From Bedroom to Sónar: How Cocoonics became a beatmaker by accident

When the 20-year-old Cocoonics organised and performed at a university gig, little did she know that four months later, she would end up performing at one of the world’s most well-known electronic music festivals.

A journalism student at the University of Hong Kong, Athena Chan—the force behind the moniker—said becoming a DJ was never part of the plan. She initially agreed to put on a show on campus when the university asked. Many would have simply invited guests, sat back and waited for replies. But not Chan. She wrote her name in the set list out of curiosity: she wants to see what she could make out of a second-hand sampler she had.

“When I was compiling the set list, I wasn’t entirely sure whether to include myself or not. But I think it’s important to push yourself,” Chan says. “I always assume that I’ll succeed before I do something.”

But confidence alone is not enough; to kickstart a music career, it also takes a great deal of determination and a little bit of luck. Chan spent three days in her bedroom watching YouTube tutorials on using the sampler before presenting her beats at the November gig last year. Much to her surprise, her friend brought a camera and recorded the entire show. The video of Chan’s performance found its way across social media to Hong Kong Community Radio (HKCR), which invited her to host a show at their online radio channel. Launched in 2016, HKCR has earned a reputation for being a cradle of alternative music.

What was intended to be a one-time performance blossomed into a series of other event invitations. In the wake of the performance at HKCR, Chan came under the spotlight in the underground scene. One of her all-time favourite beatmakers, Japanese veteran DJ Mitsu The Beats, left a comment of support on her performance video. Soon after, she became part of the line-up for the second Hong Kong edition of the Sónar music festival, and was recently signed to the Shanghai music label Eating Music. “I’ve never thought that all it would take is one video for people to reach out to you,” she says, wide-eyed.

On this grey afternoon, I wait for Chan at a dainty cafe tucked away in a dull-looking tong lau building in Yau Ma Tei. As I sink into the sofa, I look around and see an eclectic mix of greenery, vintage bric-à-brac and a giant smiley face neon light. Teeming with energy, Chan arrives in a fisherman’s hat and kimono jacket. In the background plays a track that layers slow-paced, dreamy tunes with Japanese spoken-word samples. What a coincidence, I think to myself.

Musically, Chan’s sound is as unexpected as her path to beatmaking; one moment you hear African drums and traditional Chinese instruments, the next moment you hear moody, electronic beats. “My music is definitely fusion and a mix of genres. I always look for samples that don’t fit in at all. For instance, on an electronic beat, I will add Japanese folk tunes, flutes or African chants to freshen things up,” she says.

She might have been performing her own beats for the past few months, but Chan has always channelled her creativity in one way or another. I first met Chan two years ago at a mentorship programme. We belonged to the same group of students coached by Wong Fei-pang—director of the dystopian Hong Kong film Ten Years. My memory of Chan has not changed since then; she still has a bubbly and candid personality that glows with enthusiasm. An avid movie lover, she created a Facebook page to share thoughts about films. As a person who always enjoy the present, she says, writing about films is a much needed process for her to pause and reflect.

That being said, when asked if she prefers films over music, she chooses music without hesitation. “Because it [music] is easily accessible, it doesn’t require you to enter a cinema or spend time on understanding it. Within just one to two minutes, music can bring you instant changes,” she says.

Whether it’s film review or music, Chan says what fascinates her is the audience’s unpredictable reception. Her stage name, Cocoonics, is inspired by the anime series Mushishi, in which cocoons are used as mailboxes. Since cocoons come in pairs, anything enclosed within one cocoon is teleported to the other one in the pair.

“I put my understanding towards music or film into a cocoon. You can only decipher what I’m trying to say if we’re in a pair,” she says. “It’s like when you publish something, you don’t know what form it will take, who it can reach and what impact it will have on others.”