From a DIY livestream taped to a Dalston basement wall, Boiler Room has grown into a global movement for underground music, shaping careers and documenting scenes from London to Mumbai to Ramallah. But fifteen years on, its sale to a private equity–backed festival giant has sparked a fierce boycott, raising urgent questions about ethics, ownership and the future of rave culture.
When Boiler Room first launched in March 2010 with a live-streamed DJ set by Blaise Bellville and Thristian Richards in a basement in Dalston, East London, no one imagined where it would lead. A webcam taped to a wall soon grew into a weekly livestream in a warehouse in Hackney and into what is now an iconic format: a DJ surrounded by dancers.
The response was instant. Boiler Room created a new brand of debauchery and energy, all while platforming the best of UK underground music, from Dubstep to UKG, Drum & Bass to Techno. It quickly became clear that an exceptional Boiler Room set could be career-defining. Early performances from Jackmaster, Mala, Levelz, Nina Kraviz, Skream b2b Disclosure, Thom Yorke, and many others stand as proof.
The idea behind Boiler Room was simple: give local scenes a global audience. So they took their 360° energy to cities like Tokyo, Paris, Berlin, and New York. These sets did so much more than just showcasing local artists – they were telling the stories of the communities that shaped them and building an archive of global club culture alongside a network of underground talent.
Through their format of intimate DJ sets in small, low-key venues, Boiler Room made dance music accessible to everyone and turned local heroes into international DJs.
To continue their mission, Boiler Room launched their first full-length documentary in 2016, all about Atlanta-based collective Awful Records. That was followed by 2018’s Fleshback: Queer Raving in Manchester’s Twilight Zone, which explored queer rave culture against the backdrop of Section 28.
This evolution took Boiler Room beyond live-streamed sets into storytelling that explored underground music, identity, and community within their cultural and political contexts. But no project resonated as strongly as their 2018 documentary Palestine Underground. Published alongside sets by ODDZ, Makimakkuk, Dakn, Julmud, Al Nather, Shabjdeed, Muqata, Jazar Crew, and Sama’ Abdulhadi, the 30-minute documentary drew global attention to the Palestinian struggle and mobilised the dance music community in solidarity with their fight for liberation.
Fast forward 8 years, and Boiler Room is in the middle of a political shit storm. The dance music community is demanding a boycott, and Boiler Room has become a pariah of the underground. Artists are dropping out of their shows, while those who choose to play are boycotted and ostracised.
So what on earth caused Boiler Room to fall from grace so spectacularly? Read on to find out.
How did we get here?
Boiler Room’s changed hands a few times over the years. The ticketing platform Dice bought it in 2021, who then sold it to a company called Superstruct in January 2025. That’s where the trouble began.
Superstruct Entertainment is a huge festival and live events company, owned by KKR, one of the world’s largest private equity firms. They acquired Boiler Room along with around 80 European festivals, including Field Day, Creamfields, Elrow, Sziget, Hideout, Sónar, and Mighty Hoopla for a $1.2 billion price tag.
"It seems to me [Superstruct’s] goal was to get lots of investment and create a huge, global, multi-million dollar portfolio of festival brands so Live Nation couldn’t,” says journalist Chal Ravens in episode 43 of No Tags: Should dance music boycott Boiler Room over Palestine? “They were trying to build something that could take on Live Nation.”
Live Nation has a huge grip on live music because they own promoters, venues, and Ticketmaster, meaning they often control every step from booking artists to selling tickets. That setup gives it major power over pricing and access, and critics say this dominance has driven up costs and cut competition.
But what does corporate ownership and private equity mean for a scene that’s always stood for freedom, community, and anarchy? Boiler Room, once a scrappy, grassroots platform championing underground music, became part of a massive corporate empire with links far removed from its DIY values.
The Boycott
This isn't the first time rave culture has been co-opted by big corporations, but this is the first time it’s been at such extreme odds with the culture and its values. KKR’s investment portfolio is not limited to club culture. They invest in Israeli tech, surveillance, and defence companies that play an active role in the occupation of the West Bank, as well as the catastrophe in Gaza.
Many in the rave community feel that this goes against what Boiler Room originally stood for, so the backlash was swift and immediate.
The Palestinian-led BDS (Boycott, Divest, Sanction) movement mobilised globally, with ravers, artists, and activists protesting Boiler Room’s ties to a firm directly supporting Israel in the Palestine conflict. DJs pulled out of scheduled sets; counter-parties called Spoiler Room ran adjacent to events to hijack their audiences; activists staged protests from Barcelona to Helsinki.
Many influential DJs, including Midland, Roza Terenzi, and Ikonika, publicly refused to perform, issuing statements citing moral objections. In Toronto, protesters held up banners saying “Boiler Room + KKR fund genocide. Boycott now.” Fans chipped in to support artists who lost income from pulling out of Boiler Room through GoFundMe campaigns, ensuring they still get paid despite skipping gigs.
Then, in March 2025, Boiler Room issued a statement distancing themselves from KKR, which the BDS movement accepted as adhering to their movement. But many people continued to boycott Boiler Room despite this.
Supporters of the boycott argue that private equity profiting from rave culture and funding war undermines the scene’s ethics and independence.
But critics point out that Boiler Room didn’t pick its buyer, and they've always been open about their support for Palestine and lack of control over the sale. If this is where it leads, should private equity and venture capital firms really have a hand in rave culture? And if they must, shouldn’t these companies take social responsibility seriously?
The artists certainly do. DJ and producer Ben UFO was one of the first DJs to join BDS’s #DJsForPalestine movement in 2018, publicly refusing to play in Israel. He follows BDS guidelines and publicly spoke out in support of Boiler Room, arguing that it’s helped launch countless careers. He believes their historic and current advocacy for Palestine and continued efforts to support Palestinian artists mean this boycott is misdirected. Ben UFO received huge backlash for taking this stance, with many calling for a boycott of him in response.
The impact
This all begs the question: what impact is this boycott having on Superstruct events? Field Day 2025 was sold out, as was The Boiler Room festival at Burgess Park in August. It’s close to impossible to secure spots for Boiler Room’s recent London sets, and many renowned artists are still playing game-changing livestreams, including Kettama, I. JORDAN, and Andy C, to name a few. Many artists argue that because Boiler Room has been approved by BDS and is therefore compliant, there’s no issue in performing for them.
What it means for artists
For artists, this boycott has real consequences. Pulling out of gigs risks money and exposure, but it also makes a statement about values. However, Boiler Room has such a huge audience, and DJs aren’t just missing out on money if they don’t play. They’re missing out on global recognition and the potential to get millions of eyes on them. Boiler Room has historically been the first to break new scenes and new artists, so to pass this up can mean losing the opportunity of a lifetime. These opportunities are still breaking new artists today. ¥ØU$UK€ ¥UK1MAT$U’s January 2025 Boiler Room set from Tokyo is one of the most-watched in the series’ history. He’d been DJing for several years previously, but this set catapulted him into the global spotlight and the hottest DJs on the planet right now.
Still, there’s a bigger question at play here – can Boiler Room keep its identity while being part of a corporate machine? Can private equity belong in a culture built on experimentation, independence, and community?
The future of rave culture now hinges on how platforms like Boiler Room handle this tension. Can they keep their countercultural ethos, or will they just become another cog in the mainstream entertainment machine? Many fans and artists believe Boiler Room has a responsibility to hold the 1% accountable and make sure inclusivity, creativity, and ethics aren’t lost to profit.
Why it matters to a generation
There’s no doubt Boiler Room has helped shape global underground culture as we know it today. It gave a new generation access to music that used to feel exclusive or remote, and platformed marginalised communities and scenes around the world that may never have hit the spotlight otherwise.
There are so many iconic Boiler Room moments: Yung Singh’s Daytimers set showcased the depth and breadth of the British South Asian underground; Swadesi’s multi-lingual grime set in Marathi, Hindi and Bengali showed the world that Mumbai's got bars; In Mauritius, Babani Soundsystem shared the spirit and soul of the Indian Ocean; in NYC, Charli XCX broke the internet with a cultural zeitgeist of a performance; Fred Again finger drummed at breakneck speed. All this has shaped our collective experience of dance music culture and undoubtedly bled into the mainstream. Beyoncé made a dance music album. Last week, Drake went to Berghain.
But the controversy shows just how fragile cultural institutions are when corporate money gets involved. The independence, DIY spirit, and community that made Boiler Room special are now tested by profit-driven pressures. Can underground values ever be compatible with financial growth?
What’s next for the scene?
Boiler Room’s corporate hijacking has put the scene at a crossroads. Many are calling for decentralised, community-led platforms that prioritise artists and cultural integrity over shareholders. DIY festivals, independent livestreams, and grassroots initiatives could see a resurgence as people seek alternatives that stay true to rave culture’s core values.
But it's no secret that underground clubs are struggling. According to CGA Neilson, an average of 11 nightclubs closed every month in the UK last year, among them underground favourites like The Wire in Leeds, IKLECTIK in Waterloo, and Elephant and Castle’s beloved Corsica Studios. Skyrocketing overheads, the cost of living crisis, and shifting audience habits are hitting mid-level and grassroots venues hard, pushing countless clubs and promoters to close permanently.
So the underground is caught between a rock and a hard place: a fierce need for independence, and close to no money to support it. If transparency, accountability, and progressive values are non-negotiable for music consumers, how will the scene support itself when funding is slashed and prices are exponentially rising?
Looking ahead
Boiler Room’s journey from a scrappy livestream project to part of a billion-dollar entertainment empire mirrors rave culture’s evolution since its birth in the ‘90s. The boycott highlights the tension between corporate influence and underground authenticity, forcing us to ask what ownership, ethics, and the future of music communities should look like.
For those of us who grew up watching those late-night sets, discovering new DJs, and falling in love with the underground, this debate can feel personal.
Should the scene really focus its energy on bringing down Boiler Room, a platform that openly advocates for Palestinian liberation? Will it make a difference? Or just cause rifts in an already weak progressive movement?
Or is this about preserving the values that made Boiler Room revolutionary: accessibility, community, and DIY spirit? Is it time to assert independence, demand ethical practices, and build platforms that serve artists and audiences without compromise?
Boiler Room may be corporate now, but the spirit of rave culture isn’t for sale – and how the community responds will define the next chapter of electronic music.
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