In the shadows of China’s gleaming metropolises, beneath the watchful gaze of surveillance cameras and beyond the reach of state-sanctioned entertainment, a cultural revolution pulses with defiant energy. The year is 2025, and China’s underground rave scene has evolved into something far more significant than mere nightlife—it has become a powerful movement of artistic expression, cultural resistance, and youth identity.
These clandestine gatherings, meticulously concealed from government scrutiny, represent vital spaces where a generation increasingly constrained by social expectations and political realities finds freedom in the darkness. As dawn breaks over mega-cities like Shanghai, Beijing, and Chengdu, thousands of young Chinese slip away from secret warehouses, abandoned factories, and hidden clubs, carrying with them the lingering echoes of bass-heavy soundscapes and the shared experience of temporary liberation, especially after the lock-down and the 2021’s pandemic.
What makes China’s underground rave culture particularly fascinating in 2025 is its unique position at the intersection of global electronic music trends and distinctly Chinese cultural elements. This is not simply an imported Western phenomenon but rather a homegrown movement that has developed its own aesthetic, sound, and social significance. For participants, these events transcend entertainment—they are acts of sonic rebellion, creating autonomous zones where conventional rules dissolve and new possibilities emerge. The 2nd Chinese Cultural Revolution is here, and comes from the underground.
The stakes are considerable. As authorities tighten control over cultural expression and digital communication, organising and attending these events carries increasing risk. Yet the scene not only persists but thrives, adapting with technological sophistication and community resilience. This resilience speaks to the fundamental human need for self-expression and connection, particularly potent in a society where conformity is often expected and enforced.
This exploration takes you deep into the beating heart of China’s underground electronic music culture—revealing how it’s organised, the distinctive aesthetics it has developed, the sounds defining its dance floors, the spaces where it flourishes, and its broader significance as both cultural and political expression. From the digital underground that keeps the community connected to the global influence it increasingly wields, this is the story of a generation finding its voice through rhythm and resistance.
The Digital Underground: How China’s Ravers Stay Connected
China is a nation where young people face intense pressure and high expectations from the society around them. In recent years, facing bleak economic prospects, Chinese youth culture has been swept by a series of viral slang terms to describe frustration and hopelessness: “ 996 ” — the brutal 9 a.m. to 9 p.m., six days a week work schedule many companies ask of employees.
“Involution” — an endless treadmill of pointless competition that fresh graduates face. “ Lying flat ” — the growing trend among young people of giving up all ambition and aiming to do as little as possible.
Communication within the scene operates on multiple layers of security and exclusivity. While mainstream platforms like WeChat offer convenience and widespread reach, they’re widely understood to be vulnerable to surveillance. As a result, organisers increasingly rely on encrypted messaging applications like Signal and Telegram for their most sensitive communications. These platforms, though officially restricted in China, remain accessible through VPNs that have become essential tools for the digitally connected youth.
“The first rule of rave club is you don’t talk about rave club—at least not explicitly online,” explains, H1P3, Shanghai-based event organizer who requested anonymity. “We’ve developed an entire vocabulary of coded language that allows us to discuss events in plain sight.” This linguistic evolution includes seemingly innocent terms that signal event details: references to “study groups” might indicate smaller gatherings, while “family reunions” could suggest larger warehouse events.
The distribution of event information follows carefully orchestrated patterns designed to minimise risk. Initial announcements might appear in semi-private WeChat groups, but crucial details like exact locations are typically reserved for trusted inner circles.
Perhaps the most critical security measure is location secrecy. Venues are rarely announced more than 24 hours before events, and last-minute location changes have become standard practice. “We’ve had to move an entire sound system and hundreds of people with just two hours’ notice when we received word of potential police interest,” recounts a Chengdu-based DJ. This necessary caution has inadvertently enhanced the mystique surrounding these events, with the journey to discover the location becoming part of the experience itself.
The digital underground extends beyond mere event organisation. Online communities have formed around Chinese electronic music production, sharing techniques and samples through password-protected forums and private cloud storage. (Yun beng di 云蹦迪). These digital spaces foster creativity and collaboration that feeds directly back into the physical rave experience, creating a continuous feedback loop between online community and real-world gathering.
What’s particularly remarkable about China’s underground electronic music community is how it has transformed digital constraints into cultural strengths. The necessary secrecy and exclusivity have fostered tight-knit communities with strong loyalty and shared values. The technological barriers to entry ensure that participants are genuinely committed to the scene rather than casual tourists. In this way, government restrictions have paradoxically helped create a more resilient and dedicated community than might exist in less regulated environments.
The New Cultural Rebellion: Identity and Aesthetics in China’s Rave Scene
The underground rave scene in China has cultivated a distinctive visual identity that serves as both personal expression and silent rebellion. This aesthetic universe isn’t merely decorative—it’s a complex visual language that communicates values, affiliations, and aspirations that often stand in stark contrast to mainstream Chinese society.
At first glance, the fashion dominating these spaces appears to be a cyberpunk fantasy come to life. Ravers don futuristic tech-wear with utilitarian elements: multi-pocket vests, cargo pants with excessive straps, platform boots, and LED-enhanced accessories that transform dancers into living light installations. Yet closer inspection reveals something more nuanced—a deliberate fusion of global street-wear trends with reinterpreted traditional Chinese elements. A jacket might feature classic Chinese fasteners alongside reflective industrial materials; a face mask could combine traditional embroidery patterns with contemporary technical fabrics.
“What we wear is who we are when nobody’s watching—or rather, when only the right people are watching,” explains Min, a fashion designer who creates custom pieces for the scene. “There’s something powerful about dressing for ourselves and our community rather than for social media or public approval.”
This aesthetic rebellion mirrors broader youth movements questioning intense societal pressures in contemporary China. The concepts of “Tangping” (lying flat) and “Neijuan” (involution) have gained traction among young Chinese who reject the relentless competition and productivity demands of modern Chinese society. These philosophies find natural expression in rave culture, where participants temporarily escape the rigid expectations of work, family, and social advancement.
“During the day, I’m an accountant with perfect posture and conservative clothes,” shares Zhang, a regular at underground events in Beijing. “At night, I transform into someone unrecognisable—someone free. This isn’t just escapism; it’s about creating space to explore who I might be if I weren’t constrained by family expectations and corporate demands.”
Perhaps most significantly, these underground spaces have become vital havens for gender expression and LGBTQ+ identity exploration. While mainstream Chinese society remains largely conservative regarding gender roles and sexuality, the rave scene actively celebrates fluidity and diversity. Gender-bending fashion is commonplace, with clothing, makeup, and presentation freely crossing traditional boundaries. This stands in particularly sharp relief against increasing government restrictions on LGBTQ+ content in media and public discourse.
The visual aesthetic extends beyond fashion to encompass the entire sensory environment of these events. VJ artists create immersive visual projections that blend dystopian futurism with traditional Chinese imagery—ancient calligraphy morphing into digital code, classical landscapes dissolving into abstract geometric patterns. These visual elements aren’t merely decorative but narrative, telling stories of cultural heritage re-imagined through a contemporary, technologically-mediated lens.
What makes this aesthetic movement particularly significant is how it represents a generation navigating complex questions of Chinese identity in a globalised world.
Rather than simply adopting Western sub-cultural styles wholesale, China’s underground rave scene has developed a visual language that acknowledges international influences while asserting distinctly Chinese characteristics. This visual hybrid reflects the community’s broader negotiation between global citizenship and national identity, between traditional values and progressive ideals.
The result is a cultural movement that feels simultaneously futuristic and deeply rooted—a new expression of Chinese identity that honours heritage while refusing to be constrained by it. In a society where conformity is often expected and enforced, the mere act of dressing differently becomes a form of resistance, and creating spaces where diverse identities are celebrated becomes revolutionary.
Sonic Landscapes: The Distinctive Sound of Chinese Underground Electronic Music
The heartbeat of China’s underground rave scene is its music—a sonic tapestry that has evolved into something distinctly Chinese while maintaining dialogue with global electronic music trends. In 2025, this sound has matured beyond simple imitation of Western styles into a unique voice that increasingly influences the international electronic music landscape.
Industrial techno dominates many underground events, its mechanical rhythms and harsh textures reflecting the urban environments where these gatherings take place. The relentless, driving beats mirror the pace of China’s mega-cities, while distorted synthesizers evoke the tension between technological advancement and human expression. This harder edge distinguishes Chinese underground electronic music from the more commercial EDM that dominates mainstream clubs and festivals.
“There’s something about industrial techno that resonates with our daily reality,” explains Xu Wei, who produces under the name Concrete Breath. “We live in cities that are constantly being demolished and rebuilt, surrounded by construction and machinery. Our music reflects that environment—it’s beautiful but harsh, structured but chaotic.”
Alongside techno, genres like break-core, acid house, and experimental electronic music have found fertile ground in China’s underground. These styles offer the technical complexity and emotional intensity that appeal to a scene defined by its resistance to simplistic commercial formulas. The fragmented rhythms of break-core, in particular, have gained traction as metaphors for disrupted social patterns and fractured attention spans in China’s digital age.
What truly distinguishes Chinese electronic music in 2025 is the growing cohort of producers who weave traditional Chinese instruments and musical motifs into contemporary electronic frameworks. The ethereal tones of the guzheng (Chinese zither) float above techno beats; samples of Beijing opera vocals are chopped and processed through digital effects; the distinctive timbres of the erhu (two-stringed fiddle) are transformed through granular synthesis techniques.
International DJs increasingly incorporate these sounds into their sets, while Chinese producers find themselves in demand for remixes and collaborations with established Western artists. Labels like Shanghai’s Genome Records and Beijing’s Eternal Spring have built international distribution networks, exporting this unique sound to receptive audiences worldwide.
The cross-pollination works both ways. International underground artists regularly tour China’s clandestine circuit, bringing fresh influences while absorbing local innovations. These exchanges happen despite—or perhaps because of—the challenges of operating in China’s restricted cultural environment. The very obstacles that make organising events difficult have fostered a scene that values authenticity and artistic integrity over commercial success.
Live performances in China’s underground scene tend toward the immersive and experimental. Rather than predictable DJ sets, audiences might experience improvisational electronic performances where musicians respond to the crowd’s energy in real-time. Hardware setups featuring modular synthesizers, drum machines, and custom-built instruments are common, reflecting a preference for tactile, physical interaction with technology over purely digital interfaces.
What emerges from this complex interplay of influences, technologies, and cultural contexts is a sound that captures the contradictions and possibilities of contemporary China—forward-looking yet historically aware, globally connected yet distinctly local, technically sophisticated yet emotionally raw. It’s a sound born from restriction yet defined by freedom, carrying the unique voice of a generation navigating the complexities of Chinese identity in the digital age.
Hidden Venues: Where China’s Underground Rave Scene Thrives
The physical spaces where China’s underground rave scene comes to life are as diverse and adaptive as the movement itself. From established clubs operating in legal gray areas to ephemeral gatherings in abandoned industrial sites, these venues form the essential infrastructure of a culture that exists largely beyond official sanction.
Major urban centers serve as the primary hubs for this flourishing underground ecosystem. Shanghai, with its international character and relatively cosmopolitan atmosphere, hosts the most developed network of underground electronic music venues. Beijing’s scene reflects the capital’s more politically charged environment, while Chengdu has emerged as a surprising powerhouse with a distinctive regional flavor. Shenzhen’s proximity to Hong Kong creates unique cross-border influences, and second-tier cities like Kunming, Chongqing, and Xi’an have developed vibrant local scenes with their own characteristics.
“Each city has its own rave personality,” observes Lin Jing, who has documented China’s electronic music culture since 2018. “Shanghai feels more polished and international, Beijing more raw and experimental, Chengdu more playful and psychedelic. These differences reflect not just musical preferences but the broader cultural and economic contexts of each region.”
Rave party by the Great Wall
The venues themselves fall into several distinct categories, each with its own role in the ecosystem. A small number of established clubs like Shanghai’s The Shelter or Shenzhen’s Oil Club operate with semi-official status, maintaining enough legal compliance to avoid immediate shutdown while providing space for more adventurous programming than mainstream venues would allow. These spaces often serve as entry points for newcomers to the scene and crucial networking hubs for artists and organizers.
“Running a club like this is a constant balancing act,” admits a venue owner in Shanghai who requested anonymity. “We’re registered as a cultural center rather than a nightclub, which gives us more flexibility with programming but also means we’re constantly navigating complex regulations. We have to be legitimate enough to stay open but underground enough to remain relevant.”
Beyond these semi-established venues lies a more ephemeral landscape of temporary locations. Abandoned factories on city outskirts, vacant floors in half-completed construction projects, and remote warehouses become one-night transformations into throbbing dance floors. These spaces offer the freedom to create fully immersive environments without the constraints of permanent venues but come with significant logistical and security challenges.
The most secretive tier consists of invitation-only events in private spaces—apartments converted for a night, rooftop gatherings, or rural locations accessible only to those with precise coordinates and transportation arrangements. These micro-raves prioritize intimacy and security over scale, often featuring experimental music and art that wouldn’t find space even in underground clubs.
What unites these diverse venues is their impermanence. Even established clubs frequently change locations or close entirely, only to reopen elsewhere under new names. This constant state of flux is partly a response to regulatory pressure but has become a defining characteristic of the scene itself—nothing is permanent, everything is adaptable, and the community follows the music wherever it leads.
The physical design of these spaces reflects the scene’s DIY ethos and aesthetic sensibilities. Projection mapping transforms blank walls into dynamic visual landscapes. Modular furniture allows for rapid reconfiguration. Sound systems are often custom-built by enthusiasts who understand the unique acoustic challenges of unconventional spaces. The result is an environment where every element—from lighting to spatial layout—contributes to a cohesive sensory experience.
“We’re creating temporary autonomous zones,” explains a Beijing-based event designer. “For one night, we transform a forgotten space into something magical. When you step inside, you’re entering a different reality with different rules. By morning, it’s gone without a trace—but the experience remains.”
This spontaneous carries practical advantages beyond evading authorities. It creates a sense of urgency and participation—if you miss an event, that exact experience will never be replicated. It fosters innovation, as organisers constantly seek new locations and approaches. And it reinforces community bonds, as information about venues becomes valuable social currency shared among trusted networks.
The hidden nature of these venues also serves an important cultural function, creating spaces where conventional social hierarchies and expectations can be temporarily suspended. Away from public scrutiny, participants find freedom to explore identities, interactions, and ideas that might be constrained in everyday life. The physical marginal nature of these spaces—often in industrial zones or urban peripheries—mirrors their cultural position at the edges of acceptable expression.
As development continues to transform China’s urban landscape, the geography of underground electronic music constantly shifts. Gentrification pushes events further from city centres; new transportation infrastructure opens previously inaccessible locations; and the demolition of industrial areas eliminates once-reliable venues. Yet this very instability has taught the community resilience—the scene doesn’t depend on specific locations but on the collective will to create space for expression wherever possible.
The Exponential growing of other musical Scenes in the Asian Context
China’s underground rave scene, it is obviously one the biggest scenes in the Asian continent but we cannot forget that many things are growing up in parallel.
In many other Asian countries, it is well known that experimental techno music has a hub in Hanoi, Vietnam. Indonesia has a huge number of Hardcore bands, as Philippine also, and parallel electronic scenes, at the moment pretty influenced by the stationality of the western tourism.
Thailand, is notable for the existence of a very stable drum and bass scene, not only in the capital, but growing up to the islands and to Chiang Mai. That’s why we decided to contact one of the most experienced DJs of SA Asia, DJ Orawan, to request his opinion and this is what we said to us about the scene there.
Then, The jungle Jam Bkk collective guys, responsible to bring to the area artist like Grooverider and the mythical label V.
They told us their visions about the underground scene in Bangkok…
And, then, we requested the opinion of Charlie, a reference to the punk-rock scene there, and into other things, admin of the FB group “Punk-rock Bangkok”, which it’s a reference in the Bangkokian scene and gave us a global vision of these scenes in SA Asia.
Those Asiatic hubs with their particularities are a reflection of what has been happening in countries like Japan, China and even South Korea and how the underground culture is growing up along the whole continent.
We shouldn’t forget that SA Asia, that culturally are gaining popularity as a creative hubs, and countries like Thailand, Philippines, or Indonesia receive a lot of western population and therefore, different cultural inputs when it comes to electronic music or contemporary culture in general. But let’s see how the hubs established in Bangkok, Jogjakarta or even Hanoi, keep on gaining traction during the next years.
Now, let’s go back to the mainland…
Cultural Impact: “The Last Year of Darkness” and Media Attention
The underground rave scene in China reached a pivotal moment of cultural recognition with the 2023 release of the documentary “The Last Year of Darkness.” This groundbreaking film, which chronicled the struggles and triumphs of a Kunming’s Club and its crew, brought unprecedented international attention to a subculture that had previously existed largely in the shadows.
Directed by independent filmmaker Zhang Mei, the Chinese underground clubbing documentary captured the raw energy and precarious existence of one of China’s most vibrant underground electronic music venues. Through intimate footage of performances, interviews with DJs and attendees, and tense moments during police inspections, the film offered viewers unprecedented access to a world few outsiders had witnessed. Its unflinching portrayal of young Chinese seeking freedom through music resonated with audiences far beyond those already familiar with electronic music culture.
“What made the documentary so powerful was that it wasn’t just about music or parties,” explains film critic Wang Jian. “It told a universal story about youth seeking authentic expression in constrained circumstances. Viewers who had never set foot in a club could still connect with the fundamental human desire for community and self-determination.”
After premiering at the Sundance Film Festival, where it won the World Cinema Documentary Special Jury Award, “The Last Year of Darkness” gained distribution on international streaming platforms. Though never officially released in mainland China, it circulated widely through VPNs and private sharing networks, becoming a cultural touchstone for a generation that recognized their experiences on screen.
The international media response was immediate and extensive. Publications from The Guardian to Rolling Stone ran features on China’s underground electronic music culture. DJs and producers featured in the film received invitations to perform at prestigious international venues and festivals. The aesthetic of Chinese rave culture—its fashion, visuals, and musical innovations—began appearing in global trend forecasts and influencing creative directors worldwide.
“Before the documentary, Chinese electronic music was barely a footnote in global dance music discourse,” notes music journalist Li Chen. “
Afterwards, people started paying attention to what was happening here, recognising that some of the most innovative and authentic electronic music was emerging from these precarious underground spaces.”
Within China, the film’s impact was complex and multifaceted. While it never received official acknowledgement, its international success made it impossible to ignore completely. State media occasionally referenced the “distorted portrayal” of Chinese youth culture in “certain foreign documentaries,” while simultaneously promoting state-sanctioned electronic music festivals as healthier alternatives.
For the underground scene itself, the documentary’s release brought both benefits and challenges. The international spotlight provided a degree of protection through visibility—authorities became more cautious about heavy-handed crackdowns on venues that now had global recognition. Conversely, increased attention meant greater scrutiny, forcing many events to become even more secretive and selective.
“After the film, we definitely saw an influx of what we call ‘documentary tourists,'” says a club owner in Chengdu. “People who wanted to experience the ‘authentic’ underground scene they’d seen on screen. We had to become more careful about who we admitted because not everyone understood the unwritten rules and security concerns.”
Perhaps the most significant impact was on participation and awareness within China itself. Young people who had never previously encountered electronic music culture were drawn to the scene after glimpsing its possibilities through the documentary. Underground events saw increased attendance from a broader demographic, while online communities discussing electronic music and rave culture expanded rapidly.
The Club Kunming documentary , called “Funky Town” and curiously located in Chengdu, not in Kunming, also sparked important conversations about cultural documentation in restrictive environments. The filmmakers had taken significant risks to capture their footage, and their methods raised questions about consent, security, and ethical representation. These discussions led to more thoughtful approaches to documenting underground culture, with greater emphasis on protecting participants’ identities and securing community approval.
By 2025, “The Last Year of Darkness” has achieved almost mythical status within Chinese youth culture. References to scenes and quotes from the film appear in artwork, music, and fashion. Viewing parties, though technically unauthorised, occur regularly in private spaces. The film has become part of an essential cultural canon for young Chinese interested in alternatives to mainstream entertainment and lifestyle options.
The documentary’s lasting significance lies in how it validated the experiences of participants in the underground scene, confirming that their cultural creation was worthy of serious artistic consideration. By framing rave culture not as mere hedonism but as meaningful community building and creative expression, it elevated the entire movement in both domestic and international contexts. Read our previous article for more context about this.
“What we do isn’t just about having fun,” reflects a DJ featured prominently in the film. “It’s about creating moments of genuine connection and freedom. The documentary helped people understand that we’re not just partying—we’re building something important, something that matters beyond the night itself.”
“Working with producers from different cultural backgrounds forces you to question your assumptions about what electronic music should sound like,” explains Chen Liang, who has collaborated with artists from Germany and the UK. “When I send stems to a producer in Berlin, they might process them in ways I’d never consider. That creative friction generates something truly original.”
“Playing in China is completely different from anywhere else,” says a Berlin-based DJ who tours China annually. “The energy is incredible—these audiences aren’t there to be seen or to take Instagram photos. They’re fully present, dancing with an intensity you rarely see elsewhere. And they’re knowledgeable—they recognise obscure tracks and appreciate technical skill. It’s a dream audience for any serious electronic musician.”
Beyond music itself, the resilience shown by Chinese ravers navigating intense pressure has inspired similar underground movements globally. As surveillance and regulation of nightlife increase in cities worldwide, organisers look to Chinese methods of maintaining vibrant underground scenes despite restrictions. Techniques for secure communication, venue secrecy, and community building pioneered in China are now adopted by underground collectives from São Paulo to Sydney.
Digital platforms have been crucial in facilitating these global connections. Chinese electronic music communities maintain active presences on international platforms accessible through VPNs, while specialized forums cater to cross-cultural exchange between Chinese and international electronic music enthusiasts. Livestreamed events allow real-time participation across borders, creating shared experiences despite geographical separation.
What makes these global connections particularly significant is how they challenge simplistic narratives about cultural globalization. Rather than Western electronic music simply being adopted in China, or Chinese elements being exoticized for Western consumption, a genuine dialogue has emerged. This exchange respects the integrity of Chinese electronic music culture while acknowledging its place within a global rave culture.
“The most exciting aspect of this global exchange is that it’s happening largely outside official channels,” observes cultural theorist Dr. Zhang Wei. “It’s not state-sponsored cultural export or corporate-driven trend-making. It’s organic connection between communities that share values around music, creative expression, and the importance of creating autonomous spaces.”
As China’s global influence continues to grow across economic and political spheres, its underground electronic music scene offers an alternative model of cultural exchange—one based on mutual respect, creative collaboration, and shared experiences rather than market dominance or soft power projection. In this way, the scene represents not just a musical movement but a template for how meaningful cross-cultural dialogue might flourish even in challenging political contexts.
Epilogue: The Enduring Beat of China’s Underground
As we’ve explored throughout this journey into China’s underground rave scene in 2025, what emerges is far more than just a music subculture and influences all the continent.
This is a multifaceted movement that represents the complex interplay between artistic expression, technological innovation, political resistance, and cultural identity in contemporary China.
What makes China’s underground rave scene particularly significant in 2025 is how it embodies broader tensions within Chinese society. The contrast between collective harmony and individual expression, between technological control and creative liberation, between global citizenship and national identity—all these contradictions find expression on these secretive dance floors. In this way, the scene serves as a microcosm of the complex negotiations facing young Chinese as they chart their path through a rapidly changing social landscape.
Looking toward the future, China’s underground electronic music culture will likely continue its dance of adaptation and resistance. As authorities develop new methods of control, the community will innovate new approaches to creating autonomous spaces. This dynamic tension itself has become a defining characteristic of the scene, forcing continuous evolution and preventing stagnation.
What remains constant amid this perpetual change is the fundamental human connection at the heart of rave culture. Beyond the music, beyond the fashion, beyond the politics lies the simple, powerful experience of people coming together to share moments of collective joy and expression. In a society increasingly mediated by screens and algorithms, these physical gatherings—however temporary or secretive—provide essential counterbalance.
The beat that pulses through abandoned factories and secret warehouses across China carries more than just rhythm; it carries the persistent hope that spaces for authentic human connection and free expression will always find a way to exist, even in the most challenging circumstances. As long as there are young people seeking connection, artists pushing creative boundaries, and communities willing to take risks for shared experiences, China’s underground rave scene will continue to evolve, adapt, and thrive—a testament to the enduring human spirit that finds ways to dance, even in the dark.
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