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DJ Cringey | True Techno 104
© 2025 True Underground. All rights reserved.
Born in Christchurch and raised near Mannheim, DJ Cringey’s relationship with music was never passive. It was curated, designed, sequenced.
While other kids handed out sweets at birthday parties, she burned mixtapes, complete with intros, sketches, and hand-painted covers. Even then, the instinct was clear. Control the journey. Shape the mood. Tell a story.
“I learned very early on that I love curating music and building tension,” she says. “Most of my mixtapes had an intro, then they really moved through genres. Ending with something completely wild.”
Growing up near Mannheim placed DJ Cringey close to one of Europe’s most influential club ecosystems. Time Warp culture, serious dancefloors, and access to global selectors formed her education. She wasn’t there to be seen. She was there to listen. Three nights a week, sober, absorbing everything from house and gabber to drum and bass and techno. The city also offered something else. An experimental fringe where sound, design, and humor collided.
“That openness and sense of playful experimentation is also where the idea for my artist name DJ Cringey comes from,” she explains.
Berlin didn’t change her instincts. It sharpened them. Deep immersion in experimental parties around 2017 and 2018 expanded her sense of what electronic music could be. Spaces where seriousness and absurdity coexisted. Where sound functioned as ritual rather than performance. Where the floor mattered more than the persona.
Her early DJ sets reflected that freedom. House parties where genres collapsed into each other. Donk into techno. Hip-hop into rock. A mixing style that felt deliberately wrong, but worked. The nickname DJ Cringey stuck long before she ever touched professional equipment.
“That chaos can be beautiful if it’s done right,” she says. “But context matters.”
As her career professionalised, so did her approach. Today, the rule-breaking is more deliberate. Less shock, more control.
“My style is actually less cringe and more straightforward now,” she says. “Fewer drops, and if there are drops, they’re more epic and intentional.”
The philosophy remains intact. Respect the room. Read the floor. Randomness only works when it makes sense.
“You can’t be arrogant and just play crazy things for yourself,” she says. “At the end of the day, part of the job is making people feel good and connected.”
Parallel to music, DJ Cringey built a serious career in graphic design, working with electronic artists like Alignment and major German rap names including BHZ, Yung Hurn, and Ski Aggu. When she moved to Berlin in 2019, those two worlds finally collided. A challenge at a party to “prove it” behind the decks became her first booking. Borrowed gear. No safety net. Immediate clarity.
From there, momentum came fast. Festivals. A signing with Hyperdreams. In 2025, a move onto Teletech’s roster. Her sets, whether in clubs or on massive stages, maintain a clear through-line. Narrative first. Energy second. Ego last.
“Storytelling is extremely important to me,” she says. “I usually start slow, build towards a peak, and at the end there’s often something cute, funny, or unexpected.”
That balance becomes even more visible in Hard Candy, her duo with best friend TOXIMAMI. Where solo sets are focused and serious, Hard Candy is playful and chaotic.
“It’s pure joy on stage,” she says. “Funny, wild, bouncy.”
Her debut mixtape Cringey Core, released last year, captured another side entirely. Produced during an emotionally intense period, the nine tracks functioned as self-interrogation as much as club material. Collaborations with Fanny, DJ Kirby, Sky Leon, and Polizei anchored a sound that was raw rather than polished, honest rather than performative.
Her latest release under Hard Candy with Odymel, featuring her own vocals on ‘Fitness’, hinted at where things are heading next. In 2026, that direction becomes explicit. Don’t Date Rappers is a long-gestating project designed to bridge electronic music and rap, using real collaboration rather than surface-level crossover.
“Instead of using Splice vocals, I want to work with people who can really write, sing, and rap,” she says. “Electronic producers and rappers who are masters of their craft.”
It is less about genre fusion and more about infrastructure. Connecting worlds that exist side by side but rarely speak. Curated with the same instinct that once shaped childhood mixtapes.
On massive stages, that underground spine remains intact. Adaptation is practical, not ideological. The goal is still to lead people somewhere unfamiliar without forcing it.
“I love it when I can sneak in tracks people don’t expect and guide them there emotionally,” she says. “When people say it felt like a journey, then I know it worked.”
Once shy, hiding behind pitched vocals, DJ Cringey now stands firmly inside her own voice. Fearless, genre-fluid, and deliberately unconcerned with rules for their own sake. The same kid who painted mixtape covers is still present. Only now the canvas is global, the system louder, and the story sharper.
Check out all True Techno editions here
The post DJ Cringey | True Techno 104 appeared first on True Underground.
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By True Underground© 2025 True Underground. All rights reserved.
Born in Christchurch and raised near Mannheim, DJ Cringey’s relationship with music was never passive. It was curated, designed, sequenced.
While other kids handed out sweets at birthday parties, she burned mixtapes, complete with intros, sketches, and hand-painted covers. Even then, the instinct was clear. Control the journey. Shape the mood. Tell a story.
“I learned very early on that I love curating music and building tension,” she says. “Most of my mixtapes had an intro, then they really moved through genres. Ending with something completely wild.”
Growing up near Mannheim placed DJ Cringey close to one of Europe’s most influential club ecosystems. Time Warp culture, serious dancefloors, and access to global selectors formed her education. She wasn’t there to be seen. She was there to listen. Three nights a week, sober, absorbing everything from house and gabber to drum and bass and techno. The city also offered something else. An experimental fringe where sound, design, and humor collided.
“That openness and sense of playful experimentation is also where the idea for my artist name DJ Cringey comes from,” she explains.
Berlin didn’t change her instincts. It sharpened them. Deep immersion in experimental parties around 2017 and 2018 expanded her sense of what electronic music could be. Spaces where seriousness and absurdity coexisted. Where sound functioned as ritual rather than performance. Where the floor mattered more than the persona.
Her early DJ sets reflected that freedom. House parties where genres collapsed into each other. Donk into techno. Hip-hop into rock. A mixing style that felt deliberately wrong, but worked. The nickname DJ Cringey stuck long before she ever touched professional equipment.
“That chaos can be beautiful if it’s done right,” she says. “But context matters.”
As her career professionalised, so did her approach. Today, the rule-breaking is more deliberate. Less shock, more control.
“My style is actually less cringe and more straightforward now,” she says. “Fewer drops, and if there are drops, they’re more epic and intentional.”
The philosophy remains intact. Respect the room. Read the floor. Randomness only works when it makes sense.
“You can’t be arrogant and just play crazy things for yourself,” she says. “At the end of the day, part of the job is making people feel good and connected.”
Parallel to music, DJ Cringey built a serious career in graphic design, working with electronic artists like Alignment and major German rap names including BHZ, Yung Hurn, and Ski Aggu. When she moved to Berlin in 2019, those two worlds finally collided. A challenge at a party to “prove it” behind the decks became her first booking. Borrowed gear. No safety net. Immediate clarity.
From there, momentum came fast. Festivals. A signing with Hyperdreams. In 2025, a move onto Teletech’s roster. Her sets, whether in clubs or on massive stages, maintain a clear through-line. Narrative first. Energy second. Ego last.
“Storytelling is extremely important to me,” she says. “I usually start slow, build towards a peak, and at the end there’s often something cute, funny, or unexpected.”
That balance becomes even more visible in Hard Candy, her duo with best friend TOXIMAMI. Where solo sets are focused and serious, Hard Candy is playful and chaotic.
“It’s pure joy on stage,” she says. “Funny, wild, bouncy.”
Her debut mixtape Cringey Core, released last year, captured another side entirely. Produced during an emotionally intense period, the nine tracks functioned as self-interrogation as much as club material. Collaborations with Fanny, DJ Kirby, Sky Leon, and Polizei anchored a sound that was raw rather than polished, honest rather than performative.
Her latest release under Hard Candy with Odymel, featuring her own vocals on ‘Fitness’, hinted at where things are heading next. In 2026, that direction becomes explicit. Don’t Date Rappers is a long-gestating project designed to bridge electronic music and rap, using real collaboration rather than surface-level crossover.
“Instead of using Splice vocals, I want to work with people who can really write, sing, and rap,” she says. “Electronic producers and rappers who are masters of their craft.”
It is less about genre fusion and more about infrastructure. Connecting worlds that exist side by side but rarely speak. Curated with the same instinct that once shaped childhood mixtapes.
On massive stages, that underground spine remains intact. Adaptation is practical, not ideological. The goal is still to lead people somewhere unfamiliar without forcing it.
“I love it when I can sneak in tracks people don’t expect and guide them there emotionally,” she says. “When people say it felt like a journey, then I know it worked.”
Once shy, hiding behind pitched vocals, DJ Cringey now stands firmly inside her own voice. Fearless, genre-fluid, and deliberately unconcerned with rules for their own sake. The same kid who painted mixtape covers is still present. Only now the canvas is global, the system louder, and the story sharper.
Check out all True Techno editions here
The post DJ Cringey | True Techno 104 appeared first on True Underground.