Experimental music is rising. Quietly, relentlessly. Artists like 2hollis, once buried by the algorithm, now pull millions of streams. Jane Remover just dropped her third album – and this time, people are actually paying attention.

But “underground” is a slippery word. For some, it means stats. For others, it’s a vibe. A feeling. A refusal. It’s not a genre, though – it’s a shadow state. A place just outside the spotlight. If you live and breathe underground music, artists like Panchiko or Yhapojj might feel like household names. But to most people? They’re still completely unknown.

This realm is vast. From the dreamy haze of Glare and Chanel Beads to the raw distortion of Molly Santana and OsamaSon, the music buzzes, glitches and dissolves – like sounds extracted from a corrupted dream file. Nothing is polished; nothing is safe. That's intentional. The sonic spectrum is immense: lush melodies, ambient chaos and emotional glitches. Some artists bend pop until it breaks; others harness ambience or distortion. Some evoke post-internet heartbreak; others resemble surveillance footage of your soul.

Bladee, Oklou, SOPHIE, Nokia Angel, babyxsosa – these artists don’t play by the rules because they don’t need to. This isn’t “easy listening.” And that’s the point. You’re not supposed to get it straight away. Some people might hear Sematary’s “Slaughter House” and just hear noise. But to others, it’s catharsis.

I find most of my music online. I’m not ashamed to admit TikTok has introduced me to more of my favourite artists than any radio station ever has. And now that I’m a presenter on a community radio show spotlighting local and national talent, I’ve cast the net wider – Twitter threads, Bandcamp pages, Spotify’s cursed algorithm, Reddit posts and accidental rabbit holes. The deeper I dig, the more infinite this scene feels.

But here’s the hard part: finding Australian underground and experimental artists – especially ones that exist in the same sonic universe as the ones I already love – is surprisingly difficult.

So I started digging. This list is the result. And it’s a signal. A starting point. A loose map of Australian artists who don’t fit neatly into genres, who might never hit playlists, but still leave a mark. It’s not definitive. It’s just where I ended up after falling down the rabbit hole.

Lucy Lamb

For Fans Of: Snow Strippers, Grimes, Crystal Castles, Eartheater and Charli XCX

From the heart of Naarm’s underground, Lucy Lamb is a vocal artist and visual provocateur who makes music that feels like a fever dream in strobe lighting. Her sound is grimy, chaotic and euphoric – part 2010s Tumblr nostalgia, part high-speed club hallucination. Think witch-house meets dark-pop, with traces of her earlier dream-pop leanings still haunting the edges.

Lucy’s tracks are heavy with bass, steeped in sleaze and dripping with that ultra-glam, party-girl-after-dark energy. But what makes her stand out isn’t just the sound – it’s the attitude. She doesn’t shy away from the weird, the gaudy or the overly dramatic. Instead, she leans in. Her whole aesthetic – on stage and off – is a celebration of audacity.

Start with: Bored, Bed Of Snow, The Other Side, Underwater, Secret Letter and Corsets

lil ket

For Fans Of: Yung Lean, Bladee, Wicca Phase Springs Eternal and Ecco2k

lil ket is what happens when Meanjin suburbia collides with early Tumblr nihilism and SoundCloud disarray. Now in Naarm, he’s building something that’s part cloud rap, part emotional data dump. His sound shifts constantly – dreamlike synths one moment, distorted chaos the next. There’s a kind of scorched sincerity to it all, like he’s halfway between a breakdown and a meme.

His mixtapes reflect this hybrid sound – equal parts experimental and emotionally grounded. lil ket isn’t afraid to explore vulnerability, but he delivers it through distorted vocals and unpredictable beats. You’ll hear traces of Drain Gang, sure, but it’s filtered through the experience of someone raised online in a hot, suburban Australian sprawl. Whether he’s rapping about digital life, disillusionment or just being broke and aimless, there’s always an honesty beneath the noise. His music doesn’t sit neatly in one genre – it wanders, mutates and evolves with each release.

Start with: sides/sides/sides, lookin funny at me lad, Snow Motel (find Your Balance), lil ket anthem and Same Again

Leafia

Sounds like: Jane Remover, Sewerslvt and Machine Girl

At just 17, Leafia from Naarm produces hyper-emotional, breakneck electronic music that doesn't just borrow from online aesthetics – it weaponises them. Breakcore, shoegaze, drum and bass, Jersey club, Dariacore – it’s all in there, smashed into tracks that feel like scrolling too fast through a collapsing timeline.

There’s a rawness that makes everything hit harder. You’re not just hearing songs – you’re hearing overstimulation, panic and pixelated yearning. There’s tenderness buried in the glitches, but it’s the kind of tenderness you find in a late-night Discord call with someone who only knows you by your username.

Leafia isn’t refining a sound – they’re exploding it. It’s not about genre. It’s about energy. And that energy is messy, digital, loud and sincere. If you’re still mourning SoundCloud’s golden years or collecting cracked Soundfonts like Pokémon cards, this is your new favourite producer.

Start with: monochrome reality, you make me bleed, this was my heartstopper, chronostasis and dark fox

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nuum

For Fans Of: George Clanton, nate sib, Ecco2k and Charli XCX

Solomon Gutteridge, a.k.a. nuum, makes pop music that sounds like it’s been cryogenically frozen, shattered into a million pieces, then melted back together under a UV club light. It’s glossy and twitchy and full of restraint – built on clean lines, processed emotion and an almost spiritual commitment to craft. A lot of people slap the “hyperpop” tag on his music, but that doesn’t really capture the elegance of what he’s doing. This isn’t meme-pop or glitch-for-glitch’s-sake – it’s pop music with a spine.

There’s no need to be loud when the ideas are this precise. nuum’s sound feels sculpted: every vocal stutter, every glimmering synth line placed exactly where it should be. Rooted in pop maximalism, his current work feels meditative – a guided journey through memory, grief and identity. The French monastery backstory isn’t a gimmick – it tracks. There’s a monkish discipline to the way his songs unfold. Clean and contained, but full of ghosts.

Start with: Self Care, Peter Pan, nu world, Mirror and Run From Me

BBIANCA

For Fans Of: Kesha, Rihanna, FKA twigs, Charli XCX, Rina Sawayama and Addison Rae

BBIANCA makes the kind of music that demands your attention, with studded platform heels on your neck. She’s not here to be subtle. She’s here to leave a mark. Based in Eora, this Italian-Australian chaos pop queen makes tracks that feel like couture gone feral – loud, shiny, bratty and heartbreaking.

There’s something intoxicating about the way she collapses eras: 2012 YouTube aesthetics meet 2013 Tumblr angst, all wrapped up in club beats built to melt your brain. It’s messy, shiny and totally addictive – exactly how pop should be. Her tracks move like chaotic dreams stitched together with neon threads, constantly shifting between vulnerability and bravado. BBIANCA captures that exact moment in time where heartbreak, rebellion and glitter all exist in the same breath. If that sounds like too much, it probably is. But that’s the point. Her music thrives in excess.

Start with: Pullin Strings, Smoke Tires, We Are Young, sass & bide, WHAT HAVE WE DONE and Fomo

Marlowe Wilton

For Fans Of: George Clanton, Mk.gee and Dijon

Marlowe Wilton is a 19-year-old singer, songwriter and producer from Naarm’s west, crafting songs that sound both freshly made and strangely familiar. He grew up surrounded by music, but what he’s building is entirely his own – writing, producing and mixing tracks that carry the weight and clarity of someone twice his age.

There’s a kind of wide-eyed confidence in his sound: exploratory but assured, shifting shape without ever feeling scattered. His songs aren’t just polished – they’re intimate in a way that feels lived-in. Like late summer evenings at the tail end of high school: river swims, warm car rides, passing the aux to queue a track you swear no one else knows yet. Nostalgic, but not performative. Just honest.

It’s the production that really seals it – crisp and tactile, but never cold. Even his earliest releases hum with care and intention. Marlowe feels like the kind of artist you stumble on and immediately want to tell everyone about… just not yet. You want to keep it for a minute. Let it live in your headphones a little longer.

Start with: Evangeline, I Feel Like Him, Hard2Get, DJ, Purgatory, There For You and Persephone

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yergurl

For Fans Of: Grimes, Oklou, Rina Sawayama and FKA twigs

yergurl is what happens when the bedroom-pop pipeline gets warped by too much time online and not enough sunlight. And thank god for it. Fae Scott makes music that is euphoric, unnerving, saccharine and brutal – often all in the same song. Raised on Dja Dja Wurrung Country (Bendigo) and now living in Naarm, she’s carved out her own space in Australia’s alt-pop ecosystem: one that’s extraterrestrial and sparkly on the outside, but wired with emotion like exposed nerve endings.

Her music feels like digging through old Tumblr posts with your heart on your sleeve – vulnerable, theatrical, occasionally unhinged and always self-aware. Think FKA twigs’ romantic delusions, Oklou’s weird dream-pop futurism and the raw diary-entry energy of early Mallrat, all filtered through yergurl’s own twisted, sparkly lens. From the candy-crush glow of her early tracks to the hard-hitting duality of “courtship ❦”, she’s unafraid to shapeshift – but always on her own terms. I am yergurl’s self-proclaimed biggest fangurl.

Start with: rage, hard, a green light, howling at the moon, LOVEU/LOVESICK and a lil bit

Donatachi

For Fans Of: SOPHIE, Ayesha Erotica, GFOTY, That Kid, Charli XCX, Ninajirachi and Slayyyter

Donatachi makes euphoric, high-gloss music that sounds like a glitter rave beamed in from a dream. Hailing from regional NSW and now based in Eora, they first emerged bootlegging pop tracks on cracked software and collecting trance mixes like sacred artefacts. Today, their sound blends hyperpop, Eurodance, bubblegum-bass and shimmering electronica – the kind of sonic excess that feels like Neon Genesis Evangelion if it aired on ABC3.

Working with collaborators like Ayesha Erotica, D V D and Muki, Donatachi stands at the glittering core of Australia’s hyperreal club scene. But for Donatachi, hyperpop isn’t just a genre – it’s a philosophy. Rooted in rebellion and DIY ethics, their music challenges elitism, mixing Top 40 sparkle with underground grit. Whether producing angelic vocals or full-throttle beats, they craft tracks that are as introspective as they are danceable. It’s hyper-emotional club music from someone who grew up online – weird, glittery and totally sincere.

Start with: forever + ever, cry, Crush On U, Precious Metal and cloud 9

licuh

For Fans Of: Bladee, phreshboyswag, Thaiboy Digital and Nettspend

Look. I typed “Australian Bladee” into TikTok. That’s how this started. And it led me to licuh – Eora-based rapper, Leon Donaldson, who makes music that feels like you're texting through tears in a fogged-up Uber. It's PluggnB, digicore, trap, cloud rap – but none of those labels fully encapsulate it. His beats are vaporous and his vocals half-buried.

The tracks swing between aggression and numbness. On “photobooth,” he sounds like he’s tearing holes in the beat. On “shoelace,” he’s fading into it. And then there’s the tag: “licuh, oh my fucking god!” – a chaotic little calling card that instantly sets the tone for what’s coming.

He doesn't overtly showcase his Australianness, but it's subtly present – just enough to place it – reminding us that this sound isn't exclusive to Stockholm or Atlanta. It belongs here, too.

Start with: newnumbernine, photobooth, shoelace, levelrunner and far4u

biblemami

For Fans Of: Shygirl, FKA twigs and Charli XCX

Imagine a glitter-stained Tumblr feed from 2014 – now imagine it all grown up, a little weird and hitting the club. That’s biblemami. Originally from Ngunnawal Country (Canberra) and now based in Eora, her sound lives somewhere between hyperpop, post-club haze and bubblegum futurism.

With baby pink, floor-length hair and a soft spot for muted pastels, biblemami is a hyperpop mermaid for the digital age – equal parts celestial and chaotic. Her songs shimmer and pulse like synthetic pearls dragged through warehouse dust, channelling a kind of sparkle that’s been scuffed and worn down, but never dulled. Whether she’s whispering from beneath the reverb or slicing through synths with surgical precision, biblemami invites you into a world that’s ascendant, low, sexy and a little bit pitiful.

Start with: HOT MODEL SEX, 2009, biblemami, The Blissful State and I’m Sorry

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AGONY

For Fans Of: 2hollis, The Hellp, damon r. and Ecco2k

AGONY is a club-pop duo from Gadigal Country (Eora/Sydney), made up of Luca Bianchino and Christian Grasps. Their music is pure shining euphoria – fusing trance, electro-pop, indie dance and punk into tracks that feel equal parts emotional and explosive. With fuzzed-out synths, glammed-up energy and melancholic vocals that ache just right, AGONY brings a kind of glitter-drenched sadness to the dance floor. Think indie sleaze revival but made for the rave – leather jackets, chain smoking and heartbreak on beat.

There’s a theatrical edge to their sound, like crying in the club with mascara-streaked cheeks, caught between catharsis and chaos. AGONY captures the feeling of being beautifully unwell and needing to dance it out. Sad boys meet hardstyle in a bedazzled, euphoric spiral.

Start with: FRIDAY NIGHT, VOGUE MAG, BREAKSHIT, Silence in Santorini, MEDICAL and ANGEL

xo

For Fans Of: Ecco2k, 2hollis, Jane Remover and Nokia Angel

I first discovered xo through an interview written by Sarah Silvestro for *SSQUARED MAGAZINE. There was something about the way he spoke – softly, precisely – that mirrored the sound and feeling of his music. River, known simply as xo, makes work that feels like stepping into a lucid dream: cool light, pale skies, the world reduced to only what matters.

Raised in the solitude of Nipaluna (Hobart) but attuned to something much larger, xo’s music captures a kind of spiritual expansiveness. His aesthetic – clouds, mountains, clean lines and minimal colour – isn’t curated for image. It’s just how he sees.

The music itself moves fast. It’s tight, hot and urgent. But it never feels crowded or overwhelming. Even at its most intense, there’s room to breathe. He blends trance, techno and hyperpop into something fluid, but never formless. Grief, joy, surrender and transformation exist all at once, wrapped in sonic textures that feel both like a rave and a reckoning.

Start with: ava, flash, breathe, plus! and rainfall

Ok, Now Go Listen

While I’ve stumbled across a few of these artists on my own, I owe much of this discovery to r00ts_au, an Instagram account dedicated to spotlighting underground and emerging Australian acts. Their posts, stories and highlights have quietly shaped my listening habits – I’ve stalked their following, combed through every repost and found artists I now play on my radio show and return to daily.

There’s something joyful about that kind of deep dive, about finding community through curiosity. I encourage others to do the same: follow the artists that move you, follow the journalists and accounts that share what they hear, go to as many local gigs as you can, and – above all – listen to the radio. Maybe even listen to the show I’m on. Radio isn’t dead. It’s just waiting for you to tune in.

Across twelve artists, what emerges is not just a scene, but a shifting, shimmering landscape – restless and full of feeling. There’s no single sound that defines it, no neat box to place it in. These musicians – whether pulsing through warehouses, whispering through headphones or slipping through Instagram stories – are building something raw, intimate and distinctly theirs. It’s music that makes you feel like you’ve stumbled into something secret. And maybe you have. But it’s not about gatekeeping – it’s about sharing the things that stir you. And if you’re lucky, maybe they’ll stir someone else too.

Every song I mentioned, all in one playlist: aus ug