Interviews

Beauty & the Beat has spent years cultivating a space where rhythm, patience, and community intertwine. This deep dive explores the crew's devotion to analogue sound, their journey into rich musical heritages, and their unwavering commitment to keeping collective joy inclusive and accessible.

A deep and reflective conversation about culture, community, and the art of listening.

Step into a BATB night and you feel it instantly: the warmth of the room, the patience of the music, the sense that everyone is listening together. Beauty & the Beat has built a universe where analogue sound, cultural memory and collective joy intertwine — a place where the dancefloor becomes both sanctuary and laboratory. This interview dives into the stories, encounters and philosophies that have shaped BATB's journey, and the community that continues to carry it forward.

BATB has always been about deep, attentive listening as much as dancing. How do you cultivate that atmosphere in a world that often treats music as background noise?

The sound system allows for a wide range of music to be played, which makes it interesting both to play on and to dance on. The music sounds warm and suggestive — we don't get ringing ears at the end of the night — with clearly defined textures. The system is very transparent in the way it reproduces music on wax, so any badly pressed record simply won't sound good on it. The music throughout a night tells a story and follows an arc: intro, getting into the groove, play time, peak time, re-entry. Sometimes there's space between records, giving dancers a moment to breathe. Music — and how it is presented — is such an important part of the whole experience. Dancers feel how much respect we have for the process.

Your parties are known for feeling intimate, warm and safe. What intentional choices go into creating that -house party but public” environment?

BATB was born out of our own house parties and grew organically. All the ingredients that made a good house party were shared as the event grew, but the ethos stayed the same. “Respect your brothers, respect your sisters” and “dance like no one is watching” are two solid foundations to start from. There's definitely care for one another and a curiosity about new music among the crowd.

You’ve long championed analogue sound in a digital era. What does analogue give you — emotionally, spiritually, physically — that digital cannot?

We’re not trying to oppose analogue and digital — both have their place. Our system has been built to make vinyl sound great. On a system designed for analogue rendition, you get extra warmth and extra flow in the details.

You often say BATB has “no agenda.” What does that freedom allow you to do that other labels or parties might not be able to?

The label has no agenda, which simply means we release music when we have something meaningful to share. It’s not a money-making project; none of what we do is aimed at making money. This allows us to take our time choosing what we want to share. Unhurried time is a rare treat.

When you’re digging for music to release or play, what emotional qualities tell you: this belongs in our world?

Which part of the journey would the music fit into? Does it feel like it could introduce the journey? Is it playful and uplifting — that “horse-riding” feeling? Does it take us into more cosmic realms? Is it deep enough to refocus the dancefloor? Is it soothing enough to facilitate re-entry?

Cyril, discovering the music of São Luís seems to have been a transformative moment. What did that encounter teach you about rhythm, ancestry and cultural memory?

Every music has influences. São Luís sits at the crossroads of several major heritages. What I realised is that it’s all about the different types of rhythms and the drums — which are made there, their own drums. There are rhythms to celebrate deities, specific occasions, and more. São Luís was the endpoint of one of the slave routes, which is why part of its heritage comes from Benin and West Africa. Transmission happened orally and through the drums — through rhythm. There’s an excellent documentary revisiting the Benin/Yoruba roots in Maranhão’s cultural heritage: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7m0Ifj0YfAQ

Loopcinico’s sound is unlike anything else — a fusion of poetry, percussion and electronic pulse. What was your first reaction when you heard them?

We spent an evening listening to music at my friend Otavio’s place — he’s a music journalist. He was playing wax and CDs all night. By the time Loopcinico came on, we were five hours deep into the listening session. The hair on my arms went straight up — goosebumps. But I couldn’t quite make sense of it.

How do you approach the responsibility of transferring a region’s musical heritage — especially one as rich as Maranhão’s — onto wax for a global audience?

Yes, Loopcinico are very much part of Maranhão’s (and Pará’s) musical heritage. I’m not sure how representative they are, though — they were clearly exploring and searching for something new at the time. There was a lot of respect and care involved in the process. In the liner notes, we included the original article by Mr Borges about the album — a brilliant piece that reveals so much about the music.

Vidock and Leonidas are long-time BATB collaborators. What do you feel they brought to the Loopcinico tracks that deepened or expanded the original story?

They bridged the London (and worldwide) dancefloor with São Luís, paying attention to the lyrics and respecting the spiritual, shamanic essence of the original music. If you look at it as a story, it’s as if they added a few new chapters.

Dancefloor as laboratory — you’ve tested some of these tracks on the BATB floor and others have been played by DJs like Hunee. What does the dancefloor reveal that the studio cannot?

The dancefloor is the ultimate test. You can listen to music very loud at home, but it will always sound different in a room with nearly 400 people dancing. The music can take on a different texture; you hear details you couldn’t before — and what’s been played beforehand always affects the experience. The feedback has been extremely positive so far, and of course having someone like Hunee play it out is a great bonus.

BATB has always been a community before it was a brand. How do you maintain that sense of family as the label grows?

BATB couldn’t exist without the family who make it what it is — people helping, carrying equipment, cooking, meeting for the first time on the dancefloor and sometimes getting married afterwards. The stuff of life. We’re very grateful. We meet outside the party environment and support each other.

How do you resist the pressure to follow trends, especially in a scene that moves quickly and often rewards novelty over depth?

There is no pressure. No two parties are the same; there’s always new music being played, but we maintain coherence and stay true to our fundamentals.

Beauty & the Beat has always been more than a party — it’s a living culture built on deep listening, shared curiosity and the belief that music can bring people together in profound ways. Rooted in analogue devotion and community care, BATB has grown from intimate house gatherings into a space where dancers, friends and strangers alike can experience music with intention. In this conversation, the crew reflect on rhythm, heritage, patience and the radical act of creating a truly inclusive dancefloor.

BATB releases are rare and carefully chosen. What role does patience play in your creative and curatorial process?

Patience is essential when talking about music. Real listening time, for example — it’s incompressible. We play music that has been around for 70+ years; we can afford to be patient.

As you step into a new chapter with your first double record release, what new territories — musical or cultural — are calling to you?

We’re keeping an ear out for interstices — edges between genres, beats or textures. Our friend Kay Suzuki often talks about the importance of the space between the beats. For the label, it feels like we’re drawn to explore the space between the clocks: a space where different times meet — a lost recording, a contemporary listener or dancer.

When people look back on BATB decades from now, what do you hope they understand about what you were trying to build?

We’d like people to remember that we created a community where anyone could enjoy a real audiophile experience without it becoming a luxury lifestyle product for rich people — a place where people of all ages and backgrounds could dance together in a completely non-commercial, non-competitive and non-threatening environment. We’ve tried to create a space where people can hear music from a vast range of times and places — some of which they would not hear anywhere else, much of which they would not hear played together anywhere else — and in a way that always feels coherent and accessible. We want people to experience collective joy, solidarity and a few hours of freedom, so they can return to their lives energised, happier, more connected and ready to take up the struggle to look after each other and make a better world. We’ve tried to keep alive a tradition that goes back to the radical moment of New York in the early 70s but remains relevant in London in the 21st century. More than anything, we’re proud to have helped bring together a community of friends without whom none of this would be possible — and to whom we’re eternally grateful.

Check out the latest release from Beauty & the Beat.