In techno, the drum components—particularly the kick drum and hi-hats—are arguably the most foundational elements. They act as a constant foundation, driving the rhythm forward and maintaining momentum.

Groove is highly subjective, but in my opinion, adding microtiming or changing velocity of kick drums or hi hats makes a track sound much better. It introduces subtle variations that prevent the beat from feeling too stiff or mechanical. Robotic rhythms aren’t inherently bad, but over time, they can become predictable or monotonous.

However, microtiming isn’t the only thing that gives electronic music its soul. Another major factor is the emotion it evokes in listeners and the culture: Berlin style underground techno will sound very different from Detroit style underground techno.

For example:

Ambient techno has a different kind of soul—it’s deep, introspective, and atmospheric.
Hardstyle has an intense, energetic soul, built around distortion and high-energy kicks.
Hardgroove brings a driving, hypnotic pulse that feels more tribal and raw.


Each subgenre carries its own emotional weight, and that emotional impact is just as important as rhythmic complexity. While microtiming can enhance the feel of a track, other elements like sound design, harmonic progression, and energy levels also contribute to the overall experience of the record.

Electronic music doesn’t need microtiming to have soul, but it benefits from it—especially in genres where groove is key.

Microstructures of feel macrostructures

In this reading, the author mentions that emotions play a huge part in the music. He questions how something as complex as emotions can be conveyed through something as simple as a drumbeat. This reminds me of the famous quote:

“To play a wrong note is insignificant; To play without passion is inexcusable” -Ludwig Van Beethoven.

My music mentors over the years have emphasized how important body language is; one of them would always tell us that people don’t only come to shows to listen to music, but also to watch so your body language has to be performative and in sync with your music. Through mastering the art of body performance, your music gets better. When a musician allows themselves to be immersed in the music, more often than not, they unconsciously start adding accents and decorative elements that enhance the music and give it a richer texture. This could be applied to each instrument in a different way, when it comes to the drums it’s through the motion of the hands and the intensity and speed of the contact with the drum.

Another important idea the author mentions is the importance of the rests. I am once again reminded of the famous quote:

“The music is not in the notes, but in the silence in between” – Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.

The presence of rests creates rhythm and beats. Without rests there would be no music, only noise. Based on my years as an orchestra chair, I can vouch for the importance of rests. If a rest is miscounted, players would play at the wrong time, the beat would be off, the accents would be on the wrong notes, the emotion invoked in the audience would be completely thrown off and everyone would lose their sync. To create a groovy beat, to invoke feelings in listeners, you have to pay immense attention to the rests. In the context of percussive beats, rests hold the power to make beats more or less interesting, by shifting rests a bit more grooviness can be achieved. This makes me wonder though how it compares to computer generated music, can we manipulate computers to convey the emotions? By randomizing and through the asynchronization of rests and beats, could we achieve the same results as human generated music? This raises bigger questions in my mind about whether human emotions are as simple as calculated tricks that can be programmed into a computer.

Beat and rhythm can be a non-spoken language for people worldwide. Unlike orchestral music, percussion instruments have very low requirements for instruments – you can play them with almost any object, or even just your limbs to create some very interesting beats. This characteristic makes percussion instruments very popular. Each region has its own representative percussion rhythm, and rhythm is also very practical in conveying emotions.

Though percussion music alone might be raw and elemental, it creates a concrete structure in music. It can be perceived both musically and physically. You can listen to it, dance to it and just feel it.

I completely agree with the idea that microtiming variations introduce distinct rhythmic personalities. These subtle shifts in timing do more than just alter the beat – they create a sense of unpredictability and individuality that draws the listener in. When musicians deviate from that perfectly regular pulse in ways we don’t expect, it disrupts our habitual listening patterns and heightens our awareness of that present music. Rather than passively absorbing this mundane, steady, and predictable beat, we are able to become more engaged, actively tuning in to the nuances of timing and expression in avid anticipation. This heightened attention makes the experience more immersive and enjoyable, which is what enables us to connect with the music on a deeper level than we might with rigid, quantized rhythms. And, this is precisely why Afrobeats feels so infectious and alive. The way the rhythms play off each other creates this rolling, hypnotic groove that doesn’t just immerse listeners through sound but actually compels a visceral bodily response.

The article discusses the importance of human embodied presence in music, emphasizing how both intentional and unintentional “imperfections”—along with the physical movements of musicians—play a crucial role in shaping the “soul” of music.

At first, I found myself wondering the same thing: Does electronic music really have a soul? The perfection in electronic music—precise timing, flawless pitch, and speeds that human musicians cannot physically achieve—often creates a robotic and somewhat inaccessible quality. This seems to contrast with the warmth and expressiveness of human-performed music.

However, as I reflected on my own experiences with techno and electronic music, I realized that we are actually drawn to its cold, half-human, and futuristic aesthetic. As the author describes, it embodies a “disembodied, techno-fetishistic, futuristic ideal.” In this sense, electronic music’s unique identity is not about replicating human imperfection but about embracing a different kind of artistic expression.

The evolution of electronic music challenges us to rethink the essence of musical “soul.” Does music require human musicians physically playing instruments to be considered soulful? Ultimately, both electronic sounds and traditional instruments are merely mediums for artistic expression. Defining musical soul solely based on the medium—whether electronic or acoustic—seems arbitrary. If digital music is purely “cold,” does that mean instrument is purely”warm”?

Even when electronic music fully embraces mechanical perfection, it can still be deeply expressive, depending on how the artist uses it. As I mentioned earlier, techno and other electronic genres transform cold precision into something deeply moving. The soul of music does not come from imperfection alone, but from the wild and imaginative ideas of the artist. Rather than rigidly defining musical soul based on how “human” a sound is, we should recognize that it is the artist’s vision that gives music its depth, emotion, and meaning.


P.S. When I was reading through the “backbeat” part and the microscopic line about the snare drum always played slightly later than the midpoint between two consecutive pulses, I tried to replicate the rhythm in Tidal (Not sure if it’s right but sounds so). Then I searched on Youtube about the drummer playing Backbeat. Unfortunately I wasn’t able to hear the tiny time difference between the two. Maybe I would need more listening training for this:)

d1 $ stack [
    s "bd ~ sn ~ bd bd sn ~",
    s "hh*8"
] # room 0.3

Learning that groove is at the center of West African and African-American music and how it plays a critical role in giving “perception of a human, steady pulse in a musical performance” made me think that this might be the genre I’ll look into for when I’m creating music for our own live performance. As a dancer myself, I’d love to make the audience feel the urge to just break into a dance while they listen to our rhythm. It was interesting how altering such small details can completely change the nuance of the music, there wasn’t a lot of things to say or do.

The fact that the backbeat is presumed to be “some very ancient human musical behavior” that was one of the earliest musical attempts of humankind and that we’re still using it as the backbone of our music compositions after all these years made me wonder if having a backbeat is crucial for all types of music, or whether it can be omitted by choice. Is the reason why it sustained for this long solely due to it being a necessity in creating music, or is it because it’s helpful/personal choice of style/etc.?

Finally, the comment about the current music industries and how “rather convincing electronic tracks have replaced the drummer” in recorded tracks made me remember a question I’ve been harboring for a long time. I’ve always wondered whether the strings/orchestra in the background of songs were live recorded backtracks, or whether they were just electric keyboard synthesizers with keys that mimic the sound of strings playing. I just thought that using simple keyboards would save the musician’s budget by a lot more compared to hiring a live ensemble, and whether we’d be able to tell the difference between the two because nowadays, technology has evolved to the point where the tracks it produces are “rather convincing,” as the writer claims.

p.s. Here’s just a quote that I thought was really powerful — I wanted to write it here so that I’ll keep this in mind as I produce projects in the future. “For what is soul in music, if not a powerfully embodied human presence?”

I thought that the reading’s mention of how live coding is all about opening up rather than being exclusive was spot on with what I thought live coding was. Looking at the performance during my freshmen year, I felt included, almost as if I was part of the musical masterpiece that they were crafting right before my eyes because I could see the entire process of their codes, step by step. And I remember the anticipation, the thrill, as I predicted what was going to happen now — the beat might drop at this moment, or the visuals might change this way, etc. And I think this is what I want to replicate for the audience through my performance by the end of this semester as well, because a big part of live coding “involves showing the screen or making visible the coding process as part of a live performance.” So if the audience isn’t incorporated into my performance, then I believe it decreases the unique and special experience of the audience significantly.

I also liked how similar live coding is to what I think Interactive Media is as well because, in the center of live coding, there’s an element of exchanged feedback from the audience and the coders/performers, as well as being expressive, free, and being present at the moment, which is what I believe Interactive Media artworks strive to be. While there definitely is a rough guideline from the performers’ part, it’s always up for changes based on how the audience interacts and is feeling at the moment, thus adding a sprinkle of spontaneity by capturing the moment that the performance is being held in.