A guide to electronic music in the land of Tunisia

If you ask a local of Tunisia what culture they identify with, you may hear a multitude of answers: African, Amazigh, Arab, Sufi… this is because Tunisia is a small, yet culturally rich country, and a hub where Amazigh Northern African and Sub-Saharan cultures meet with the leftovers of Carthage's lost splendour, Moorish innovations, Sephardic Jewish influences, Gypsy-Roma inspirations, Roman and Arab invasions, and scars of French colonialism, in an overall Mediterranean atmosphere. Tunisia is also a host nation for refugees from many Arab and Muslim countries, adding to the already very blended melting pot.

What may have put this smallest country of Northern Africa on your (parents’) radar is how Star Wars built a chunk of its universe on Tunisian heritage: Tataouine is a real place, the round houses of Luke’s village are actual dwellings, and some desert outfits are replicates of traditional garments.

Read this next: Tunisia’s desert festival Les Dunes Electronique takes ravers to the isolated setting of Star Wars

Music-wise, folk and traditional genres have an extended history of maestry that appeals to many younger Tunisian and SWANA artists - who tend to get very specific when talking about vocal techniques, beat composition, analog instruments… But sticking with more current culture you may be familiar with, most have heard the '80s’ hit ‘Words’ by F.R. David AKA Elli Robert Fitoussi, some of us know about legacy DJ and producer Shinigami San, pop avant-gardist Emel Mathlouti, DJ/producers Deena Abdelwahed and Azu Tiwaline, famed festival Les Dunes Electroniques, or about the ever-enduring, made-in-Tunisia music festivals E-Fest and Fabrika.

To discover this electronic musical landscape further, Mixmag’s guest writer Nadia Says has gathered testimonials of key figures from back in the day and currently, both locally and from the diaspora, and from visitors who got to experience the magic of the Tunisian scene earlier on. In this piece, we would like to present a diversified panorama via some interviews, a few pictures by native photographers, and a showcase of an all-underground Tunisian star compilation ‘Inlandquake #TN’ out now on the Swiss-Tunisian label Erratic Boulders, followed by a Euro tour, and showcased in a mix by Marwa Belhaj Youssef on LA radio Dublab.

To get us started, some words from Emel, a Tunisia native who has forged an international career for herself. The singer-songwriter is one of the most recognised Tunisian artists of her generation; and she told Mixmag about the importance of her roots in her practice, as well as her wishes for the Tunisian musical scene.

What from the Tunisian cultural scene would you say has inspired your music the most?

Emel Mathlouti: I listened to a lot of 1920s and '30s tunes while growing up. To me they are so strong artistically and message-wise; artists used to sing with a lot of freedom in terms of themes and interpretation. The most feminist icons I look up to are from this era; it's a world treasure the music scene doesn't know much about. I hope to transcend some of it in my voice and music.

As part of the diaspora, how do you nurture your Tunisian musician identity?

EM: My native identity is intertwined with my artistic identity. It's always there with words, beats, samples, feelings, or even a breath. I don't think or plan it; I know it's there because it's also why I'm this diverse and unique. My Tunisian roots go deep and also feed off every culture I experience to become a more authentic, or sometimes crazier, version of myself.

And as you now observe how the music industry works in multiple countries, what do you wish to happen in the Tunisian music scene?

EM: I wish for it to develop. We have artists, art, and talent, but we don't have a functional scene because there's not enough venues, structures, support… So everyone has to build their own stage to express themselves. I hope one day we get proper funding, and that the system will realise artists help build democracy, the future of the country, and a better society.

Bouncing back on the theme of developing or supporting local music infrastructure, we had a chat with cultural communicator Ines Soyah about her different projects and how she wishes to support the development of the scene.

Can you tell us about your involvement in the Tunisian music scene?

Ines Soyah: My involvement has grown organically through different projects that all aim to elevate artists and foster creative communities. My work at E-Ffest highlights the positive impact the festival builds for the region and the locals, and introduces music lovers to a line-up both local and international. The biggest challenge in promoting the festival is raising awareness about the realities of the Tunisian South where high immigration rates, limited access to education, and a lack of business opportunities make it difficult for people to thrive. Through E-Fest, we showcase the beauty and cultural richness of the region, and festival proceeds are dedicated to the restoration of Ksar El Ferch in Ghomrassen, Tataouine.

Then I contribute to Fabrika, a key space for the underground clubbing scene in Tunisia.The recurring festival has exceeded our expectations, especially with its last line-up that featured incredibly talented Tunisian artists like HearThug, Min8, and Panj, alongside international icons such as Ricardo Villalobos and Rhadoo. I contribute to more projects the rest of the year, to the Phosphor Creative District for example as the arts and design pendant to my work in music, and I created Électron Libre as a user-generated content platform because music belongs to everyone.

How do you feel all your activities connect in the Tunisian scene?

IS: My roles at E-Fest, Fabrika, and Électron Libre may differ, but they all share the same core objective: energising the cultural scene by creating diverse experiences, both for festivalgoers and for artists themselves. The Tunisian electronic music scene can better thrive when there is movement and new spaces to explore, new artists to discover, and new ways to experience sound.

How do you personally find the Tunis electronic music scene?

IS: It is constantly evolving, and what excites me the most is how diverse and fearless it has become. Spaces like Habibi Downtown and BSMNT The Club are doing an impressive job at bringing variety to the nightlife, while artists like Madame Ghorbelle and Mogli showcase the richness of sounds within our communities. Over the years, the scene has truly blossomed; we now have a more recognisable ecosystem. However, challenges remain, especially when it comes to structures and international mobility for local artists. There are immense talents and energy here, it’s just about breaking the barriers that hold us back. Looking ahead, I hope for greater accessibility and recognition for Tunisian artists on a global scale.

Ines is very right to mention mobility as a major obstacle to Tunisian artists growing in the way artists may be able to grow in a Western country. Many lament over unjust visa policies and costs that prevent Global South musicians from touring: Tunisia is the third country to experience the most visa rejections from the Schengen zone. Le Guess Who? festival has also commented on that important subject, and Tunisian curator Rim Harrabi advocates for fair mobility through her collective platform Transmitting Stones. She is also the motor behind the ‘Inlandquake #TN’ compilation, and she told us how she weaves these two projects to support Tunisian talents.

Can you tell us about the ‘Inlandquake #TN’ compilation and associated projects?

Rim Harrabi: This project started with my encounter with Dion Monti, my partner in Erratic Boulders. He has lived in South Africa and is very active there as musician, producer, and label co-owner. He knew very little about the North African music scene, aside from a few rare names from the diaspora, and I knew almost nothing about the alternative music scene in South Africa. From that meeting came the desire to make these underrepresented scenes more accessible to an international audience.

I launched this series of music compilations, taking on the role of curator, to explore alternative music scenes in North and South Africa, foster collaborations between artists from different backgrounds, and create meaningful encounters while amplifying these scenes globally. The first compilation focuses on Tunisia, next year, we’ll shift the focus to Algeria, and so on.

Read this next: Listen to a playlist of Algerian and North African sounds

The compilation series focuses on non-conventional music genres, why?

RH: For me these genres and scenes are essential; they have always been a refuge, especially in our regions where freedom of expression is limited and repression is strong against those who don’t conform to cultural norms or societal expectations. These spaces have also always served as a transparent reflection of the political and cultural state of society, in Tunisia and beyond. It’s just as important to archive these scenes as it is to seek them out elsewhere because they exist in a paradox, unaccepted locally, yet unrecognised internationally.

The West in particular, imposes a fixed image that it wants to project globally, shaping expectations around specific themes, artist profiles, and sounds. We are boxed in stereotypes of Africans, Arabs, Muslims... and are expected to fit into these images across film, music, and contemporary art. This begins at the funding level, where only projects that align with these exoticised perspectives receive support, and continues through distribution. Resisting this kind of stigmatisation is essential to create and showcase work that challenges and expands the image the commercial West has imposed on us.

In Tunisia, the electronic and non-conventional music scene has been thriving for over 17 years, with the rise of collectives and communities like E-Fest, Sailing Stones, Steppers, World Full Of Bass, and more recently B-Saad, Mixed Signals, Skaville, Toxic Club, Xpam, and more. These communities have largely remained unstructured on a legal level (except maybe for festivals), unfunded, and independent from state-supported circuits. They emerged out of an urgency to express and to gather. International recognition has come mostly through direct connections between collectives and alternative scenes abroad, rather than through the circuit of industry. Despite constant obstacles at every level, this scene continues to exist, imperfect certainly, DIY, and built on solidarity.

What do you hope this compilation will achieve?

RH: My main hope is first to archive what is happening right now, to represent this scene internationally and genuinely, and to create international connections through tours and the encounters that come with them. I really hope the community remains united and continues to grow beyond individual egos, while resisting the many local obstacles it faces, such as police harassment, the lack of spaces to gather and create, the absence of proper venues for showcasing work, and the near nonexistence of a distribution network.

Marwa Belhaj Youssef is one of Tunisia’s best known DJs, you may have caught her at the last Atonal in Berlin, or might be familiar with her residency on Stegi Radio. Marwa favours unique and underground sounds to create engaging experimental dance-scapes. In support of ‘Inlandquake #TN’, she has put together a mix featuring her favourite tracks from the compilation. Her mix aired on LA’s Dublab Radio, you can listen to it here. In this interview, Marwa tells us how she has grown her career navigating challenges locally and internationally.

How did you get started with electronic music?

Marwa Belhaj Youssef: I’m not going to say I’ve been deep into electronic music since I was a kid. To be honest, I was just an easy listener. My journey really started in 2010 when I turned 20 and was going through a time of personal struggles. I felt isolated, had no one to talk to, I didn’t want to be seen as weak or a victim, and I hated the idea of being judged. So, I kept everything to myself, and music became the only thing I could truly connect with.

I started searching for new and strange sounds that felt raw, noisy, heavy, and fragmented. I was drawn to tracks without rhythm or structure because they somehow made sense to me. In 2011, I had a selection of tracks that became my safe space. I didn’t plan on becoming a DJ, but I wanted to put these tracks into a mix so I could listen to them whenever I wanted, anytime I needed comfort. It was a very personal experience, and it felt like therapy.

How have you seen your practice and the Tunis electronic music scene evolve?

MBY: As I said, I never intended to be a DJ, but after I started sharing my mixes on SoundCloud, artists and labels worldwide started noticing my selections and inviting me to radio shows. My first live gig was with Ma3azef at Wax Bar Tunis, and their support helped me step into performing. As an introvert, it wasn’t easy to share my energy with a live audience.

The Tunisian scene has evolved, but challenges remain, especially regarding professional bookings, financial support, and well-equipped venues. Organising events is complicated due to logistical and financial constraints, and I’ve personally found more opportunities outside of Tunis. I believe the Tunisian scene is improving, and I see that many people are excited about it. As a DJ though, I’m not fully satisfied with the scene; I’ve tried many times to push things forward, but I’ve faced a lot of obstacles.

One major issue is how some bookers approach local artists with ‘friendly’ deals to keep fees low, even when there’s no real friendship. Yet, the same people are willing to invest much more in international names to gain external validation. This approach feels rooted in a colonial mentality, where local talent isn’t valued unless it’s recognised abroad. Despite these challenges, I support those pushing the scene forward and admire the passion of those working to improve it.

What inspired you to create your musical practice?

MBY: No one directly inspired me, but some people have encouraged me through their commitment, approach, and courage in supporting the local scene. My own daily struggles have been a major source of inspiration, challenging me to create my musical world. Through the difficulties I’ve faced, I found strength, motivation and resistance to keep going, and I believe I’ve earned the space I’ve carved for myself in music.

There are people in Tunisia who have supported my growth and inspired me to learn more about the local scene. I also encourage those who supported me, they have all my love, respect, and pride. The underground community in Tunisia has built a resilient network of artists who push forward despite the lack of resources. I’m excited to see more Tunisians making noise everywhere!

Do you see any limitations being an electronic music artist based in Tunisia?

MBY: As I mentioned earlier, the lack of professional bookings and well-equipped venues makes it difficult to perform in Tunis. Internationally, there are different challenges, starting with the visa process, which has become more and more difficult and unfair.

Another major issue is that my type of music is handled by a very niche and deeply underground scene (even though I dislike that term), making it hard to receive proper invitations from bookers who can offer professional opportunities.

Payments are another issue. Wire transfers take time, and when I do get booked for professional festivals in Europe, a portion of my fee is taxed simply because I’m not an EU resident even though I don’t benefit from those systems at all. Setting up a PayPal account requires a specific workaround, and even paying for anything online demands a special bank card. It’s a long, complicated process just to gain financial and artistic independence.

As a woman, and particularly as an Arab woman based in the region, bookings come with additional barriers, and as a DJ handling my own gigs that can be even more challenging. A well-known agency once approached me, their first question was whether I had a European passport. When I said no, they immediately withdrew their offer. Some bookers see bringing me from Tunis as too much effort, even though it's geographically close to Europe.

I’ve also encountered situations where some invitations felt tokenistic; bookers want an Arab artist on the line-up for diversity’s sake. In these cases, bookers often assume that traveling to Europe itself is a privilege and validation, so they put little effort into offering fair conditions; and when I push back, some act shocked, as if an Arab woman asserting her rights were unacceptable. I've also experienced being booked primarily as a “female DJ” both in Tunis and abroad. Thankfully, this mindset is slowly shifting.

What do you wish for your future and the future of the electronic music scene in Tunisia?

MBY: My future in electronic music will continue to be shaped by the challenges I’ve faced so far, but gratefully, I’m surrounded by people who are just as passionate and determined to push this scene further. I’m committed to my growth as an artist, and I believe that as long as we treat music with love and not personal agendas, we will certainly grow.

As for the future of the electronic music scene in Tunisia, I’m hopeful it will evolve into something more open and inclusive, where local artists are given the respect and opportunities they deserve. I dream of a scene where we aren’t reduced to tokenism or seen as 'exotic’, but instead are recognised for our talent and contributions. I also hope Tunisia will offer better support for its artists, with improved infrastructure, fairer pay, and more professional bookings especially for local talent who face these ongoing struggles.

Orlok is one of Tunis’ promoters who books both local and international talents at famed Club Gingembre and at EBM and darker disco event series where he also DJs. Here he shares his experience getting started as a DJ and his observations as to what is needed to create quality events for a Tunisian crowd.

Can you tell us about how you got into the scene as a DJ, promoter, and club curator?

Orlok: For a long time, I’ve been fascinated by electronic industrial music such as EBM and post-punk. and its many subgenres, the energy it carries and the stories woven into its sound. My curiosity led me to explore the '80s bands that shaped the sound of EBM and to discover dark disco, a genre that already existed but was never strictly defined. I then bought a small Hercules Mk4 controller and began learning to mix the sounds I had been exploring. Encouraged by a dear friend, I decided to record my first set and share it on SoundCloud. Soon I was invited to a radio show and released more mixes which led me to create a podcast and inviting friends to take over future episodes.

In parallel, a friend invited me to DJ for the first time at Body Akton at a club named 117 in Tunis, and the experience of playing in front of a live crowd was nothing short of amazing!

The adrenaline rush and the joy I shared with friends inspired me to evolve “DARK is the new DISCO” from a podcast into an event series, where we’d invite all the friends featured in previous episodes to perform together. We started at Habibi Tunis, toured different clubs, and arrived at Club Gingembre. At that point, I was wrapping up my Master's and I started to consider music and event promotion as a career. Becoming the Artistic Coordinator at Club Gingembre was a great opportunity that sparked an even deeper interest in promoting parties.

What drives you to run events in Tunis and the rest of Tunisia?

O: Running and promoting multiple event series in Tunis and across Tunisia has a unique appeal given the ever-evolving and demanding nature of the scene. The challenge of building a community around the sounds and culture I believe in fuels my curiosity. From the moment I embarked on this journey, it has felt like the right path, and it continues to make me feel alive. At its core, this is about creating a space where my friends and I can enjoy music and culture that are still lacking in Tunisia. It’s about fostering an environment that is vibrant, safe, and supportive.

What I truly appreciate about working as a DJ, promoter, and curator in Tunisia is the freshness of the scene; there’s always room to experiment, build something new, and set the tone for it. I also deeply value the support and solidarity among the actors in this small yet vibrant industrial and alternative scene. I believe the electronic music scene in Tunis has seen better days though. With limited investment, a lack of diversity in offerings, and a shortage of venues, we’re struggling to create the variety needed to attract and engage newcomers. This makes it challenging to sustain growth and innovation. I hope to see more venues opening up to host alternative and industrial sounds, creating spaces for diverse musical expressions. I also wish for a shift in mindset among Tunisians, where electronic music is recognised and embraced not just as entertainment but as a cultural movement in its own right.

Club Gingembre is renowned for its vibrancy and commitment to being a safer space. How does your artistic curation contribute to fostering inclusivity?

O: I began my journey as Artistic Coordinator, and this opportunity has continuously expanded my perspective. Over three seasons, my role has evolved into that of Artistic Director; thanks to Ahmed Loubiri and the support of a dedicated team, we created a space for experimentation while providing valuable insights. What I’ve learned is that safety policies are just as crucial as artistic curation. Creating a safer space isn’t just about implementing rules; it’s about curating an environment where people feel free to express themselves, both on and off the dancefloor. The way an event is programmed, the artists we book, and the atmosphere we build, all play a role in shaping this experience. It’s about ensuring that inclusivity and care are embedded in every aspect, from the lineup to the crowd dynamics.

The challenge at Gingembre has always been, and will always be, to curate events that are both accessible and creatively daring, while ensuring a safer space for self-expression no matter if the artists or the public have a different nationality or ethnicity, if they belong to the queer community, or have any identity that could be marginalised. I’ve learned to always be on the lookout for emerging talents and unique acts, not just behind the decks but also through captivating performances and immersive experiences.

If you travel to Tunis, you will find out that Club Gingembre is one of the most solid spots in the capital city at the moment; it certainly is looking towards the future to build brighter days for the dance music community as all scene actors we talked to hope for. That being said, most people we chatted with also pondered about how the current lack of foundation might stem from a lack of recognition of the past, or a lack of archiving and building onto what has already happened. Kaïs Dhifi was at the forefront of the electronic music scene some 15 or so years ago, together with the likes of Shinigami San, and suggested Tunisian electronic musicians and organisers seem to come and go in waves, without building upon each other’s achievements enough, as if a way to transfer knowledge and concrete inheritance were missing. Locals have different opinions on this phenomenon, some attribute it to post-colonialism, others to socio-political happenings, or even simply to tough luck.

Read this next: Listen to 10 tracks defining Tunisian electronic music selected by Shinigami San

From the viewpoint of the international community, the Arab Spring drew attention to the region, and locals remember a distinct before and after in terms of parties, DJs, expectations, and eventually projects that did not always thrive or survive. One of these projects, started as a timely or even historical opportunity, and that made it for a few years, is the Franco-Tunisian festival Les Dunes Electroniques. The then-co-producer Gaby de Villoutreys (now an experiential gastronomic expert) reminisces, “It was 2010, in the midst of the Arab Spring. This youth-led protest movement was spreading across several countries. Folks were fed up with poverty and the lack of prospects, and they embraced electronic music as the soundtrack to their revolution. When Les Dunes Électroniques finally launched in 2014, after several years of preparation, it was also the time of the first democratic election held after 22 years. All the hyper-connected youth of Tunis, Djerba, and northern Tunisia descended on Nefta to celebrate their freedom. In terms of sound, the Tunisian electronic scene was fresh, creative, sometimes a little harsh, and it also showcased its traditional musical roots. I personally found it fascinating, it felt a bit like after the fall of the Berlin Wall: an energy carried at full speed, as if all those who composed in secret in the shadow of their bedrooms were finally exposed to the moonlight of the Tunisian desert, under the spotlights of the Dunes Électroniques, ready to do battle…”

Still exploring memory lane on the way to the future of the Tunisian scene, our last interview is with Tangal Beatz of Afrika Cassette Club, an archivist and high-in-demand cassette DJ who believes a proud and bright future will stem from the past.

How do you connect your DJ and archivist practices?

Tangal Beatz: I don’t just play music, I unearth it. I am not just a DJ, I am a sonic time traveler, a collector of ghosts, a guardian of lost rhythms. Afrika Cassette is not just an archive; it’s a ritual, a revolt against oblivion. In a world where algorithms decide what we should remember, I let the dust of forgotten tapes dictate my sets. I search, I dig, I travel across the continent, rescuing sounds that history has tried to erase. Every cassette I find is a message in a bottle from a past that refuses to die. As a DJ, I take these tapes and throw them back into the fire of the dancefloor. I make the past sweat into the present. The music I collect is not museum material, it’s alive and raw, it’s meant to be danced to, distorted, and reimagined. Afrika Cassette is going to be the most radical archival project in the underground African scene. Not just a collection, not just nostalgia, but a future built from magnetic tape.

Why is archiving that important?

TB: Archiving is an act of defiance. In Africa, in the Mediterranean, in the Global South, history is often told by those who stole it. Our sounds, our voices, our vinyl, and our cassettes end up in European museums, in private collections, in forgotten crates. And when they disappear, we are told they never existed. Tunisia is no exception. Our club culture has burned through cycles of memory loss, each generation thinking it invented the underground. But if you dig deep enough, you find the layers, the illegal parties in the '90s, the cassette DJs before the era of USB sticks, the forgotten producers who blended Mezoued with acid house before the world knew what that meant.

The Tunisian club scene has always had an identity crisis. We are caught between Berlin and the Sahara, between Parisian arrogance and the raw trance of North Africa. And for too long, the European gaze dictated what was ‘underground’. But things are changing. There’s a hunger to reclaim our own sounds, our own archives, our own way of moving bodies in the dark. I see the future of the scene as a return to the roots, but with the intensity of the new; we are not just preserving, we are resurrecting.

As a Tunisian DJ and archivist, you are also interested in the music of Sub-Saharan Africa, how do you describe the cultural relations between Tunis, Tunisia, and the rest of the continent?

TB: Tunisia has been looking north for too long. It forgot it had roots that dig deep into the African soil. It forgot that its rhythms are more aligned with the Sahel than with Paris, that its chants are closer to the Sudan than to the Seine. The club scene reflects that confusion. For years, Tunisian DJs have been obsessed with European validation, playing cold techno in hot cities, forcing a Berlin aesthetic onto a land that pulses with Mezoued, Raï, Gnawa, Stambeli. But there’s a shift happening, there’s a generation that no longer sees itself as the periphery of Europe, but as the northern heartbeat of Africa.

I refuse to let Tunisia be a sonic orphan. Afrika Cassette is about rebuilding bridges, about making sure Dakar hears Tunis, Kinshasa hears Algiers, and Bamako hears Cairo. It’s about proving that the future of African sound will be written on magnetic tape, not in footnotes of Western archives. Tunisia is not just an extension of Europe. It is a frequency within Africa’s great transmission. It’s time to tune back in.

Nadia Says is the founder of Your Mom's Agency, follow her on Twitter