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On May 8, Boiler Room returns to Paris with a new edition. As always, the event promises a carefully curated lineup and the kind of global exposure that has made the platform one of the most powerful visibility machines in electronic music to date.
And yet, the boycott targeting Boiler Room following revelations about its parent company has never been officially lifted.
Boiler Room is owned by Superstruct Entertainment, which is itself majority-owned by the American investment fund KKR. The latter’s investments, including stakes in companies linked to the defense industry and in sectors associated with Israeli state policy, have in recent months sparked boycott calls across several international electronic music scenes. These elements are public and documented. They led to demands for clarification and to mobilization from artists and collectives who felt that ethical consistency was at stake.
Since then, no formal announcement has been made to indicate that these concerns have been resolved. The issue has simply not been raised with the same intensity.
The Argument of Permanent Replacement
If one artist refuses, another will take their place. The economy of the scene operates on this logic of constant flow and rapid turnover. Lineups change, replacements are available, schedules adjust. Refusing does not stop the machine.
From a practical standpoint, this argument is difficult to challenge. But it sidesteps the core of the debate, which is not about the effectiveness of an individual boycott. It is about personal and collective coherence.
We have been informed that several artists — whom we already respected for their work and their engagement — chose to decline this Paris edition out of alignment with their public positions, particularly their posts supporting Palestine. They have not made their refusal public, and we respect that choice by not naming them.
Still, it is legitimate to question the silence surrounding such decisions. The term “virtue signaling” is often used to dismiss visible political positioning, as though expressing coherence were necessarily opportunistic. Yet when public discourse is accompanied by concrete action — and in this case, a tangible professional loss — it ceases to be posture and becomes continuity. Transparency is not always a strategy; it can also be a way to assume responsibility and take real action for a cause.
For reference, here are the previous and updated lineups from the last Boiler Room edition:
BEFORE BOYCOTT
Final lineup
Conversely, it would be too easy to single out individuals or fuel online harassment dynamics. No one can be forced to take a public stance. A coerced statement is rarely sincere and often produces the opposite effect of what is intended.
However, it is legitimate to expect that a scene historically built within queer, racialized, and marginalized spaces does not treat issues such as war, racism, homophobia, or antisemitism as merely external political topics. These realities go beyond partisan debate. They concern the very conditions of existence of many of the communities that shaped electronic culture.
Retreating behind systematic neutrality may reflect a desire to protect one’s career. That is understandable. But it does not erase the moral dimension of these issues.
This is not particularly surprising when one observes certain agency dynamics. In the past, some artists represented by the same structure have already chosen not to take a public stance during debates concerning the presence or normalization of far-right symbols and rhetoric in party spaces. Again, everyone is free to define their own communication strategy. But repeated silences trace a pattern: consistent caution whenever the terrain becomes political. One can interpret this as career protection. One can also see in it a broader difficulty within the sector to confront issues that extend beyond music.
The Illusion of “The Opportunity of a Lifetime”
Boiler Room still carries a particular aura in the imagination of DJs. International exposure, viral circulation of clips, and a highly recognizable visual aesthetic all contribute to the perception that it marks a decisive milestone in a career.
This perception, however, deserves nuance. A Boiler Room is primarily a visibility accelerator. It may contribute to higher booking fees or strengthen media presence. But it does not fundamentally transform an artistic trajectory. It does not guarantee better music production, deeper studio work, or stronger commitment to a local scene.
The one-hour format, designed for immediate impact, does not always allow for the full deployment of an artistic universe. Financially, the conditions are far from extraordinary given the scale of exposure generated.
Ultimately, the core issue remains visibility. But what is that visibility worth when it unfolds within a controversial context?
It would also be incomplete to focus the debate solely on the artists. Promoters and organizers who host and co-produce these kinds of events are equally part of the economic and symbolic ecosystem that makes them possible. Programming a Boiler Room is not a neutral act, it is a strategic choice that reflects an artistic direction, a vision of the scene, and at least a tacit acceptance of the industrial model behind it. This is not about assigning individual blame, but about acknowledging that responsibility is shared. Local scenes often claim independence or alternative values, which makes it legitimate to question the coherence between that discourse and the partnerships they choose to enter into.
Strategy or Activist Coherence
This is not about dictating a universal code of conduct. Each artist evaluates risks and benefits according to their own situation, level of financial independence, and personal convictions.
But it would be reductive to pretend the issue no longer exists. The boycott has not been formally closed. Questions about the responsibility of major cultural industry structures remain. Decisions to refuse do exist, even when they are not publicly announced.
We know the competition is constant and opportunities seem scarce. It is tempting to consider any exposure as inherently positive. Yet artistic credibility does not rest solely on images circulating across social media. It is built over time, through choices that go beyond the simple logic of hype.
On May 8, the event will take place. The venue will be full. The cameras will roll. The question is whether the French electronic scene wishes to continue systematically separating visibility from responsibility — or whether it is ready to accept that coherence sometimes comes at a cost.