The new wave of desi alt-electronica

Editor’s note: Is techno now boujee? Is raving now matcha-and-samosa-fied as Gen Z goes sober? Can people actually tell the difference between house, bass, and electro, all while ‘soft-clubbing’ at a run? What’s next for electronica in India then?

In this cracking list, music journalist and former Advisory editor Arunima Joshua looks at the new wave of desi alternative electronica—how these experimental and ambitious artists are bridging the worlds of art pop and electronic music through melody and mysticism. And as always, we’ve made a banger of a playlist for you.

Written by: Arunima Joshua

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In 2026, we seem to be waking up to a new dawn for electronic music in India. Pianists, noise musicians, folk singers, visual artists, multi-hyphenate creatives, and indigenous chant-performing composers are experimenting with Digital Audio Workstations (DAWs) and vocals, taking the sound into interesting new directions. Artists such as Sanaya Ardeshir, Ruhail Qaisar, Karshni, Skulk, Sijya, KAVYA, Sanoli Chowdhury, and Yuhina are presenting an ethereal edge to electronica. Vocals, melodic compositions, and elements of art pop collide with sounds of the primal, synthesised through new-age motifs. 

While India’s tryst with electronica began, in piecemeal fashion, all the way back in the ’70s, things began to gather steam toward the end of the century. Producer/DJ culture really took off in the country in the ’90s, pioneered by duos like Midival Punditz and Bandish Projekt (of which bass music trailblazer Nucleya was a part). Soon enough, festivals like the wildly popular Sunburn consolidated ‘EDM’ as a commercial genre in the mid-2000s, leading to wider appreciation for dance music and festival culture in general. By the 2010s, as the country’s independent music scene started to open up to digital tools and move away from rock-centric sonics; a new underground arose with a wave of SoundCloud and bedroom producers uploading their lo-fi and leftfield (yet danceable) tracks onto the internet. It seems as though electronica in India has always had space for both the mainstream and the alternative. While club classics and commercial dance music retain a party-ready memo, novel sounds emerge every decade from fresh producers.

This cycle has given rise to the newest wave of alt electronica, which has seen a surge in the post-Covid era. Canadian artist Grimes, in 2021, succeeded in her petition to have ‘ethereal’ music recognised as a genre, defining it as “dedicated to experimentalism with strong elements of pop and universal beauty”. Perhaps India’s answer to the same lies in these eight artists, who are using melody and composition as opposed to the rhythmic, texture-driven work of previous producers. They’re exploring themes of life and death, war and conflict, lust, assault, decay, prosthetic realities, the divine, mystic, tribal and feral. 

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Hand of Thought by Sanaya Ardeshir (2026)

Sanaya Ardeshir has been a part of the electronic scene in the country for over a decade, regularly playing big stages and having released several albums and EPs under the moniker ‘Sandunes’. Now, for the first time, the composer-producer has put out music under her legal name, in the form of an eight-track LP called Hand of Thought. An ambient 29 minutes that could be mistaken for a film score or modern orchestra. 

Ardeshir, belonging to Mumbai’s close-knit Parsi community, draws from her Zoroastrian heritage and the community’s well-documented musical affinity, in the themes of this wordless record. The titular ‘hand of thought’, thus, becomes a metaphor for a hand extended across her bloodline—an intergenerational contribution from the women who came before her. Her primary training as a pianist comes to the fore, as the album’s literature mentions the artist “being entranced”, as though her hands were “being taken over by a larger force or ancestral consciousness”. 

Keening brass sections on ‘Trains’, tenacious tabla and flaring horns on ‘Deccan Queen’, and delicate piano motifs on closing track ‘Nora’s House’ build momentum for a body of work that, while wholly electronic, is anchored in cinematic flair. Sans vocals, Ardeshir presents an experience that belongs equally at a studio listening session or a mammoth festival stage, or most aptly in a hallowed symphony hall.

Fatima by Ruhail Qaisar (2023)

The Ladakhi artist (now based overseas) cut his teeth in the domestic electronic scene as ‘Sister’, playing ‘noise’ shows in the second half of the 2010s, the tail end of the millennial hipster decade. It’s worth mentioning that both Ardeshir and Qaisar present water-dunked images of themselves for the album art/promotional photos for their latest projects. If we go by art history symbolism, this imagery channels the liminal space between life and death, destruction and rebirth, and the ritual purification through the submergence. 

As for the music, the almost-hour long record could very well have veered towards sanctimony and abstraction that glazes over most of our heads. However, Qaisar sidesteps these temptations, building a sonic language that feels wispy, brutal, innately mystic, and never pretentious. Screams (‘Daily Hunger’), spoken word (‘Fatima’s Poplar’, ‘Painter Man’), serpentine murmurs (‘Namgang’), and stillness all come together over field recordings, droning FX, and industrial synths. 

Fatima was conceived through the experiences of colonisation, conflict, riots, and self-abuse, with the violently comforting production taking place across a Ladakhi village and Delhi.

Buck Wild by Karshni (2026)

Reminiscent of the rebellious music of femme icons like Fiona Apple and Karen O, Karshni’s debut full-length release bursts with a feral Gen Z angst and folk storytelling. The album’s arc, set over a ghostly reverb, follows a journey of yearning, lived experiences of assault, grooming, and trysts with oral contraception. 

The 25-year old singer-songwriter turns producer for the first time here, blending threadbare acoustics with experimental electronic flourishes. Shooting synths soundtrack lyrical litanies on young lust, sexual encounters, and the female relationship with one’s body. 

On ‘GIRL’, finger-picked guitar is looped through the course of the song. Layers of whispers on ‘Maxillofacial Surgery’ meet sharp vocal processing. The minimalism on ‘GLIMMERENCE’ and grating bass of ‘72 HOURS’ showcase her restraint as a young producer, allowing for the electronic elements to aid the presentation rather than overpower it. 

Skin by Skulk (2025)

This oblique record from Kolkata/Goa artist Katyayini Gargi is equal parts whimsy and avant-garde. Absurdist medieval-esque art as cover image, quirky sing-song vocalising, and commentary on the political and divine come together for 36 minutes of refreshing listening. 

Skulk is one of the only Indian artists who classifies her music as art pop at the moment, and you can hear the sonic footprints of virtuosos such as Laurie Anderson or an ’80s Kate Bush. The LP uses a broad range of electronic tools, with enchanting percussion, eccentric interludes, and tongue-in-cheek lyricism. Gargi, who’s also a visual artist, treats the music here as a landscape for her vocal-led compositions to thrive. ‘Aa/ja’ sounds like a classical piece rearranged as a nursery rhyme. ‘Summertime’ is a climactic almost-instrumental piece, against which one can visualise an idyllic foreign perfume commercial. ‘Alarm’ is one of the only discomforting moments, while ‘Something divine’ offers a didactic rather than spiritual sonic ascent. 

Leather & Brass by Sijya (2025)

Signed to Icelandic great Björk’s label, One Little Independent Records, Sijya is another visual artist turned music producer. Over a tight 18 minutes, her latest EP uses dense textures to feign industrial sounds inspired by her family’s leather and brass productions. Death, decay, and Delhi all fulfil the role of muse here. 

‘Do I Know’ pushes the dissonance between digital and analog sonics. On ‘Safe’, one can hear the propelling purr of guitar pedals processed in reverse. ‘Tabla’, with its compressed and processed use of the titular instrument, insolently circumvents any indigenous touches, as the composer fights against ethnic pigeonholing. Tensions on ‘Rust’are built through unintelligible murmurings, with varied layers of tonal percussion and clinks.   

Having received critical acclaim for her Leather and Brass, Sijya’s mastery of sound design and inventive production paves the way for more Indian electronica artists to pursue rulebreaking composition and independent styles. 

Hyperreal by KAVYA (2025)

Actor, musician, and fashion-adjacent creative Kavya Trehan made her presence felt in the indie scene as part of MOSKO—an alternative pop duo in the early 2010s. Since then, having graced several magazine covers while also making her way onto our screens via shows like Netflix’s The Royals, her musical repertoire as KAVYA has grown more sincere. 

On Hyperreal, through R&nB vocals, glitched production, menacing tempos, and a pristine visual world, Trehan displays her chops as a true multi-disciplinary artist. ‘Elf’s Manifestation’ is a future bass composition à la 2014 Flume featuring ethereal vocals. The EP explores themes of prosthetic realities and retro-futurism: ‘Submission’ gives us a sense of foreboding science-fiction worldbuilding, While thumping percussion pads, resonant synths, and vocal improvising on ‘Felt’ blur the lines between producer and songwriter. 

Seasons of Life by Sanoli Chowdhury (2025)

The influence of mysticism, nature, and Indian classical traditions is clear on Sanoli Chowdhury’s lo-fi 19-minute EP. Her compositions, as ever, are driven by the guitar, with a post-rock ambience present across all eight tracks.What’s new here is the bansuri and tabla, used with careful subtlety in the production. Oh, and there’s also some jazzy saxophone on the winter melody ‘Shishira’. The EP evokes the six seasons of the Indian calendar the country in , interspersed with spoken word interludes and pleasing, minimal production. 

Chowdhury is the founder of collective Indie Grrl, which is committed to pushing femme artists across the homegrown independent music landscape. In addition, Chowdhury, who spent the early part of her life as an indie producer and musician putting out bedroom mixtapes and EPs, is a trained audio engineer who leads production sessions and workshops across the country, and has also founded her own label, Nyima Records. The finesse in her craft has sharpened over time, and this record is a testament to her ability to produce subtle, guitar-oriented music through electronic polish.

Mnemonic by Yuhina (2023)

Composer Yuhina Lachungpa grew up surrounded by mountains in the lush hill city of Gangtok. Reflections on nature and the divine, over electronic beats, form the core of her music. Yuhina uses Buddhist chants, synth pop hooks, grounding bell and folk instrument samples, and looping in her music. These sonic experiments underpin her earnest vocal forays, delivered in deep, rich timbres. 

By her own admission, the music falls within the ‘ethereal electronica’ space, and she has cited Grimes and Burial as influences. ‘OMW’ is a gritty, electro-pop song. ‘For Chenrezig’ is her most spiritual and ‘witchcore’ production with a hypnotic chant and a peaking bassline. ‘Amor Fati’ could cross over into EDM treatment, but instead presents a stronger foundation of jolting bass and steady synths. Yuhina now also leads meditative, immersive sound sessions at ecological retreats where sacred connections with nature are a grounding ideology, which seems like an obvious next step in the artist’s body of work, as she writes on Substack about her musical entity with references to numerology and Chinese new years. 

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Arunima Joshua is a Mumbai-based journalist who writes on music, culture, and lifestyle.