Emma Marshall, Arts Editor | 

After hours in a dance studio in Mohkhinstisis (Calgary, Alta.) on Treaty 7 Blackfoot territory, a young crowd with glittered faces and neon outfits gather. Black light reflects from the mirrors covering the walls, making the whole room glow ultraviolet.

At the front of the space, there is a raised table with an audio mixer board placed on top, accompanied by stacks of speakers reaching over six feet tall. A man approaches, and a brief moment passes before the bustling room falls silent with the initial vibration of bass. From the speakers, a voice echoes.

“All is not forgotten when someone is forgiven. Words I say to soften up, the hardness that I’m livin’,” said Anishinaabe artist Leonard Sumner in his poem titled ‘I Know You’re Sorry.’

Unlike the previous performer’s hour of groovy bass, DJ BLKFT, a.k.a. Richard Sparvier, commands the audience’s attention with a powerful speech from a fellow Indigenous artist.

“I know you’re sorry. You say you’re not to blame. Fill your heart to brim with guilt, but not an ounce of shame. Break branches off our family trees, and tell us times have changed,” echoes Sumner from the speakers. “But the focus of this genocide at root remains intact, so instead of killing Indian kids, why don’t we kill this Indian Act.”  

BLKFT follows this set introduction with a combination of traditional drum sounds, as well as the trademark bass of contemporary electronic dance music (EDM). While performing this pop-up rave—which took place over two years ago—he highlights that music has the power to communicate when there is a crowd to listen.

Being in the EDM scene for the past seven years, Sparvier uses his platform to represent Indigenous culture in a modern way, while not forgetting traditional sounds. Coming from the Siksika nation about 45 minutes S.E. of Calgary, Sparvier emphasizes the importance of music in storytelling and traditions in Indigenous communities.

“The first thing we hear is the heartbeat, which, if you hear the powwow drum, really emulates the sound of the heartbeat, which you hear as an infant in your mother’s womb,” said Sparvier.

For Indigenous communities throughout Canada, music plays a vital role in daily life and serves as a cornerstone of their culture, celebrations, and overall community. However, as the EDM scene gains popularity, there is a noticeable lack of Indigenous representation within this community.

“I felt like I was the only person in my world that was listening to EDM,” said Cheyanna Kootenhayoo, also known as DJ Kookum. “Then finally, I found these Indigenous people involved, it was just very inspiring.”

Indigenous artists rely on supporting one another in order to represent and inspire those around them. Kootenhayoo often samples the Dene drum in her music productions, paying tribute to her roots with the Dene Nation in Cold Lake, Alta.

“It’s an important representation for people to hear and for other Indigenous people to be inspired. A lot of people come up to me and say ‘you’ve inspired me to do this.’ Just hearing and seeing that impact in the EDM scene reaches beyond just being at a rave,” said Kootenhayoo.

Similarly, Sparvier aims to include samples from other Indigenous artists in his live DJ sets, such as The Halluci Nation, Handsome Tiger, and also DJ Kookum, which he refers to as “staple Indigenous names.”

“We’re not trying to fight for space with one another—we’re trying to collaborate and create a better space for everybody to benefit from,” said Sparvier.

While attending shows in Vancouver, Sparvier observed the strong support of the Indigenous community within their local EDM scene and noted the absence of this unity in Calgary. Seeing room for improvement, he decided to spearhead Canada’s only all-Indigenous led music company, Drum Beat Entertainment. 

Building this collective from the ground-up, Sparvier has seen massive success with Indigenous representation in the EDM scene over the last six years.

They began playing shows at small nightclubs in Calgary, such as Habitat Living Sound, and over the years the company gained traction. Now, they have seen sell-out events across Western Canada, and have been picked up by major news stations like CTV and The Washington Post. 

Their mission is to unite Indigenous and non-Indigenous artists and allies, fostering collaboration and inspiration to build a vibrant community of musicians that Calgary has never seen before.

“Music has always been a part of our lives, of our heritage,” said Sparvier. “Not only is music and song a part of who we are, but it’s a part of almost every ceremony and every aspect of our culture.”

Listening, dancing, and enjoying music is in human nature, yet the exclusive hierarchy within the music industry is taking this pleasure away.

By turning to people with ancestry here—the communities across Canada who have grown roots alongside their songs—the EDM scene can turn a new page. Learning from their values, the world can know what it sounds like to belong.

Emma Marshall is the Arts Editor for The Reflector 2024-2025. She is in her third year of journalism, from Northern England, and her childhood was filled with constant movement and travel.