5 questions with... NENE H

Turkish-born, Berlin-based techno mainstay Nene H exemplifies boundless creativity, as reflected in her diverse contributions to music and sound. From hard-hitting techno DJ sets and experimental live productions—often involving collaborations with academic musicians—to her imaginative work as a producer, Nene H showcases a dynamic range. Under her given name, Beste Aydin, she has also garnered notable acclaim as a classically trained pianist. Eliza Aboltina meets with Nene H in Berlin to discuss the Siraen collective she launched earlier this year, the state of the post-pandemic music industry, and her latest EP, Trifecta.

Julien Tell

- You are an academically trained pianist turned producer and DJ. What are the overlapping points, and what separates these two seemingly distant (but perhaps not) fields of music?

- Nene H: I transitioned into electronic music through my composition studies. Part of those studies included electronic music, contemporary music, and musique concrète. We would record sounds and then work on Logic and Max/MSP. However, I couldn’t fully continue my composition studies because I was simultaneously pursuing my master’s degree in piano. I was already interested in electronic music, but I didn’t know that club music even existed. Essentially, what happened was that I came to Berlin to visit friends, and they took me to a party. That was the moment I thought, Oh, okay, this is what you can do with this stuff. I got really excited about it. My crossover point was buying a synthesizer and creating bass-heavy Anatolian trip-hop beats while singing over them. That’s how it started. Moving to Berlin and gradually getting deeper into the club scene eventually triggered the shift to producing and DJing.

- What was your first synthesizer?

- Nene H: It was a Korg MicroKORG with a vocoder. It was such a cute instrument—small and affordable. After that, I got an AKAI MPC, which allowed me to play live, press pads, make adjustments in Ableton, and sing over it. At that time, my music was more connected to classical music because it leaned toward modalities, tonalities, and melodic sounds. It incorporated a lot of what I had learned from classical music.

However, I think my classical training has influenced me more negatively than positively—it led to a lack of intuition. People who aren’t classically trained often have more instinctive freedom. They can just play, create, and feel the music without overthinking it. In contrast, I would find myself counting, stuck in discipline, or overly focused on the learning process, forgetting to simply enjoy what I was doing and embrace the process. In that sense, classical training has not benefited my musicality as much as I would have hoped. I’m still learning how to let go of the pressure of success and discipline and focus on doing my own thing.

People who aren’t classically trained often have more instinctive freedom. They can just play, create, and feel the music without overthinking it. In contrast, I would find myself counting, stuck in discipline, or overly focused on the learning process, forgetting to simply enjoy what I was doing and embrace the process.

- But it must have a positive impact on your other work—particularly work that isn’t intended for a club environment, like composing for and working with a choir, for example?

Nene H: Yes, that’s when my knowledge of polyphonic music, chords, tonality, and modality really comes into play. It’s what allows me to build music, probably more easily than someone without that background. So, in that sense, of course, I still rely on it. There are definitely crossover points, but there’s also a process of letting go of that knowledge when necessary.

- Istanbul, Berlin, Copenhagen. Your recently released EP (Trifecta, which came out on December 9th via Live from Earth - ed.) is about these three cities. How would you describe the sound of these three vibrant yet distinct places? What do they mean to you, and what role do they play in your creativity?

Nene H: These three cities and their communities have given me a profound sense of empowerment. For someone like me, it was challenging to break into this industry. It’s about how marginalized groups accept and understand you, about a shared consciousness. I draw strength from the incredible people around me—Black women, trans women—who inspire me. That’s what these three cities have given me: the ability to be myself and to be okay with it.

Sound-wise, I’d say Berlin is very techno, but in my communities, I see something a little different—more humor, more sarcasm.

Istanbul, for me, is about giving back—similar to what you do with your work back home (Nene H refers to Riga, where we met when she played at the opening night of the Kontaktor Festival in early 2019 - ed.). It’s about being on the other side, offering empowerment to those who might need it, especially in a context where there’s a lack of opportunities, societal pressure, and oppression. We try to inspire others, and through that, we find inspiration ourselves. That’s what gives meaning to our work, I think.

Copenhagen, especially Endurance (a DIY rave where Nene H. has been a resident since early 2020 - ed.), has given me so much. The friends I met there were incredibly supportive from the very beginning. And, of course, that city gave me Benjamin (Nene H’s husband - ed.). The track from the EP connected to Copenhagen is very trance-inspired. I feel a deeper connection to Copenhagen, sound-wise, and that track reflects it—it’s very Copenhagen, that’s for sure.

I would say these three tracks reflect my emotional connection with these cities, while also giving a nod to the sounds of each place.

Nene H performing in Riga, 2019 / Photo: Peteris Viksna

- This year, you launched the collective Siraen to provide a space for the marginalized, foster cultural exchange, and create a genre-bending rave experience in Istanbul. What was the necessity or inspiration behind this project, and how do you view the current climate in Istanbul, especially given the political attacks on LGBTQI+ rights and the very real threats?

Nene H: The pressure in Istanbul is on an entirely different level. There’s pressure against women, pressure against LGBTQI+ communities, and pressure against club culture. Simply existing within all of these realms feels like being in an impossible field. I approached this project with the best intentions—to do something meaningful for my community and help elevate Istanbul’s scene. I want to put Istanbul on the map because so many talented people there are being overlooked.

For artists with a Turkish passport, the lack of mobility becomes a major obstacle—it’s difficult to secure international bookings, and that lack of access makes it even harder for them to sustain their careers. My goal is to improve this by offering visibility and giving them a push. I’ve been organizing masterclasses, courses, and artist talks with the guests we invite to play. The aim is to spark conversations about creating safer spaces, how to organize parties, and how to foster respectful behavior at events.

The system is heavily rigged. Promoters are often forced to book big-name artists to sell tickets, but then the ticket prices become unaffordable for many. This locks out the middle class, leaving only those with money able to attend, which creates an atmosphere that’s the opposite of what our culture and techno stand for. It’s not that wealthy people are inherently bad, but this dynamic deepens segregation. And it’s undeniable that most queer people earn less than their straight counterparts—this is true worldwide.

In response, we’re trying to keep entry fees very low and introduce door selection. It’s not about making money; it’s about giving back. We want to inspire younger generations to build their own communities and take ownership of their spaces. We want to empower them. It’s a tough job, and it requires a lot of energy. My partner, Y.Unan, is doing most of the groundwork since she’s based in Istanbul.

We’ve planned to host four events a year, and hopefully, we can maintain that. We’re intentionally avoiding larger venues because we don’t want random people in attendance. Finding suitable spaces is incredibly difficult—there are maybe one or two places where events like this can happen. It’s essential to create an environment where women and marginalized people feel safe.

It’s a slow process, but if we can achieve it, it will be amazing. I keep hearing that, 10 years ago, there was a thriving scene in Istanbul—a street full of clubs—but it’s hard to believe because I wasn’t there at the time.

- It feels like the political situation is getting worse... Rapidly.

Nene H: Yes, they’re planning to introduce the first law specifically targeting LGBTQIA+ people. Until now, it’s been legal to be LGBTQIA+ in Turkey. Of course, there has always been social pressure, but they haven’t been able to imprison someone just for being gay. If this law passes in Turkey… what happens next? It’s so frightening to think about.

Let’s see what happens—this might just be a scare tactic since they can’t fully implement extreme policies with an election year coming up. But still, it’s all politics, politics, politics. Extreme oppression.

- Something we’ve talked about a lot, especially during the pandemic when the industry was shut down and we had time to reflect, is all the change that’s needed. Now that we could say things have been "back to normal" for a while—whatever that means—do you feel like the music industry has seen positive change post-pandemic?

Nene H: And then they laugh...

- I think there are many sides to it, but yeah...

Nene H: Like you said, there are many sides to it. Maybe some things have improved. I’m trying to imagine how someone who’s, say, 22 years old feels—they’ve just gone through the pandemic and are now stepping into the club scene for the first time, without any real knowledge of what the culture was like before. They’ve essentially jumped right into this.

So how are they receiving this new culture of hyper-everything? There’s so much going on—festivals, clubs, TikTok... I can’t figure out what kind of mindset they’re in. I wish I understood it better so I could serve it more effectively, but honestly, I don’t really know what’s going on in people’s minds. That’s my struggle with the current situation.

There’s also this odd juxtaposition: you have very dark music on one hand, and on the other, you have pop edits, cheesy references, and music that’s easy to consume. There’s clearly a demand for the latter, but much less interest in going deeper. Staying in one place—at one stage—for four hours seems unimaginable now. Instead, it’s all about jumping from one stage to the next without really taking the time to feel. Of course, this isn’t true everywhere, but I’ve noticed it in certain places, and it confuses me.

Politically, though, some positive changes are happening. Booking practices are becoming a lot more “woke,” in a sense, and that’s a step in the right direction.

Julien Tell

- So you feel it's getting more diverse?

Nene H: Lately, I do see a much more diverse crowd when I’m playing, and that makes me happy. Lineups are also becoming more diverse. It might not always feel entirely organic, but it’s moving in the right direction. Of course, we can still question whether these artists are being given prime slots or if they’re just opening. Sadly, there are names that sell tickets easily, and then there are creatively brilliant artists who are riskier to book.

People also want to relate to what they see. For example, these guys who just want to party might not relate to me in the same way they relate to a white dude playing techno. And we can’t really blame them for that. Then there are social structures to consider—ones that don’t allow women to go out as freely as men. That’s part of the darkness of this situation. Seeing a crowd where 80% of the attendees are men shouldn’t be the case, especially not in Europe. But it reflects the societal structures outside the clubs. The clubs are just a mirror of the world beyond their doors, you know?

And I don’t think that’s going to change—it might even get worse, given all the crises we’re dealing with. Promoters will be under even more pressure to avoid taking risks. It’ll be like, “Okay, it doesn’t matter if I book her or him, I’ll book him because I can’t afford to lose money.” And what can they do? As a marginalized artist, it’s tough not to feel bad about struggling to fill a venue on your own. Sometimes I think, Fuck! Will I ever be able to headline? Probably not.

- Don't say that, you will get there.

Nene H: I don't know. I can't imagine being able to sell a thousand tickets.

- I believe selling tickets often involves compromises—balancing audience demand with what you want to offer. It’s about giving them something familiar, easy to digest, and comforting, right? Staying true to your artistry and wanting to challenge your audience might limit your reach.

Nene H: That’s absolutely true. I’m not about doing that, though. It’ll be really interesting to see where all of this goes.

- If you had to choose one of your works to place in a time capsule for future generations to discover, which one would it be?