Futureproofing #33: A chat with Maara
The Montreal producer on "trashy" dance music, reality TV, and her favorite Montreal records.
The first time I heard Maara was in a mix. While the DJ escapes me now, her music grabbed me immediately: a broken drum pattern, gurgling basslines, and a strutting hat-snare combo that led to a hilarious climax—the neigh of a horse galloping across the stereo field. Circulating since 2021, “The Horse Track” was a druggy inside joke that predated the rise of horsegiirL and doubled as a rock-solid banger.
Edited by Tom Gledhill
That track introduced the Montrealer as a fully-formed producer. Her sound was an obvious match for the proggy, trance-inflected world of D. Tiffany and Roza Terenzi. Following a string of EPs for Canadian imprints Isla and NAFF, Maara moved through some of this scene’s most vital labels: Radiant Love, X-Kalay, and Terenzi’s Step Ball Chain, before Kalahari Oyster Cult finally gave “The Horse Track” a home in 2023.
Maara’s music is whip-smart, overtly gay, and rooted in ’90s prog and downtempo—an aesthetic inspired in part by her close friend and fellow Montreal DJ Lis Dalton. This retro savvy peaked with her 2023 debut album, The Ancient Truth, which slowed her sound down to “chillout room on an edible” pace.
As she leaned into her self-described “trashy” side with flamboyant club cuts like “Serving Cunt” and “I Wanna Scissor,” she also expanded her technical range on the excellent Revenge From The Penthouse EP, touching on convincingly funky electro and acid-flecked breaks. Her latest album, Ultra Villain, feels like the logical next step, fusing both personas into a sound as cutting as it is lighthearted.
Ultra Villain chronicles the lifespan of a messy relationship (or maybe relationships?)—swinging from betrayal back to violent romantic obsession and back again. On “Dirt,” grungy beats are buttressed by deadpan lyrics like “You’re psycho but I fucking love it,” channeling the controlled chaos of peak reality TV. She cuts her way through seductive downtempo (”I’m The One You Want”), decadent prog (”The Chase”), and hard-as-nails techno (”Kiss The Ring”) with a greater vocal range than ever before. Ultimately, Maara proves her appeal is as much about her personality as the music itself—establishing herself as a successor to fellow Montrealers like Tiga and Martyn Bootyspoon.
I sat down with Maara last month to talk about her new album. But first, I asked her for her five favourite Montreal dance music records, to get a broader idea of the scene that shaped her.
Maara’s 5 Formative Montreal Dance Records
I’m highlighting 2018 to 2019 releases by Montreal artists (or artists who were living here at the time) who really inspired me to make dance music in 2019.
Ex-Terrestrial - Euphorbia [Magicwire, 2018]
This record for me is trance at its finest. Such a fresh take on the genre that is organic and not trying to be the genre, but rather… I hear more of a desire to capture a feeling that is distinctively Ex-Terrestrial’s (Adam Feingold), who runs NAFF with Priori.
Priori - On A Nimbus [NAFF, 2019]
This one captures an era of Montreal music for me: this ambient textural organic place where nature and technology meet. I remember hearing this in 2019 and being in awe of Priori’s sonic world.
Dust-e-1 - The Cosmic Dust [DustWORLD, 2019]
Tasteful and euphoric goodness from Montreal legend Dust-e-1. Another excellent and creative take on trance from 2019. Dust-e-1 has also made music with Priori under the name ANF and was a member of Perishing Thirst which released a stunning album in 2018 on NAFF.
RAMZi - Phobiza vol. 3: Amor Fati [FATi Records, 2018]
I think Lis showed me this. I remember being blown away by RAMZi’s unique sound and blend of organic textures and rhythms fused into one cohesive voice. RAMZi captures this more diverse influence than the typical Montreal record from around this time, but somehow really speaks back to the emphasis on the organic and textural. I think all these records I picked have that in common.
Ambien Baby - Tack [Planet Euphorique, 2019]
I had just met Daniel Rincon and Sophie Sweetland (D. Tiffany) in Montreal in 2019 when this record came out, back when they both were still living here. I was blown away by the freshness of it, and it’s a bit darker, and less pretty than the records above. En Transito by Ambien Baby is also a notable 2019 release that came out on Ramzi’s label FATi Records, which is a more experimental and leftfield side of the scene.
The interview
Are you still living in Berlin part-time, or are you back in Montreal for good?
I’m trying to spend half the year here, and half the year there. But I want to stay creative and inspired and focused, and around sounds and scenes that inspire me, and I just feel like since coming back to Montreal, I’m hearing so many sounds I’m not exposed to in Europe. We’ll see. There’s also a lot of logistical stuff, and I still have my apartment here. I’m just addicted to Montreal.
What are you hearing in Montreal right now that excites you?
I played at Parquette last weekend, and all the DJs on the lineup were just playing weird wormhole-y, more minimal, slower sounds that felt really refreshing. Not like the 140 BPM range of tracks I’m hearing in Europe. It reminded me why I love dance music, it felt less commercial or something. That’s more what I’m into.
How would you describe the scene in Montreal to someone who’s never been?
It’s much more of a community-centered city. The scene is relatively small, a lot of people know each other, but it’s big enough where you don’t necessarily know everything that’s happening. It’s also a very DIY place. The venues are always moving, and there’s this struggle for underground spots and venues. So a spot will happen, and it’ll be there for maybe a year, and then it’ll shut down, and then there’s another spot that pops up, that becomes the new underground spot. It ebbs and flows here, which makes the scene very alive, almost palpable.
What about the parties and the music?
I think there’s usually a slower pace around that, too. It’s been changing a bit recently, with more 24-hour parties, but it’s still not the predominant culture. You kind of know everyone at every party, and there’s just this homey feeling to it, and people take the time to get to know one another, and build friends and community.
How do you think that coming of age in Montreal shaped the music you make or play? Your music sounds very Montreal to me.
It’s hard to separate the two. I came back to Montreal when I was 18, and my sister was here, and she would take me to the after-hour spots, and put me on to all the nightlife and the clubs. She was like, “it’s fucking popping over here!”
I really got into it around 15, but when I was 18 in university at Concordia, I really started to lock in. I was doing more hip-hop and experimental music, and even though I was going out to see dance music, I stayed committed to my sound. And then when I was 21, I became friends with Lis Dalton, a DJ from here who is honestly one of Canada’s best DJs. She put me on to so much music, and I would go to all her gigs with her and meet more producers. Then I was like, “Holy shit. I’m in the best spot for dance music right now. I’m around so many inspiring artists.”
I wondered what it would be like to dabble in producing dance music. I thought I would continue my hip-hop project and just do dance music on the side. But then I showed some music to Francis [Priori] and my first release was lined up. And I met Daniel Rincon, who runs Sonido Isla. There were just so many exciting things happening.
So the people you were meeting at that time drove you to make the kind of music you do now?
Yeah, I was like, “Damn, these people are the best in the game. Like... what the fuck?” At that time, it was Dust-e-1, Priori, Ex-Terrestrial, RAMZi. D. Tiffany was here for a bit. It was world-class shit.
A lot of your music has a retro vibe, too. Were you doing a lot of research into older trance and downtempo music?
Lis shared a lot of music with me, and I started digging more to try and create an understanding of this music, and to archive the music I liked. But it was not the most strategic thing.
I’m always interested in listening habits. How do you consume music?
Oh, it’s always evolving. I actually go through periods where I don’t listen to any music, and I’ll only listen to podcasts. Then when I do listen to music, I’ll click through things super fast and just throw them on my USB. My primary time of listening to music is if I’m hanging out with friends and they’re DJing, or if I stick around at a club, or I go see a friend play. But that’s just for dance music. For other music, for the longest time, I never subscribed to any music platform, never paid for YouTube or Spotify. So anytime I wanted to hear something on my phone, I’d have to sit through all these ads just to hear a pop song.
But it’s always changing. Recently I haven’t been able to listen to a lot of dance music outside DJing. I can’t do dance music all the time. So I’ve been going back to listening to Drake and The Weeknd. I guess mostly for nostalgia.
What kind of podcasts do you listen to?
It’s kind of random, but there’s a podcast actually from LA called Sexy Unique Podcast. I don’t know if you’ve heard of it.
No, but I can guess what it’s about.
Yeah. Vanderpump Rules. It’s actually so good. It honestly saved my life. It’s just so funny. And I’m not even a huge reality TV head. They do recaps, but it’s more like commentary on pop culture and where things are culturally in America. It’s not super serious, though.
I was going to ask if you were a reality TV person, because you have a track called “She’s Startin.’”
I’m really into Real Housewives of Salt Lake City and Vanderpump Rules. I’m not the biggest reality TV person. Salt Lake City though! That one captivates me.
Why?
It’s just so camp and so preposterous. They’re like caricatures of each other. It just got me in a different way than other reality TV shows. I think I started watching it through a lens of it being a cultural commentary on gender, class and race in America. How they interact. And also, what female friendships are about. And I think that’s why so many gays love Real Housewives. It’s so extra and flamboyant at the end of the day.
Do you consider your music campy?
Yes. Some of my stuff is 100% campy. But that also speaks to my internal struggle. I don’t take myself super seriously, but I do have a serious side too. Some of my music I consider more lowbrow, or, just like… trash. But why be super judgmental or elitist about dance music?
Between these campy, your straightforward club records and the more downtempo albums—how much of your music is is planned out?
It all just comes out naturally. I might go through different phases of making certain types of music. Sometimes I’m writing more serious, slower stuff, or whatever else I’m locked in on at that moment. And then other times I just feel like being silly, or being more narrative, in a not-so-serious sense.
What is lowbrow to you?
I guess it’s stuff that’s not for “the heads,” or not for the music critics. I don’t think anyone’s gonna sit around and want to listen to “I Wanna Scissor.” It’s just not—
I mean, I think it’s a cool track.
Yeah, it’s fun. Is it the most forward-thinking track? No, but that’s also not the point of it. I know what I like and I want to have fun with it. What is lowbrow? I guess it’s things that are less serious, unafraid to be cliché or play into clichéd narratives.
Speaking of serious, the new album sounds very serious. Like you went through some shit.
It obviously has to do with heartbreak and losing someone you love. It’s also about how you can’t always control what other people think about you or say about you, and just making peace with that. And growing into myself, letting go of that people-pleasing tendency and becoming more confident. The spiritual return of coming home into yourself.
How do those ideas come across in the actual music?
I think there’s a lot of storytelling in it, and also it deals with obsessive thinking. There’s a lot of narration. Sometimes it feels silly to break things down lyrically because it’s literally what it says in the songs: trying to forget somebody, or the pain of not being able to understand how to love someone, not understanding why there’s a break in communication, or realizing that people can be toxic for you. People are trapped in their own cycles of self-hatred and in a way so am I. So I’m just trying to be okay with that and bring awareness to the idea that… it’s ok to feel that way and deal with that.
Does the narrative, personal style of this album feel different than when you’re making something like “I Wanna Scissor?”
Everything I do feels like it happens by accident. Even with this album. I make a lot of music just for myself, and I would have never expected some of these tracks to end up anywhere. I was just showing Francis some stuff and he was like, “I fucking love this.” I was surprised. Like, “I’m The One You Want.” I was surprised because I made those songs for myself not to be like, “I’m going to put this out and drop a poppy vocal project.”
And yeah, it feels way more personal, but I’m trying not to sit on or think about that too much.
So you didn’t record all the tracks together with the idea of making an album?
No, I don’t think I ever make music like that. It’s too much pressure. It can be nice to have a general framing of what I want to do, but it’s much better if it’s just free-flowing. That’s how you really connect to something.
They say “Life can only be lived forwards and understood backwards,” and I think the same is true of my creative process. I think it almost makes more sense to go backwards and weave the story together and understand the meaning of it all.
Are you the kind of person who’s constantly making music, or do you have more regimented sessions?
Up until my recent touring, I was so consistent with making music, locked in 24/7. I literally always had to be working on something. Lately I’m in a period of creative realignment where I want to be more intentional with what I do with my time, and what I’m doing next. Thinking about ways I want to grow and how I want my sound to evolve.
It’s a difficult balance because for my mental health sometimes I just feel the need to have an outlet, like a sonic journal, but I also want it to be intentional. At the moment I’m thinking of going back to the drawing board in terms of what inspires me and trying to listen to more actual dance music to figure out what to do next.
Tell me more about how the album came together. Even if it wasn’t on purpose, it tells a pretty clear story.
Around December of 2024 I hit up Francis to mix down some tracks with me. So we got in a session and he was asking my plan with those tracks. I said I would put out an EP on my label, and he said he wanted them. I was surprised. And then I showed him more songs. And he wanted those too. I was like, “You like this vocal stuff? Well here’s some more vocal shit!”
That was the start of it, and I put together a playlist and we went back and forth on some of the songs. Some of them were done, some of them were just ideas. Like “NV-0” and “Might Jump,” it was just a loop. So we got in the studio with Patrick Holland and they really helped bring it to life. They were crucial in this project. It wouldn’t be what it is without them. Everything sounds super balanced.
It was a Montreal community effort.
It takes a village.
A lot of your tracks have vocals. Is that something you always felt the urge to do?
There’s a lot of things I feel like I’m trying to do with dance music that I don’t always end up doing exactly how I want. But I guess it’s just because I was doing so much vocal music in the past, and writing lyrics and telling stories is really important to me. And the big appeal of dance music at the beginning was that it was creatively freeing. It’s not like I had to build songs around a vocal performance anymore. All of a sudden I could just fire away with different ideas.
But I also really like the sound of the human voice, and the elements of time, place, and space that they bring to a song. It’s like a historical archive. But I also want to be seen as a serious dance music producer, and not just a vocalist, so I’m trying to find a balance. At the end of the day, I just like to be both.
It seems like you’re taken seriously as both.
Yeah, but I feel like the bar can always be higher. I want to grow.
There’s a real sense of humour to your music. “The Horse Track” is objectively funny, and new tracks like “Dirt” have an almost Bravo-TV-soundtrack energy. Do you find yourself being funny even when you’re being serious?
Yes, even if the music is serious, maybe the song titles aren’t serious. I just like to have fun. And if you know me well, you know I don’t take myself too seriously.
Your music is also very gay.
Well, it’s funny. Even when I make music for me, even tracks that don’t have a vocal, people are like, oh, it’s lesbian techno. Regardless of whatever I do. For them, it’s like a genre. I’m still not entirely sure what it means. The music is maybe less serious, more cheeky, than some of our straight male counterparts. It’s bouncy and fast. But like anything with identity… you can’t just remove it. And in reality, I am just a really gay person.
The album is coming out in February, and you’re already talking about doing different stuff. So what’s next?
Right now, I really want to make sexy, minimal music—whatever my take on minimal is, because I’m probably the least minimal person ever. I want to hit a slower BPM and make classy, sleek, modern stuff. But I’m not a very patient person. I want a whole creative rebrand. Like, let’s burn it all down. I want to put out an EP that makes people say, “What the fuck?” Like, fuck everything I’ve ever done. [laughs]