Matías Battocchia — aka Cabra — is a vinyl techno DJ from Mendoza, Argentina. His sets are built entirely on wax, pulling from a collection of over 120 records that spans acid, rave, Belgian techno, Detroit electro, goa trance, deep house, and French hard techno. If it makes you move, it belongs in the crate.
He came up organizing intimate, self-made events for friends. But before Cabra is a DJ, he is a dancer. An avid raver, always on the floor, front to back, non-stop — moving through styles, through hours, through whatever the speakers throw at him. His taste was shaped not behind the decks but in front of them, feeling out the music with his body before ever touching a record.
His crate tells the story: CJ Bolland and Yves Deruyter sit next to 999999999 and Marc Acardipane. Lobster Theremin next to Stay Up Forever. The Other People Place next to Molekül. It's not eclectic for the sake of it — it's the natural result of someone who spent years on dancefloors that didn't care about genre, only energy.
For Cabra, electronic music is not entertainment — it is a practice. Through dance, he reaches a place that is equal parts enjoyment and therapy. The repetition, the bass, the hours on the floor: these are not escape, but arrival. A way of working through what words cannot reach.
"When I dance, I'm not performing for anyone. I'm connecting to myself. The music becomes a bridge between what I carry inside and what I need to let go of. Some people meditate sitting still — I need movement, I need sound, I need the floor shaking under my feet."
This is why the underground matters. Not as a genre or a scene credential, but as a space where people can be fully themselves — unguarded, unperformed, real.
"The underground is respect and appreciation for others' real self. When you step into that room and the music is right and nobody is watching, everyone becomes who they actually are. That's what I want to protect."