmosphere—its history, architecture, and mix of old and new energy make performances feel alive. Venues like churches, factories, and underground spaces completely change how the music hits you."



"Krakow? Great city. One of the first cities I performed in."

"Hotel Forum. Luckily, Unsound has returned there. It’s an iconic brutalist building, one of the most striking I’ve ever seen. Inside, it sometimes feels like something out of a Lynch movie, especially with the lights and the ever-present smoke. Without Forum, Unsound always lost something."

"Krakow has a deep history with pioneering electronic music. A lot of early avant-garde work came out of there in the 70s. Along with a club and rave scene that’s renowned across the world. A perfect spot for such an event to keep pushing the boundaries."



"It's maybe me romanticising things that I’ve only ever seen from a far, but that Eastern European influence on architecture, and even the weather, just lends to the chasms of sound that emanate from the festival."

 "The Hotel Forum has a brutalist style that I really love and feel works great for this kind of music. It has such a uniquely cool vibe from the moment you see the building from the exterior, to when you enter and explore each room and the sets being played."

What's your favourite memory from Unsound?

"I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve played here, but I clearly remember performing with Moin in 2010. Even then, the audience and the space felt incredible. Every act I’ve seen gives their absolute best, like the festival itself pushes everyone further. Not many places have that energy."

"I have quite a fragmented memory in general when it comes to the recall of events, but I do remember being high with Dean Blunt one night and trying to cross a busy highway. Still here to tell the story."



"The first set I played at Unsound, I had no idea what to expect as it was my first international show ever but I had heard a lot of great things about the festival. The energy from the crowd was unbelievable and to see how open they were to my music, even the weirdest tunes, surprised me immensely."

"I remember playing with my previous duo Syny at a special Unsound edition around 2015, when the theme was 'surprise.' We weren’t announced in the lineup, it was a Polish-language project, and I had the feeling most of the audience didn’t speak Polish - while back home we were quite a popular band at the time. So for them it must have been a real surprise to suddenly see a Polish rapper on stage. Still, the atmosphere of the show made a strong impression. We even burned myrrh in a church censer during the set."

I had a really beautiful embrace last year with an audience member, who held a written poem for me as I struggled to get to my feet. I think that was a pretty great marker for how the audience there receive performance and moments that can sometimes need patience."

"The more I think, the more good memories connected to Unsound I can dig up from my mind. Except for strictly musical memories, I remember hanging out with friends, talking and sharing feelings about the shows. Some of my friends I meet only once a year at Unsound."


Unsound has grown to have editions across the world - from NYC to Osaka - what do you think this says about the global appetite for experimental electronic music?

 "I think people are getting bored with the same old stuff in clubs or at festivals. In a world that’s so violently overstimulating, people are looking for a new and better hit."



 "I think it’s more about Unsound’s mission. By becoming a global brand - within this niche - It has earned huge respect and created its own legend. Many times when I’ve toured abroad and people ask about the music scene in Poland, the first thing they mention is Unsound. Many dream of playing here."



 "The global community is definitely growing as more and more people discover this side of experimental music and fall in love with it. Unsound expanding to the extent it has, and more great artists popping up now more than ever, is a result of this."



The time spans that musicality, art; even just the age of information have to live by are now extremely short, so I think there’s an element of natural resistance to that force feeding of tidbit creativity, and that natural resistance is being born out of a direct opposition to music and art that is sold as entire commodity."

Finally, who are you looking forward to seeing at the festival?

 "I am really looking forward to seeing The Bug and Warrior queen, B4MBA and Mooki6, Nazar Rabih Beaini and Kavari, who are all amazing and really push sounds in interesting directions."

 "Mohammed Adam is a great artist who’s just beginning his journey into live music, there’s also the Providenza Ensemble comprised of Puce Mary, Loraine James and Kelman Duran. Purelink are also amazing, Moin, Jim o Rourke which is insane! Billy woods! It’s endless."

 "There are so many. I mostly hope to discover something surprising that I didn’t know before."

 "I’m a huge fan of Maria Bertel, Joan La Barbara, and RP Boo. I’ll catch as many sets as I can, though it’s always hectic when we’re performing. Part of the thrill is discovering performances that surprise you."

 "I'm looking forward to NEW YORK's show. Yvu might also be interesting. I would also love to hear KAVARI and DJ Lycox's set."

Tickets for Unsound are available to purchase 

"Something Out of A David Lynch Film" - Why Artists Love Playing Unsound

Japan may not be the first place that comes to mind when you think of hardcore & gabber - but this fast, heavy style of music counts its most loyal fans in the Japanese underground. 

Hardcore, or gabber, is an abrasive, high-tempo genre of dance music, typically associated with the 

 city of Rotterdam, that emerged in the late 80s and early 90s. However, less is known about the genre’s adoption in Japan.

The country was first introduced to hardcore label Avex Trax, who signed a licensing deal with iconic Dutch label Rotterdam Records, set up by DJ Paul Estrak in 1992, and launched an exclusive compilation series titled 

, which gained significant traction in Japan.

chronicles the subsequent hardcore scene that grew in Japan in the 90s and 2000s. By gabber archivists and researchers Alberto Guerrini (AKA 

) and Boris Postma, the book builds on Guerrini's 

 project, a multifold research initiative on hardcore and post-rave cultures. 


“In [Japan], niche interests aren’t just hobbies—they become deep commitments, often taken to creative and aesthetic extremes. So when gabber arrived with its raw energy, violent kicks, and relentless pace, it wasn’t rejected or softened," Guerrini told Trippin. "Instead, it was welcomed as a fresh form of expression, something that could be pushed, shaped, and made personal.” 

"Fast, complex music had long been part of daily Japanese soundscapes—from anime openings to hyperactive denpa songs. Adapting hardcore felt natural."

 Guerrini explains that Japanese culture provided fertile ground for gabber to thrive. “Fast, complex music had long been part of daily soundscapes—from anime openings to Touhou remixes and hyperactive denpa songs. Adapting hardcore felt natural. Local producers began fusing it with their own influences: cute vocal chops, 8-bit textures, video game samples, and references to otaku culture. That’s how genres like J-core and Speedcore emerged—intense, playful, and unmistakably original.”


is a 200-page collection of flyers, posters, record releases, presented alongside an arresting array of graphic memorabilia that testifies to the spirit of Japanese hardcore. Nods to otaku, anime and video games run throughout the singular aesthetic, with the advent of Dance Dance Revolution and Beatmania games further fuelling the Japanese craving for high-bpm energy.



“It wasn’t just about sound. In a society where emotional restraint is often the norm, hardcore offered something more visceral," says Guerrini. "It gave space—especially in the underground—to release tension, frustration, even rage. On packed dancefloors or in the solitude of headphones, it became a kind of catharsis.”

Away from the acid house scenes of Amsterdam, or the techno hedonism of Berlin, it was in the  working class ‘second cities’ of Germany and the Netherlands that hardcore took hold: Rotterdam and Frankfurt. The same pattern followed in Japan, where the genre gained prominence in port-city Osaka. There, hardcore, grindcore, noise and jungle were fostered through a network of record shops, live music venues and street culture.


"In a society where emotional restraint is often the norm, hardcore offered something more visceral."


Guerrini points out that Tokyo trends were more led by what was deemed cool and popular. Whereas in Osaka, things felt different. “People had more freedom. It probably also has to do with the city’s size—since it’s smaller, people were more likely to cross paths, and with only a limited number of places to hang out, the community naturally became close-knit and deeply connected.”



Among the music snobs of Tokyo’s media scene, hardcore was scorned for its perceived lack of intellect or complexity. Record shops would even deter customers from buying hardcore records. Yet, in time, the Japanese capital eventually caught on, cultivating a legion of fans to eventually surpass Osaka as the the country's hardcore hub. 

“Things began to shift in the 2000s. Media attitudes relaxed, and Tokyo slowly opened up to new interpretations of hardcore," says Guerrini. "A key part of this shift was the rise of Nerdcore—a style pioneered mostly in Kansai (with artists like DJ SHARPNEL and C-TYPE), which exploded in Tokyo." 

Not to be confused with Nerdcore hip hop from the US, Japanese-born Nerdcore was a techno sound anchored to hardcore roots, fusing in "nerdy" influences of video game and anime soundscapes. It's rise in the Japanese capital provided opportunity to hardcore to break through and defy old stigmas and outdated prejudices. 


"It’s a scene built by fans, for fans, driven purely by a sense of sharing and belonging."


Despite two major Japanese cities cultivating strong hardcore scenes, Japan’s relationship to the genre has largely been overlooked and sidelined. Yet, this underground view stays true to the original principles of hardcore, rooted in a DIY, self-publishing culture where music is shared among communities locally with little interest in going.


For Guerrini, this sense of pureness is a welcome anecdote to a world of hype and social media metrics. 

“I like to think of the Japanese scene as a secret worth keeping—something that stays far from the commercial, business-oriented dynamics we often see in Europe," he says. "It’s a scene built by fans, for fans, driven purely by a sense of sharing and belonging. Japan is hardcore in the purest sense of the word.”