Pigeonholing yourself to a specific scene is a concept off Tiga’s radar.
The Montreal-based DJ and producer began his career in the early 90s, becoming a natural observer to shifting scenes and cultures–especially within dance music. From DJ’ing, to founding his record label, Turbo Recordings, and releasing his first mix CD in 2003, the pioneer of electroclash label is well-deserved. Tiga is a household name between both legacy and emerging electronic acts.
Over the last couple decades, Tiga has released numerous albums, singles, and remixes. 2026 sees him notably return with his first album in 10 years, HOTLIFE. The title is positively as simple as its thematic statement: it’s a celebration of life. Tiga recalibrates his signature raunchy, electro sound to fit into a demonstration of gratitude across 12 tracks–uplifted by features from Boys Noize, Fcukers, MRD, and Maara.
Coming out of a conversation with Tiga, it’s hard not to take inspiration from his outlook on both his personal life and approach to the constant evolution of the music industry. Artists can often reach a point where pure enjoyment and gratitude within their craft no longer exists, yet Tiga affirms he doesn’t plan to go there. Chatting with Tiga after the release of HOTLIFE, we reflect on the progression of dance music over the decades–for better or for worse.
I read an old interview from 2009 when you released Ciao!. You said that “dance [music] isn’t so big in the states and that you don’t think the [U.S.] audience is receptive to what I’m doing overall.” How does it feel to hear that now? In what ways do you both agree and disagree with your initial statement?
Well, it definitely got big in the States, so I was wrong on that count. It was definitely true at the time. I have a good time in the States now. [2009]’s a long time ago. America’s changed a lot. I will say, I still don’t necessarily feel at home when I play in the States. For me, there’s naturally some places I just feel–Spain, Italy, continental Europe–like that’s my space, but that’s from so many years.
America has a lot of positives that other places don’t have. It feels kind of younger and optimistic. I’ve had a lot of really, really good parties in America the last five years. In terms of the American crowds, for me personally, it’s changed a lot. They’re very receptive. The commercial dance scene in America is massive. It’s become a giant industry with good and bad. But there’s also a really strong smaller party scene in America that’s really good–including Canada. I’ve done a lot of great parties in LA and Miami. America got their shit together.
What is it that excites you most about dance music, both the art itself and the culture around it right now?
Truthfully, I’m retired from the business of evaluating the cycles or the scenes because I’ve seen millions upon millions. You reach a certain point where you just don’t notice anymore. Pop stars will periodically fall in love with dance music, then it’ll be in the pop. Then they’ll fall out of love with it and go to something else. It’s the same with cities and countries.
It’s so much to do with where you are as an observer. You could be a journalist who’s been writing for three years and you see it a certain way, or a journalist who’s been writing for 15 years and see it a different way. You could be a 17 year old kid who just went to their first party and this shit’s blowing your mind, or someone who’s been to 200 parties. The freshness point on the wave is a very subjective thing. I have my own opinions of where it is, but the shorter answer–it’s pretty good right now.
I watched your RA interview and loved what you said about taste as currency to cool, questioning that without taste–what do you really have?
I have lots of epiphanies periodically about everything. I don’t know when it was, but I made that song, ‘IAMWHATIAM’ and somewhere along the line, I realized: all you have is your taste. If it’s good or bad is secondary. That’s important, but the most important thing is that you actually cultivate, live, and are bold about your taste–and that you know yourself. I don’t know if I said it in that interview, but a simple analogy is asking how are you going to have a good relationship with someone? To have a good relationship, you have to know yourself, you have to know what you want. And if you don’t, you’re going to be lost at sea.
That being said, I’ve been reading about the “necessity” of gatekeepers and how gatekeepers are usually just super passionate about their taste and wanting to protect it. A lot of people frame it differently. There’s negative connotations to it, or talks about curator/tastemaker being a nicer term for gatekeeper. What’s your take on the nature of gatekeeping?
Gatekeeping is one of those words that just popped up in the last 10 years. I’ll say two things. First of all, I think the terminology about everything is negative. All that shit’s a waste of time. The words like ‘curator’ and all of it is language for no reason. That’s how I see it. You’re just doing what you’re doing. Nobody on earth is like “Hi, I’m a curator.” If they are like that, that’s pretty pathetic.
I’ve never used the word gatekeeper, but I’ll give you an example. When I was starting out as a DJ and everything was on vinyl, I would sticker my records. I would marker over the records. I would cover the center label so nobody could see what the record was. There were two types of DJs. Some DJs did that because that was your advantage. There was no internet, no Shazams, or anything. You’d hide your records. Some DJs didn’t do it. Some DJs were more generous. I have friends that’ll give me their best records, but back in the day, my instinct was to hide and not share stuff. I’m not wild about sharing in general now.
I don’t think there’s anything really negative about that because you’re hiding things in order to put forth something in the way that you think it should be put out there. You don’t need to hear everyone’s influence or need to know what someone used to appreciate the final work. If they want to hide that from you, I think it’s actually better. What’s become “gatekeeping” is what I used to call mystery. You don’t need to know everything.
If you really break it down, behind this culture of sharing, oversharing, analyzing, the millions of clips about the history of this and the origin of that, where it’s sampled–the truth is most of it is bullshit. It’s actually economically motivated. Most of it is people who are trying to build careers, get likes, and gain traction by talking about other stuff. I have no problem with hiding or not sharing. How I look at myself [as an artist] is I’m fine to not share and hide things on one level, but then you’re being very generous by sharing your life in your work. I think that’s a fair exchange.
I agree. When you think about the intention behind gatekeeping, it’s protecting your passion about something you’re really invested in. Like you said, you want it put out into the world in a way that you feel it should be seen or heard.
Also, there’s some really basic principles like scarcity. If you’ve got an incredible record that no one else has, there’s added value to that. I grew up in a world where you couldn’t get everything you wanted, so I’m very comfortable with that. I’m very comfortable with the idea that I can’t have certain records.
It’s interesting to hear that perspective. Nowadays, people want constant accessibility to everything. Being told ‘no’ is not something a lot of people take well.
Then people turn around and say, why is music being devalued?
Reflecting on the wide range of collaborators on both HOTLIFE and beyond, are there any artists who have inspired you to implement their practices into your own process?
That’s a big question. Every minute of your life, every day, you’re picking up some inspiration and you don’t even know where it comes from. When it comes to music, there were some things when I was starting. There’s some records and artists that I was into when I was really young that I think seeped into how I look at things and they affected me in pretty deep ways. A couple that come to mind are like the KLF, Soft Cell, Nine Inch Nails. Those are three that, for very different reasons, worked their way into how I see things, how I see myself, etc.
What do you hope that you can translate to the artists that you collaborate with?
I think on a very basic level, you’re trying to make a record that reflects the best of both of you. First of all, you definitely want to make a record that’s a bit more than the sum of its parts. A lot of the time, truthfully, you just want to make a record. You want to get something done that you both feel good about. It’s the opposite of a master plan. You want to have a little bit of fun and feel that excitement–that creative spark.
When you’re working with a new person, I think the biggest thrill is that it’s a new relationship. You want to show off for each other and prove yourself to each other. Ideally with the end product, you don’t want to lose your identity and you don’t want them to lose theirs. You want to overshadow, but you also don’t want to hide. I think that’s a good way of collaborating. I like people. I’m really not concerned with what scene you’re in, the labels, or your identity. If you like a person and get a bit of excitement from them, that’s a good place to start.
The other thing about that is you can find yourself with all kinds of styles because you’re looking more at the person. I just did a record with Dom Dolla and we don’t really have all the same taste in records, but I really like him, I like what he’s doing and I like his energy. I did a record with Kölsch years ago and it was the same thing. A lot of the time, I make records with people where we don’t totally see eye to eye, and I think that makes for better work.
Agree. Finally, I read that some health issues held you back from feeling like yourself or doing what you wanted to do; HOTLIFE is a celebration of overcoming that. It sounds like the experience didn’t just bring you back, but changed how you see your work and your place in it. When you think of that “second chance” to live and make music, how do you want to be remembered?
I don’t care how I’m celebrated. I’m more thinking about how happy I am to be where I am. It’s two things. It’s a celebration, mainly on a life level; you have a health issue and everything else becomes pretty unimportant. Getting back things you thought you might have lost is a pretty awesome feeling. You don’t take stuff for granted, and it feels really good.
The other thing and what’s also really nice is that I started working when I was like 16, 17. I was a kid and I’ve been doing it every day since. Everyone knows this feeling, where you have moments of “Is this going to be forever? Is this going to be my entire life? I’m going to die and it’ll be like “Oh, I DJ’ed every weekend for my whole life.”” You get a nagging voice in your head and it distracts you. It’s doubt. It’s asking “Is there something else? Should I do something else?”
There were some of those voices for a while and they’ve been destroyed. And with that, it’s very relaxing. There’s a lot of freedom to know “This is it” in a good way. I’m happy to be doing what I’m doing. It became clear to me when I was sick, and it sounds very cliche, but music is really an amazing thing. Not the business, not the industry, just the very basic thing.
It’s like when you’re a kid, you close your eyes, and you listen to a song. You get that feeling that in a lot of ways, this is as good as it gets. It’s not that complicated. If you can build your life around that as an adult, it’s really good. So yeah, shit hit the fan, I thought I was down for the count, but I wasn’t. I got back up, and now everything feels a little bit sweeter.
Izzy Petraglia is a publicist, writer and photographer based in Toronto. Within her work, she loves to tie in her passion for music, fashion, and pop culture. Follow her on Instagram.