NLI has never been especially interested in playing by techno’s unwritten rules.
After nearly two decades of classical training as a concert pianist, the London-based artist turned composer found freedom not in abandoning discipline, but in applying it on her own terms: building an autobiographical sound from fractal algorithms, abstract concepts and a fiercely independent worldview.
Since the release of her debut album Initiation via her own ADHESIVE imprint, she has carried that uncompromising approach into rooms like HÖR, E1 and Junction 2, while remaining outspoken about the opportunism, inequality and moral compromises she sees corroding club culture from the underground up.
Her latest EP, Machine Language, arrives in that context as both a continuation and a recalibration. Released on Crisis of Man in late August 2026, the four-track record strips away some of the chaos and noise that have surrounded debates about AI, technology and creativity, opting instead for a more structured, sober exploration of death, rebirth and what a genuinely harmonious relationship between humans and machines might look like.
It’s a work that uses the very tools of electronic production – clicks, glitches, synthetic textures, to question whether technology is replacing our creative processes or simply optimising the mundane tasks that sit around them, without slipping into either techno-pessimism or naive utopianism.
Your new EP Machine Language revolves around death, rebirth and the idea of humanity potentially replacing itself with AI and technology. What was happening in your own life or thinking that led you towards those themes?
Lately I’ve been reflecting a lot on the discourse surrounding art, creativity and AI. There’s been such a lively discussion on the use of AI amongst creatives and whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing. I personally am for the use of AI as long as it’s used in the correct way – that is, not to have AI replace your creative process or do your creative work for you, but rather to optimise your workflow and make the completion of your mundane tasks (those unrelated to your artistic or creative practice) much easier. I think that using AI instead of your creativity is lazy, but using AI to optimise the stimulation of your creativity is essential.
You’ve made it clear that Machine Language isn’t an attack on technology. What does a genuinely harmonious relationship between humans and machines look like to you?
As I said before, learn to use technology in a way that isn’t lazy – maximise your efficiency, workflow and competence. It’s been said so many times before, but knowledge really is power! Gaining competence, educating yourself and always striving to learn more about the world around you is so important. I think a lot of people view technological advance negatively because they cannot be bothered to actually learn more about it and understand it on a deeper level. It’s a bit like people who are racist or homophobic or whatnot – while the root cause of this kind of atrocious behaviour is often rooted in much deeper issues, a lot of the time it can be argued that it comes down to a lack of education, stupidity and belief that those who don’t think or act like you are wrong.
There’s something interesting about using electronic music – music fundamentally dependent on machines – to question our relationship with technology. Did that contradiction become part of the creative process?
Yes and no – I think our relationship with technology is so interesting. When we discovered electronic music, there was lively discourse surrounding the ‘soul’ of music (or rather lack of it) when it came to making music using technology and machines.
Nowadays it’s rare to encounter people who think in this way, as electronic music has become so widespread and established. Instead, we’re now going after technological advances and using the same argument to criticise the introduction of AI and other advanced technologies in the creative process. I think that any human advancement, whether technology or otherwise, will always find its way into the art that we create because fundamentally, it’s a part of us because it came from us. We created it.
The title track combines clicks, glitches and static with these very melancholic, human vocalisations. Were you consciously trying to make the human and machine elements feel as though they were communicating with each other?
Yes! I like to think about the future and what kind of society we are building – the other day I had a conversation with my friend about whether robots or even AI itself will have its own rights. I mean, once we’ve figured out how to build synthetic humans and integrate AI into humanoid robots, there will probably be issues where humans will mistreat them to the point where new legislation will become necessary to control this kind of violent behaviour.
I’m sure someone in the world has done a study or written a paper on this but synthetic humans will probably lead to an increase in violence against biological humans once we have become desensitised to the difference between the two. I wouldn’t be surprised if people in the future would purchase synthetic humans specifically for this purpose – the human species can be very cruel.
You’ve connected that idea of clarity with a moment in techno where artists seem increasingly willing to produce whatever they want. Do you think the genre is currently going through its own kind of death and rebirth?
Definitely – I think it’s interesting to see how techno has been driven past its extremes. A lot of what’s called techno nowadays is hardly, if at all, actual techno. It’s a dying genre within the commercial sphere as it’s now replaced with EDM, hardstyle or whatever the flavour of the month is. Now that this is the new reality that we’re facing within the scene, it has created a division between ‘true’ techno artists and commercial techno artists where there are clear tensions.
The purist techno crowd is growing increasingly more elitist and snobby, purely out of bitterness I would say, while the commercial techno crowd is pushing their sound to new extremes out of desperation. Neither is good and funnily enough, both end up with pretty awful results. Looking at Beatport charts and playlists nowadays give me anxiety – it feels like we need to choose between either boring or vulgar; and sometimes I can’t tell which is worse.
You spent nearly two decades training as a concert pianist before moving into techno. What did you have to unlearn from classical music to become NLI?
I wouldn’t say there was anything I had to unlearn really – I learned a lot of important and valuable lessons, which helped me develop the unique skillset that I had today. It also gave me a lot of transferrable skills including patience, resilience and not giving up when it gets hard. A lot of people don’t give classical musicians enough credit when it comes to the psychology of being a musician.
In the classical world, you don’t have the luxury of getting away with being pretty or having a huge following. For better or for worse, you need to demonstrate a particular skillset to an extremely high standard and also have a formal qualification to back you up. Not only that, it has to be from a reputable establishment. While that has changed a lot since my days in the classical world, there is still a higher bar at entry level. It doesn’t matter if your best mate since kindergarten is the promoter or your agent, if you’re dogshit at your instrument people will laugh at you. It’s all about striving for excellence in your craft, which is something I cannot and do not wish to ever unlearn.
You prefer the word “composer” to “producer.” Beyond terminology, does thinking like a composer fundamentally change the way you approach techno?
Yes, I’m fully aware of how elitist that probably sounds but elitism has nothing to do with it. To me, a track isn’t just a track. I don’t make music with the intention of having every superstar DJ play it and I’m not making music to seek anyone’s approval.
Unfortunately, a lot of producers do think like that and you can really hear it. It makes me quite sad to hear some of the tracks I get sent because they were so clearly made ‘to my liking’ and sound nothing like other work made by that particular producer. Same goes with established labels. Fair enough if you want to adapt to a label’s particular sound or if you make something in an attempt to interpret a label’s vision but when it was so clearly ‘manufactured’ for a particular label, sound or DJ, you’re not a producer at that point – you’re their unpaid office worker (and I will die on that hill!)
Your music is described as “fractal,” drawing conceptually from fractal algorithms. How does that actually manifest itself when you’re composing—is it in repetition, structure, sound design, or something less literal?
It’s usually a concept, a memory, a sound or an idea that I wish to explore through sound. Fractal techno is kind of like sonic storytelling, sometimes quite literal. Someone once said that if you know what to listen for, it’s very obvious – if you don’t, it’s just a sick track you can dance to. I’ve always been really interested in complex artworks that require you to think a bit; I like difficult things in general!
Subjects that I know nothing about and are way outside of my areas of competence are really fascinating. I love to learn about new things, hear different perspectives, make serious attempts at understanding very complicated theories (sometimes I don’t understand anything even after multiple and extensive explanations, but I still like to try!) I think challenging your mind is so important and it encourages true human connection, which is something we rarely see nowadays. Understanding how someone else views and experiences the world is so special and can be so life changing, I wish more people would be open to it!
Your tracks often seem to have a narrative rather than simply being designed around functionality in a club. How important is it that somebody can understand or feel that story without knowing the concept behind the track?
Important is such a charged word – of course it feels great for me as an artist if someone takes an interest in the deeper layers of my work and takes the time to understand it on a more fundamental level. I’d say it’s a bit like fine dining – some people take interest in whether the lettuce or the cow on their plate was locally sourced, if it lived a good life and what kind of oil was used to cook it. While knowing these things can enhance your experience of eating it, you can also just eat it and enjoy the moment. Both work for me.
Your early track ASPD used the sound of cracking bones to symbolise violence towards marginalised communities. When you put something that politically charged into music without lyrics, how do you make sure the meaning survives beyond your own intention?
I built my own community in the underground, who were very invested in my work and what I was doing. In that sense tracks such as ASPD did not just carry meaning to me, but to a whole group of people. Its message travelled across borders and found its way into new places through members of our community here in the UK and that’s what truly matters. If a track of mine carries meaning to only a small group of people, that’s enough for me.
If I wanted to change the world on a larger scale, I’d probably become a politician(!) but I have no interest in spreading a particular message to all corners of the Earth. It will find its way to the right people through the community who attach value to its meaning – we know what it means, if you don’t, you should probably ask one of us if you’re curious!
There can be a contradiction between underground culture presenting itself as progressive and the misogyny or marginalisation that can exist behind the scenes. Where do you think techno still has the most work to do?
Rome was, as they say, not built in a day.
You’ve gone from London warehouse spaces and queer parties to places like HÖR, Junction 2 and Tresor. As the stages get bigger, is there a danger of losing any of the antagonism or outsider quality that shaped NLI in the first place?
You know what, I did genuinely think about this the other day – if basic professional integrity on a slightly more elevated level (or any level for that matter) is considered subversive or antagonistic these days, then we’re not approaching rock bottom, but we have reached it. To be honest, if your goal as an artist is to be as famous as you possibly can and have a huge following etc, fair enough – but at least stand for it, don’t pretend like you care about the scene, the music or what you want out of your career. I can respect a hustler who hustles for money and fame, but I will never respect a hustler who hides behind a carefully constructed façade that exploits peoples trust, time and money. It may be someone’s thing but it’s definitely not mine.
You also run ADHESIVE, yet this EP comes through Crisis of Man. What made Machine Language something you wanted to entrust to another label rather than release yourself?
Crisis of Man is one of those labels that is one of the few truly great techno labels in the scene – they have one of the best catalogues of all time, consistently high quality in their releases and a creative vision that will absolutely withstand the test of time – not to mention the respect and admiration I have for the creative mind of Selective Response who runs it. It was truly an honour for me as an artist to have a release signed to Crisis of Man as I share its vision and feel aligned with its identity, sound and values.
If Initiation represented the beginning of NLI, what does Machine Language represent in the evolution of the project?
My work explores the relationship between human nature and technology, which is a core concept of Machine Language. It takes a more structured and sober approach to an issue that continues to be surrounded by chaos and noise. I think nuance is always a good thing, everything doesn’t always have to be obnoxiously loud and overstimulating. Sometimes you just need to take a deep breath and hit the reset button.
If you could hear one of your tracks played 100 years from now, which would you choose, and what would you want that listener to understand about the world we’re living in now?
That techno doesn’t have to be extreme or ‘relentless’ (that word makes me cringe so much BTW) to have an impact on the listener.
Is there a rule in techno that you particularly enjoy breaking?
Yes – if I hear a track that’s been played more than 3 times on a huge stage I will not play it. I also don’t believe in repeating sets – everyone, please don’t. We have Spotify for that ☺