Juan Atkins doesn’t do nostalgia. Widely recognised as one of the founding figures of techno, he’s spent over four decades building sonic futures. In early 1980s Detroit, amid factory shutdowns and post-industrial decline, Atkins and collaborator Richard “3070” Davis formed Cybotron – a group that rewired electronic music. Their vision was part funk, part science fiction, part survival strategy. They weren’t trying to fit in. They were trying to imagine a way out.
“When Alleys of Your Mind came out, I was 17,” Atkins says now. “People asked how we had the balls to release something like that at the time. But we weren’t afraid. We knew it was different. That’s the point.”
Cybotron’s influence is still felt today – in techno’s structure, aesthetics and politics – but Atkins isn’t dwelling on legacy. This summer, he returned to Glastonbury with a new version of the group, joined by Berlin-based Laurens von Oswald and Detroit electro producer DJ Maaco (of Detroit In Effect). The performance, staged beneath Block9’s monolithic IICON structure – a brutalist head the size of a building – was a tightly constructed set of future-shocked sound and visual commentary.
But Atkins is clear: “It wasn’t just a performance. It was the beginning of something.”
Read more: Bonafide’s review of Cybotron at Block9, Glastonbury 2025
From Detroit to now: building the next phase
In its original form, Cybotron emerged from a moment when Black electronic artists in Detroit were experimenting with synthesisers, drum machines and radical ideas. Inspired by Kraftwerk, Parliament, Yellow Magic Orchestra and the theories of Alvin Toffler, they used machines to process their environment and push beyond it.
“A lot of what Rick Davis instilled in me is still a thread in Cybotron,” Atkins says. “But this isn’t about protecting the past. It’s about building the next phase.”
That phase includes the forthcoming album 12, a project that folds new technology, visual theory and socio-political subtext into the DNA of Cybotron. Some of the material was previewed at Glastonbury, alongside early tracks like R-9, Clear and Alleys of Your Mind, but reimagined through a modern lens. The visuals stitched together AI-generated landscapes, snatches of visual culture and coded symbolism.
“We use AI in the visuals,” Atkins says, “but I’m not caught up in how it all works. I’m not trying to explain the inner circuitry of a TR-808 either. All I know is: I play it.”
Not a heritage act
The IICON set – delivered with force and clarity – wasn’t a look back. It was a forward-facing artefact: structured, confrontational and full of intent. While Atkins resists calling Cybotron overtly political, he acknowledges the subtext is there.
“A lot of our lyrics and ideas are social commentary,” he says. “We were always thinking futurist but yeah, when you’re shaping the future, that becomes political by default.”
And what about the cultural roots of techno? Has the industry done enough to credit Black creators and thinkers?
“When I make music, I’m not going in there thinking about protecting Black heritage,” he says. “That would be a limitation. Music is universal, man. It ain’t white or Black. Everyone’s capable of making good music and bad music.”
It’s a sentiment that might sit uneasily with some, especially given how Black contributions to dance music have been historically sidelined. But Atkins isn’t here to gatekeep. He’s more interested in energy, intention and whether the work cuts through.
Vessel mode: no plan, just transmission
Ask him where techno is going next and he shrugs, knowingly.
“If I could tell you exactly where it’s going, I probably wouldn’t be here doing this interview,” he laughs. “And that’s the beauty of it. Not knowing. The best tracks I’ve made? They weren’t planned. They happened when I sat down, started flipping knobs and let something flow through me. Sometimes I feel like I’m just a vessel for something higher.”
That blend of cosmic intuition and machine logic remains central to Cybotron’s new era. The group’s visual identity is expanding. Their live shows are evolving. And the ideas behind the music; freedom, resistance, transformation still resonate, even as techno becomes ever more global, commercial, and often disconnected from its roots.
But if Glastonbury was a reset moment, 12 is the next transmission. Cybotron is no longer a memory. It’s an active signal.
“This is a proving ground,” Atkins says again, firmly. “We’re not done.”